Islamicate Occult Sciences in Theory and Practice

Handbook of Oriental Studies

Handbuch der Orientalistik

Section One

The Near and Middle East

Edited by

Maribel Fierro (Madrid)

M. Şukru Hanioğlu (Princeton)
Renata Holod (University of Pennsylvania)
Florian Schwarz (Vienna)

volume 140

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/ho1

Islamicate Occult Sciences
in Theory and Practice

Edited by

Liana Saif
Francesca Leoni
Matthew Melvin-Koushki
Farouk Yahya

LEIDEN | BOSTON
Cover illustration: Kirsten Alvanson, Abjad 03, 2007, ink on paper, 45.8×45.8cm.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Islamic Occultism in Theory and Practice (Conference) (2017 : Oxford,

England), author. | Saif, Liana, editor. | Leoni, Francesca, 1974- editor. | Melvin-
Koushki, Matthew S., editor. | Yahya, Farouk, editor. | Ashmolean Museum, host
institution.
Title: Islamicate occult sciences in theory and practice / edited by Liana Saif,
Francesca Leoni, Matthew Melvin-Koushki, Farouk Yahya.
Other titles: Handbook of Oriental studies. Section 1, Ancient Near East ; v. 140.
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2020] | Series: Handbook of Oriental studies.
Section one, Ancient Near East = Handbuch der Orientalistik, 0169-9423 ;
volume 140 | "The present volume, which gathers some of the papers presented
at a three-day international conference, 'Islamic Occultism in Theory and
Practice,' held at the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, University of
Oxford on January 6-8, 2017"–Introduction. | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020031599 (print) | LCCN 2020031600 (ebook) |
ISBN 9789004426962 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004426979 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Islamic occultism–Congresses. | Occultism–Religious
aspects–Islam–Congresses. | LCGFT: Conference papers and proceedings.
Classification: LCC BF1404 .I85 2017 (print) | LCC BF1404 (ebook) |
DDC 130.88/297–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020031599
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020031600

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Contents

List of Illustrations and Tables vii

Notes on Contributors xii
Transliteration, Style, and Dates xvii

1 Introduction 1
Liana Saif and Francesca Leoni

Part 1
Occult Theories: Inception and Reception

2 The Three Divisions of Arabic Magic 43

Charles Burnett

3 New Light on Early Arabic Awfāq Literature 57

Bink Hallum

4 A Study of the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s Epistle on Magic, the Longer Version

(52b) 162
Liana Saif

5 Sabian Astral Magic as Soteriology in Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr

al-maktūm 207
Michael Noble

6 Lettrism and History in ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī’s Naẓm al-sulūk fī

musāmarat al-mulūk 230
Noah Gardiner

7 Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī: A Late Timurid Manual of the Occult Sciences

and Its Safavid Afterlife 267
Maria Subtelny
vi contents

Part 2
Occult Technologies: From Instruction to Action

8 The Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya and Medieval Islamic Occult

Sciences 317
Jean-Charles Coulon

9 Toward a Neopythagorean Historiography: Kemālpaşazāde’s (d. 1534)

Lettrist Call for the Conquest of Cairo and the Development of Ottoman
Occult-Scientific Imperialism 380
Matthew Melvin-Koushki

10 Power and Piety: Islamic Talismans on the Battlefield 420

Maryam Ekhtiar and Rachel Parikh

11 Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī in Southeast Asia 454

Farouk Yahya

12 A Stamped Talisman 527

Francesca Leoni

13 Bereket Bargains: Islamic Amulets in Today’s “New Turkey” 572

Christiane Gruber

14 Postscript: Cutting Ariadne’s Thread, or How to Think Otherwise in the

Maze 607
Travis Zadeh

Index 651
List of Illustrations and Tables

Figures

3.1 Cast iron 6×6 magic square, Anxi (Xi’an), early Yuan Dynasty (late
seventh/thirteenth century). Shaanxi History Museum, Xi’an. Photo courtesy
of Marilyn Shea, PhD, University of Maine at Farmington 67
3.2 A composite 28×28 wafq composed of sixteen bordered awfāq. London,
British Library, Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 108v–109r. Image in the Public Domain,
available from the Qatar Digital Library 123
3.3 Family tree of the Harranian Sabians of Baghdad. After François C. de Blois,
“Ṣābiʾ” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., and Muhammad Yonis Abdel All
Riḍwan, “Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ṣābiʾ wa-mā tabqā min
nathrihi: nathr wa-dirāsa,” Majallat Jāmiʿat al-Malik Saʿūd 2, al-Ādāb 1 (1990):
39 132
10.1 Saber with scabbard and grip. Grip: India, twelfth/eighteenth century; guard
and scabbard: Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century; blade: Iran, dated
1099/1688; decoration on blade: Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Giulia P. Morosini, in
memory of her father, Giovanni P. Morosini 1923, 23.232.2a, b. Image in the
Public Domain 424
10.2 Detail of the underside of the hinged emerald on the scabbard in Figure 10.1.
Image in the Public Domain 426
10.3 Shirt of mail and plate, India, dated 1042/1632–1633. Metropolitan Museum
of Art, New York, 2008.245, Purchase, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Gift, 2008.
Image in the Public Domain 429
10.4 Detail of stamped rings of shirt of mail and plate in Figure 10.3. Image in the
Public Domain 433
10.5 Saber (kilij), Turkey, mid-tenth/sixteenth century. Metropolitan Museum of
Art, New York, Bequest of George C. Stone 1935, 36.25.1297. Image in the
Public Domain 436
10.6 Saber (kilij), Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century. Wallace Collection,
London, OA 1779. Photography by Cassandra Parsons © The Wallace
Collection 440
10.7 Sançak banner, Turkey, probably Istanbul, dated 1235/1819–1820.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Fletcher Fund, 1976, 1976.312. Image
in the Public Domain 442
10.8 “Ottoman Army Entering a City.” Folio from a Dīvān of Maḥmūd ʿAbd al-Bāqī
(detail), Turkey, last quarter of the tenth/sixteenth century. Metropolitan
viii list of illustrations and tables

Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of George D. Pratt, 1935, 45.174.5. Image in
the Public Domain 443
11.1 Paper cut, Turkey, dated 1280/1863–1864. The David Collection, Copenhagen,
inv. no. 21/1974. Photo: Pernille Klemp. Courtesy of The David
Collection 467
11.2 Carved wooden panel with the Macan Ali, Cirebon, Java, c. 1147–1164/1735–
1751. Kraton Kasepuhan, Cirebon. Photograph by the author 481
11.3 Royal banner, Cirebon, dated to 1190/1776. Museum Tekstil, Jakarta, inv.
no. 017. Photo: Saul Steed. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of South
Australia 483
11.4 One of a pair of carved wooden panels with Gaṇeśa riding the Macan Ali,
Cirebon, c. 1242–1252/1827–1837. Kraton Kasepuhan, Cirebon. Photo: Saul
Steed. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of South Australia 489
11.5 Qurʾan, Sumedang, Java, dated 1272/1856. Prabu Geusan Ulun Museum,
Sumedang, no. I2, fols. 147v–148r. Photo: Saul Steed. Courtesy of the Art
Gallery of South Australia 491
11.6 Calligraphic drawings with two variants of the Macan Ali, Babad Talaga,
Majalengka, probably Cirebon, Java, c. 1283/1866. Leiden University Library,
Leiden, CB 141, pp. 90–91. © Leiden University Library 492
11.7 Carved wooden panel with the Macan Ali, probably late twentieth or early
twenty-first century, in the Masjid Agung Sang Cipta Rasa, Cirebon.
Photograph by the author 493
11.8a Talisman to strengthen a bull or buffalo, in a treatise on bull-fighting,
buffalo-fighting, and ram-fighting, compiled for a crown prince (raja muda)
of Kelantan, c. 1253–1305/1838–1887. Collection of the late Nik Mohamed Nik
Mohd. Salleh, Kuala Lumpur, side A, 29th opening. Photograph by the
author 498
11.8b Azimat Singa (“Talisman of the lion”), in a treatise on bull-fighting, buffalo-
fighting, and ram-fighting, compiled for a crown prince (raja muda) of
Kelantan, c. 1253–1305/1838–1887. Collection of the late Nik Mohamed Nik
Mohd. Salleh, Kuala Lumpur, side A, 30th opening. Photograph by the
author 498
11.9 Talisman to protect against misfortune, Patani or Kelantan,
thirteenth/nineteenth century. Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia, Kuala
Lumpur, MSS 2778, side A, eighth opening. Courtesy of the Perpustakaan
Negara Malaysia 501
11.10 Wooden panel, Kelantan, thirteenth/nineteenth to early
fourteenth/twentieth century. Museum of Asian Arts, University of Malaya,
Kuala Lumpur, inv. no. UM.79.133. Courtesy of the Museum of Asian
Arts 504
list of illustrations and tables ix

11.11 Doorway hanging, probably Kelantan or Patani, thirteenth/nineteenth to

early fourteenth/twentieth century. Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, Kuala
Lumpur, inv. no. 1998.1.4107. © Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia 506
11.12 Replica of the Macangngé flag of Luwuq, made by the batik studio Brahma
Tirta Sari in Yogyakarta, 2007. Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern
Territory, Darwin, inv. no. SEA 03476. Courtesy of the Museum and Art
Gallery of the Northern Territory 509
12.1 Talisman, probably Turkey, late thirteenth/nineteenth or early twentieth
century. Nasser D. Khalili Collection, London, MS 1179. © Nour Foundation,
Courtesy of the Khalili Family Trust 529
12.2–3 Talismanic scrolls, probably Turkey, late thirteenth/nineteenth or early
fourteenth/twentieth century. Halûk Perk Müzesi, Istanbul © Akadur
Tölegen 531
12.4 Hand-shaped stamp with Qurʾanic excerpts and invocations, Ottoman
Empire, 1154/1741. Nasser D. Khalili Collection, London, tls2707. © Nour
Foundation, Courtesy of the Khalili Family Trust 532
12.5 Amulet/seal, possibly Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century. British
Museum, London, 1893,0215.1 © Trustees of the British Museum 533
12.6 The five categories of impressions appearing on the talisman and their
distribution 535
12.7a Detail of the top half of the talisman with textual impressions 537
12.7b Detail of the bottom half of the talisman with textual impressions 537
12.8 Section of the talisman containing sequences of letters and numbers 547
12.9a Detail of the top half of the talisman with impressions combining text and
image 549
12.9b Detail of the bottom half of the talisman with impressions combining text
and image 552
12.10 Detail of the ship-shaped calligram 554
12.11 Example of impression featuring a sanctuary (Mecca) 556
12.12 Example of a second impression featuring a shrine (Aḥmad Rifāʿī’s
tomb) 557
13.1 Religious-goods shops surrounding the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul,
August 2015. Photograph by the author 573
13.2 A box of blessing cards (bereket kartelası) offered for sale at a religious-goods
shop next to the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016. Photograph by
the author 576
13.3 A laminated “radiant document” (nurani belgesi) of the prophet Muḥammad
in the size and format of a Turkish state-issued identity card. Item
purchased near the Eyüp shrine in August 2015 and now in the author’s
collection 577
x list of illustrations and tables

13.4 Cards and magnets displaying a variety of Islamic amulets, affixed to a wall
in a restaurant located in Beyoğlu, Istanbul. Photograph taken by the author
in January 2018 581
13.5 Laminated blessing card (bereket kartelası) of the prophet Muḥammad’s
“noble seal” (right) and its virtues (left), offered for sale at a religious-goods
shop next to the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016. Item now in
the author’s collection 586
13.6 Laminated blessing card (bereket kartelası) of the prophet Muḥammad’s
relics, offered for sale at a religious-goods shop next to the Eyüp shrine
complex, Istanbul, August 2016. Item now in the author’s collection 589
13.7 Boys wearing turban hats decorated with the prophet Muḥammad’s
sandalprint, Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016. Photograph by the
author 592
13.8 Booth selling a variety of eye beads, Nazarköy, June 2016. Photograph by the
author 596
13.9 “Islamized” eye beads inscribed with the name of God (Allāh) and the
“Throne Verse” (āyat al-kursī) in Arabic script, Nazarköy, June 2016.
Photograph by the author 600
13.10 Tile magnets decorated with Arabic-script and “Islamic” amuletic content,
offered for sale in a tourist-souvenir shop, close to Galata Tower, Istanbul,
July 2016. Photograph by the author 601
14.1 An incantation (ʿazīma), requiring the sacrifice of two cocks, performed in a
mandal designed to subjugate the queen demoness ʿAyna, accompanied by a
parī mounted on a lion. Nujūm al-ʿulūm, Bijapur, India, dated 978/1570.
Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, MS IN2, fol. 125b. © The Trustees of the
Chester Beatty Library, Dublin 637

Map

11.1 Map of Southeast Asia, showing locations of the Lion of ʿAlī 469
list of illustrations and tables xi

Tables

3.1 Pre-seventh/thirteenth-century awfāq treatises mentioned by Sesiano 111

3.2 Authors of awfāq treaties mentioned in the Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq (asterisks
indicate authors discussed by Sesiano) 124
4.1 Variation of the title across the manuscripts 165
Notes on Contributors

Charles Burnett
(PhD Cambridge, FBA LGSM) is Professor of the History of Arabic/Islamic Influ-
ences in Europe at the Warburg Institute, University of London. His work cen-
ters on the transmission of Arabic science and philosophy to Western Europe,
which he has documented by editing and translating several texts that were
translated from Arabic into Latin and by describing the historical and cultural
context of the translations.

Jean-Charles Coulon
is a tenured research scholar in the department of Arabic of the Institut de
Recherche et d’Histoire des Textes (National Center for Scientific Research,
Paris) and editor in chief of the journal Arabica. His scholarly interests are
in the history of magic and occult sciences in the medieval Islamicate world.
Among his recent publications is La magie en terre d’Islam au Moyen Âge (2017).

Maryam Ekhtiar
is a specialist of later Persian art and culture, with expertise in calligraphy and
painting. She received her PhD from the Department of Middle Eastern Studies
of New York University in 1994 and has worked and taught at various museums
and universities (Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York University, and Swarth-
more College) before taking on her current role as Curator in the Department
of Islamic Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She has organized exhibi-
tions and has published and lectured extensively in the fields of Islamic Art,
Iranian art, and contemporary art of the Middle East. She co-edited the cata-
logues Royal Persian Paintings: The Qajar Epoch 1785–1925 (1998), Masterpieces
from the Department of Islamic Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (2011),
and the book Art of the Islamic World: A Resource for Educators (2012). Her latest
publication, How to Read Islamic Calligraphy, was published by the Metropol-
itan Museum of Art in 2018.

Noah Gardiner
is Assistant Professor in the Department of Religious Studies at the University
of South Carolina. He is an intellectual and cultural historian of the Arabic-
speaking Mediterranean, with particular interest in Sufism, occultism, and
manuscript culture. He is currently working on two book projects, one on
the Sufi arch-lettrist Aḥmad al-Būnī and the other on the occult renaissance
that gripped the cities of the Mamluk sultanate in the eighth/fourteenth and
notes on contributors xiii

ninth/fifteenth centuries. He is the author of several articles on al-Būnī, al-

Bisṭāmī, and related topics, and co-editor of the special double issue of Arabica
entitled “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives” (2017). His monograph Ibn
Khaldūn versus the Occultists at Barqūq’s Court: The Critique of Lettrism in al-
Muqaddimah is forthcoming from EB-Verlag, Berlin.

Christiane Gruber
is Professor of Islamic Art in the History of Art Department at the University
of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Her scholarly work explores figural representation,
depictions of the prophet Muḥammad, and ascension texts and images, about
which she has written three books and edited half a dozen volumes. She also
pursues research in book arts, codicology, and paleography, as well as modern
and contemporary visual and material culture. Her most recent publications
include the book The Praiseworthy One: The Prophet Muhammad in Islamic
Texts and Images (2019) and the edited volume The Image Debate: Figural Rep-
resentation in Islam and Across the World (2019).

Bink Hallum
is Arabic Scientific Manuscripts Curator at the British Library. His research
centers on Islamic codicology and the history of the book, the transmission
of knowledge, Graeco-Arabic studies, and the history of sciences. He holds
a Wellcome Trust-funded post-doctoral research fellowship at the University
of Warwick, with a project to edit and translate Abū Bakr al-Rāzī’s Twelve
Books, a late third/ninth-century encyclopedia of alchemy. Hallum’s publica-
tions include “Essay Review: The Tome of Images: An Arabic Compilation of
Texts by Zosimos of Panopolis and a Source of the Turba Philosophorum” in
a special issue of Ambix guest-edited with Charles Burnett (2009) and “The
Arabic Reception of Galen’s Commentary on the Epidemics” in Epidemics in
Context: Greek Commentaries on Hippocrates in the Arabic Tradition, ed. Peter
E. Portmann (2012).

Francesca Leoni
is Assistant Keeper and Curator of Islamic Art at the Ashmolean Museum of Art
and Archaeology, University of Oxford, and Research Associate at the Khalili
Research Centre, Oxford. Her interests include the Islamic arts of the book;
cross-cultural exchanges between the Islamic world, Europe, and Asia; and
the history and circulation of technologies. Among her recent publications
are the exhibition catalogue Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Super-
natural (2016) and the articles “Islamic Occultism and the Museum,” Interna-
tional Journal of Islamic Architecture (2018), and “ ‘The Illusion of an Authentic
xiv notes on contributors

Experience’: A Lustre Bowl in the Ashmolean Museum,” Muqarnas (2019), co-

authored with Dana Norris, Kelly Domoney, Andrew Shortland, and Moujan
Matin.

Matthew Melvin-Koushki
(PhD Yale) is Associate Professor and McCausland Fellow of History at the
University of South Carolina. He specializes in early modern Islamicate intel-
lectual and imperial history, with a focus on the theory and practice of the
occult sciences in Timurid-Safavid Iran and the wider Persianate world to the
nineteenth century. Melvin-Koushki’s forthcoming books include Occult Philo-
sophers and Philosopher Kings in Early Modern Iran: The Life and Legacy of Ibn
Turka, Timurid Lettrist and The Occult Science of Empire in Aqquyunlu-Safavid
Iran: Two Shirazi Lettrists and Their Manuals of Magic, and he is co-editor (with
Noah Gardiner) of the Arabica special double issue “Islamicate Occultism: New
Perspectives” (2017), the first in the field to treat of post-Mongol Persianate
developments. His thirty published or forthcoming articles and review essays
range widely temporally, geographically, and disciplinarily, from Ilkhanid Iran,
Mamluk Egypt, and Ottoman Anatolia to Mughal India and Manghit Transox-
ania, and from history of science and history of philosophy to imperial histori-
ography and literary and visual theory, including history of the book.

Michael Noble
received his degree in Arabic and Hebrew from St John’s College, Oxford, then
practiced as a criminal barrister before researching for his PhD at the Warburg
Institute, London. His PhD thesis will be published by De Gruyter under the
title Philosophising the Occult: Avicennan Psychology and the Hidden Secret of
Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (2020). He is currently based at the Ludwig-Maximilian
University, where he is a post-doctoral researcher on the DFG-funded “Heirs to
Avicenna project,” headed by Professor Peter Adamson. His research focuses
on the reception of Avicennan psychology and cosmology. He has specific
interests in post-Avicennan epistemology, theories of cognition and imagina-
tion, and the debates concerning the origin and nature of soul. His personal
research aims at situating the Islamic occult sciences in the broader context of
the creative dialog between philosophy and theology in the sixth/twelfth and
seventh/thirteenth centuries.

Rachel Parikh
(PhD Cambridge) is a historian of South Asian and Islamic Art, specializing in
manuscripts and arms and armor. She has held postdoctoral fellowships at the
Harvard Art Museums as the Calderwood Curatorial Fellow in South Asian Art
notes on contributors xv

(2016–2019) and at the Metropolitan Museum of Art as the Andrew W. Mel-

lon Curatorial and Special Collections Fellow for Arms and Armor (2014–2016).
She was a research associate at the Art Institute of Chicago and a curatorial
consultant for the Worcester Art Museum in Massachusetts and the Wallace
Collection in London. Her recent publications include “The Forged and The
Divine: Weapons and Goddess Worship in Hinduism,” Orientations (2018) and
“Yoga Under the Mughals: From Practice to Painting,” Journal of South Asian
Studies (2015). Her book on the Khalili Fālnāma will be published by the Khalili
Family Trust and the Nour Foundation in 2020.

Liana Saif
is a Research Associate at the Warburg Institute and Université Catholique de
Louvain as part of the ERC project “The Origin and Early Development of Philo-
sophy in Tenth-Century al-Andalus: The Impact of Ill-Defined Materials and
Channels of Transmission.” She is preparing a critical edition, translation, and
analysis of an understudied text on talismanry and its theoretical foundations,
the Kitāb al-nukhab al-baḥth, attributed to Jābir b. Ḥayyān (c. 101–200/720–
815), and gauging its influence in al-Andalus. Saif’s research centers on medi-
eval Islamicate occult sciences and Islamic esotericism in a global context. She
is also interested in the exchange of occult and esoteric ideas and practices
between the Islamicate world and the Latin West in the medieval and early
modern periods. Saif is translating into English the fourth/tenth-century magic
text Ghāyat al-ḥakīm (known in its Latin translation as the Picatrix) by the
Andalusian esotericist and occultist Maslama al-Qurṭubī (293–353/906–964).
Saif’s first monograph, The Arabic Influences on Early Modern Occult Philosophy,
was published by Palgrave Macmillan in 2015, and she has recently edited a spe-
cial issue on Islamic esotericism for Correspondences: Journal for the Study of
Esotericism (2019).

Maria Subtelny
is Professor of Persian and Islamic Studies in the Department of Near and
Middle Eastern Civilizations at the University of Toronto, where she has been
teaching since 1984. Her publications include Le monde est un jardin: Aspects de
l’ histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval (2002) and Timurids in Transition: Turko-
Persian Politics and Acculturation in Medieval Iran (2007); and, most recently,
“The Works of Ḥusayn Vāʿiẓ Kāshifī as a Source for the Study of Sufism in Late
15th- and Early 16th-Century Central Asia,” in Sufism in Central Asia: New Per-
spectives on Sufi Traditions, 15th–21st Centuries, ed. Devin DeWeese and Jo-Ann
Gross (2018) and “A Man of Letters: Husain Vaʿiz Kashifi and His Persian Pro-
ject,” in The Idea of Iran, vol. 9, The Timurid Century, ed. Charles Melville (2020).
xvi notes on contributors

Her ongoing project is an edition and translation of Akhlāq-i muḥsinī, a late

ninth/fifteenth–early tenth/sixteenth-century Persian “mirror for princes” by
Kāshifī.

Farouk Yahya
is Research Associate in the Department of History of Art and Archaeology,
School of Arts, SOAS University of London. His research interests include the
Southeast Asian arts of the book, as well as texts and images relating to magic
and divination in Southeast Asia. He was previously Leverhulme Research
Assistant–Islamic Art and Culture at the Ashmolean Museum, University of
Oxford, where he assisted with the exhibition “Power and Protection: Islamic
Art and the Supernatural” (2016–2017) and curated the display “The Tale of
Prince Vessantara” (2018). He is the author of Magic and Divination in Malay
Illustrated Manuscripts (2016) and the editor of The Arts of Southeast Asia from
the SOAS Collections (2017).

Travis Zadeh
is Associate Professor in the Department of Religious Studies at Yale University,
where he teaches courses on Islamic intellectual and cultural history. His aca-
demic areas of interest include frontiers and conversion, sacred geography and
cosmography, encyclopedias, Quranic studies, law, theology, and philosophy,
material and visual cultures, comparative theories of language and translation,
theory and method in the study of religion, the digital humanities, secularism,
colonialism, reform, science, magic, and the occult. He has published widely
on numerous topics and is the author of Mapping Frontiers Across Medieval
Islam: Geography, Translation and the ʿAbbāsid Empire (2011) and The Vernacu-
lar Qurʾan: Translation and the Rise of Persian Exegesis (2012). In addition to a
project on early geography, he is currently working on the roles of enchantment
and the marvelous in the course of Islamic history.
Transliteration, Style, and Dates

Arabic transliterations follow the convention of the International Journal of

Middle Eastern Studies, with slight modifications for Persian and Turkish. Malay
transliterations follow the system and spelling used by the Library of Con-
gress and the Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Terms that have been naturalized
in English, such as Qurʾan, Mamluk, shaykh, and Shiʿi, as well as geographical
regions and other toponyms, are used without diacritics. All citations follow the
Chicago Manual of Style, and all dates are provided in both Hijrī and Gregorian
formats where relevant.
 chapter 1

Introduction
Liana Saif and Francesca Leoni

A confluence of interests and an alignment of purposes led to the present

volume, which gathers some of the papers presented at a three-day inter-
national conference, “Islamic Occultism in Theory and Practice,” held at the
Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, University of Oxford on Janu-
ary 6–8, 2017.* Following parallel yet separate trajectories until then were Liana
Saif, a historian investigating magical practices in medieval Islam (second-
eight/sixth-twelfth century), and Francesca Leoni, a curator working on the
material forms taken by Islamicate divination.** When their paths crossed,
they realized the advantage of accessing and combining their diverse expertise
and associated fields of study. This was prompted by the recognition that the
tendency to separate theory from practice is a short-sighted approach for the
study of the occult sciences. The above-mentioned conference was conceived
as an opportunity to engage the two perspectives in active dialog and identify
new and fruitful methodological directions for a fast-growing field of studies.
The team was quickly joined by two other scholars, Matthew Melvin-Koushki
and Farouk Yahya, whose specialisms contributed to widen the thematic, chro-
nological, and geographical parameters of the effort.
The greatest success of the conference lied in bringing international scholars
together to develop ideas, questions, and arguments about the entanglement
of the occult sciences with theological, philosophical, and esoteric currents,
in terms of both theory and practice. The conference “spirit” now animates
the present volume, with the same multidisciplinary approach maintained at
its core. The thirteen chapters gathered here deliver the latest research on a
wide range of issues and perspectives relating to Islamicate occult sciences. The
breadth of the material discussed is similarly wide in geographical and chro-

* We acknowledge the invaluable financial support of The Barakat Trust and Rosalie Basten
toward the organizational costs of the conference. We would also like to thank all of the
presenters for their valuable contributions, Azfar Moin, Venetia Porter, and Emilie Savage-
Smith for sharing their insights during the roundtable discussion, and museum staff, volun-
teers, and attendees.
** The authors are grateful to the British Academy and Leverhulme Trust for supporting their
research through a postdoctoral fellowship and a research-project grant, respectively.
2 saif and leoni

nological scope, with subjects of inquiry spanning from Spain in the west to
Southeast Asia in the east, and from the fourth/tenth century to the present
day.

1 The Occult Sciences

The complexity and often ambiguous nature of the subject addressed by this
book means that it is important from the outset to establish our main con-
ceptual framework. We have chosen to replace the term “occultism,” used for
the conference title, with “occult sciences,” both to consolidate the subject-
matter within a burgeoning field and to avoid historical ambiguity. Occultism
refers, in fact, to nineteenth- and twentieth-century developments in the his-
tory of Western esotericism and to “the specifically French currents in the
wake of Eliphas Levi, flourishing in the ‘neo-martinist’ context of Papus and
related manifestation of fin-de-siècle esotericism.”1 The term “occult sciences,”
on the other hand, reflects the Arabic, Persian, and Turkish, terminology used
in historical sources up to the modern era: namely al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya, lit-
erally meaning hidden or occult sciences, also known as al-ʿulūm al-gharība
(the unusual, rare, or difficult sciences), al-ʿulūm al-ghāmiḍa (the recondite sci-
ences), al-ʿulūm al-daqīqa (the intricate sciences), and al-ʿulūm al-laṭīfa (the
subtle sciences).2 We do, however, acknowledge the resulting problematic use
of “occultist” as a noun describing actors and an adjective instead of the awk-
ward “occult-scientific” or “occult scientist.” We therefore opted for it anyway
for the sake of style and clarity.3

1 Wouter J. Hanegraaff, “Occultism,” in Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism, ed. Wouter
J. Hanegraaff, Antoinre Faivre, R. van den Broek, and Jean-Pierre Brach (Leiden: Brill, 2005),
887–888.
2 While al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya seems to be the dominant term in Arabic during the “classical”
period, al-ʿulūm al-gharība emerged as the preferred designation in Persian and Turkish clas-
sifications of the sciences, particularly from the sixth/twelfth century onward. On these terms
and for a survey of the changing formal categorisation of the various occult sciences between
the natural, mathematical, and religious sciences in Arabic and Persian encyclopedias from
the fourth/tenth century to the eleventh/seventeenth, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Powers
of One: The Mathematicalization of the Occult Sciences in the High Persianate Tradition,”
Intellectual History of the Islamicate World 5, no. 1 (2017): 127–199.
3 The authors see the confusion that arises from the use of “occultism,” which refers to a specific
historical movement, as being graver than the use of “occultist.” Translation at its most basic
aims to convey meaning succinctly rather than obfuscate, but traduttori traditori (“translators
[are] traitors”), as the nineteenth-century Tuscan proverb goes, and something will inevitably
be lost.
introduction 3

A brief look at some uses is appropriate at this point in order to clarify the
meaning of “occult sciences” in the Islamicate context. Al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya
makes an early appearance in the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica (hereafter re-
ferred to as psAH), a group of texts—sometimes appearing together in man-
uscripts or separately—purporting to be epistles or lessons by Aristotle ad-
dressed to his pupil Alexander the Great and concerned with astrology, magic,
occult properties, alchemy, and medicine. Aristotle claims to have received
his knowledge from Hermes’s al-Kitāb al-maknūn fī asrār al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya,
(“The well guarded book on the secrets of the occult sciences”).4 We know that
the psAH were known as early as the fourth/tenth century, based on citations in
texts composed in that century, such as the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (“Epistles of
the Brethren of Purity”), discussed in more detail in Chapter 4. In their epistle
on magic, the Brethren list astrology, magic (which subsumes occult proper-
ties), alchemy, medicine, and a fifth science they call al-tajrīd (emancipation
of the soul) as occult sciences.5 Al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya recurs in another psAH
epistle, in which we are told that the demiurge Hādūs has taught Adamnūs
(that is, Adam) “the secrets of the four sciences” and “the secrets of medicine.”
The al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya are far from being rogue sciences. Attesting to their
integration into the philosophical and scientific enterprise of the Islamicate
world is their place in official classifications of the sciences. In his Aqsām al-
ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya (“The classification of intellectual sciences”), Ibn Sīnā (Avi-
cenna, d. 428/1037) presents his scheme as an organization of the constituents
of ḥikma, that is, wisdom or philosophy, dividing it into three branches: lower
sciences, encompassing the natural sciences; middle sciences, encompassing
the mathematical sciences; and higher sciences, or metaphysics (al-ilāhiyyāt).6
The natural sciences, or lower sciences, are divided into either primary or sec-
ondary. In the first group are knowledge of natural universals such as matter,
forms, motions, nature, and human nature; knowledge of the nature of heav-
ens and the elements and nature; the processes of generation and corruption;
knowledge of celestial influences on the elements (meteorology, earthquakes,

4 London, British Library, Delhi Arabic MS, fol. 21v.

5 Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno Halflants, ed. and trans., The Brethren of Purity: On Magic I:
An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle 52a (London: University of Oxford
Press, in association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2011), 16–17. This is not surprising,
considering that they transfer much of the content of the aforementioned psAH’s treatise
on attracting animals into another, longer, version of their epistle on magic, citing the same
Hermetic text on the secrets of the occult sciences. Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dār
Ṣādir, 2008), 4:450.
6 Ibn Sīnā, “al-Risāla fī aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya,” in Tisʿ rasāʾil fī l-ḥikma wa-l-ṭabīʿiyyāt (Cairo:
Dār al-ʿArab, n.d.), 104–116, esp. 104–105.
4 saif and leoni

natural phenomena); mineralogy; science of plants; knowledge of animals;

and knowledge of the soul and the powers of perception. The secondary nat-
ural sciences include medicine, astrology, physiognomy, oneiromancy (dream
interpretation), talismans, nīranjs (organic amulets), and alchemy.7 Unlike Ibn
Sīnā’s neutral description, al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111) adopts a more condemnat-
ory tone in the classification of sciences in his Tahāfut al-falāsifa (“The inco-
herence of the philosophers”) while following his predecessor closely. He is,
however, unconcerned with the lawfulness of these sciences; as a matter of fact,
al-Ghazālī attacks the natural sciences’ exclusion of divine volition from their
discussion of causality, which ultimately undermines the extraordinariness of
miracles making them akin to magic.8
From Ibn Sīnā onward, then, most occult sciences were consistently classed
among the natural sciences in all the major Arabic and Persian classifications
of the sciences, and increasingly among the mathematical and religious sci-
ences as well. The science of letters (ʿilm al-ḥurūf ), sometimes referred to
as lettrism, is a particularly instructive example here, as this and its subsets
(such as jafr, or letter divination) were variously classed as natural, math-
ematical, or religious sciences, and, increasingly, as all three at once. The let-
ters, especially those of the Arabic alphabet, are the building blocks of real-
ity, so ʿilm al-ḥurūf can be defined as knowledge of the esoteric significance
and occult potency of letters, their numerical values, and names that reveal
truths about nature, the cosmos, and the divine. For some of its practitioners,
indeed, it came to serve as a universal or master occult science, comprising both
magical and divinatory applications and running the epistemological gamut
from physics to metaphysics.9 Most notably, the status of the science of letters
by the early modern period as a primary vehicle of applied Neopythagore-
anism, especially in the Persianate world, served as a means to sacralize the

7 Ibn Sīnā, “al-Risāla fī aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya,” 108–111. This system became influential, as
it has been adopted by other classifications such as those in Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-miṣbāḥ al-
siyāda (“The key to happiness and the cresset of mastery”) by the Ottoman scholar Aḥmed
b. Musṭafā Ṭashköprüzāde (1495–1561) and Kashf al-ẓunūn (“The elucidation of doubts”) by
Kâtip Çelebi (d. 1067/1657). Ṭashköprüzāde, Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-miṣbāḥ al-siyāda, 3 vols.
(Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 1985), 1:301–302, 340–346; Ḥājjī Khalīfa, Kashf al-ẓunūn, ed.
Muḥammad Yaltaqāyā and Rifʿat al-Kalisā, 2 vols. (Beirut: Dār Iḥyāʾ al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, n.d.),
1:11–18.
8 Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī, Tahāfut al-falāsifa, ed. Sulaymān Dunyā (Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif, 1966),
235–238.
9 Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One.” In the present volume, chapters 6, 7, and 9 are particularly
concerned with this science.
introduction 5

mathematical sciences, occult or otherwise, by linking them with the Shiʿi

Imams, for Sunnis and Shiʿis alike.10
More broadly, the occult sciences are a subset of knowledge that moves
between the personal and the transpersonal, the subjective and the transit-
ive, reflecting the epistemological fluidity of the Neoplatonic, Neopythagorean,
and Aristotelian foundations of their theoretical frameworks. Ultimately the
lines between divine and natural, subjective and objective investments are
blurry. The recognition of this irreducible ambiguity is valuable to the methods
of intellectual historians, art historians, and curators alike, as it allows them to
give nuance to their arguments beyond preconceived notions based on ana-
chronistic binaries.
The ambiguous character of the occult sciences also caused their modern
social and institutional marginalization, especially when subjected to post-
Enlightenment ideals that bifurcate knowledge into rational and irrational,
as discussed later on. More significantly, the influence of the Enlightenment
dichotomy of reason versus superstition, which delegitimized the study of the
occult sciences, spread beyond “the West” to the Islamic ecumene, with similar
effects expressed through different yet entangled cultural and political pro-
jects, most notably Islamic reform movements between the eighteenth and
twentieth centuries. The creedal purity of Islamist revivalists of the early twen-
tieth century, including those who adopted Wahhabi and Salafi theology, was
bolstered by expunging “heterodoxy” and “superstition” from a rationalist pro-
gram of reform.11 This rationality overtly shuns the occult sciences and largely
dismisses Islamic esoteric currents, deemed as embarrassing and backward
superstitions. For Muḥammad b. ‘Abd al-Wahhāb (d. 1206/1792), the question
warranted two chapters in his Kitāb al-Tawḥīd in which he censored the mak-
ing of amulets and seeking blessings from things other than God and criticized
magic and divination by citing hadith against these practices and beliefs.12
Ibn ʿAbd al-Wahhāb revamped earlier criticisms aligning in particular with
Ibn Taymiyya; however, in the context of the twentieth century his view takes
on an explicit anti-colonial and anti-imperialist dimension. As the Lebanese
reformer Rashīd Riḍā claimed, these illicit practices and beliefs prevented the
world from witnessing the true progressive and rational nature of Islam.13

10 Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One.”

11 Henri Lauzière, The Making of Salafism: Islamic Reform in the Twentieth Century (New York:
Columbia University Press, 2016), 47.
12 Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, Kitāb al-Tawḥīd, ed. Abū Mālik al-Qufaylī (Egypt: Makta-
bat al-ʿUlūm wa-l-Ḥikam, 2008), 31, 34, 80–86.
13 Lauzière, The Making of Salafism, 48, 118.
6 saif and leoni

In Iran too, the reform movements issuing from the 1905–1911 Constitutional
Revolution intensified the legal and institutional assault on the occult sciences:

Three developments conspired to criminalise the occult professions.

First, postrevolutionary modernists redoubled attentions to the issue of
public order, civility, and hygiene as part of efforts to remake urban space
along modern European lines. Second, these reforms were coupled with
calls for enlightened education and assaults on superstition and irration-
ality under the ancien regime …. Third, legal reform became the locus of
heightened activity, particularly as modernists understood the establish-
ment of a particular kind of public order to depend on the codification of
and enforcement of a set of laws.14

These reformist processes of rationalization centre on the aforementioned

post-Enlightenment dichotomy but contrast with medieval Islamicate notions
of “intelligibility” and “rationality,” historically contingent analytical categor-
ies formulated in an episteme that hailed a massive and deeply influential (on
a global level) sense of the knowability of the universe and the forces within
it. This discourse led directly to the emergence of systematic studies of occult
forces and explorations on how they manifest in the practice of magic and
astrology (action at a distance), divination (intuition), and alchemy (chemical
reactions).
Anti-occultist rhetoric was also cultivated by other forces, including secular-
ist and liberal-style currents in the Islamicate world and Christian evangelism,
which resulted in strong tendencies of disenchantment. In its modern config-
uration propelled by political activism, from Algeria through Iran and India,15
therefore, the suppression and marginalization of the occult sciences, whether
in practice or as academic study, was more successful than at any previous
time.16
One of the by-products of such marginalizing processes is the creation of
private and public spaces where new expressions of the occult emerge. For
example, in many places of the MENA region at least, the privilege of middle
and upper classes secures a level of legal immunity and social status. Thus,
capital access to Western forms of occult and esoteric currents led to the surge

14 Alireza Doostdar, The Iranian Metaphysicals: Explorations in Science, Islam, and the Un-
canny (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018), 50.
15 Francis Robinson, “Islamic Reform and Modernities in South Asia,” Modern Asian Studies
42, nos. 2–3 (March–May 2008): 259–281.
16 Roman Loimeier, “Patterns and Peculiarities of Islamic Reform in Africa,” Journal of Reli-
gion in Africa 33, no. 3 (2003): 237–262.
introduction 7

of Spiritism, Occultism, even Wicca, New Age practices, and Quantum Mys-
ticism.17 The latter, in particular, created a modern process of rationalization
that viewed traditional occult sciences with derision and their practitioners as
charlatans, while elevating spiritual, esoteric, and occult practices that can be
expressed in what are perceived as scientific terms (e.g., energy, wavelengths,
consciousness). To some extent, this “Westernizing” turn contributed even fur-
ther to the suppression of the traditional occult sciences, correlating them
with the “superstition,” “irrationality,” and the desperation of the lower classes.
This is a rich subject for future research that pays attention to contempor-
ary practices, entanglements with other global communities, and the political,
economic, and social power-structures that are, and have always been, shap-
ing Islamicate occult sciences and spiritualities according to ever-changing
discursive constructs of “rationality.” Present-day university programs often
deepen this split by excluding the occult sciences from the history of science
and philosophy and by assigning them, if at all, to the realms of anthropology,
sociology, and religion. This volume’s ultimate ambition is thus to cement the
value of studying and researching the occult sciences as an integral part of the
vibrant Islamicate intellectual and scientific enterprise over many centuries
and over vast territories.

2 Looking Backward, Looking Forward

The last decade or so has witnessed a notable rise in scholarship dealing with
magic, alchemy, the science of letters, astrology, divination, and various eso-
teric trends in the Islamicate world. In particular, the recent work of a new
generation of Islamicists on the theoretical contributions of pivotal exponents
of the occult sciences is gradually making available hitherto unknown or uned-
ited texts that expand considerably current knowledge of the subject and better
equip future scholarly quests.18 Ongoing research, often brewed in increasingly

17 For the case of Turkey, see Özgür Türesay, “Between Science and Religion: Spiritism in
the Ottoman Empire (1850s–1910s),” Studia Islamica 113 (2018): 166–200. See also the ANR-
DFG Neoreligitur Research project, “New Religiosities in Turkey: Reenchantment in a
Secularized Muslim Country?” https://anr.fr/Project‑ANR‑13‑FRAL‑0006. About Iran, see
Doostdar, The Iranian Metaphysicals, passim.
18 See, above all, de Callataÿ and Halflants, The Brethren of Purity: On Magic I; Jean-Charles
Coulon, “La magie islamique et le corpus bunianum au Moyen Âge” (PhD diss., Uni-
versité de Paris IV–Sorbonne, 2013); Cecile Bonmariage and Sébastien Moureau, ed. and
trans., Le cercle des lettres de l’ alphabet Da’irat al-ahruf al-abjadiyya: Un traité pratique de
magie des lettres attribué à Hermes (Leiden: Brill, 2016); Liana Saif, “The Cows and the
8 saif and leoni

diverse academic centers across Europe and North America,19 is shedding light
on subjects such as the development of occult thought in the early medieval
period;20 the assimilation of Greek, Persian, and Indian knowledge to Islamic
thought;21 the European reception of Islamicate occult ideas;22 the relation-
ship between the occult sciences and imperial ideologies;23 and the produc-
tion, circulation and careers of occult manuscripts and learning.24 Also on

Bees: Arabic Sources and Parallels for Pseudo-Plato’s Liber vaccae (Kitāb al-nawāmīs),” The
Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 79 (2016): 1–47; Matthew Melvin-Koushki,
The Lettrist Treatises of Ibn Turka: Reading and Writing the Cosmos in the Timurid Renais-
sance (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming); Liana Saif, The Goal of the Wise: An English Translation
from the Arabic Original (Pennsylvania: Penn State University, forthcoming); Godefroid de
Callataÿ, Sébastien Moureau, and Bruno Halflants, ed. and trans., The Brethren of Purity:
On Magic II: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle 52b (London: Uni-
versity of Oxford Press in association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies, forthcoming).
19 The Warburg Institute (London) continues to lead the way. At the Université Catholique
de Louvain (Belgium), the “Speculum Arabicum Project” (ERC 2012) is engaged in research
on alchemy and magic. Courses on the Islamicate occult sciences are regularly taught
in the history and religion departments of the University of South Carolina, where an
MA in magic is currently under development. In Paris, the workshop series “La magie
dans l’ Orient juif, chrétien et musulman: recherches en cours et études de cas” contin-
ues at the Institut des Sciences Humaines et Sociales du CNRS. Other initiatives are being
developed at the University of Exeter and the University of London, as well as at Yale Uni-
versity, where Travis Zadeh recently organized an international symposium, “Magic and
the Occult in Islam and Beyond” (March 2017), which was attended by several of the par-
ticipants in the present volume. See his Postscript in this volume.
20 Jean-Charles Coulon, La magie en terre d’Islam au Moyen Age (Paris: CTHS-Histoire, 2017);
Liana Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif: Ways of Knowing and Paths of Power
in Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-
Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 297–345.
21 Bink Hallum, “Zosimus Arabus: The Reception of Zosimos of Panopolis in the Arabic/
Islamic World” (PhD diss., Warburg Institute, 2008); Kevin van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes:
From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).
22 Liana Saif, The Arabic Influences on Early Modern Occult Philosophy (Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2015).
23 Ahmet Tunç Sen, “Astrology in the Service of the Empire: Knowledge, Prognostication, and
Politics at the Ottoman Court, 1450s–1550s” (PhD diss., The University of Chicago, 2016);
Emin Lelić, “Ottoman Physiognomy (ʿilm-i firâset): A Window into the Soul of an Empire”
(PhD diss., The University of Chicago, 2017); Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern
Islamicate Empire: New Forms of Religiopolitical Legitimacy,” in The Wiley-Blackwell His-
tory of Islam, ed. Armando Salvatore, Roberto Tottoli, and Babak Rahimi (Hoboken: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2018), 353–375; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, The Occult Science of Empire in
Aqquyunlu-Safavid Iran: Two Shirazi Lettrists and Their Manuals of Magic (Leiden: Brill,
forthcoming).
24 Farouk Yahya, Magic and Divination in Malay Illustrated Manuscripts (Leiden: Brill, 2016);
Noah Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture: Aḥmad al-Būnī and His Readers
introduction 9

the rise are interdisciplinary studies that are dedicated entirely to individual
practices, foremost among them alchemy, astrology, geomancy, bibliomancy,
physiognomy, oneiromancy, and amulet making,25 which have had the effect of
sustaining more systematic work on divinatory and magical objects as well.26
On the curatorial side, in the last decade major museums worldwide have
organized exhibitions focusing on various aspects of the occult sciences, not-
ably Falnama: The Book of Omens at the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Washing-
ton, DC (October 24, 2009–January 24, 2010), Un art secret: Les écritures talis-
maniques en Afrique de l’Ouest at the Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris (Feb-
ruary 14–July 28, 2013), Power and Piety: Islamic Talismans on the Battlefield
at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (August 29, 2016–February 13,
2017), and Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural at the Ash-

through the Mamlūk Period” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2014); Noah Gardiner,
“Esotericist Reading Communities and the Early Circulation of the Sufi Occultist Ahmad
al-Buni’s Works,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Melvin-Koushki and
Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 405–441.
25 Simon Swain, ed., Seeing the Face, Seeing the Soul: Polemon’s Physiognomy from Classical
Antiquity to Medieval Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Massumeh Farhad,
with Serpil Bağcı, Falnama: Book of Omens (Washington, DC: Freer and Sackler Gallery,
2009); Venetia Porter, with Robert Hoyland and Alexander Morton, Arabic and Persian
Seals and Amulets in the British Museum (London: British Museum, 2011); Özgen Felek and
Alexander Knysh, eds., Dreams and Visions in Islamic Societies (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 2012); Tuna Artun, “Hearts of Gold and Silver: Production of Alchemical
Knowledge in the Early Modern Ottoman World” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2013);
Özgen Felek, Kitābü’l-Menāmāt: Sultan III. Murad’ın Rüya Mektupları (Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı
Yurt Yayınları, 2014); Elizabeth Sirriyeh, Dreams and Visions in the World of Islam: A History
of Muslim Dreaming and Foreknowing (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2015); Elizabeth
Sartell and Shandra Lamaute, eds., “Characterizing Astrology in the Pre-Modern Islamic
World,” special issue of Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 1–97; Alessandro
Palazzo and Irene Zavattero, eds., Geomancy and other Forms of Divination (Florence:
SISMEL, 2017); Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Persianate Geomancy from Ṭūsī to the Millen-
nium: A Preliminary Survey,” in Occult Sciences in Pre-modern Islamic Cultures, ed. Nader
El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann (Beirut: Orient-Institut Beirut, 2018), 151–199; Nicholas Harris,
“Better Religion through Chemistry: Aydemir al-Jildakī and Alchemy under the Mamluks”
(PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2020).
26 Interdisciplinary approaches to the occult have proved fruitful in other fields. See, for
instance, Marvin Meyer and Paul A. Mirecki, Ancient Magic and Ritual Power (Leiden: Brill,
1995); Charles Burnett, Magic and Divination in the Middle Ages: Texts and Techniques in the
Islamic and Christian Worlds (Aldershot: Variorum, 1996); Paul Magdalino and Maria Mav-
roudi, eds., The Occult Sciences in Byzantium (Geneva: La Pomme d’or, 2007); Alan Lenzi
and Jonathan Støkl, eds., Divination, Politics, and Ancient Near Eastern Empires (Atlanta:
Society of Biblical Literature, 2014).
10 saif and leoni

molean Museum, University of Oxford (October 20, 2016–January 15, 2017).

These large-scale projects and their accompanying catalogs have been essen-
tial to introducing the topic to a wider, non-specialist audience.27 They have
also challenged the way in which this material has been traditionally framed
and exhibited in a museum context, creating further opportunities to reclaim
its place within the wider material and artistic output of the Islamic societ-
ies under consideration.28 Exhibitions with components relating to the occult
sciences are being staged also in Muslim-majority countries. The exhibition
Ya Hafeth Ya Ameen, featuring talismanic adornments from Jordan, Palestine,
Iraq, Syria, and Oman, was held at the Widad Kawar Home for Arab Dress in
Amman, Jordan (November 18, 2015–March 28, 2016). More recently, Al-Tibb:
Healing Traditions in Islamic Medical Manuscripts at the Islamic Arts Museum
Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur (March 19–December 31, 2018) dedicated a section to
the uses of magic and divination in medicine, with a corresponding chapter in
its catalog.29
The outputs of this vibrant field are not only the modern response to the
pioneering studies, translations, and group efforts of earlier generations of
scholars focusing on the subject.30 Many of them are, in fact, also transform-
ative in methodological terms, in so far as they challenge and debunk the
post-Enlightenment mindset and positivist stance that dismissed the occult

27 Farhad with Bağcı, Falnama; Alain Epelboin et al., Un art secret: Les écritures talismaniques
de l’ Afrique de l’ Ouest (Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe, 2013); Francesca Leoni, ed., Power
and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2016).
28 On some of the challenges posed by public displays of this subject, see Francesca Leoni,
“Islamic Occultism and the Museum,” in “Installing Islamic Art: Interior Space and Tem-
poral Imagination,” ed. Yuka Kadoi, special issue of the International Journal of Islamic
Architecture 7, no. 2 (2018): 327–351.
29 Farouk Yahya, “Divination and ‘Magic’ in Islamic Medicine,” in Al-Tibb: Healing Tradi-
tions in Islamic Medical Manuscripts, ed. Siti Marina Maidin (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Arts
Museum Malaysia, 2018), 190–193.
30 See, above all, Maslama al-Qurṭubī, Picatrix: das Ziel des Weisen, ed. Hellmut Ritter (Lon-
don: Warburg Institute, 1933); Hellmut Ritter and Martin Plessner, trans., “Picatrix”; das Ziel
des Weisen von Pseudo-Majriti (London: Warburg Institute, 1962); Toufiq Fahd, La divin-
ation arabe: études religieuses, sociologiques et folkloriques sure le milieu natif de l’Islam
(Leiden: Brill, 1966); Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimenwissenschafen im Islam
(Leiden: Brill, 1972); Marie-Thérèse D’ Alverny and Françoise Hudry, “Al-Kindi: De radiis,”
Archives d’historie doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age 41 (1974): 139–260; Richard Lemay,
ed. and trans., Abū Maʿšar al-Balḫī (Albumasar), Kitāb al-Madkhal al-kabīr ilā ʿilm aḥkām
al-nujūm. Liber introductorii maioris ad scientiam judicorum astrorum, 9 vols. (Naples: Isti-
tuto Universitario Orientale, 1995–1996); and Emilie Savage-Smith, ed., Magic and Divin-
ation in Early Islam (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).
introduction 11

sciences as irrational, leading to the marginalization of their academic study

in the past both in Muslim-majority and Western countries.31 The occult sci-
ences were long treated as anomalies clashing with the more rational discip-
lines of the “classical” period of Islam, the so-called “Golden Age,” and their
more “authentic” scientific and philosophical achievements of Greek origin.
This view was bolstered with the colonialist and orientalist attitude toward
the occult sciences in the Islamicate world, perceiving them as exotic phen-
onema of a superstitious Other. This was directed at “the Orient” as a whole
and at rural societies more specifically, whose cultural output was deemed
unsophisticated and uncultured because of a lack of textual output that can be
approached on the basis of philological positivism.32 Such frameworks are at
play in the nineteenth- and early twentieth-century accounts of Edward Lane,
Edmond Doutté, Bess Allen Donaldson, and Tewfik Canaan, which are among
early scholarly sources for the study of occult sciences and material culture in
the Muslim world.33
Published decades later, several works retaining this positivist scaffolding
established themselves as standard resources on the subject. Most notable
of these is Manfred Ullmann’s Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam
(1972), a book on Islamicate sciences encompassing zoology, alchemy, astro-
logy, magic, and agriculture.34 With few general insights, Ullmann systematic-
ally lists and summarizes the writings and manuscripts available under each
heading, becoming a useful place for scholars to begin surveying literature
and manuscripts related to their subjects and to expand further. A similar
resource is Fuat Sezgin’s Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums (1967–2000),

31 For a recent overview and relevant bibliographic references, see David J. Collins, “Intro-
duction,” in The Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West, ed. David J. Collins
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 1–14.
32 Omnia El Shakry, The Great Social Laboratory: Subjects of Knowledge in Colonial and Post-
colonial Egypt (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007), 40–41.
33 Edward W. Lane, Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (London: John Mur-
ray, 1860); Edmond Doutté, Magie et religion dans l’Afrique du nord (Algiers: A. Jourdan,
1909); Tewfik Canaan, Dämonenglaube im Lande der Bibel (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1929); Tew-
fik Canaan, “Arabic Magic Bowls,” Journal of the Palestine Oriental Society 16 (1936): 79–127;
Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” Berythus 4 (1937): 69–110 and
Berythus 5 (1938): 141–151 (reproduced in Savage-Smith, ed., Magic and Divination, 125–
177); Bess Allen Donaldson, The Wild Rue: A Study of Muhammadan Magic and Folklore in
Iran (London: Luzac, 1938).
34 To this list we may add, Rudolph Kriss and Hubert Kriss-Heinrich, Volksglaube im Bereich
des Islam. Bd. II. Amulette, Zauberformeln und Beschwörungen (Wiesbaden: Otto Har-
rassowitz, 1962).
12 saif and leoni

a thirteen-volume publication with sections on alchemy (vol. IV), astrology

(vol. VII), and magical texts described under various headings.35
The critical editions and studies of the orientalist Paul Kraus on alchemy—
The Selected Treatises by Jabir ibn Hayyan (1935), Essai sur l’ histoire des idées
scientifique dans l’Islam (1935), and Jābir ibn Ḥayyān: Contribution à l’ histoire
des idées scientifique dans l’Islam (1942–1943)—are also foundational works,
as they helped rehabilitate alchemy by turning it from an anti-scientific pur-
suit into an important intellectual and scientific enterprise.36 Similarly, the
works of David Pingree have been crucial to the study of Islamic medieval
astrological magic. His publications on these subjects and their focus on Greek,
Indian, and Persian sources remain essential reading for the historian of medi-
eval Islamicate occult sciences.37 Charles Burnett’s extensive studies on the
transmission of texts, techniques, and artifacts from the Islamicate world to
Europe in the Middle Ages are equally crucial. While his focus has traditionally
been on Arabic texts concerned with philosophy, arithmetic, geometry, divin-
ation, astrology, astronomy, medicine, and magic and their Latin translations,
his extraordinary output exposes the deep influence of Islamicate philosophy
and sciences, especially the occult sciences, on the scholarly communities in
Europe and their world views.38

35 Fuat Sezgin, Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, 17 vols. (Leiden: Brill; Fankfurt am
Main: Institut für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften, 1967–2000).
36 Paul Kraus, Mukhtār rasāʾil Jābir ibn Ḥayyān (Cairo: al-Khānjī, 1354/1935); Paul Kraus, Essai
sur l’ histoire des idées scientifique dans l’ Islam, vol. 1: Textes choisis (Paris: G.P. Maison-
neuve, 1935); Paul Kraus, Jābir ibn Ḥayyān: Contribution à l’histoire des idées scientifique
dans l’ Islam, 2 vols. (Cairo: Imprimerie de l’ Institut FRANÇAIS d’Archéologie Orientale,
1942–1943; reproduced Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1986). See also Lawrence M. Principe,
“Alchemy Restored,” Isis 102, no. 2 (June 2011): 305–312, esp. 307.
37 Though astrology and magic are no longer explicitly treated as pseudo-sciences, the focus
on identifying sources and influences tends nevertheless to undermine the originality of
the texts themselves.
38 See, among others, “Hermann of Carinthia and the Kitāb al-Istamāṭīs: Further Evidence
for the Transmission of Hermetic Magic,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes
44 (1981): 167–169; “Arabic, Greek and Latin Works on Astrological Magic Attributed to
Aristotle,” in Pseudo-Aristotle in the Middle Ages: The Theology and Other Texts, ed. Jill
Kraye, W.F. Ryan, and C.B. Schmitt (London: Warburg Institute, 1986), 84–96; “El kitab
al-Istamatis: un manuscrit Barceloní d’obres astrològiques i astronòmiques,” Lengua i lit-
eratura 2 (1987): 431–451; “The Eadwine Psalter and the Western Tradition of the Ono-
mancy in Pseudo-Aristotle’s Secret of Secrets,” Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du
moyen âge 55 (1988): 143–167; “Divination from Sheep’s Shoulder Blades: A Reflection on
Andalusian Society,” in Cultures in Contact in Medieval Spain: Historical and Literary Essays
Presented to L.P. Harvey, ed. D. Hook and B. Taylor (London: King’s College, 1990), 29–
45; Abū Maʿshār, The Abbreviation of the Introduction to Astrology, ed. and trans. Charles
introduction 13

A special issue of Bulletin d’études orientales, titled “Sciences Occultes et

Islam,” published in 1993, begins a change in scholarship.39 Edited by Pierre
Lory and Annick Regourd, this volume covers several facets of the occultist epi-
stemologies of medieval Islam. Some contributions consider social and ethno-
logical dimensions and others shed light on new texts and highlight more con-
nections. In this volume we also see a crucial shift from positivist-philological
approaches, which treat the occult sciences as textual and intellectual curiosit-
ies, to a more contextual one. We find Richard Lemay arguing for the integrality
of the occult sciences in the medieval scientific and philosophical enterprise,
Toufic Fahd highlighting the fluidity of occult sciences within philosophical
and theological discourses, and Ridha Atlagh noting the multiplicity of magical
practices and occult epistemologies in the medieval period.40 The editors con-
sciously loosen the dominant perspective that examines the occult sciences
for their seeming infringement on some “orthodoxy.” Instead, they note that

Burnett, Keiji Yamamoto, and Michio Yano (Leiden: Brill, 1994); Abū Maʿšar on Historical
Astrology, The Book of Religions and Dynasties (On the Great Conjunctions), ed. and trans.
Keiji Yamamoto and Charles Burnett, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2000); “Revision in the Arabic-
Latin Translations from Toledo: The Case of Abu Maʿshar’s On the Great Conjunctions,” in
Les traducteurs au travail: leurs manuscrits et leurs méthodes, ed. J. Hamesse (Louvain-la-
Neuve: FIDEM, 2001), 51–113, 529–540; “Talismans: Magic as Science? Necromancy among
the Seven Liberal Arts,” in Burnett, Magic and Divination in the Middle Ages, 1–15; “Ṯābit ibn
Qurra the Ḥarrānian on Talismans and the Spirits of the Planets,”La Corónica 36 (2007) 13–
40; “Nīranj: a Category of Magic (Almost) Forgotten in the Latin West,” in Natura, scienze
e società medievali. Studi in onore di Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ed. Claudio Leornardi
and Francesco Santi (Florence: Sismel, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2008), 37–66; “The Theory
and Practice of Powerful Words in Medieval Magical Texts,” in The Word in Medieval Logic,
Theology and Psychology, ed. Tetsuro Shimizu and Charles Burnett (Turnhout: Brepols,
2009), 215–231; “Aristotle as an Authority on Judicial Astrology,” in Florilegium mediaev-
ale, Études offertes à Jacqueline Hamesse à l’ occasion de son éméritat, ed. J. Meirinhos and
O. Weijers (Louvain-la-Neuve: Fédération Internationale des Instituts d’Études Médiév-
ales, 2009), 41–62; The Great Introduction to Astrology by Abū Maʿšar, ed. Keiji Yamamoto
and Charles Burnett, with an edition of the Greek version by David Pingree, 2 vols. (Leiden:
Brill, 2019).
39 Pierre Lory and Annick Regourd, eds., “Sciences occultes et Islam,” special issue of Bulletin
d’ études orientales 44 (1992 [1993]).
40 Richard Lemay, “L’Islam historique et les sciences occultes,” in Sciences occultes et Islam,
ed. Lory and Regourd, Bulletin d’études orientales 44 (1992 [1993]): 19–32; Toufic Fahd, “La
connaissance de l’ inconnaissable et l’ obtention de l’impossible dans la pensée mantique
et magique de l’ Islam,” in Sciences occultes et Islam, ed. Lory and Regourd, Bulletin d’études
orientales 44 (1992 [1993]): 33–44; Ridha Atlagh, “Le point et la ligne, explication de la
‘basmala’ par la science des lettres chez ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Ǧīlī (m. 826 h.),” in Sciences
occultes et Islam, ed. Lory and Regourd, Bulletin d’études orientales 44 (1992 [1993]): 161–
190.
14 saif and leoni

the reality of the occult sciences in law and dogma is ambiguous, despite cen-
sure by thinkers such as Ibn Khaldūn and al-Ghazālī. The early modern context
remains outside of the volume’s remit, perhaps reflecting the authors’ adher-
ence to the much-challenged declinist narratives that perceived little philo-
sophical and scientific achievements produced at this later time with which
the occult sciences may intersect.41 Although the volume does not pose a dir-
ect and explicit challenge to the orientalist legacies of earlier research, it marks
the start of a self-reflecting field.
Published a decade later, the edited volume Magic and Divination in Early
Islam provided another systematic effort to establish a state of the field. Com-
piled by Emilie Savage-Smith, whose contributions to the history of Islamic
science, inclusive of occultist practices, have been field-defining,42 this volume
spans an impressive range of topics from spirits and hermetic practices to
weather forecasting and divinatory methods up to the seventh/thirteenth cen-
tury. Savage-Smith’s compelling introductory bibliographic essay highlights not
simply the resources available, both textual and material,43 for the study of
this subject, but also the terminological challenges facing Western scholars
studying Islamic practices, the limitations posed by the use of categorizations
and dichotomies based on the European occultist tradition, and the complex
nature of the disciplines included in Islamic classifications of occult sciences.
Hence, although collating seminal articles that highlight past methodologies

41 On this declinist narrative and its rebuttal see, above all, George Saliba, Islamic Science
and the Making of the European Renaissance (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2007).
42 In addition to innumerable articles, other significant publications include Ranee Katzen-
stein and Emilie Savage-Smith, The Leiden Aratea: Ancient Constellations in a Medieval
Manuscript (Malibu, CA: J. Paul Getty Museum, 1988); John A.C. Greppin, Emilie Savage-
Smith, and John L. Gueriguian, eds., The Diffusion of Greco-Roman Medicine into the Middle
East and the Caucasus (Delmar, NY: Caravan Books, 1999); Emilie Savage-Smith, A Descript-
ive Catalogue of Oriental Manuscripts at St John’s College Oxford (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2005); Peter E. Pormann and Emilie-Savage-Smith, Medieval Islamic Medicine (Edin-
burgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007); Yossef Rapoport and Emilie Savage-Smith, Lost
Maps of the Caliphs (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2018); and the titles cited below.
43 Of all senior scholars working on occult sciences, Savage-Smith has perhaps the strongest
interest in their material dimensions. See, in particular, Emilie Savage-Smith and Marion
S. Smith, Islamic Geomancy and a Thirteenth Century Device (Malibu, CA: Undena Public-
ations, 1980); Emilie Savage-Smith, Islamicate Celestial Globes: Their History, Construction,
and Use (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1985); Emilie Savage-Smith and
Francis Maddison, Science, Tools and Magic, 2 vols. (London: Nour Foundation in associ-
ation with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1997); and Emilie Savage-Smith
and Yossef Rapoport, An Eleventh-Century Egyptian Guide to the Universe: The Book of Curi-
osities (Leiden: Brill, 2014).
introduction 15

and achievements in the study of occult sciences, Magic and Divination marked
a further shift in the field.
The volume by Constant Hamès dedicated to talismanic practices, Coran et
talismans: textes et pratiques magiques en milieu musulman (2007), was among
the first collective projects to react to the challenges voiced by Savage-Smith.44
Its focus on living practices, in particular, and interest in the longevity and re-
ception of protective and prophylactic methods based on the Qurʾan exposes
not only some of the dynamics surrounding the life of talismans—from con-
ception to consumption and disposal—but also these objects’ profoundly Is-
lamic nature, thereby reacting to the views that judge them as belonging to Is-
lam contaminated by traditional animistic practices. Social aspects associated
with talismanic arts and knowledge, including issues of authority, mediation,
and class, are particularly significant throughout the volume and reflect the
sociological and anthropological perspective framing the research of the edi-
tors and contributors dealing with North and West Africa, Yemen, and Tunisia.
The 2017 special double issue of Arabica, edited by Matthew Melvin-Koushki
and Noah Gardiner, titled “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” is a sub-
stantial critical contribution to this changing landscape.45 By showcasing the
original work of junior scholars and by proposing a more balanced medieval-
early modern chronology and broader geographical focus than previously
done, this recent collection has tackled more directly than before the epistem-
ological shifts that led to the employment of the occult sciences as sources of
natural and divine knowledge, as valued tools of statecraft, war, and imperial
ideology, and as mainstream elements of Islamicate culture. The final two art-
icles of this issue are also explicitly dedicated to material culture.46 Most of
all, the Arabica volume represents a crucial methodological intervention, chal-
lenging the intellectual marginalization of occult sciences in Islamic studies
specifically and the history of science generally, which has been sustained until
recently by persistent anxieties about their value for the study of Islam and the

44 Constant Hamès, Coran et talismans: textes et pratiques magiques en milieu musulman

(Paris: Editions Karthala, 2007).
45 “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah
Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 287–693. The publication
was based on Melvin-Koushki’s 2014 Princeton conference of the same title.
46 Özgen Felek, “Fears, Hopes and Dreams: The Talismanic Shirts of Murad III,” in “Islamicate
Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Melvin-Koushki and Gardiner, special double issue of
Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 647–672; Rose E. Muravchick, “Objectifying the Occult: Study-
ing an Islamic Talismanic Shirt as an Embodied Object,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New
Perspectives,” ed. Melvin-Koushki and Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–
4 (2017): 673–693.
16 saif and leoni

(de)legitimization of the scientific achievements of its civilization.47 The edit-

ors and contributors counter the resulting declinist narrative by showing some
of the ways in which the occult sciences were integral to scientific activity in
both “classical” and “post-classical” Islamicate cultures, thereby also exposing
the fertile opportunities that the intellectual rehabilitation of this field offers
to contemporary Islamic studies.48
The same year saw the publication of Jean Charles-Coulon’s La magie en
terre d’Islam au Moyen Âge, an extensive survey of magic from the first/sev-
enth to the eleventh/seventeenth century. This work, based on Coulon’s doc-
toral thesis, is a who’s who of medieval magic, among them al-Kindī, Jābir b.
Ḥayyān, Ibn Waḥshiyya, and Maslama al-Qurṭubī, before turning to Aḥmad
al-Būnī, the corpus attributed to him, and his influence. Coulon’s book is con-
scious of the orientalist fantasy in the early scholarship on magic, stemming
from the scenes set in The Thousand and One Nights with the exoticization
of jinn, and “the colonial propaganda” that one sees, for example, in La sor-
cellerie au Maroc by Émile Mauchamp and which ignited the magical imagin-
ary pertaining to the Arab world.49 He also acknowledges the central problem
of orientalist studies on magic that “want science and religion to be in con-
stant opposition.” The result is a vision where “the Muslim is torn between the
brilliance of science embodied, in the history of the Middle Ages, by Hellen-
istic, Persian, and Indian heritage, and the darkness of religion embodied … by
Muslim religion as such and magic.”50 This indeed distracts from the original-
ity of Islamic works by focusing on their “inheritance” of non-Islamic models of
science, namely Greek, and their passing into the Latin world.51 Coulon points
out that the trend of studying Islamic magic through their Latin translations,
as in the work of David Pingree and Richard Lemay, for example, contributed
to this view. This is usually set within a distorted broader picture that depicts

47 Cf. John W. Livingstone, “Science and the Occult in the thinking of Ibn Qayyim al-Jaw-
ziyya,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 112, no. 4 (1992): 598; Stephen P. Blake,
Astronomy and Astrology in the Islamic World (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
2016), viii and 2.
48 Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Introduction: De-orienting the Study of Islamicate Occultism,”
in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Melvin-Koushki and Gardiner, special
double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2018): 287–295, esp. 288–290; on the same theme, see
also Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “(De)colonizing Early Modern Occult Philosophy,” review
essay on Liana Saif, The Arabic Influences on Early Modern Occult Philosophy (London: Pal-
grave Macmillan, 2015), in Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 98–112.
49 Coulon, La magie en terre d’ Islam, 11–13.
50 Coulon, La magie en terre d’ Islam., 17.
51 Coulon, La magie en terre d’ Islam, 19–20.
introduction 17

medieval Islamic sciences in conflict with religion, as exemplified by the seem-

ing determinism of astrology and the question of the legitimacy of addressative
magic.52 La magie en terre d’Islam takes into account the adab genre in its
investigation and includes new and interesting themes such as magic and the
feminine.53
Two further recent publications, appearing in 2018 and 2019 respectively,
deserve mention. Both are collections of articles and are reflective not only
of a rapidly widening field but also of the pressing importance of a concep-
tual shift in the way occult sciences and practices should be approached. The
first collection of articles, The Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic Cultures,
edited by Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann, provides additional case stud-
ies intended to reclaim the intellectual value of the occult sciences in Islamic
culture.54 This volume’s articles on physiognomy and occult alphabets, topics
that are often overlooked, in addition to geomancy and the science of letters,
are particularly important. At the same time, in seeking to demonstrate their
place wedged between “natural philosophy” and “metaphysics” understood as
clearly demarcated domains, the volume continues to appraise the relevance
of occult sciences in relation to a positivistic notion of exact science, modeled
on modern delineations, and juxtaposed with metaphysics. It is more accur-
ate to see the occult sciences, especially medieval and early modern, not as a
distinct, if precarious, category of science but rather as one whose epistem-
ological foundations, like all sciences, change along with shifts in paradigms,
discourses, occupations, and specializations. This is also because one of the
immediate consequences of the above-mentioned approach is the exclusion
of the material ramifications of occult practices, cutting out what is instead an
essential dimension of these activities, as will be discussed shortly.
The second publication is Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt:
Magie im Islam zwischen Glaube und Wissenschaft, edited by Sebastien Gün-
ther and Dorothee Pielow.55 It is a large volume dealing with magic, theology,
prophetic medicine, spirit summoning, amulet making, and astrological magic
across an impressive chronological and geographical span, including Kurdish
and West African practices. Because it is the latest contribution on this topic

52 Richard Lemay, “Religion vs Science in Islam: The Medieval Debate around Astrology,” Ori-
ente moderno, n.s., 80, no. 3 (2000): 557–575.
53 Coulon, La Magie en terre d’ Islam, 55–60.
54 The Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic Cultures, ed. Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann
(Beirut: Orient-Institut Beirut, 2018).
55 Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt: Magie im Islam zwischen Glaube und Wis-
senschaft, ed. Sebastian Günther and Dorothee Pielow (Leiden and Boston; Brill, 2019).
18 saif and leoni

at the time of writing, a more elaborate review is warranted.56 This book is an

ambitious undertaking bringing together German scholars, most of whom are
not historians of magic, with the exception of Eva Orthmann, Dorothee Pielow,
and Bernd-Christian Otto, a historian of “Western” magic.57 Yet the concep-
tual framework and method of this publication reiterates the approaches of
the earlier generations with heavy emphasis on the place of magic in religious
and legal discourse, that is, as a polemic.58 This, in turn, feeds the unsubstanti-
ated argument that Islamic magic refers to the modification of pre-Islamic and
non-Islamic magical models and genres. Islam’s own contributions are under-
stood in strict relation to the Qurʾan (e.g., the story of Hārūt and Mārūt, Moses
and the Pharaoh’s magicians, tying knots in Sūrat al-Falaq) and the agency of
jinn, rather than in relation to a wider intellectual and scientific incentives of
a culture invested in the occult sciences. However, the relationship between
science and the religious canon cannot be so neatly separated, assigning the
Islamic to one sphere and the non-Islamic to another. The authors of the intro-
duction view the “intrusion” of non-Islamic elements in terms of a syncret-
ism, a concept of questionable heuristic value, as it implies the independent
existence of a pure system of belief that is sullied by extraneous elements.59
Despite acknowledging that these developments are incomplete, organic, and
dynamic, this double view, which reduces “inherent” magical elements to the
Qurʾan and hadith, portrays magical discourse mostly as a religious anxiety
legitimized.60

56 For a more detailed review see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Magic in Islam between Reli-
gion and Science,” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 14, no. 2 (2019): 255–287.
57 Eva Orthmann, “Lettrism and Magic in an Early Mughal Text: Muḥammad Ghawth’s Kitāb
al-Jawāhir al-Khams,” in The Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic Cultures, ed. El-Bizri
and Orthmann, 223–247; Eva Orthmann, “The Sources and the Composition of the Dus-
tūr al-munajjimīn,” in Science in the City of Fortune: The Dustūr al-munajjimīn and Its
World, ed. E. Orthmann and P. Schmidl (Berlin: EBVerlag, 2017), 35–114; Dorothee Pielow,
“Dämonenabwehr am Beispiel des Zärs und des islamischen Amulettwesens,” Zeitschrift
der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 147 (1997): 354–370.
58 Johann Christoph Bürgel, “Zum Geleit,” in Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren
Welt, ed. Günther and Pielow, xv–xxix, esp. xvi–xviii and xix–xx; Hans Daiber, “Magie und
Kausalität im Islam,” in Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt, ed. Günther and
Pielow, 155–177, here 155.
59 For a concise overview of the limits of syncretism as an analytical category, see Tony Stew-
art and Carl Ernst, “Syncretism,” in South Asian Folklore: An Encyclopedia, ed. Peter Claus
and Margareth Mills (New York: Routledge, 2003), 586–588.
60 Bürgel, “Zum Geleit,” in Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt, ed. Günther
and Pielow, xx; Sebastian Günther and Dorothee Pielow, “Magie im Islam: Gegenstand,
Geschichte und Diskurs,” in Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt, ed. Günther
and Pielow, 3–95, esp. 4–8.
introduction 19

Otto’s postscript, in particular, emphasizes the bifurcation of the cultural

sphere within which magic is thought of and practiced: the polemical and
the internal. Magic becomes deviance contested, set within an exclusionary
discourse, with persistent references to Ibn Khaldūn, whose treatment of the
occult has demonstrably been given too much weight. This implies that this
polemicization of magic is even across all periods and all Islamic religious
experiences.61 This “pro-and-anti” duality is then developed into a call for a
methodological binary, recommended by Otto as a systematic differentiation
of inner and outer perspectives which he claims helps overcome Eurocentri-
cisms. The contradiction of this approach, however, lies in the fact that Otto
is adopting a perspective taken from the study of “Western” magic and esoter-
icism, and one that, above all, approaches occult sciences and esotericism as
forms of heterodox and “rejected knowledge.”62 Notable in this volume is the
lack of engagement with the works and findings of the new generation, most
of whom are contributors to our volume, who have been shedding new light on
all aspects of magic specifically, and the occult sciences generally.63

∵
In addition to representing an array of new voices, Islamicate Occult Sciences in
Theory and Practice offers a more explicit intervention in relation to visual and
material culture. The paucity of visual and material evidence from traditional
scholarship devoted to Islamic occult sciences is not, in itself, new. Save, in fact,
for a few and mostly recent exceptions,64 text-based studies have propelled

61 Bernd-Christian Otto, “Magie im Islam: Eine diskursgeschichtliche Perspektive,” in Die

Geheimnisse der oberen und der unteren Welt, ed. Günther and Pielow, 317–318.
62 Yet, as scholars of Western esotericism today recognize, the scholarship from this unbal-
anced framework has produced an overemphasis on the particular polemical discourses
against the occult that have issued from the Protestant Reformation to the post-Enlighten-
ment period, the like of which have no relevance for the Islamicate experience. Wouter
J. Hanegraaff, Esotericism and the Academy: Rejected Knowledge in Western Culture (New
York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), passim.
63 The names of some of these scholars are mentioned in the introduction, but it becomes
clear they were not read carefully. For example, although the PhD dissertations of Noah
Gardiner and Jean-Charles Coulon are mentioned, Aḥmad al-Būnī is still regarded as
the true author of Shams al-Maʿārif al-kubrā, despite both scholars proving that it is an
eleventh/seventeenth-century al-Būnian-type compilation. Instead, the authors rely on
outdated sources, such as Ullmann, on the topic of occult sciences.
64 Except for the already cited work by Tewfik Canaan on Arabic talismans and Emilie
Savage-Smith and Marion B. Smith’s monographic study of the British Museum’s geo-
mantic tablet (Islamic Geomancy and a Thirteenth Century Device), most object- or image-
20 saif and leoni

and dominated the study of disciplines with strong material dimensions, such
as astrology, geomancy, bibliomancy, and the science of letters.65 Yet artifacts
have always provided a primary space for the articulation and implementation
of occult technologies and knowledge.66 A telling example is to be found in the
collection of the Ashmolean Museum at the University of Oxford. Elias Ash-
mole’s own antiquarian passion and collecting activities, in fact, were but an ex-
tension of his intellectual pursuits, centered mainly in natural philosophy, as-
trology, and alchemy. While often described in subsequent literature as exotic
curios, his many natural specimens and artifacts were primarily a source of cor-
roborative evidence and a testing ground for his ongoing exploration of nature’s
secrets, properties, and powers.67 Ashmole’s collection, above all, testifies to the
legitimacy of the esoteric, the folkloric, and the magical, alongside and even as
part of the natural and the religious within the harmonizing framework of the
cabinet of curiosities. Far from being the result of haphazard and misinformed
collecting habits, in fact, these holdings reflected the considerable overlap be-
tween religion, philosophy, the natural sciences, and the occult sciences ob-
servable at the time.68 As such, these mineral, vegetal, and animal specimens

based contributions involving contextual analysis date from the last two decades. For a
detailed list, including recent doctoral dissertations studying new bodies of material, see
the bibliographies in Leoni, Power and Protection, 95–100, and Venetia Porter, Liana Saif,
and Emilie Savage-Smith, “Amulets, Magic, and Talismans,” in A Companion to Islamic Art
and Architecture, Vol. 1: From the Prophet to the Mongols, ed. Finbarr Barry Flood and Gülru
Necipoğlu (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2017), 521–557.
65 As demonstrated by the studies of, among others, Maddison and Savage-Smith (Science,
Tools and Magic), Stefano Carboni (Following the Stars: Images of the Zodiac in Islamic Art
[New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1997]), Anna Caiozzo (Images du ciel d’orient
au moyen âge: histoire du zodiaque et de ses représentations dans les manuscripts du Proche-
Orient musulman [Paris: Presses de l’ Université de Paris Sorbonne, 2003]) and Farhad with
Bağcı (Falnama).
66 A two-year research project led by Francesca Leoni under the auspices of the Leverhulme
Trust and completed in early 2018 was the first large-scale object-focused effort to explore
divination in pre-modern Islam.
67 Conrad Hermann Josten, Elias Ashmole (1617–1692): His Authobiographical and Historical
Notes, His Correspondence, and Other Contemporary Sources Relating to His Life and Work,
5 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966). Many of these objects originated from John Tra-
descant the Elder’s own extensive selection of natural and botanical specimens, known
as the Ark, which constituted the largest collection of its kind in seventeenth-century
Britain. Arthur MacGregor, Ark to Ashmolean: The Story of Tradescants, Ashmole and the
Ashmolean Museum (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 1983).
68 “[The Ark] straddled a world where burgeoning scientific research had parity with magic
and superstition, both forms of knowledge were interrelated and accepted … the bizarre
and incomprehensible had serious function … critical to the understanding of the mac-
introduction 21

and artifacts provided essential keys to the prevailing system of knowledge

underpinned by a Neoplatonic view of the cosmos and its correspondences
between the heavenly and earthly spheres.69
That the belief in occult forces and the drive to study them were shared
by the Royal Society—one of the world’s most prestigious institutions for the
promotion of scientific knowledge—and its members (including Ashmole)
should therefore come as no surprise. It was not long, though, before the rising
experimentalism that eventually led to the Enlightenment began to sideline
occult disciplines.70 The far-reaching effects of this shift were felt across the
Ashmolean throughout the nineteenth century, when new taxonomies and
hierarchies led to a reorganization of its growing collection. The process cul-
minated in the relocation of the natural specimens and ethnographic materials
in two institutions of recent foundation, the Museum of Natural History (1850)
and the Pitt Rivers Museum (1886), transforming the Ashmolean into the uni-
versity’s museum of art and archaeology, which it remains today.
Reflecting the emergence of anthropology as a discipline during the nine-
teenth century and of ideas on social evolution and the linear progress of the
human civilization, the establishment of the Pitt Rivers Museum, in particu-
lar, bears witness to the way in which material culture associated with occult
practices came to be seen and represented in the public arena. At this time, the
study of the material evidence of remote societies was deemed instrumental
for the understanding of the earlier stages of human civilization of which the
European exemplified what was believed to be the highest point in develop-
ment. This conversation intersected with processes of rationalization of reli-
gions to align them with the parameters of modernity.71 “Irrational” elements,

rocosm and its implications for the microcosm or mankind.” Martin Welch, “The Founda-
tion of the Ashmolean Museum,” in Tradescant’s Rarities. Essays on the Foundation of the
Ashmolean Museum, 1683, with a Catalogue of the Surviving Early Collections, ed. Arthur
MacGregor (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 40–58, 53.
69 Ashmole’s interest in botany developed because of its link with medicine and astrology.
At the time, planets were key to establish both the medical applications of plants and the
timing and rules of their collection and utilisation. Josten, Elias Ashmole, 1:57.
70 Thomas Sprat’s History of the Royal Society of London published in 1667, just a few years
after the society was established, lists only research on celestial phenomena of an astro-
nomical nature. History of the Royal Society of London, for the Improving of Natural Know-
ledge (London: Printed by T.R. for J. Martyn and J. Allestry, 1667). This was also the time in
which chemists embarked on a systematic epuration of alchemy in order to make it “hon-
est, sober and intelligible” and clear it of “the Chrysopoietick, delusory designs and vain
transmutations, the Rosie-crucian vapours, magical charms and superstitious suggestions
of the old Philosophers of the Notional way.” Josten, Elias Ashmole, 1:135–136.
71 As in anthropology, a strand of liberal theology also argued for an evolutionary framework
22 saif and leoni

including forms of popular devotion and superstition, were seen as unmodern,

hence the need to strip them away in order to rediscover the (true) essence of
religions.72 Rather than using material evidence to shed light on the past social
and economic forms of associated cultures, non-European artifacts were used
to substantiate and explain pre-historic European finds and patterns of evol-
ution. Material related to spiritual and occult practices always constituted a
significant part of the evidence collected,73 useful in providing the evidence of
non-European primitivism, and was mainly obtained by professionals involved
in European colonial enterprises on the basis of criteria and guidelines dictated
by their home institutions.74 However, by responding to processes of seriation
measured against Western standards of development in both the scientific and
religious domains, these objects were turned into tools for the legitimation of
specific ideological frameworks and, more crucially, of the resulting colonial
and civilizational enterprises.75
It is in the exoticization and vilification of occult objects witnessed in the
museum space that we also find the conditions that led to their separation from
the practices they once accompanied. Why their study came to prioritize their
theoretical, rather than material, manifestations is thus ultimately also explain-
able by the process of segregation, abasement, and manipulation enacted in

in which religions could be positioned. Christianity came to be framed as the opposite of

Islam. The former was dynamic and progressive, while the latter was “stagnant and declin-
ing … defiantly unaffected by, or even reversing, the evolutionary momentum towards
modernity.” Dietrich Jung, Orientalists, Islamists and the Global Public Sphere: A Genealogy
of the Modern Essentialist Image of Islam (London: Equinox, 2011), 95–156.
72 Peter Pels, “Introduction: Magic and Modernity,” in Magic and Modernity: Interfaces of
Revelation and Concealment, ed. Birgit Meyer and Peter Pels (Redwood, CA: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 2003), 1–38; and Yusuf Muslim Eneborg, “The Quest for ‘Disenchantment’
and the Modernization of Magic,” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 25, no. 4 (2014):
419–432. For the impact of this conversation on Muslim intellectuals and reformists, see in
the earlier part of this chapter, as well as Sadiq Jalal al-Azm, “Orientalism and Orientalism
in Reverse,” in Orientalism: A Reader, ed. Alexander L. Macfie (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 217–238;
Muhammad Khalid Masud, Armando Salvatore, and Martin van Bruinessen, eds., Islam
and Modernity: Key Issues and Debates (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009).
73 Building on Sir Hans Sloane’s bequest, which comprised an important group of amulets
with Qurʾanic passages, the British Museum continued to enlarge its collection of Islamic
amulets, thanks to the considerable holdings accumulated by Henry Christy and Arthur
W. Franks. Porter et al., Arabic and Persian Seals, vii.
74 This collecting strategy also made the gathering of contextual information unnecessary,
orphaning many of these objects from significant background documentation.
75 Jonathan C.H. King, “Franks and Ethnography,” in A.W. Franks: Ninenteenth-Century Col-
lecting at the British Museum, ed. Marjorie Caygill and John Cherry (London: British
Museum, 1997), 136–159, esp. 139.
introduction 23

these spaces.76 Yet, being often action- and goal-driven, be it for material or spir-
itual gain, occult practices would lose their raison d’ être if separated from their
tools, vehicles, and “end products,” as clearly demonstrated by the object-based
essays presented in this collection. Furthermore, objects enable us to consider
the operative dimensions of specific techniques, and to reconstruct the ways
in which users contribute to their efficacy. Be they utilitarian or symbolic, they
are also vital to determining the sensorial interactions necessary for their actual
functioning. As such, they allow us to reflect on broader issues, such as agency
and activation, while bringing to light other and less visible classes of individu-
als who, in addition to the authors of texts and manuals, contributed to their
existence and continued reproduction over time.
These points are clearly emphasized in Chapter 10 on talismanic weaponry,
and Chapter 12 on a stamped talisman. In the former, Maryam Ekhtiar and
Rachel Parikh argue that the presence of talismanic formulas is, in itself, not
enough for protection, and that the ability to interact with them is crucial for
these objects’ construction as much as for their efficacy. Such evidence chal-
lenges our assumptions about the way apotropaic devices and their vocabulary
operate and suggests that individual interventions and interaction constituted
an essential, and yet overlooked, ingredient of a talisman’s potency. The cent-
rality of sensorial interaction for the successful transfer of the prophylactic or
apotropaic properties of specific motifs is similarly highlighted in Francesca
Leoni’s contribution, where the diagrammatic nature of some of the seal marks
reproduced on the talisman under examination elicits extended visual contem-
plation and tactile interaction, the latter, in fact, being documentable through
the smudging of some of their surfaces.
When cultivating an interdisciplinary collaboration between material cul-
ture and intellectual history on the subject of the occult sciences, one is con-
fronted by the lack of direct correspondence between specific texts and ob-
jects.77 Nevertheless, the magical vocabulary visible on magical and divinatory
artifacts appears in the medieval and early modern literature on magic.78 Sur-
vival is certainly part of the issue, as Venetia Porter, Liana Saif, and Emilie
Savage Smith have noted in their recent reassessment of magic and talismans:

76 The fact that many of the objects associated with occult practices are of varying artistic
merit caused them to be mostly overlooked also by art historians until recently. The 2016
exhibition Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural mentioned earlier on
offered an important corrective by considering both humble and sophisticated artifacts.
77 Savage-Smith and Maddison, eds., Science, Tools and Magic, 1:62–63; Emilie-Savage-Smith,
“Islamic Magical Texts vs. Magical Artefacts,” Societas Magica Newsletter 11 (2003): 2–6.
78 Porter, Saif, and Savage-Smith, “Amulets, Magic, and Talismans,” 522.
24 saif and leoni

In terms of the survival of such objects, there are few that can be attrib-
uted with certainty to before the twelfth or thirteenth centuries. More
magical artefacts have survived from later periods and we can only spec-
ulate about the reasons for the apparent lack of material evidence of
the theories and practices discussed in the early medieval literature. It
could be due to the perishable nature of earlier objects such as nir-
anjiyat or perhaps they were subject to corrosion, since many were made
of metals. Also, many of the objects that have survived in museums
and other public resources originally belonged to personal collections
gathered by travellers and researchers, from as early as the fifteenth cen-
tury, as curios of the cultures they visited and thus it is more likely that
these objects were created nearer the time of the collectors’ sojourns in
these regions.79

Objects should nevertheless be seen as a supplementary form of “document,”

testifying to ideas and principles whose textual formulation may have been lost
or never realized. They can also capture oral and practical know-how and show
its relevance in everyday life, the intended and ultimate forum of occult tech-
nologies. Farouk Yahya shows this in his analysis of the “lion of ʿAlī” calligram
across Southeast Asia in Chapter 11, which reveals how the motif’s synthesis
of regional adaptations, in both form and content, and drawing on Islamic as
much as non-Islamic ideas and beliefs, supported both local devotional and
protective needs. Similar to the vocabulary in use on the talisman discussed in
Chapter 12, or found on the laminate devotional goods surveyed in Chapter 13,
the content of Yahya’s calligrams is another proof of the endurance into mod-
ern times of specific principles and resources—from the Qurʾan to prophetic
and saintly intercession—in the production of apotropaic and prophylactic
devices. These examples also reveal the degree of experimentation of their cre-
ators, who may have relied only to a limited extent on technical literature and
written knowledge. Instances such as these suggest that material culture can be
a gateway to a parallel and highly stratified world of occult wisdom, which is
usually the synthesis of established principles and idiosyncratic, generally loc-
ally relevant, methods, whose systematic exploration and significance for the
broader subject matter remains to be undertaken.
Artifacts, like texts, provide unique evidence for assessing the original and
ad hoc contributions made by makers or determined by contingent circum-
stances. This, in turn, can help historians evaluate the bearing of occult theoret-

79 Porter, Saif, and Savage-Smith, “Amulets, Magic, and Talismans,” 533.

introduction 25

ical and philosophical knowledge on the realm of practice and which aspects of
it filtered beyond scholarly circles and, therefore, succeeded in terms of recep-
tion. Related to this are the social dimensions of occult sciences, including
the roles of users as diverse patrons of specific tools and methods, and the
space occupied by the scholars, redactors, readers, and artisans responsible
for the dissemination of such knowledge throughout society. Finally, objects
can help to challenge clear-cut categories traditionally used to navigate Islam-
icate cultural contributions and expose the ambiguity of certain taxonomies.
This appears consistently in all object-based contributions presented in this
volume, where concepts such as “orthodox” and “heterodox,” “magical” and
“devotional,” ḥarām and ḥalāl show levels of interpenetration that ultimately
test these categories’ assumed coherence, to say nothing of their usefulness
in trying to situate phenomena like the Islamicate occult sciences within the
related cultural production. An instance of this, demonstrated by both the
object-based and text-based contributions in this volume, is the problematic
assumption of a strict Shiʿi-Sunni divide. From the perspective of material
culture, Chapter 10 demonstrates the presence of ʿAlid references in Sunni
contexts, for example on weapons on which one finds talismanic motifs that
exemplify a crossbred system of symbols and devotional practices. From the
perspective of intellectual history, Chapter 7 demonstrates a case in which
Imamophilia, Sufism, and esotericism transcended confessional boundaries.
Related to the equally hampering elite-popular binary, historical and mater-
ial evidence points to the use of information drawn from occult sciences and
practices for the benefit of aristocratic individuals, such as the weaponization
of the science of letters for imperial agendas or the dedication of precious
manuscripts to sovereigns for education and entertainment. At the other end
of the spectrum, we recognize the role of the commodification of magical texts
and objects in popularizing their utility.

3 Rationale and Structure

One of the overarching ideas of the 2017 conference was an evaluation of the
occult sciences in their own historical contexts and on their practitioners’ own
terms, where their standing and intellectual contributions can be best meas-
ured. Hence, we structured it as a conversation between papers dedicated
to intellectual history and others to material culture. This seemed intuitive,
because the content and objectives of intellectual historians overlap, or are
continuous with, the disciplines of the history of science, social history, polit-
ical history, and history of art and material culture. Despite the now long, and
26 saif and leoni

even clichéd, contestation to “Whiggish” perspectives when it comes to magic,

astrology, divination, alchemy, the science of letters, and the rest of the occult
sciences, these issues are still contributing to the “stashing” of documentary
evidence, whether texts, manuscripts, objects, or art, in archives and librar-
ies all over the world. Nevertheless, the cache of untapped resources means
that the effort of historians of Islamicate occult sciences is expended mostly
on producing an expanding canon by making available the content of the doc-
umentary body: producing critical editions, translations, textual, paratextual,
and material analysis, and examining the epistemological frameworks of the
occult sciences in Islam.
Our volume is a snapshot of these philology-heavy responsibilities of the his-
torians of the occult sciences at this stage. At the same time, the articles take the
research in two new directions: a wider global approach, and an examination
beyond intention and analysis of context. The aim is to expand the meaning
of textuality and provide insights into the various discursive practices with
which the documentary source—be it text or material object (including texts
as material objects)—and occult knowledge production were in dialog, espe-
cially the intellectual, cultural, and political incentives behind the creation of
classificatory systems of knowledge.80 This also highlights the over-privileged
status of “the archives,”81 new and historical, that historians themselves use,
and its influence on the way our own classifications of the occult sciences
are continuously (re)structured. Through the two directions followed in this
volume, we heed the call for decolonizing our disciplines, because, to shake
off the normative framework of “the West,” we need to identify transregional
communities of interactions. Moving beyond national and religious boundar-
ies, more than ever we must be reflective of our own position and power within

80 This was an important practice in the systematization of Islamicate sciences and arts espe-
cially in the medieval and early modern periods. This approach has been employed by
some of the authors in this volume too; namely, Matthew Melvin-Koushki, Noah Gardiner,
and Bink Hallum. For an example of these methodological directions beyond this volume,
see Liana Saif, “What Is Islamic Esotericism?,” in “Islamic Esotericism,” ed. Liana Saif, spe-
cial issue of Correspondences: Journal for the Study of Esotericism 7, no. 1 (2019): 1–59.
81 A collection of documents (manuscripts, records, objects, etc.) created or gathered by
one person or institutions (universities, libraries, museums, etc.) for long-term preserva-
tion. Here it is understood that the selection of these documents is never neutral and is
influenced by power structures that resulted from social, economic, and political conflict,
colonialism, and orientalist heritage. See Holger Warnk, “Searching for Seeds to Rest in
Libraries: European Collecting Habits towards Malay Books and Manuscripts in the Nine-
teenth Century,” Frankfurt Working Papers on East Asia 1 (2009): 3–22; and James Lowry,
ed., Displaced Archives (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2017).
introduction 27

intellectual and institutional structures to reassert the importance of the study

of the occult sciences to the post-colonial study of Islam and the Islamicate
world, past and present.
Reflecting this rationale, the essays in this volume have been grouped ac-
cording to two complementary aspects of the occult sciences. The first section,
“Occult Theories: Inception and Reception” showcases the latest research from
the perspective of intellectual history. This part commences with Charles Bur-
nett’s discussion of the medieval tripartite division of magic into talismans,
nīranjs, and alchemy, and the epistemological rationale behind it (Chapter 2).
Investigating medieval sources such as Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
Thābit b. Qurra’s De imaginibus, and some works of Ibn Sīnā, the author shows
that the division reflects ideas on the body and soul. Magic, thus, becomes part
of wisdom, to which the understanding of the dynamics between corporeal and
psychical realities is central, and whose pursuit is therefore the appanage of
the sage and the philosopher. This chapter expands on the relevance of magic
to medieval physics and metaphysics, in addition to highlighting the transfer
of this conceptualization to Europe by medieval authors and translators such
as Hermann of Carinthia (fl. 1138–1143), Roger Bacon (d. 1292), and Adelard of
Bath (d. 1160).
Moving from a broad discussion of magic to a specific genre, Chapter 3
by Bink Hallum is an in-depth study of awfāq or magic squares. The author
situates awfāq literature in the intellectual atmosphere in which it was con-
ceptualized and created, from the mid-third/ninth to the late sixth/twelfth
century. This chapter complements the study of the mathematical quality of
these squares and emphasizes their importance in long-standing magical tra-
ditions, from astral magic to letter magic. Progressing to a specific text is Liana
Saif’s essay, which explores the content of Ikhwān al-Ṣafā’s epistle on magic,
the fifty-second in their encyclopedia known as the Rasāʾil, “The Epistles”
(Chapter 4). In this epistle, magic (siḥr) is uniquely construed as a magical
power in the traditional sense, an allegory of self and state transformation, and
a means to enlightenment through knowledge of nature, the cosmos, and the
divine. The author’s examination continues the discussion on the philosoph-
ical and mystical discourses in which the occult sciences, in general, and magic,
in particular, are conceptualized. This theme is taken up further in Michael
Noble’s discussion of the Kitāb al-Milal wa-l-niḥal (“The book of religions and
sects”) of Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Shahrastānī (d. 548/1153), and the
al-Sirr al-maktūm (“The hidden secret”) of Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210),
in which astral magic is treated as a form of spiritualized natural philosophy
that offers the human soul “the promise of a soteriological angelomorphosis”
(Chapter 5).
28 saif and leoni

The following contribution by Noah Gardiner takes up the subject of the

occult sciences, especially the science of letters, in the service of writing univer-
sal history, particularly the case of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī’s Naẓm al-sulūk
fī musāmarat al-mulūk (“Regulation of conduct: On the edification of kings”),
a largely overlooked work completed in Bursa in 833/1429–1430 (Chapter 6).
Such an application is facilitated by the fact that the science of letters is, at its
core, a cosmological and cosmogenic discourse that interprets historical events
as part of universal dynamics organized by divine decree through a lettrist
cosmological infrastructure. As a result, the Naẓm is no mere exercise in writ-
ing history; al-Bisṭāmī, rather, signals the obligation of communal reform, in
tandem with the cyclical movement of history, facilitated by the knowledge
and utility attained by the science of letters. Like chapters 4 and 5, this article
demonstrates the mobilization of the occult sciences for personal, communal,
and civilizational transformation.
The final contribution of this first section by Maria Subtelny analyzes the
occult thought of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Vāʿiẓ-i Kāshifī (d. 910/1504–1505),
primarily through his Asrār-i qāsimī (“Qāsimian secrets”) (Chapter 7). This is
a Timurid manual primarily concerned with illusionism and prestidigitation,
which was expanded in the Safavid period to encompass all five of the “clas-
sical” occult sciences: kīmiyāʾ, līmiyāʾ, hīmiyāʾ, sīmiyāʾ, and rīmiyāʾ, the initial
letters of which represent the Arabic phrase kulluhu sirrun (“It is all a secret”).
Most strikingly, Kāshifī, a Naqshbandī Sufi by training and hence Sunni by
confession, transcends conventional notions of confessionalism (and thus a
strict Sunni-Shiʿi divide) by putting forward the occult sciences as a primary
discourse of ʿAlidism or Imamophilia, which explains its eager reception in
the Twelver Shiʿi society of Safavid Iran. Subtelny’s textual choice provides us
with a telling example of the defining elements of the occult sciences as dis-
cussed earlier in this introduction, that is, sciences incorporated in both natural
and religious systems of knowledge, in addition to confirming the confessional
ambiguity of such disciplines.
The second part of the volume, “Occult Technologies: From Instruction to
Action” brings together the methods and directives associated with sciences
such as astral magic, science of letters, and amulet-making, on the one hand,
and the direct applications and material incarnations of some of these proced-
ures, on the other. In Chapter 8, Jean-Charles Coulon introduces a text virtually
ignored in available scholarship but of considerable importance and authority
in the medieval Islamicate magical tradition, as testified by its mentions in later
occultist literature. The chapter surveys available versions in view of a forth-
coming critical edition and translation, but also highlights the text’s strengths
and significance for both the transmission of Indian occult knowledge and
introduction 29

for the theorization of occult sciences like sīmiyāʾ, identified primarily as “the
secret of the nature,” “the secret of wisdom,” and “the bewitchment of reason.”
Furthermore, by highlighting the role of talismans as “the means of action” of
sīmiyāʾ, the Kitāb Sharāsīm adds historical validity to the approach put forth by
this volume and its desire to reclaim the material dimensions of occult sciences.
The next contribution (Chapter 9), by Matthew Melvin-Koushki, explores
the application of the science of letters for imperial-ideological and military
purposes, in this case for the Ottoman sultan Selīm the Grim (r. 918–926/1512–
1520). This occurs in a tract probably composed by the jurist Kemālpaşazāde
Aḥmed, in which, using an exclusively lettrist argument, he urges his royal
patron to invade Mamluk Egypt. To this end, Kemālpaşazāde’s text analyses
Q 21:105 to demonstrate that the Ottoman ruler’s conquest of Egypt, which was
indeed achieved immediately afterwards in 921–922/1516–1517, was “mathem-
atically encoded in the very structure of the cosmos” and hence inevitable.
Melvin-Koushki uses this case study, and the context of its production and
reception, to reiterate the centrality of the science of letters as “the primary
expression of Islamic Neopythagoreanism,” comparable to the role played by
the sister discipline, the Kabbalah, in the Latinate Renaissance. This essay com-
plements Chapter 6 by showing al-Bisṭāmī’s pioneering of a new, explicitly
lettrist historiography and theory of history was in no way a one-off but a pur-
suit common to the ninth/fifteenth- and tenth/sixteenth-century Persianate
world more broadly, and an important ideological prop to Mamluk, Timurid,
Aqquyunlu, Ottoman, and Mughal imperial ambitions alike.82
The link between the science of letters and warfare informs the following
chapter as well, which concentrates on another material dimension of this
and associated techniques (Chapter 10). A close analysis of select arms and
armor from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New York,
leads Maryam Ekhtiar and Rachel Parikh to recognize them as talismanic in
nature. Both the choice of materials and the vocabulary used in their decora-
tion support this interpretation, which testifies to the continued reliance on
notions such as the occult properties (khawāṣṣ) of stones—theorized in al-
Bīrūnī’s Kitāb al-jamāhir fī maʿrifat al-jawāhir (“The book of the multitude of

82 Advocating this approach are also İlker Evrim Binbaş, Intellectual Networks in Timurid Iran:
Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī and the Islamicate Republic of Letters (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 2016); Noah D. Gardiner, “Forbidden Knowledge? Notes on the Production,
Transmission, and Reception of the Major Works of Aḥmad al-Būnī,” Journal of Arabic
and Islamic Studies 12 (2012): 81–143; Noah D. Gardiner, “Esotericist Reading Communit-
ies”; Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islamicate Empire”; Matthew Melvin-Koushki and
James Pickett, “Mobilizing Magic: Occultism in Central Asia and the Continuity of High
Persianate Culture under Russian Rule,” Studia Islamica 111, no. 2 (2016): 231–284.
30 saif and leoni

knowledge of precious stones”) and developed by al-Tīfāshī’s popular Azhār

al-afkār fī jawāhir al-aḥjār (“The blooms of considerations concerning pre-
cious stones”)—throughout the early modern period. Being later objects, these
arms and armor are also useful to follow continuities and transformations of
talismanic languages and motifs through time. The most interesting and res-
onant may be the imagery related to the Ahl al-Bayt—both through symbolic
motifs such as Dhū l-Fiqār (ʿAlī’s mythical bifurcated sword) and the khamsa
(“hand of Fāṭima”), and through formulas or ejaculations evoking ʿAlī and his
progeny—and its proliferation in areas traditionally considered Sunni. The
arms and armor produced in the Ottoman sphere provide additional evidence
for the veneration of the Prophet and his family in this milieu, and they further
support the argument that the public display of such piety aimed to appease
Shiʿi/Sufi factions within the empire and to prevent the Safavids from estab-
lishing a monopoly over them.83
The blurring of Shiʿi and Sunni also emerges in Farouk Yahya’s contribution,
dedicated to Southeast Asian adaptations of the Lion of ʿAlī for both devotional
and talismanic purposes (Chapter 11). The choice of the shahāda and Q 61:13
in place of the more common nād-i ʿAlī, along with the replacement of the
lion with the tiger, an animal with stronger magical associations in the region,
reveals the degree of manipulation undertaken at both textual and visual levels
in order to align the motifs with local sensibilities. At the same time the author’s
examples, culled from various localities across Southeast Asia, document the
survival of the broader associations with protection and well-wishing observed
in other parts of the Islamicate world.
The last two essays in the volume expand on the devotional contours of
talismanic formulas and motifs. Chapter 12, by Francesca Leoni, deconstructs
a large stamped talisman in order to highlight the harmonization of “magical”
and “devotional” resources for a range of apotropaic and prophylactic aims. The
object’s protective capital against adversities such as demons, jinn, and the evil
eye consists of invocations to saints, repetitions of God’s names, supererogat-
ory prayers, images of holy sites, and burials of Sufi leaders. In the author’s view,
however, this apparatus is not simply talismanic vocabulary in an Islamic garb
but a likely indication of the direct involvement of individuals endowed with
spiritual stature and charisma in these motifs’ and devices’ actual fabrication.
By considering the use and arrangement of this mighty syntax on the talisman,

83 Zeynep Yürekli-Gorkay, “Dhūʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” in People of the Prophet’s House,
ed. Fahmida Suleman (London: Azimuth, Institute of Ismaili Studies, British Museum,
2015), 163–172.
introduction 31

the author follows its transformation from a devotional tool to an empowering

prophylactic resource for the desirable immediate benefit of diverse users.
Chapter 13, by Christiane Gruber, brings the occult traditions to the mod-
ern day by reflecting on the contemporary incarnations and adaptations of
centuries-old motifs stemming from the veneration of the prophet Muḥammad
and his intercessory powers. Following the spread of protective commodities
such as “blessing cards” (bereket kartelası) and “evil-eye beads” (nazar boncuğu)
across Turkey, the author considers the shifts observable in their makeup, using
the Arabic language as their main tool in the legalization of otherwise dubi-
ous activities and in the overall Islamization of the public sphere promoted
by the Justice and Development Party (AKP). This compelling, additional act
of erasure and reconfiguration of practices drawing on occultist traditions and
knowledge by acting on their material incarnations acts as a final reminder of
why the recognition of a scholarly and cultural status for the occult sciences is
necessary.
A postscript by Travis Zadeh brings the volume to full circle, meditating
on its governing question: what is the relationship between theory and prac-
tice? To this end, he catalogs some of the many ways in which the gharīb
sciences defy and trouble traditional conceptual divisions, both those of our
historical actors and our own. With respect to the latter, Zadeh calls for a more
sweeping deconstruction of the intellectual frameworks and master categories
through which the Western academic study of Islam has been pursued to date,
presenting as antidote to persistent colonialist tropes the radically fluid ways
in which Muslim thinkers and doers have classified and experienced the occult
and the marvelous over the centuries. “Magic” as a historiographical category
thus becomes impossible to pin down, functioning in this sense as a mandala.
But this is its great virtue, as its very elusiveness reminds us of the construc-
ted nature of all our analytical categories. To study the occult sciences of the
Islamic past and present is therefore to track the myriad ways in which know-
ledge is generated, and power is exercised, in human societies.

∵
We hope that the studies contained in Islamicate Occult Sciences in Theory and
Practice will help construct a more nuanced and broader understanding of the
complexities surrounding this obscure, fascinating, and yet grossly understud-
ied topic. The authors would like to express their gratitude to Emilie Savage-
Smith, Hans Daiber, and Anna Akasoy for first recognizing the value of their
collaboration, and for encouraging them to develop it into the present volume.
They would also like to acknowledge the support of the publisher, Brill, and its
32 saif and leoni

editors and copyeditors. Special thanks go to Kristen Alvanson, who graciously

let us use her evocative and wonderfully fitting artwork Abjad 03 as the cover
image for the volume.

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 part 1
Occult Theories: Inception and Reception

∵
 chapter 2

The Three Divisions of Arabic Magic

Charles Burnett

In the well-known early fourth/tenth-century Arabic text on magic called the

Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, translated into Castilian in 1256, and soon after into Latin
under the title Picatrix, magic (Ar., siḥr, Lat., nigromantia) is described as con-
sisting of three divisions: nīranjāt, talismans, and alchemy. These three terms
may suggest three different traditions that are brought together in the Arabic
world. Nīranj is the Arabic transcription of the Middle Persian word ‘nerank’
used for an incantation or ritual formula, “talisman” is clearly the Greek word
telesma, originally meaning “completer,” and alchemy, according to one the-
ory, derives its name from the Egyptian word for the black earth of the fertile
Nile delta. But it is not on ethnic lines that the author of the Ghāya (now most
plausibly identified as Maslama al-Qurṭubī1) differentiates between the three
divisions. Rather, he uses the categories of spirit (Ar., rūḥ) and body (Ar., jasad):
nīranjāt involve the operation of spirit on spirit, talismans, of spirit on body,
and alchemy, of body on body. What does he mean by this distinction? Is it
invoked only for its beautiful symmetry? Or does it accurately describe the
actual processes that characterize these three divisions of magic?
Before investigating this we may wonder what grounds there are for think-
ing that there can be three kinds of magic, no more, no less. Reading Isidore
of Seville’s account of magic in the Etymologiae one would think that there
were innumerable kinds of magic, and this is also the impression given by Ḥājjī
Khalīfa in his Kashf al-ẓunūn (“Removal of doubts”) written in Arabic nine cen-
turies later.2 But this trilogy of divisions is confirmed by the account of the
great Persian-Arabic writer on philosophy and medicine, Avicenna (Ibn Sīnā,
d. 428/1037), who, in his book Divisions of the Intellectual Sciences, as the last
three of the “practical branches” of natural science, gives precisely these three
“sciences.” His description of them is more detailed than Maslama’s, but there
are resemblances. Avicenna writes:

1 Maribel Fierro, “Bāṭinism in al-Andalus. Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964), Author of
the Rutbat al-Ḥakīm and the Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm (Picatrix),” Studia Islamica 84 (1996): 87–112.
2 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, ed. W.M. Lindsay, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911), 2:ix,
1–35; Toufic Fahd, La Divination arabe (Leiden: Brill, 1966), 40.
44 burnett

– The aim of the science of talismans is to mix the heavenly powers with those
of certain terrestrial bodies in order that from this a power may be produced
which accomplishes a strange (Ar., gharīb) action in the earthly world (i.e.,
“spirit on body”).
– The aim of the science of nīranjāt3 is to mix the powers that are found
in the substances of the earthly world in order that from these a power
may be produced from which a strange action emanates (i.e., “body on
body”).
– The aim of the science of alchemy is to take out of mineral substances their
own properties and enrich them with the properties of other substances …
in order to produce gold and silver (again, “body on body”).4
There is another treatise by Avicenna, called “On Action and Passion” (Risāla
fī al-fiʿl wa al-infiʿāl) in which Avicenna divides all actions into four categor-
ies according to the relation of nafs (soul or psyche) and jism (body): nafsānī
(psychical) on jusmānī (corporeal); nafsānī on nafsānī; jusmānī on nafsānī;
and jusmānī on jusmānī. We may ask whether nafs is exactly the same as rūḥ
(spirit) and whether jism (body) is the same as jasad (body), but his explana-
tion of each of these categories gives an idea of what he is referring to:
(1) Psychical action on psychical is like the action of the separate intellects,
one on another, as is discussed in the Metaphysics, and like the influence
of these intellects on the souls of men either in sleep or in a wakeful
state.
(2) Psychical action on corporeal is like the action of psychical powers on the
four elements when they mix them so that there arise the compounds
of minerals, plants, and animals; and the subsequent actions of these
psychical powers on nourishing these compounds, making them grow
and develop until they reach their completion (one may imagine forms
acting on matter).
(3) Corporeal action on psychical is like the effect of beautiful forms on
human souls (one may imagine the effect of a beautiful woman or land-
scape).
(4) Finally, corporeal action on corporeal is like the action of the elements
on one another, and the change from one into another, like the change of
water into air, and air into water, and the change of air into fire and fire

3 The manuscripts vary between this spelling and nīranjiyyāt.

4 See Jean Michot, “Les sciences physiques et métaphysiques selon la Risālah fī Aqsām al-ʿulūm
d’ Avicenne: Essai de traduction critique,” Bulletin de philosophie médiévale 22 (1980): 62–73,
esp. 67.
the three divisions of arabic magic 45

into air, and so on with the rest of the elements. This action is also dis-
cernible at the level of compounds, when drugs and poisons act on the
bodies of men and animals.5
It is at the end of this last category, with its implication of medicine, that nīran-
jāt, talismans, and alchemy all appear, classified as examples of “action of the
corporeal on the corporeal.” But Avicenna qualifies this by saying that corpor-
eal things can never be considered separately from the psychic powers in them.
He refers to the necessity of operating with them at the right time and in the
right place and with the right elements and natural combinations of elements.
But this discussion of the action of body on body leads Avicenna to discuss that
of a particular kind of body on a particular kind of body, that is, of metals on
metals, and how it is possible to change one of them into another, and how
some of them are called bodies (Ar., ajsād) and some are called spirits (Ar.,
arwāḥ). This science, he says, is called alchemy.
The ultimate position of these sciences in all these discussions is probably
not accidental. The very name of Maslama’s Ghāyat al-ḥakīm (“The aim [or
goal] of the wise man”) indicates that its subject, magic, is the culmination
of the program of education of the wise man. It deals with two of the three
divisions of magic: nīranjāt and talismans. But the Ghāya is described as the
second natīja (outcome or fruit) of learning, of which the Rutbat al-ḥakīm
(“The rank of the wise man”), by the same author, is the first. This book is on
alchemy.6 Maslama begins the Rutba by describing geometry, astronomy, logic
and the Peripatetic natural sciences as the foundation for alchemy, and the
scholar must have mastered these subjects before he reaches the requisite rank
(Ar., rutba) for studying alchemy. Using the root r-t-b as a metaphor, Maslama
describes the psychical and intellectual progress of the wise man in terms of
a ladder, whose final steps (Ar. martabāt) are alchemy and magic. The same
language, incidentally, reappears in Latin in the Opus maius of Roger Bacon
(d. 1292), the template for a new curriculum of learning that he sent to Pope
Clement IV in 1267 (a mere ten years after the translation of the Ghāyat al-
ḥakīm into Castilian), in which alchemy again appears as the culmination of

5 Ibn Sīnā, Risālat al-fiʿl wa-l-infiʿāl, in Majmūʿ rasāʾil al-shaykh al-raʾīs, ed. ʿAbdallāh b. Aḥmad
al-ʿAlawī (Hyderabad: Dāʾirat al-Maʿārif, 1935), 221–230. Jean Michot has translated two pages
of this text into French and commented on it in “Cultes, magie et intellection. L’homme et sa
corporéité selon Avicenne,” in L’ homme et son univers en Moyen Age: actes du septième Con-
grès international de philosophie médiévale, ed. Christian Wenin, 2 vols. (Louvain-la-Neuve:
Editions de l’ Institut Supérieur de Philosophie, 1986), 1:220–233.
6 Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Magia en al-Andalus: Rasāʾil Ijwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rutbat al-Ḥakīm y Ġāyat
al-Ḥakīm (Picatrix),” Al-Qanṭara 34, no. 2 (2013): 297–344.
46 burnett

intellectual study. For Roger, alchemy supersedes the other arts and sciences
because it adds practice (action) to theory.7
Another companion to the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm was the Epistles of the Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ, the Brethren of Purity, which appeared in al-Andalus at the same time
as the Ghāya and was promoted by Maslama to such an extent that it was
considered by Arabic authorities to be a third work of Maslama. It included
nīranjāt and talismans. Its last letter is on magic,8 which it defines as “all words
and actions that ‘magic’ (using the verbal form of the root s-ḥ-r, which also
gives siḥr) souls and bind intellects.”9 The “sciences of magic” are defined as
the knowledge of the action of a soul on another soul or on a body (less spe-
cific than in the Ghāya) and are divided in a slightly different way from what we
find in the Ghāya. An aetiological myth is told of women and men each being
given a set of secrets and then these two sets being interwoven, so that words
from one set alternate with those of the other (male, female, male, female, etc.).
Then four sciences with their canons and proofs are formed from this inter-
woven text: medicine, alchemy, astrology, and talismans.10
What we are dealing with, then, is a body of knowledge that occupies the
highest position in human development. It is no mere sleight-of-hand. It is a
means for a human being to discover the hidden realities in the universe and
to act as a co-creator with God. The common features of this knowledge are
alchemy, talismans, and nīranjāt, and the leitmotif is action.

∵
Let us start from the bottom: alchemy. Alchemy is the corporeal science, whose
materials are the whole of God’s creatures, divided into animal, vegetable, and
mineral. Alchemical recipes use only material ingredients.
In ps.-Rāzī, De aluminibus et salibus we read:

7 Roger Bacon, Opus maius, ed. John Henry Bridges, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1897),
2:214.
8 The shorter version of this letter has been edited by Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno
Halflants: The Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, On Magic. 1. An Arabic Critical Edition and
English Translation of Epistle 52A (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with the
Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2011). On the longer version, see Liana Saif’s article in this
volume.
9 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil, 4 vols. (Bombay edition), 4:310, 17–19 (longer version). This defini-
tion is taken up in Picatrix. “Das Ziel des Weisen” von Pseudo-Maǧrīṭī, I. Arabischer Text, ed.
H. Ritter (Leipzig: Teubner, 1933), 7, line 1.
10 De Callataÿ and Halflants, On Magic, 63. We shall return to the addition of medicine below.
the three divisions of arabic magic 47

Lead is cold and dry, and it belongs to the division of Kaywān.11 The Moon
(silver) and the Sun (gold) are in it potentially, not visibly. It is a heavy
body, slow in movement, taking on color [plus “with difficulty” L] but,
when it takes it on, it is not able to be separated from it. When you exalt
it, it brings forth silver which is its daughter, and from it you make litharge,
white lead, and red lead. From it is made an elixir of profound redness and
whiteness, and from it are produced liquids which bind the “slave” (quick-
silver). The liquids are compatible with Mars (iron), and when they are
mixed with it they do not separate from it. It is mixed with tin and does
not separate from it. It is alloyed with prepared Venus (copper) and joins
with silver but is separated from it by purification. It is not purified imme-
diately with the Sun (gold), but its vapor breaks up the Sun (gold).12

There are no numinous influences brought to bear—whether they be the rays

of the planets, or the effects of spirits. The material objects themselves are the
focus, and they are glorified. I quote from the same work a passage concerning
salt:

Because of its whiteness men have named it “the silver of the common
people,” both because all men need it and because it restores the bodies
of men to health and directs the path of their life. And God on high did not
praise anything among His Creation in the Torah as much as He praised
salt.13

The planets feature not as spiritual influences but only as the names ennobling
the metals. Within this world of materials one has a microcosm of the greater
world, with planets and, even more, with spirits and bodies. The same words
are used (Ar., rūḥ, jism; Lat., spiritus, corpus), but this time it is the material
substances themselves that are divided between the two: those substances that
can vaporize (or are volatile) are spirits, those that cannot are bodies. Also, each
material can be described in terms of its external/manifest qualities, which are
its body, and its internal/hidden qualities, which are its spirit. Thus, mercury is
cold and moist outside (“through its body”) and hot and dry inside (“through

11 The Persian name of Saturn.

12 Ps.-Rāzī, Das Buch der Alaune und Salze, ed. Julius Ruska (Berlin: Verlag Chemie GMBH,
1935), 49 (“L” indicates a variant in the Latin text, ed. and trans. in Catherine Arbuthnott,
ps.-Rāzī, De aluminibus et salibus, forthcoming). My translation.
13 Ps.-Rāzī, Alaune und Salze, 52.
48 burnett

its spirit”).14 This last reference comes from a work in which these theories are
fully described, the Latin translation of a lost Arabic alchemical treatise made
in Spain in the 1220s, and it is significant that anima appears in its title: De
anima in arte alchemica (“about the soul in the alchemical art”).15
Spirits or souls feature in alchemy. Even so, the emphasis is on the visual and
sensible: on the shape, the brightness, and, above all, the color of the materials.

∵
The next stage is that of talismans. In this case the body is the material out
of which the talisman is made; noble materials are used for good effects, base
materials for bad. The spirit is brought into the body to enliven it. Thābit b.
Qurra, the late third/ninth-century authority on talismans, quotes a significant
sentence at the beginning of his work: “No body has life that lacks spirit” (lā
ḥayāta li-l-jism lā rūḥ fīhi).16 This spirit is brought into the matter by prayer (Ar.,
khiṭāb, Lat., oratio) and the burning of incense (Ar., dakhn, Lat., suffumigatio).
The talisman must be made in the appropriate shape, as for a serpent for bind-
ing snakes and a woman for making a woman take off her veil. In one recently
discovered Arabic version of Thābit’s text the spirit is apparently lacking. We
read the following about the instructions for a talisman for making rulers favor-
able:

A talisman used for making contact between the ruler and one of his
men … so that he inclines towards him with friendship, and his status
with [the ruler] is raised. If you wish to make it, you begin first by assign-
ing to him the ascendant, confirming this with correct thought. Then you
observe whether there is between the lord of the ascendant and the lord
of the tenth place conjunction or reception. And if you find the lord of the
ascendant is joined to the lord of the tenth in trine or sextile [aspect] and

14 Sébastien Moureau, Le De anima alchimique du Pseudo-Avicenne, 2 vols. (Florence: SISMEL

Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2016), 2:131: “Aurum vivum est humidum et frigidum et calidum et
siccum: frigidum et humidum per corpus suum, calidum et siccum per spiritum suum”
(“Mercury is humid-and-cold and hot-and-dry: cold-and-humid through its body, hot-and-
dry through its spirit”).
15 Moureau, Le De anima alchimique du Pseudo-Avicenne. The title De anima in arte alche-
miae appears in the printed edition of Mino Celsi (1572), while the manuscripts of this
alchemical text usually call it simply De anima.
16 In the context, Thābit is applying this dictum to the fact that no wisdom (“body”) is com-
plete without the knowledge of the science of the stars (“spirit”); the sentence is quoted
in Picatrix, ed. Ritter, 37.
the three divisions of arabic magic 49

there is full reception between them, and they are both in a good con-
dition and unharmed by the malefics, the matter will be fulfilled: it is a
sound talisman which will be very effective …. And when you have com-
pleted the sculpture of the mold according to these conditions, complete
the form of the man from lead, tin or copper—whichever agrees with the
ascendant of his nativity (horoscope), if you know it, or with the ascend-
ant of his question. Name the talisman with the name and cognomen
by which the man is known … and benefit the ascendant with a power-
ful benefic, which should not be retrograde, cadent, or burnt. And the
[lord of the] ascendant should be powerful, in a good position, in direct
course, and in one of its dignities …. You should cast the talisman accord-
ing to these conditions. When you have done all this, his ruler will incline
towards him with friendship, and will not prefer [anyone] over him, and
will bestow favors on him, and he will achieve high esteem and will be
the man closest to him and the most honored in his court, as long as the
talisman lasts, until death separates them.17

While the sixth/twelfth-century Latin translation of John of Seville follows this

text closely, a different Arabic version is clearly the origin of an earlier transla-
tion by Adelard of Bath. This differs in that incense and prayers are added and
spirits are invoked to make the talismans effective. Here is an excerpt from the
description of how the talisman for love is created:

When friendship is the aim, first the ascendant should be noted and the
appropriateness or otherwise of the topic should be considered … [sev-
eral other astrological considerations are mentioned] …. Having done
this, keeping the aim in mind, one should cast a talisman of association
in a mold shaped like a human figure. Then the [client’s] usual name
should be put on the cast. Then for him from whom friendship is desired,
a second talisman should be made, with the ascendant and the eleventh
place from the topic. This done, on each of the talismans the names and
cognomens of each of them should be written. Afterwards, the talismans
should be placed together like this: the second behind the first, and the
name of the first, written in any way you like, applied to the breast of the
second, opened on the side of the heart. Then, the rings of the Lords of

17 This translation is taken from Charles Burnett and Gideon Bohak, “A Judaeo-Arabic Ver-
sion of Ṯābit ibn Qurra’s De imaginibus and Pseudo-Ptolemy’s Opus imaginum,” in Islamic
Philosophy, Science, Culture, and Religion, ed. Felicitas Opwis and David Reisman (Leiden:
Brill, 2012), 179–200, esp. 188–194.
50 burnett

the ascendant and the eleventh place should be painted on a clean cloth
or on virgin parchment, and the two talismans, scented with musk and
camphor, should be wrapped in this; after being fumigated with saffron,
aloes-wood and frankincense. Do this three nights in a row, after bathing
and wearing clean clothes, and whilst you are doing this pray as follows:
“O shining spirits of the planets, you who descend from al-ʿālam [i.e. the
macrocosm], effectors of good and evil! Bind the spirit of Socrates son
of Sophronicus to the heart of Plato. Let their will and desire be one; let
loathing and rejection be absent; but let the imagining and remembering
[of the other] be always present. Be present too, spirits of these planets,
not only by day, but also in the night and in their sleep. Bring the pic-
ture of [Socrates’] image before [Plato’s] eyes to such an extent that, all
other feelings excluded, he gives himself totally to him, by the power of
God.” This done, the talismans should be bound in a girdle of the same
nature as these lords of the houses. Then they should be buried in the
house of one of them in such a way that they are ventilated by the wind
blowing through the entrance of the house, but are not struck by the rays
of the Sun at all; a benefic being in the ascendant at the time of the bury-
ing.18

It may be no coincidence that the “image” of the beloved person is the same
word as that used for the talisman (Lat., imago), for both images have power
over the spirit of Socrates. Intense concentration must be brought to bear when
making the talisman. Above all the right astrological conditions have to be
observed. Hence the talismanic art is considered part of the astrological art
of elections: the choosing of the best time astrologically for undertaking any
activity—the time when the influences from the stars are most supportive.19

∵
Finally, we come to the nīranj, the spirit working on the spirit. The nīranj is a
magical practice that includes a combination of mixing and processing ingredi-

18 Adelard of Bath (trans.), Liber prestigiorum Thebidis secundum Ptolomeum et Hermetem,

ed. and trans. Charles Burnett, 43–57; see also, Thābit ibn Qurra, On Talismans and Pseudo-
Ptolemy On Images 1–9: a Reconstruction Based on the Judaeo-Arabic and Latin Texts,
Together with the Liber Prestigiorum Thebidis, editions, translations and studies by Gideon
Bohak and Charles Burnett (forthcoming).
19 This is its position in the Speculum Astronomiae; Paola Zambelli, The Speculum Astro-
nomiae and its Enigma: Astrology, Theology and Science in Albertus Magnus and his Con-
temporaries (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, 1992), 240–241.
the three divisions of arabic magic 51

ents, invoking spiritual beings, burning incense (suffumigation), and making

figurines in order to manipulate spiritual forces.20 In the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm sev-
eral procedures are described as being nīranjāt.
Here is the one that has the same function as the talisman quoted above:

A nīranj called Bāgīs used for attracting the hearts of kings to their people,
their love toward them, and their inclination to kindness and gentleness.
What you do is take wax that is totally unused and make from it a hollow
figurine in the name of the relevant king. Then take a dāniq portion from
the brain of a gazelle, two dāniq from the brain of a hare, and a mithqāl-
portion of human blood, and mix them all together in a crucible. Then
throw onto the mixture half a mithqāl of ground camphor, two dāniq of
ambergris, and half a dāniq of musk. Melt this and mix it until it congeals.
When it has congealed through melting, pierce the head of the figurine
and pour [the mixture] into it. Leave it until it has cooled. When it is
cold, stick a piece of wax over that hole. Then take four mithqāl of human
blood, two mithqāl of the blood of a white cockerel, two mithqāl of the
brain of a horse, the measure of a dāniq of musk and camphor, and a
mithqāl of the melted rump of a ewe. Combine them all in a crucible and
melt [the mixture] until it congeals. When it has congealed, pierce the
throat [of the image] and pour [the mixture] into it. Then leave it until it
has cooled. When it is cold, stick a piece of wax [over the hole]. Then take
a thin, unused, silver needle, and thrust it into the breast, without it com-
ing out of the other side. While thrusting say: “Aqryūs, Ghīdāyūs, Yāhīlās,
Yhīdūs.” Then place the figurine in a new [earthen L] crucible, smeared
with clay. When you have completed this [operation], take half a mithqāl
of ground frankincense and galbanum and a mithqāl of the eye of a white
cockerel. Combine all of this. Then take the figurine, some incense, and
an incense-burner, and go to the top of a mountain that looks down over
the country and dig on it a hole that is big enough for it [the figurine],
and bury it in the hole up to its head [head down L], then place over
the head of the container a stone or baked brick and put the earth back
around it until it is covered. Then throw the incense onto the fire, and
say, while you are doing this: “Akrārūs, Mndūrās, Fīlāhūs and Ramālīs,
incline the heart of so-and-so (naming him) with love, affection, and kind-
ness toward so-and-so by the power of these spiritual spirits (Ar., arwāḥ

20 See Charles Burnett, “Nīranj: A Category of Magic (Almost) Forgotten in the Latin West,” in
Natura, scienze e società medievali. Studi in onore di Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Florence:
SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2008), 37–66.
52 burnett

rūḥāniyya) Bndūrās, Inmūs, Kfīnās, Mādlūs.” And when you have done
this, you may depart and be sure from this of his inclination, kindness,
and closeness to him and reception of him.21

One can see how Avicenna might describe the nīranj as the mixing of corporeal
with corporeal, since most of the ingredients are of a bodily nature, but what
is effected is the drawing of a spirit by a spirit. Even the ingredients, macabre
as they are, may imply this, for the brains of animals, the seat of the sensible
spirits and the emotions, are prominent among them. Nīranjāt are particularly
appropriate to control emotional or psychological situations: love or hatred
between two people, obedience and subjection, causing impotence, and releas-
ing from impotence. The spirit is the means of sensation, and the nīranjāt that
precede the one quoted here operate respectively through being seen, smelled,
and tasted by the object of the activity. Spiritual forces (Ar., arwāḥ rūḥāniyya,
Lat., spiritus spiritualium) are invoked to empower the action. The magician’s
spirit has the power to draw and bind, something expressed in the sixteenth
century by Henry Cornelius Agrippa, De occulta philosophia: “For there is in
spirits of men a power of changing, attracting, impeding, and binding things
and men to what it desires; and all things obey it [the spirit], when it is carried
into a great excess of some passion or power to such an extent that it overcomes
those whom it binds.”22
The word nīranj is also used for “party tricks.”23 This is, however, not incon-
gruent, for, if we turn back to Avicenna’s Fiʿl wa-infiʿāl, we find the following, as
the continuation of the description of the effect of the psychical on the psych-
ical: “the influence of powerful human souls on the imaginative and estimative
powers of weaker souls, like those of stupid people and children.” This would
include illusionism and sleight-of-hand. And in the Ghāya’s account of the
action of spirit in spirit, the word nīranjāt is followed by takhayyul, which can
also mean “deception.”24

21 Picatrix, ed. Ritter, 256, line 1 and 257, line 5. My translation. Variants are indicated (as L)
from the Latin Picatrix, ed. David Pingree (London: Warburg Institute, 1986), 154–155. For
the translation of another nīranj (for the love of a girl), see Burnett, “Nīranj,” 41–42.
22 Henry Cornelius Agrippa, De occulta philosophia libri tres, ed. Vittoria Perrone Compagni
(Leiden: Brill, 1992), I, chap. lxviii (“Quomodo animus noster potest permutare et ligare res
inferiores ad id quod desiderat”): “Inest etiam hominum animis virtus quaedam immut-
andi, attrahendi, impediendi et ligandi res et homines ad id quod desiderat: et omnes res
obedient illi, quando fertur in magnum excessum alicuius passionis vel virtutis in tantum
ut superet eos quos ligat.”
23 As in Fahd, Divination arabe, 40.
24 This is also implied in the Latin translation: “et hoc est in faciendo res similes que non
the three divisions of arabic magic 53

Conclusion: Embodying the Spirit of Magic

Man is not only the operator of these divisions of magic: in a way, he can also
become their embodiment. Three observations apply here:
1) The most obvious operation within man is that of body on body: the mix-
ing of the four elemental qualities to form the humors. Plato’s reference in
the Timaeus to the use of the most noble of these elements to make man,
the highest of God’s creatures, was echoed by Hermann of Carinthia in
the mid-twelfth century (he is also one of the first to quote the Arabic
magical texts discussed here), when he describes how the Creator chose
the most apt elements for the soul.25 And medicine, which can restore the
equal temperament of the humors is, as we have seen, ranked by the Ikh-
wān aṣ-Ṣafāʾ alongside astrology, magic, and alchemy as one of the four
supreme sciences.26
2) The spirit’s operation on body can also be applied to the human exper-
ience. At the beginning of his text on talismans, as mentioned above,
Thābit b. Qurra justifies the talismanic art by stating that “No body has life
which lacks spirit.” The supreme example of a spirit dwelling in a body is
that of man. The original meaning of “necromancy” (which, in the Latin
Picatrix, is the name for magic in general) was divination through the
dead, and the thirteenth-century Liber Theysolius gives detailed instruc-
tions on how to summon a spirit to enter a dead human body, so that it
can advise and counsel the magician.27 The vivification of talismans is a
continuation of the ancient practice of vivifying statues. The Arabic word
for “statue,” ṣanam, is applied to the talisman. But the Ghāya also uses
this word to describe man himself: “He is a ṣanam, and inside him is a
light, and his body is the ṣanam for that light, and his soul is the dweller
in it.”28

sunt essencia” (“and this involves making look-alikes that do not exist in reality”): Picatrix,
ed. Pingree, 5, ll. 9–10.
25 Hermann of Carinthia, De essentiis, ed. Charles Burnett (Leiden: Brill, 1982), 230–231,
recalling Plato, Timaeus, 44D.
26 See above, at note 10.
27 Sophie Page, “Magic and the Pursuit of Wisdom: The ‘Familiar’ Spirit in the Liber Theyso-
lius,” La Corónica 36, no. 1 (2007): 41–70.
28 Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm, 43, Latin Picatrix, 26, lines 26–27; see Charles Burnett, “Magic in the
Court of Alfonso el Sabio: the Latin Translation of the Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm,” in De Frédéric II
à Rodolphe II. Astrologie, divination et magie dans les cours (XIIIe–XVIIe siècle), ed. Jean-
Patrice Boudet, Martine Ostorero, and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Florence: SISMEL
Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017) 37–52, esp. 50–51.
54 burnett

3) In interrogational astrology and geomancy, man’s spirit is in contact with

higher spirits. In interrogational astrology the client’s concentration on a
question that he wishes to pose to the astrologer is guided by the spirits
of the stars (the stars being animate beings) to such an extent that the
astrologer can find an answer to that question simply by casting a horo-
scopic chart for the moment when the concentration is at its strongest.29
Similarly, heavenly forces influence the mind of the geomancer when he
draws the random lines of dots from which the geomantic figures are
composed. In both cases we have spirit effecting spirit, as in the nīranjāt.
Ibn Khaldūn, one of our finest witnesses to medieval Arabic magic, in his
Muqaddima, written in North Africa in the 770s/1370s (with subsequent
revisions), criticizes astrological interrogations because they are based
on the belief that the mind of man is influenced by the stars (whereas
nativities cast for the birth of a child and the conjunctions of the higher
planets observed for world history are based on their effects on corporeal
natures).30 He attacked geomancy for the same reason.31 Here we have
the spirit operating on the spirit.
“Spirits,” in sum, can mean many things. They can be effluences (from the stars
or from earthly bodies); they can be rays (as described in detail by al-Kindī’s
On the Rays or The Book of Magical Theory32); they can sometimes be identified
with souls, or parts of the soul, or with angels or daemones. But what is con-
sistent is that, in magical works, the term “spirit” is the one most commonly
used (rūḥ or rūḥāniyya in Arabic; spiritus in Latin). The way in which this spirit
combines with body thus lies at the heart of Arabic magic. To categorize all the

29 Interrogations, according to Speculum astronomiae (a summary of the contents of Arabic-

Latin astrology), chap. 9, “teach how to make a judgement about something about which
an interrogation has been made cum intentione radicali (with radical intent)” (ed. Zam-
belli, 234). In chap. 14 of the same work, this refers to the involvement of the “root” horo-
scope (i.e., that of the nativity), and rather the sollicitudo (“concern”) of the client at the
time of the interrogation is emphasized, which depends on the contemporary state of the
ambient (“Sollicitudo enim hominis in hora interrogationis erit secundum habitudinem
circuli”; ed. Zambelli, 234).
30 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, translated from the Arabic by Franz
Rosenthal, 3 vols. (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1958), 1:228. On this attack and the
contemporary response to it, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy:
Šaraf al-Dīn Yazdī Rebuts Ibn Ḫaldūn’s Critique of the Occult Sciences,” in “Islamicate
Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special
double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 346–403.
31 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddimah, 1:231.
32 Marie-Thérèse d’ Alverny and Francoise Hudry, “Al-Kindi, De radiis,” Archives d’histoire
doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age, année 1974 (1975): 139–260.
the three divisions of arabic magic 55

types of magic according to these combinations, as in the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm and

by Avicennan scholars thereafter, therefore makes eminent sense.

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 chapter 3

New Light on Early Arabic Awfāq Literature

Bink Hallum

ٍ ‫فإن علم الأعداد للوفق من لطائف العلوم العقلية التي تبسط النفس فيها بما يطلع منها بسهولة‬
.‫على عجائب خواصها مع ما ذكر أصحاب الطلسمات من خواص فوائدها واتفقوا عليها‬

The science of numbers in harmony is among the subtlest of the rational

sciences, in which the soul delights: for one may easily observe their
remarkable occult properties, as well as what talismanists have generally
determined to be their special uses.
Muḥammad b. al-Muẓaffar al-Ṭūsī1

∵
1 Introduction

A simple formal definition of a magic square is that it is an arrangement of a set

of numbers (usually consecutive, beginning from one) in a square grid in such a
way that the sums of the numbers contained in each row, column, and the two
corner-to-corner diagonals are equal. But, beyond this, what are magic squares?
What did their makers think they were for, and what accounts for their wide
diffusion and historical tenacity? Are they games of recreational mathematics,
illustrations of number theory, magic tricks, talismans, a combination of some
or all of these things, or something else entirely? Of course, these questions can
be answered in many ways, since magic squares were undoubtedly understood

1 Muḥammad b. al-Muẓaffar al-Ṭūsī, Risāla fī ʿilm al-wafq (Treatise on the Science of Harmony),
Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, MS Sprenger 869,
fol. 85r. Muḥammad b. al-Muẓaffar al-Ṭūsī may be the son of or even, through errors in
the manuscript transmission, himself identifiable with the mathematician and astronomer
Sharaf al-Dīn al-Muẓaffar b. Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī (d. 1213). See Glen van Brummelen, “Sharaf
al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī,” in BEA, 1051, and Sharaf al-Dīn Muẓaffar b. Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī, Œuvres math-
ématiques: algèbre et géométrie au XIIe siècle, ed. and trans. Roshdi Rashed, 2 vols. (Paris: Belles
Lettres, 1986).
58 hallum

and appreciated differently by various people at various times according to

their context, training, orientation, and expectations. This paper explores some
of these historic perspectives on magic squares, focusing on the authors who
wrote on this subject, in order to take account of their contexts and legacies.
From the mathematician’s perspective, magic squares are a type of figurate
numbers, arrangements of sequences of numbers in geometrical patterns. The
search for and calculation of all the possible arrangements of numbers within
a magic square of a certain order that fulfill a given set of conditions is within
the domain of the mathematical subdiscipline of combinatorics.2 Attempts to
set out as succinctly as possible the series of mathematical operations needed
to arrange the numbers in a magic square in such a way as to fulfill those condi-
tions are part of the study of algorithms.3 Indeed, according to the historian of
mathematics Jacques Sesiano, the leading expert on Islamicate magic squares
(awfāq),4 “One of the most impressive achievements in Islamic mathematics,

2 Norman L. Biggs, “The Roots of Combinatorics,” Historia Mathematica 6 (1979): 118–124;

Ahmed Djebbar, “Islamic Combinatorics,” in Combinatorics: Ancient and Modern, ed. Robin
Wilson and John J. Watkins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 84. The “order” of a magic
square is the square root of the total number of cells it contains or the number of cells it has
along each side. Thus, the simplest magic square, that of nine cells, is said to be a square of
order three, since it contains 3 × 3 cells. There is only one way to construct a 3×3 magic square.
All apparent differences in squares of this order are simply rotations or mirror images, such
that the central cell will always contain the number 5 and the relative positions of the other
numbers in the peripheral cells can never vary. As the order of the magic square is raised, the
total number of possible arrangements of the numbers within the square increases dramat-
ically: the square of order 4 has 880 possible arrangements and that of order 5 has 275,305,224
(Clifford A. Pickover, The Zen of Magic Squares, Circles, and Stars [Princeton: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 2002], 3–6).
3 Jean-Luc Chabert et al., eds., A History of Algorithms. From the Pebble to the Microchip, trans.
Chris Weeks (Berlin: Springer, 1999), 49–81.
4 When speaking of Islamicate contexts in this article, I will use the term wafq (pl. awfāq) to
refer to what are usually called magic squares in European languages. I have not extended
the same courtesy to Indian, Chinese, or any other cultural contexts, not because I do not
think it is important to do so, but because I have neither the historical nor linguistic expertise
to do so properly. In Arabic contexts, a typical wafq consists of a table (lawḥ) or grid ( jad-
wal) of cells (bayt, pl. buyūt) arranged in vertical (ṭūlī) and horizontal (ʿardī) rows/columns
(ḍilʿ, pl. aḍlāʿ) and diagonals (quṭr, dual quṭrayn). The grid most often takes the form of a
square (murabbaʿ), but awfāq in the form of triangles and other polygons, stars, circles, cubes,
spheres, and cones are also attested in the manuscripts. The grid and the numbers and/or let-
ters within it are together usually referred to simply as the figure (shakl). The history of the
mathematics of awfāq has been explored in depth by Jacques Sesiano, most recently in Magic
Squares in the Tenth Century. Two Arabic Treatises by Anṭākī and Būzjānī (Cham, Switzerland:
Springer, 2017).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 59

in any case the most original one, is the development of general methods for
constructing magic squares.”5
On the other hand, as a feature of occult technology, magic squares func-
tioned as talismans in their own right or as constituent elements of more
complex talismans. Their powers or occult properties (khawāṣṣ) were often
understood to be derived from the numbers they contained, the letters of
divine names alphanumerically encoded in the squares, the elemental natures
of these letters themselves, or the planets and astral spirits with which the
squares were associated. The powers harnessed by the magic squares allowed
their makers to perform wonders (ʿajāʾib).
The history of the awfāq has most often been discussed solely from the per-
spective of the history of mathematics, frequently with a focus on locating sci-
entific firsts. But history, be it intellectual, cultural, or social, is not best under-
stood as a series of eureka moments, as if only the first instance of every his-
torical phenomenon is important, or that every repetition of an action or idea,
with all its contextual variations and permutations, is derivative and therefore
of limited interest. Focusing on firsts leads to a general ignorance of the historic
and cultural significance of awfāq in Islamicate societies.
Would-be students of the cultural history of awfāq are also often hindered by
over-reliance on a few works from the corpus attributed to the Sufi master of
letter magic (ʿilm al-ḥurūf ) Abū l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad al-Būnī (fl. 622/1225), which
tend unjustifiably to be granted the archetypal status of summa of all previ-
ous literature on awfāq.6 This is unfair, not least because Islamicate writings on
awfāq were produced in several genres and modes, most not represented by the
Būnīan corpus. To put it another way, the treatment of awfāq in the Būnīan cor-
pus lacks context without an appreciation of the centuries-old Islamicate tradi-
tions of awfāq that precede it. To make matters worse, the most prolific scholar

5 Jacques Sesiano, “Wafḳ,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. Sesiano makes nearly the same
statement again in “Magic Squares in Islamic Mathematics,” in Encyclopaedia of the His-
tory of Science, Technology and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, ed. Helaine Selin, 3rd ed.
(Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands, 2016), 4:2610.
6 See, for example, Wilhelm Ahrens, “Die ‘magischen Quadrate’ al-Būnī’s,” Der Islam 12, no. 3–4
(1922): 157–177, and Schuyler Cammann, “Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. Part I,” History of
Religions 8, no. 3 (1969): 184. On al-Būnī himself and the corpus attributed to him, see Noah
Gardiner, “Forbidden Knowledge? Notes on the Production, Transmission, and Reception
of the Major Works of Aḥmad al-Būnī,” Journal of Arabic and Islamic Studies 12 (2012): 81–
143, Noah Gardiner, “Stars and Saints. The Esotericist Astrology of the Sufi Occultist Aḥmad
al-Būnī,” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 39–65, and Noah Gardiner, “Esoteri-
cist Reading Communities and the Early Circulation of the Sufi Occultist Aḥmad al-Būnī’s
Works,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah
Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64 (2017): 405–441.
60 hallum

and editor of Arabic awfāq literature, Jacques Sesiano, is a historian of mathem-

atics adept at analyzing the numerical properties and construction methods
of awfāq and an authority on the history and chronology of their mathemat-
ical development, but he shows little interest in social questions concerning
the status and contexts of the authors of awfāq treatises or of the cultural and
practical roles played by awfāq in the lives of the mathematicians and non-
mathematicians who dealt with them. This purely mathematical interest in
awfāq on the part of expert mathematicians sheds light on their mathematical
significance but does not, in itself, produce a well rounded history of awfāq.
This article is a contribution to the foundations of a cultural history of awfāq.
It seeks to explore their prevalence in Islamicate literature and to outline the
nature, scope and form of their literary appearances. It will examine the devel-
opment of the cultural position of awfāq in the Islamicate world by contex-
tualizing these literary appearances within their intellectual landscapes and
situating their authors, where possible, not just chronologically but also within
recognized locales of scientific endeavor (notably sites of astronomical activ-
ity), which were themselves nodes in networks of patronage, collaborative rela-
tionships, and scholarly debate. It will also attempt to trace these networks of
patronage, collaboration, and correspondence between the various authors of
awfāq texts in order to identify hubs of awfāq research.
We begin with a survey of discussions of awfāq in Islamicate literature from
their earliest known appearance in the mid-third/ninth century down to the
huge rise in cultural prevalence of the awfāq in the early seventh/thirteenth
century with the occultist-Sufi synthesis typified by the writings of Muḥyī l-
Dīn Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) and al-Būnī. The second half of this article will
focus on a newly identified manuscript of a previously unknown awfāq treat-
ise from the sixth/twelfth century: the Collection of the Harmonious Number
(Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq).7 I will use this manuscript to connect three major
periods and locations often identified as golden ages of Islamicate cultural
and scientific patronage: (1) Baghdad under ʿAḍud al-Dawla (r. 367–372/978–
83) and subsequent Buyid amirs, (2) Isfahan and Marw under the Great Seljuk
sultans Malikshāh (r. 465–485/1073–1092) and Sanjar (r. 511–552/1118–1157), and
(3) Delhi under the Mughal padishah Shāh Jahān (r. 1037–1076/1628–66).

7 BL, Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 28r–119v, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100040730535

.0x000002. A full catalog record for this manuscript is available in the British Library’s online
catalog: http://hviewer.bl.uk/IamsHViewer/Default.aspx?mdark=ark:/81055/vdc_100028835
675.0x000001.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 61

The historical trajectory traced by the unique manuscript of the Collection

of the Harmonious Number is indicative of the extensive chronological range
and geographical breadth of the Islamicate interest in awfāq, as well as the fact
that many of the greatest names in the history of the sciences in the Islamicate
world (both scientists and patrons) were caught up in this fascination. Before
we can speak of the origin of awfāq literature in the Islamicate world, however,
we should outline the current state of knowledge concerning magic squares in
the pre-Islamic world and their subsequent development in the cultures bor-
dering on or subsumed within the growing Islamicate world.

2 Pre-Islamic Magic Squares and the Later Developments of These

Traditions

Much ink has been spilled trying to determine when and where magic squares
originated and their routes of transmission into (or perhaps parallel develop-
ment in) the Islamicate world and thence Latin Europe. The well known out-
lines of this history are as follows.
China was the first known source of knowledge on magic squares, but this
was restricted in the earliest instances to the square of the lowest order (i.e.,
3 ×3), which may be alluded to in Chinese texts from the first two centuries
BCE, but is not patently discussed until the late first century CE. Squares of
higher orders have not been found in Chinese literature from before the latter
half of the thirteenth century, long after their appearance in Arabic and Persian
texts in about the mid-fourth/tenth century. The earliest mention of the 4 × 4
square is found in Sanskrit literature in the mid-sixth century, but early appear-
ances of magic squares in India are restricted to those of orders 3 and 4. By the
third/ninth century, the magic squares had entered Islamicate literature and,
within about a century, Arabic treatises devoted to awfāq began to appear. Dur-
ing the fifth/eleventh century, the Toledan astronomer Ibn al-Zarqālluh wrote a
treatise on the talismanic use of awfāq, and, by the seventh/thirteenth century,
the magic squares had entered Europe through Latin and Old Castilian transla-
tions of Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s treatise. Because European scholars were introduced
to the squares via a talismanic handbook and not a mathematical treatise, the
term “magic square” has endured in European languages.
Although the precise chronology of this history is difficult to establish, the
abundance of evidence is remarkable. The widespread existence, cultural sig-
nificance, and persistence of magic squares across Afro-Eurasia indicate that,
far from being hidden on the edges of society—the marginal property of any
one culture, time, place, or group—they were a significant and enduring phe-
62 hallum

nomenon throughout the world then known to Islamicate civilisation. Three

major cultural blocs have influenced the early development of awfāq.

2.1 Greece
The feeling that magic squares would be at home in Neopythagorean number
theory has led several scholars to suspect that their origin lies in the Hellen-
istic world. Attempts to confirm this supposition have, however, been largely
unsuccessful.8 George Sarton’s claim, for example, that the Neopythagorean
mathematician and astronomer Theon of Smyrna (fl. c. 100 CE) discussed the
3 ×3 magic square was shown to be false by N.L. Biggs, who flatly denied the
existence of magic squares in classical or late-antique Greek literature, arguing
that

If the Greeks or their followers had known about magic squares, then it
is unthinkable that just one passing reference to them should have sur-
vived: to be sure, some Greek wisdom has been lost, but magic squares
are simply too memorable to have disappeared completely.9

Likewise, H.E. Stapleton’s statement that the “Magic Square [of 3 × 3] was
known in Europe to Theodorus, a pupil of … Porphyry [d. c. 305]” remains
unsubstantiated.10
More recently, however, Nicolas Vinel has made a case for the existence of
esoteric allusions to magic squares in late antique Greek mathematical literat-
ure, notably in the Neoplatonic philosopher Iamblichus’s (d. 325 CE) comment-
ary on the Arithmetical Introduction, a treatise on Neopythagorean number
theory by the philosopher and mathematician Nicomachus of Gerasa (d. c.
120CE), to which we shall return near the end of this article.11

8 See, e.g., Paul Tannery, “Le traité de Manuel Moschopoulos sur les carrés magiques. Texte
grec et traduction,” Annuaire de l’ Association pour l’ encouragement des études grecques en
France 20 (1886): 90, and Schuyler Cammann, “The Magic Square of Three in Old Chinese
Philosophy and Religion,” History of Religions 1, no. 1 (1961): 45–46.
9 The false claim is made in George Sarton’s Introduction to the History of Science (Baltimore:
Williams & Wilkins, 1927–1948), 1:272, and followed by Joseph Needham, Science and Civil-
isation in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1954–), 3:61. The rebuttal is in
Norman L. Biggs, “The Roots of Combinatorics,” Historia Mathematica 6 (1979): 120–121.
Needham (“Theoretical Influences of China on Arabic Alchemy,” Revista da Universidade
de Coimbra 28 [1980]: 11) subsequently retracted his erroneous statement and identified
Sarton as the source of his error.
10 Henry E. Stapleton, “The Antiquity of Alchemy,” Ambix 5, nos. 1–2 (1953): 37.
11 Nicolas Vinel, “Un carré magique pythagoricien? Jamblique précurseur des témoins Ara-
bo-Byzantins,” Archive for History of Exact Sciences 59, no. 6 (2005): 545–562, and Iam-
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 63

Although there remains no generally accepted proof of the knowledge of

magic squares in Graeco-Roman antiquity, archaeological evidence has re-
cently come to light that may add weight to Vinel’s theory. A Greek letter square
(or rather an oblong) depicted on a fifth- or sixth-century CE writing tablet
from Antinoupolis in Middle Egypt may be a sort of proto-magic square. While
admittedly not conforming to the usual mathematical constraints of a magic
square, when the letters in this oblong grid are assigned their positional values
within the alphabetic sequence rather than their usual alphanumerical values,
many equal sums are discoverable in its columns and rows.12
With this archaeological discovery and Vinel’s work, the tide of scholarly
opinion shows signs of turning against Biggs’s uncompromising stance.
Sesiano, the greatest living historian of Islamicate magic squares, has recently
admitted that “the surprising results already obtained in the science of magic
squares [in the Islamicate world] by the tenth century thereby suggest … a
much earlier, possibly Greek time for the first discoveries” and concludes that
“… although … [the] … Greek allusions [adduced by Vinel] are in themselves
not convincing [that the magic square of 3×3 was known in the Graeco-Roman
world], they can no longer be dismissed a priori.”13 For the time being, however,
the earliest known explicit discussion of magic squares in Greek literature is
found in the eighth/fourteenth-century writings of the grammarian Manuel
Moschopoulos of Constantinople, and this has been shown to derive from
Islamicate sources.14

2.2 China
In fact, the earliest known magic squares were constructed in China, where
they were and continue to be an important part of the science of divination
and geomancy ( fengshui).15 The simplest magic square (3 × 3) appears perhaps

blichus, In Nicomachi Arithmeticam, ed. and trans. Nicholas Vinel (Pisa: Fabrizio Serra
Editore, 2014), 23–35.
12 Julia Lougovaya, “A Perfect Pangram: A Reconsideration of the Evidence,” Greek, Roman,
and Byzantine Studies 57 (2017): 165, 179–180 and 189–190. I thank Juan Acevedo for bring-
ing this article to my attention.
13 Sesiano, Magic Squares in the Tenth Century, 9 and 16. For an introduction to the late
antique Neoplatonic interpretation of Pythagoreanism that served as a substrate for early
Islamicate number theory, and perhaps for magic squares themselves, see Dominic J.
O’Meara, Pythagoras Revived. Mathematics and Philosophy in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clar-
endon Press, 1989).
14 Tannery, “Le traité de Manuel Moschopoulos,” 90, and Jacques Sesiano, “Les carrés ma-
giques de Manuel Moschopoulos,” Archive for History of Exact Sciences 53, no. 5 (1998):
377–397.
15 Although the Chinese fengshui and the Arabo-Persian ʿilm al-raml are both referred to in
64 hallum

as early as 190BCE in Xu Yue’s Memoir on Some Traditions of the Mathematical

Art (Shushu jiyi), where it is called the “nine-palace diagram” ( jiugong tu) and
apparently served divinatory and cosmological/cosmographical functions.16 In
about 80 CE, the 3×3 square appears again in the more reliably dated Record of
Rites by Dai the Elder (Da Dai Liji) by Dai De, where it is found in a chapter
called “Bright Hall” (Mingtang), a reference to a palace of nine halls in which
ceremonial rites were carried out by the emperors of the Zhou dynasty (1046–
771BCE).17 The Luo River Chart (Luoshu), an important diagram in the devel-
opment of Chinese geomantic thought, may be considerably older than the
writings of Xu Yue and Dai De just mentioned, but its origin is legendary, and,
because it was written schematically and without numerals, it was not iden-
tified with the nine-palace diagram and Bright Hall (and thus with the 3 × 3
square) until as late as the time of Cai Yuanding (d. 594/1198), the great geo-
mancer and commentator on the Classic of Changes (Yijing).18
Historically, the semantic range of the Chinese term shuxue, usually trans-
lated into English as “mathematics,” also touched upon philosophy, astrology,
and divination, and the 3×3 magic square played important roles in all these
categories.19 This magic square was a potent cosmological symbol embody-
ing “the two forces of Yin and Yang at work, the cycles of the Four Seasons
and the Five Elements, and the deployment of the Nine Directions of space,
emphasis always remaining on cosmic centrality like a kind of powerhouse.”20
Fundamental to the compass school of geomancy,21 it is also the basis for sev-
eral astrological divinatory practices whereby each number in the square is

English as “geomancy,” it is important to distinguish the two traditions, which differ greatly
in origin, scope, and application.
16 Ho Peng-Yoke, “Chinese Number Mysticism,” in Mathematics and the Divine: A Historical
Study, ed. Teun Koetsier and Luc Bergmans (London: Elsevier, 2005), 47, and Lay Yong
Lam, ed. and trans., A Critical Study of the Yang Hui Suan Fa: A Thirteenth-Century Chinese
Mathematical Treatise (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1977), 294. For an extended
study of the principles and applications of the square of 3×3 in Chinese culture, see Lars
Berglund, The Secret of Luo Shu. Numerology in Chinese Art and Architecture (Lund: Insti-
tutionen för Konstvetenskap Lunds Universitet, 1990).
17 Peng-Yoke, “Chinese Number Mysticism,” 47; Jean-Claude Martzloff, A History of Chinese
Mathematics (Berlin: Springer, 1997), 363.
18 Peng-Yoke, “Chinese Number Mysticism,” 48.
19 Peng Yoke, “Magic Squares in China,” 2599 and Needham, “Theoretical Influences,” 12–17.
20 Needham, “Theoretical Influences,” 17.
21 Albert Ting Pat So, Eric Lee, Kin Lun Li and Dickson Koon Sing Leung, “Luo Shu: Ancient
Chinese Magic Square on [sic] Linear Algebra,” SAGE Open 5, no. 2 (April 2015): https://doi
.org/10.1177/2158244015585828.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 65

assigned a color and circulated throughout the 3 × 3 square to form a total of

nine different arrangements.22
Despite the antiquity of magic squares in China, squares of orders higher
than three do not appear in Chinese literature until 673/1275, when they were
included in the Continuation of Ancient Mathematical Methods for Elucidat-
ing the Strange (Xugu zhaiqi suanfa) by Yang Hui.23 This mathematical text
discusses magic squares of 3×3 to 10×10, as well as magic circles and other
mathematically “magic” figures, but only explains the construction methods
for the lowest two orders (3×3 and 4×4). Furthermore, Yang Hui treats magic
squares solely from the point of view of mathematics and is apparently the first
to refer to a magic square without the usual Chinese legendary epithets, but
simply as “a vertical and horizontal plan” (zonghengtu), a name still used for
them in Chinese today. Both the 3×3 and 9×9 magic squares played important
roles in Daoist rituals during which a priest takes steps (Yubu or gangbu) fol-
lowing the pattern of the magic square in order to harness astral powers, and
numbers derived from magic squares of higher orders were also used to jus-
tify the importance of numbers in the number theory of the Classic of Changes
(Yijing).24
It is tempting to contextualize the appearance of higher order squares in
Chinese literature within the Mongol incursions into Central Asian and Near
Eastern Islamicate realms that began in the 620s/1220s and culminated with
the fall of Baghdad in 655/1257 and the establishment of the Īlkhānid, Kipchak

22 Peng-Yoke, “Chinese Number Mysticism,” 52. For the Tibetan development of Chinese
astrological divination on the basis of the 3 × 3 magic square, see Dieter Schuh, “Über die
Möglichkeit der Identifizierung tibetischer Jahresangaben anhand der sMe-ba-dgu,” Zen-
tralasiatische Studien des Seminars für Sprach- und Kulturwissenschaft Zentralasiens der
Universität Bonn 6 (1972): 485–504; Siegbert Hummel, “The sMe-ba-dgu, the Magic Square
of the Tibetans,” East and West 19, no. 1/2 (1969); and Gyurme Dorje, Tibetan Elemental
Divination Paintings. Illuminated Manuscripts from The White Beryl of Sangs-rgyas rGya-
mtsho with the Moonbeams Treatise of Lo-chen Dharmaśrī (London: John Eshkenazi in
association with Sam Fogg, 2001). I thank Burkhard Quessel for introducing me to the
literature on this Tibetan tradition.
23 Lam, ed. and trans., A Critical Study, 145–151 (translation) and 293–322 (commentary).
See also Schuyler Cammann, “Old Chinese Magic Squares,” Sinologica 7 (1962): 14–53;
Cammann, “Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. Part I,” 186–88, n. 9; Schuyler Cammann,
“Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. Part II,” History of Religions 8, no. 4 (1969): 280–281;
Martzloff, A History of Chinese Mathematics, 18 and 363; Needham, “Theoretical Influ-
ences,” 13, and Ho Peng Yoke, “Magic Squares in China,” in Encyclopaedia of the History
of Science, Technology, and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, 3rd ed., ed. Helaine Selin
(Dordrecht: Springer, 2016), 4:2598–599, who discusses Chinese literature on this subject
down to the seventeenth century.
24 Peng-Yoke, “Chinese Number Mysticism,” 52–54.
66 hallum

(Golden Horde), and Chagatai khanates in and to the north and east of the
Islamicate world. Although diplomatic, commercial, scientific, and other cul-
tural transactions are well documented between China and Muslims from the
Islamicate world in the first century after the death of the prophet Muḥammad
(d. 11/632), clear evidence for points of transmission of the knowledge of magic
squares between the two cultural blocs has yet to be adduced and investig-
ated. An interesting starting point for such research could be the cast iron 6 × 6
square with eastern Arabic numerals, which was excavated in 1957 from the
foundations of the palaces of the Prince of Anxi, 3 kilometers northeast of Xi’an,
Shaanxi Province in northwestern China.25
The palaces were the residence of the Yuan Dynasty princes of Anxi, and
were constructed during the reign of the first such prince, Mangqala (en-
throned 670–671/1272), the third son of Qubilai Qaghan (r. 658–693/1260–1294).
It is probable, however, that the magic square was buried in the foundations of
the palace of the Prince of Anxi during the reign Mangqala’s son and successor
Ananda (enthroned 680–681/1282), who is known to have converted to Islam
early in his life, enthusiastically followed Islamicate customs, and propagated
Islam in his realm.26 The fact that the magic square was placed in a carved stone
coffer and then deposited in the foundations of a royal edifice clearly indic-
ates that this was an official ritual act and points to the influence of Islamicate

25 The square is held in the Shaanxi History Museum, and a catalog record can be found in
Dongshan Ji and Jianwu Han, Charm and Brilliance: An Appraisal of the National Treas-
ures in the Shaanxi History Museum. The Jade and Other Objects. Shen yun de hui hang:
Shanxi li shi bo wu guan guo bao jian shang—yu za qi juan (Xi’an: Sanqin Publishing House,
2006), 216. I am grateful to Han-Lin Hsieh for finding and translating this catalog record
for me and to her and Emma Harrison for general help with Chinese. See also Dezhi Ma,
“Xi’an Yuan dai Anxi wang fu kan cha ji [Investigations of the Yuan Dynasty Palace of the
Prince of Anxi in Xi’an],” Kaogu 5 (1960): 20–23; Nai Xia, “Yuan Anxi wang fu zhi he Alabo
shu ma huan fang [The Remains of the Yuan Dynasty Palace of the Prince of Anxi and
the Arabic Numeral Magic Square],” Kaogu 5 (1960): 24–26; Nancy Shatzman Steinhardt,
“Imperial Architecture along the Mongolian Road to Dadu,” Ars Orientalis 18 (1988): 68–69;
Nancy Shatzman Steinhardt, “Towards the Definition of a Yuan Dynasty Hall,” Journal of
the Society of Architectural Historians 47, no. 1 (1988): 61; and Martzloff, A History of Chinese
Mathematics, 365–366 (Fig. 20.2).
26 On Prince Ananda, see the biographical sketch in Rashīd al-Dīn Ṭabīb’s (d. 718/1318) Com-
pendium of Histories ( Jāmiʿ al-tawārīkh) (Rashīd al-Dīn Ṭabīb, The Successors of Genghis
Khan, trans. John Andrew Boyle [New York: Columbia University Press, 1971], 323–328);
Morris Rossabi, “The Muslims in the Early Yüan Dynasty,” ed. John D. Langlois, Jr. (Prin-
ceton: Princeton University Press, 1981), especially 292; and Herbert Franke, “Tibetans in
Yüan China,” ed. John D. Langlois, Jr. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 300–
301.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 67

figure 3.1 Cast iron 6 × 6 magic square, Anxi (Xi’an), early Yuan Dyn-
asty (late seventh/thirteenth century). 12 × 12 × 1.5cm.
Shaanxi History Museum, Xi’an
Photo courtesy of Marilyn Shea, PhD, University
of Maine at Farmington

magic squares in the east of the Mongol realm within twenty years of the fall of
Baghdad and shortly after the publication of Yang Hui’s work on higher-order
magic squares.27

27 It has been proposed that the magic square was not imported from Islamicate Central Asia
but rather was produced locally in Chang’an (mod. Xi’an; see Xia, “Yuan Anxi wang fu,” 23,
cited by Steinhardt, “Imperial Architecture,” 77, n. 76). Mathematically, however, it is clear
that the Anxi iron 6 × 6 magic square was constructed independently of Yang Hui’s Con-
tinuation of Ancient Mathematical Methods, since the numerals in the only 6×6 square to
appear in that work are arranged differently from those in the Anxi magic square. From a
talismanic and ritual perspective, it is not surprising that the Anxi magic square is 6×6,
since, in the two major Islamicate systems of associations between magic squares and
the planets, the square of 6 × 6 is associated with the Sun and is used for ensuring long
and prosperous reigns. It is unusual, however, that the square is constructed of iron—
traditionally associated with Mars—and not of gold, the metal associated with the Sun
and usually prescribed for such a talisman.
68 hallum

2.3 India
The earliest known appearance of a magic square in Indian literature is the 4 × 4
square mentioned in the Great Compilation (Bṛhatsaṁhitā).28 This Sanskrit
text mainly treating divination was written in about 550 CE by the mathem-
atician and astronomer Varāhamihira (d. 587CE) of Ujjain, an important centre
of both political power and mathematical and astronomical research in Cent-
ral India.29 The 4 ×4 magic square is used in that text not for divination but for
determining the correct proportions of the sixteen ingredients used to make a
perfume called the “all-auspicious” (sarvatobhadra).30
There follows a large gap in the historical record until about 900 CE, when
the physician Vṛnda included a 3×3 magic square in his Sanskrit Ayurvedic
medical compendium the Siddhayoga.31 He recommends that pregnant
women suffering a difficult labor should gaze (dṛṣṭvā) at this magic square in
order to ease childbirth. This eutocic usage of the 3 × 3 square is one of the

28 On the Great Compilation, see Takao Hayashi, “Varāhamihira’s Pandiagonal Magic Square
of the Order Four,” Historia Mathematica 14 (1987): 159–166, and David Pingree, Jyotiḥśās-
tra: Astral and Mathematical Literature (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1981), 71–75. For a brief
and well referenced survey of the history of magic squares in India, see Takao Hayashi,
“Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics,” in Encyclopaedia of the History of Science, Techno-
logy, and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, 3rd ed., ed. Helaine Selin (Dordrecht: Springer,
2016), 2600–2607. I thank Azadeh Shokouhi for her kind help with Sanskrit texts.
29 Ujjain’s astronomical importance is indicated by its adoption as the base location (al-
Qubba) from which all longitudes are measured in the Zīj al-Sindhind (translated shortly
after 153/770 at Baghdad from a Sanskrit astronomical work [siddhānta]; see Edward
S. Kennedy, “A Survey of Islamic Astronomical Tables,” Transactions of the American Philo-
sophical Society 46, no. 2 [1956]: 129–130).
30 Varāhamihira, Bṛhat Saṁhitā, ed. and trans. M. Ramakrishna Bhat (Delhi, Varanasi, and
Patna: Motilal Banarsidass, 1981–1982), 2:714–715. A Persian translation of the Bṛhatsaṁ-
hitā called Tarjuma-yi kitāb-i Barāhī was produced by ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz Shams-i Tahānsarī
under the patronage of the Delhi sultan Fīrūz Shāh Tughluq (r. 752–790/1351–1388). See
Eva Orthmann, “Tarjuma-yi kitāb-i Bārāhī,” in Perso-Indica. An Analytical Survey of Per-
sian Works on Indian Learned Traditions, ed. Fabrizio Speziale and Carl W. Ernst (2017),
http://www.perso‑indica.net/work/tarjuma‑yi_kitabi_barahi. The magic square in Shams-
i Tahānsarī’s Persian translation (containing only the perfume ingredients without the
corresponding numerals) can be seen in BL, IO Islamic 1262, fol. 228v.
31 Vṛnda, The First Treatise of Āyurveda on Treatment: Vṛndamādhava or Siddha Yoga, ed. and
trans. Premvati Tewari and Asha Kumari (Varanasi: Chaukhambha Visvabharati, 2006),
2:837–888. See Arion Roşu, “Études āyurvédiques III. Les carrés magiques dans la méde-
cine indienne,” in Studies on Indian Medical History. Papers Presented at the International
Workshop on the Study of Indian Medicine Held at the Wellcome Institute for the History of
Medicine 2–4 September 1985, ed. Gerrit Jan Muelenbeld and Dominik Wujastyk (Gronin-
gen: Egbert Forsten, 1987), 104–108 and Arion Roşu, “Les carrés magiques indiens et
l’ histoire des idées en Asie.” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, 139,
no. 1 (1989): 120–124.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 69

most stable and enduring features in the lore of the magic squares in Islam-
icate lands, and, as we shall see below, it is found in Arabic literature about half
a century before it appears in Sanskrit.
From the eleventh century CE, magic squares appear on monuments related
to Śaiva tantric traditions in northern India, in which they were employed as
numerical ritual diagrams (aṅkayantra). These magic squares were a subset of
the more general tantric ritual diagram ( yantra) to be gazed at or visualized
internally by the yogi in meditation in order to achieve magical or spiritual
aims, much as Vṛnda had prescribed gazing at the 3 × 3 square to obtain a euto-
cic benefit some five centuries earlier.32
The first discussion of magic squares in an Indian mathematical treatise is
found in a short section within the fourth and final chapter of the Prakrit Gaṇ-
itasārakaumudī written in about 1300CE by Ṭhakkura Pherū (d. after 1323CE),
a Jaina scholar employed at the Delhi mint under the Khaljī sultans and per-
haps also under the early Tughluqids.33 Much longer is the discussion of magic
squares and other figures in the fourteenth and final chapter (on “Auspicious
Mathematics” [Bhadragaṇita]) of Nārāyaṇa Paṇḍita’s Sanskrit mathematical
treatise, Gaṇitakaumudī, written in 1356CE.34 By the fourteenth century CE
magic squares appear in Jaina hymns, and, at an as yet unconfirmed date, they
appear carved on Jaina temples.35

32 Roşu, “Les carrés magiques indiens,” 124–125. Vṛnda did not himself, however, use the term
yantra or aṅkayantra to refer to the square.
33 Roşu, “Les carrés magiques indiens,” 153 and 158; Sreeramula Rajeswara Sarma, Ṭhakkura
Pherū’s Rayaṇaparikkhā. A Medieval Text on Gemmology (Aligarh, Viveka Publications,
1984), 1–10.
34 Nārāyaṇa Paṇḍita, The Gaṇita Kaumudī, ed. Padmākara Dvivedī Jyautishāchārya (Ben-
ares: Government Sanskrit College, 1936–1942), 2:353–410; Paramanand Singh, “The Gaṇ-
itakaumudī of Nārāyaṇa Paṇḍita: Chapter XIV, English Translation with Notes,” Gaṇita
Bhāratī 24 (2002): 34–98. For modern studies, see Schuyler Cammann, “Islamic and Indian
Magic Squares. Part II,” History of Religions 8, no. 4 (1969): 271–299; Bibhutibhusan Datta
and Awadhesh Narayan Singh (revised by Kripa Shankar Shukla), “Magic Squares in
India,” Indian Journal of History of Science 27, no. 1 (1992): 51–120; and Raja Sridharan and
M.D. Srinivas, “Folding Method of Nārāyaṇa Paṇḍita for the Construction of Samagarbha
and Viṣama Magic Squares,” Indian Journal for the History of Science 47, no. 4 (2012): 589–
605. See also, with caution, Pramila Deodhar, “Recreations in Mathematics: With Spe-
cial Reference to Ganita Kaumudi of Nārāyaṉa (1356A.D.),” Bulletin of the Deccan College
Research Institute 50 (1990): 193–196.
35 See Hayashi, “Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics,” 2601.
70 hallum

3 Awfāq: Islamicate Magic Squares

Awfāq are ubiquitous in the material culture of Islamicate societies. They are
frequently encountered scribbled on the flyleaves of manuscripts, inscribed
and painted on ceramics and metalware, on ceremonial flags and military
standards, protective talismanic shirts, and on engraved, inscribed and block-
printed (ṭarsh) talismans.36 Outside of texts on mathematics, magic, medicine,
and natural philosophy, the cultural status of awfāq is attested to by their
appearance in literary works on such diverse subjects as chess,37 music,38 and
genealogy.39 Just as in the Chinese and Indian traditions, awfāq first appear in

36 Emilie Savage-Smith, “Magic and Islam,” “Magic-Medicinal Bowls” and “Amulets and Re-
lated Talismanic Objects,” in Science, Tools and Magic: Part One: Body and Spirit, Mapping
the Universe, by Francis Maddison and Emilie Savage-Smith (London: Nour Foundation
in association with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1997), 59–147; on ṭarsh
talismans in particular, see Mark Muehlhaeusler, “Math and Magic: A Block-Printed Wafq
Amulet from the Beinecke Library at Yale,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 130,
no. 4 (2010): 207–218 and Karl R. Schaefer, Enigmatic Charms. Medieval Arabic Block Prin-
ted Amulets in American and European Libraries and Museums (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 76–79
and pl. 8.
37 Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Sakhāwī (d. 902/1497), ʿUmdat al-muḥtajj fī ḥukm al-
shaṭranj, ed. Usāma al-Ḥarīrī and Nazīr Kaʿka (Kuwait: Dar al-Nawādir, 2012), 152.
38 Treatise of the Treasure of Gifts Concerning Music (Risāla-yi kanz al-tuḥaf dar mūsīqā), BL,
Or. 2361, fol. 267r (copy completed at Delhi, 16 Rajab 1075/2 February 1665): a 5×5 wafq
appears between an Arabic prayer to Venus (begins fol. 266v, ult.) and a Persian verse
prayer to Venus (ends fol. 267v) attributed to Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274). The author-
ship of this treatise in Or. 2361 is unknown, but Henry G. Farmer, “Iranian Musical Instru-
ments in the Ninth/Fifteenth Century,” Islamic Culture 38, no. 3 (1964): 175–176 suggests
(on the authority of C. Huart, without further reference) that the author is the mawlāwī
dervish Amīr b. Khiḍr Mālī and that he composed the treatise in 838/1434. This is contra-
dicted by a collation note (presumably copied from the exemplar) after the colophon of
this text (fol. 269v) stating that the copy was collated against a manuscript dated Tuesday
1 Dhū l-Qaʿda 784/6 January 1383. Furthermore, Charles Rieu, Supplement to the Catalogue
of the Arabic Manuscripts in the British Museum (London: The British Museum, 1894), 561
(item 823) interprets a chronogram at the end of the treatise as indicating a composition
date of 746/1345–1346. As for the possibility that Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī had an interest in
awfāq, a treatise called al-Awfāq attributed to al-Ṭūsī’s teacher Kamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad
b. Yūnus (d. 639/1242) is edited in Jacques Sesiano, “An Arabic Treatise on the Construction
of Bordered Magic Squares,” Historia Scientiarum 42 (1991): 14–31.
39 ʿAzīz al-Dīn Ismāʿīl b. Ḥusayn al-Marwazī, known as al-ʿAlawī al-Nassāba (d. 632/1234–
1235), The Harmony of Numbers [i.e. Magic Square] Concerning Genealogy (Wafq al-aʿdād
fī al-nasab), completed at Marw in 614/1217–1218 but now lost. See Yāqūt b. ʿAbdallāh al-
Ḥamawī (d. 626/1229), Irshād al-arīb ilā maʿrifat al-adīb, ed. David Samuel Margoliouth
et al. (Leiden: Brill; London: Luzac, 1907–1927), 2:262–266 and Bakr b. Abū Zayd, Ṭabaqāt
al-Nassābīn (Riyadh: Dār al-Rushd, 1987), 126–127 (item 298).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 71

Islamicate literature in medicinal and magical contexts. Only later are entire
treatises, both talismanic and mathematical, dedicated to them. They are taken
up as the subjects of mathematical treatises within about a century of their
first explicit appearance in Arabic literature. In comparison to the Chinese and
Indian traditions in which they are not found in mathematical literature until
some seven and a half and eleven centuries after their initial appearances,
respectively, the awfāq make a much swifter transition in Islamicate cultures
from their occasional appearance in medical and talismanic texts to being the
subject of prolonged mathematical studies. This early and intense engagement
between mathematical research and talismanic practice with respect to awfāq
had a profound effect on the history of the occult sciences in the Islamicate
world. In the following pages, I attempt to trace the contours of an early cultural
history of awfāq in order to place their historical study on a firmer founda-
tion. By bringing together a selection of passages discussing the simplest and
most well-known wafq (that of 3×3) from Arabic literary works written before
the end of sixth/twelfth century, I explore the Islamicate thinking on awfāq
that informed the explosion in popularity of lettrism (ʿilm al-ḥurūf ) and the
associated great increase in the profile, diffusion, and variety of awfāq, in the
seventh/thirteenth century, propelled by the likes of al-Būnī and Ibn ʿArabī.40

3.1 Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī ( fl. c. 235/850)

The earliest dateable reference to a wafq (although this designation is not used)
in Islamicate literature is found in a discussion of methods for facilitating child-

40 The theoretical underpinnings of the paradigm shift that coincided with the rise of
lettrism, which saw Sufi cosmology and revelation displace natural philosophy and astral
causality as the interpretative framework in which magic was conceived, have been stud-
ied by Noah Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture: Aḥmad al-Būnī and His Read-
ers Through the Mamlūk Period” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2014), 166–185; Liana
Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif : Ways of Knowing and Paths of Power in
Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” edited by Matthew Melvin-
Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 297–345;
and Matthew Melvin-Koushki has shown that natural philosophy and astral causality
returned to favour amongst lettrists of later centuries, with the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm continu-
ing its popularity; see “World as (Arabic) Text: Mīr Dāmād and the Neopythagoreanization
of Philosophy in Safavid Iran,” Studia Islamica 114, no. 3 (2019): 378–431. The following
survey of Arabic texts on the 3 × 3 wafq written before 596/1200 is not exhaustive but is
intended to be broadly illustrative of the place of awfāq in Islamicate literature before
this paradigm shift. I have reproduced here the original Arabic of every passage cited in
order to facilitate future analysis. The Arabic text has been kept to the footnotes when a
reliable critical edition is available. I have put the Arabic text in the main body of the art-
icle only when presenting an unedited text or an edited text that is being re-edited here
from the manuscripts.
72 hallum

birth written by Abū l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. Rabban Sahl al-Ṭabarī. Born into a family
of state secretaries at Marw in Tabaristan, Ibn Rabban lived most of his life
as a Christian (probably a Nestorian), before converting to Islam in his later
years.41 His father Sahl was given the title rabban (Syriac, “our master”) owing
not only to his scriptural erudition but especially to his medical knowledge,
and, if later testimony is to be believed, also to his scholarly achievements in
mathematics, astronomy, and the translation of scientific texts. ʿAlī b. Rabban
followed in his father’s footsteps, with political service as a secretary first to the
governor of Tabaristan, Māzyār b. Qārīn (d. 226/841), and then at the Abbasid
court at Samarra under the caliphs al-Muʿtaṣim (r. 218–227/833–842), al-Wāthiq
(r. 227–232/842–847), and al-Mutawakkil (r. 232–247/847–861). He was a boon
companion (nadīm) to al-Mutawakkil, and it was probably during the reign of
that caliph that Ibn Rabban converted to Islam, at about the age of seventy.
It was also during the reign of al-Mutawakkil in 235/850, perhaps before
his conversion, that Ibn Rabban wrote his most famous book, an encyclo-
pedic work on medicine and natural philosophy called the Paradise of Wis-
dom (Firdaws al-ḥikma).42 This work contains a summary of Indian medicine
(āyurveda) that demonstrates Ibn Rabban’s familiarity with Sanskrit medical
sources and traditions.43 It is thus possible that he derived his knowledge
of the eutocic 3×3 wafq from these Indian sources. Be that as it may, Ibn
Rabban claims that the immediate source of his knowledge about the euto-
cic powers of the 3×3 wafq was his father. The passage in the Paradise of
Wisdom in which Ibn Rabban mentions the 3× 3 wafq is found only in the
earliest (seventh/thirteenth-century) manuscript of the work, BL, Arundel Or.
41, fol. 135r–v (hereafter L).44 Because the standard edition of the Paradise of

41 The most recent and complete biographical account of ʿAlī b. Rabban, including refer-
ences to both primary sources and previous secondary studies, is Rifaat Ebied and David
Thomas, “ʿAlī ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī, Fragments of a Life,” in The Polemical Works of ʿAlī al-
Ṭabarī, ed. Rifaat Ebied and David Thomas (Leiden: Brill, 2016), esp. 11–15.
42 For an extended enquiry into the genre and salvific aims of the Paradise of Wisdom, see
Joshua Thomas Olsson, “Design, Determinism and Salvation in the Firdaws al-Ḥikma of ʿAlī
Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī” (PhD diss., Cambridge University, 2015). For an early but still use-
ful overview of the contents of the work, see Max Meyerhof, “ʿAlî aṭ-Ṭabarî’s “Paradise of
Wisdom,” One of the Oldest Arabic Compendiums of Medicine,” Isis 16, no. 1 (1931): 6–54.
43 ʿAlī b. Sahl Rabban al-Ṭabarī, Firdausu’l-Ḥikmat or Paradise of Wisdom of ʿAlí b. Rabban-al-
Ṭabarí, ed. Muhammad Zubair Siddiqi (Berlin-Charlottenburg: Buch- und Kunstdruckerei
“Sonne,” 1928), 557–620 (7.4.36). See Meyerhof, “Paradise of Wisdom,” 12, 42–47.
44 A digital copy of L is at https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100023664595.0x000
051. Bilingual (Hebrew/Arabic) ownership inscriptions on fol. 2r of this manuscript show
that it was owned by Rabbi Yosef al-Tiflīsī (fl. early eighth/fourteenth century), son of
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 73

Wisdom contains numerous textual errors, I have re-edited this passage from L
and present it here with a fresh translation.

3.1.1 Text45

‫ وهو أن تأخذ خزفتين من كوز أو جرة‬47 ً‫ لعسر الولاد شيئ ًا عجيب ًا مجر با‬46‫وقد كان أبي يكتب‬
‫ وتصور عليها شكلا ًمثل هذا وتكتب فيها حساباً كيف ما حسبت طول ًا‬48‫جديدة لم يصبها الماء‬
‫ضا أو من زاو ية إلى زاو يةكان خمسة عشر وتكتب حولها آيتين من الز بور وتؤتى بهما المرأة‬
ً ‫وعر‬
‫ش‬
ّ ُ ‫حتى تنظر إلى ما فيهما من الكتابة نعم ًا ثم تضعها تحت قدميها وكان يأمر أن يؤخذ من ع‬
‫الخطاطيف شيء قليل من ذلك الطين و يسحق بدهن رازقي وتمرخ به عانتها وحقو يها وأن‬
‫ أصل كز برة قلع ًا رفيق ًا و يؤخذ عرقها و يشد على فخذ المرأة وهذه صورة الشكل وهو‬49‫يقلع‬
‫ وأر بعة ثم سبعة وخمسة وثلثة ثم ستة وواحد وثمانية فأما الآيتان من ز بور داوود‬50‫أثنان وتسعة‬

the Exilarch, head of the Jewish community of Gagra on the Black Sea coast of west-
ern Georgia, and then by his son Emmanuel the Dayān, brother of Rabbi Isaiah of Tabriz
(fl. first half of eighth/fourteenth century), author of a cabbalistic Book of Divine Glory
(Sefer ha-kavod). I am grateful to Colin Baker for his help in reading and interpreting
these inscriptions. On this Jewish scholarly family, see Michael Beizer, Michael Zand,
and Mordkhai Neishtat, “Georgia,” in Encyclopaedia Judaica, 2nd ed., ed. Fred Skolnik and
Michael Berenbaum (Detroit: Thomson Gale, 2007), 7:497; Walter J. Fischel, “Azarbaijan in
Jewish History,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 22 (1953): 9, esp.
n. 21; Alexander Marx, “Hebrew MSS. in Vienna,” Jewish Quarterly Review 16, no. 3 (1926):
340–341, and Gershom Scholem, Kitve-yad be-Ḳabalah ha-nimtsaʾim be-Vet ha-sefarim ha-
leʾumi ṿeha-universiṭaʾi bi-Yerushala[y]im (Jerusalem: Ḥevrah le-Hotsaʾat Sefarim ʿal-yad
ha-Universiṭah ha-ʿIvrit, 1930), 41–42. I thank Zsofi Buda for her help with this Hebrew
reference.
45 Al-Ṭabarī, Firdausu’l-Ḥikmat, ed. Siddiqi, 280–281 (4.9.19). A German translation based on
Siddiqi’s text appears in Alfred Siggel, “Gynäkologie, Embryologie und Frauenhygiene aus
dem “Paradies der Weisheit über die Medizin” des Abū Ḥasan ʿAlī b. Sahl Rabban aṭ-Ṭabarī,
nach der Ausgabe von Dr. M. Zubair aṣ-Ṣiddīqī, Berlin-Charlottenburg: 1928 Buch- und
Kunstverlag “Die Sonne.” Übersetzt und erläutert,” Quellen und Studien zur Geschichte der
Naturwissenschaften und der Medizin 8 (1942): 253–254. See Meyerhof, “Paradise of Wis-
dom,” 29 (chap. 160).
46 ‫ ]أبي يكتب‬L: ‫ يكتب أبي‬Siddiqi.
47 ً‫ ]مجر با‬L: om. Siddiqi.
48 ‫ ]لم يصبها الماء‬L: om. Siddiqi.
49 ‫ ]يقلع‬L: ‫ يقطع‬Siddiqi.
50 ‫ ]تسعة‬scripsi: ‫ سبعة‬L, Siddiqi: ‘9’ Siggel.
74 hallum

‫ وليؤمّلني‬51‫فمكتو بان حولها وهو بالسر يانية وتفسيرها »أخرج نفسي من المحبس لأشكر لاسمك‬
[fol. 135v] .‫ إذا أنت كافيتني« ولها أشياء كثيرة غير هذه‬52‫أبرارك‬

3.1.2 Translation

For difficulties in childbirth, my father used to prescribe something won-

drous and tested, namely, that you take two pieces of pottery from a new
earthenware jug (kūz) or jar ( jarra) never touched by water and on each
one you draw a figure like this [one below] in which you write a sum
such that, however you add it up vertically, horizontally, or from corner
to corner, you get fifteen. Around each one you write two verses from the
Psalms, and they are brought to the woman so that she gazes intently at
the writing on them. Then you place them under her feet.
He [sc. my father] used to order that a little clay be taken from a swal-
low’s nest and ground with lily oil, that her pubes and groin be anointed
with it, and that a stem of coriander be gently plucked and its root taken
and bound to the woman’s thigh.
This[, below,] is an illustration of the figure, which is two, nine, four,
then seven, five, three, then six, one, eight. As for the two verses from the
Psalms of David, they are written around it in Syriac and are translated
[as follows]:
Bring my soul out of prison that I may give thanks unto Your name.
Truly Your righteous ones will expect me when You have rewarded
me.53
It also had many other things beside this. [fol. 135v]

51 ‫ ]لأشكر لاسمك‬sine punctis L: ‫ لا سكر ولا سمك‬Siddiqi.

52 ‫ ]أبرارك‬L: ‫ إ يرادك‬Siddiqi.
53 This is Ps. 141:8 in the Vulgate (142:7 KJV), but Ps. 142:8 in the Masoretic text and in the
Syriac Peshiṭta text referred to by Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī: 焏‫ܫܝ‬熏‫ ܚܒ‬狏‫ ܒܝ‬爯‫ ܡ‬營‫ ܢܦܫ‬犟‫ܐܦ‬
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 75

3.1.3 Commentary
The specification that the two 3×3 wafqs used in this treatment should be
“brought to the woman so that she gazes pleasantly (?) at the writing on them”
(wa-tuʾatā bihā al-marʾata ḥattā tanẓura ilā mā fīhimā min al-kitābati niʿman) is
reminiscent of Vṛnda’s Sanskrit prescription in which the square is to be gazed
at by the woman in labor. It is thus tempting to see Ibn Rabban’s use of the euto-
cic 3×3 wafq as a continuation or even (if the direction of transmission went
the other way) the origin of the Indian tradition of the aṅkayantra (see above,
§ 2.3). At any rate, we are dealing with similar cultural phenomena.
In Islamicate works on medicine, magic, and the natural sciences, the euto-
cic power of the 3×3 wafq is mentioned frequently from the third/ninth cen-
tury onward. Many of the details of its method of use as prescribed by Ibn
Rabban’s father Sahl in late-second/eighth- or early-third/ninth-century Marw
survived through the ages, such as the inscription of the wafq on pieces of pot-
tery untouched by water, gazing upon them and their placement under the feet
of the woman in labor.54 Other features of Ibn Rabban’s prescription such as
the inscription of verses from the Psalms around the wafq and the anointment
of the woman in labor with lily oil and mud from a swallows nest, however,
are not found again after the Paradise of Wisdom. On the other hand, divine,
angelic, or saintly names or other words and phrases from Holy Scripture are

營‫ܥܢ‬犯‫ ܬܦ‬煟‫ ܟ‬燿‫ܢ ܙܕܝ̈ܩܝ‬熏‫ ܢܣܟ‬營‫܂ ܠ‬燿‫ܝ ܕܐܘܕܐ ܠܫܡ‬狏‫ܫܝ‬熏‫( ܚܒ‬text from The Old Testament
in Syriac according to the Peshiṭta Version, Pt. ii, fasc. 3. The Book of Psalms, edited on behalf
of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament by the Peshiṭta Insti-
tute Leiden [Leiden: Brill, 1980]). The text of the Leiden Peshiṭta, along with lexical tools,
can be consulted at http://cal1.cn.huc.edu/.
54 The idea of gazing at the 3 × 3 wafq reappears in the Revelation of the Truths of Hid-
den Secrets Concerning the Subtleties of Harmonious Numbers and Letters (Kashf ḥaqāʾiq
al-asrār al-makhfiyya fī daqāʾiq al-aʿdād wa-al-ḥurūf al-wafqiyya) by Ḥasan b. ʿAlī b. Abī
al-Karam al-Tustarī (fl. c. early 8th/14th century?). This important but overlooked text pre-
scribes the use of three 3 × 3 awfāq “two of which [one should] place beneath the feet of
the woman having difficulty in giving birth and one before her eyes while she gazes at it”
76 hallum

commonly found surrounding or incorporated into awfāq in talismans of later

periods.55

3.2 Ibn Akhī Ḥizām ( fl. 280/893)

Within about fifty years of the composition of the Paradise of Wisdom, 3 × 3
number squares appeared in another Abbasid medical text, this time one
of the earliest Arabic hippiatric treatises, which was written by Abū Yūsuf
Muḥammad b. Yaʿqūb b. Akhī Ḥizām al-Khuttulī, stable master to the caliph al-
Muʿtaḍid (r. 279–289/892–902).56 These 3×3 number squares are not, strictly
speaking, awfāq, because neither is filled with the first nine consecutive num-
bers, nor are the sums of the numbers in their rows, columns, and corner-to-
corner diagonals equal. Nonetheless, their similarity to the 3 × 3 wafq is undeni-
able. Ibn Akhī Ḥizām’s text recommends that a horse suffering from “stoppage”
(inqiṭāʿ, presumably incomplete emptying of the bladder) be made to walk over
two 3×3 number squares.57

3.2.1 Text58

‫ضا مما وضعه القدماء أن يصو ّر هذين الصورتين بما فيها من الحساب و يمشي الدابة‬
ً ‫وللانقطاع أي‬
.‫عليه تبرا بإذن الله تعالى وهذا من خواص الأعداد‬

(‫ووضع أثنين منها تحت قدمي امرأة تعسر ولادتها وواحدًا قبالة عينيها تنتظر إليها سهلت عليها الولادة‬,
Dublin, CBL, Ar. 5087, fol. 115v, lines 3–4).
55 See Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” Berytus 4 (1937): 71–89.
56 Ibn Akhī Ḥizām’s treatise is variously called The Book of Horsemanship and Horses’ Marks
(Kitāb al-furūsiyya wa-shiyāt al-khayl), The Book of Horsemanship and Veterinary Science
(Kitāb al-furūsiyya wa-l-bayṭara), and The Book of the Horse and Veterinary Science (Kitāb
al-khayl wa-l-bayṭara). See Manfred Ullmann, Die Medizin im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1970),
219–220 and Housni Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals: Veterinary Medicine in
Medieval Islam (Brill: Leiden, 2013), 118–120 and 169–170.
57 This definition of inqiṭāʿ is suggested by the appearance of a similar prescription in the
Book of Veterinary Science (Kitāb fī ʿilm al-bayṭara), a ninth/fifteenth-century Mamluk hip-
piatric manual in which inqiṭāʿ is discussed alongside “urinary retention” (ḥuṣr al-bawl),
BL, Add. MS 14056, fol. 73r–v, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100045800789.0x0
000a5.
58 Muḥammad b. Yaʿqūb Ibn Akhī Ḥizām, Kitāb al-furūsiyya wa-shiyāt al-khayl, BL, Add.
MS 23416, fol. 161r, lines 11–14, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100023488850
.0x000087.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 77

‫ع‬ ‫ح‬ ‫س‬

‫و‬ ‫مه‬ ‫ل‬

‫لا‬ ‫ع‬ ‫س‬

‫ٮٮ‬ ‫اٮٮ‬ ‫لا‬

‫ٮٮ‬ ‫ٮر‬ ‫ٮر‬

‫ٮٮ‬ ‫ٮر‬ ‫د‬

3.2.2 Translation59

For incomplete emptying of the bladder (inqiṭāʾ): also among what was
written by the ancients is that these two images be drawn with the num-

59 The letters in the squares are unpointed in the manuscript, so no attempt has been made
to interpret them numerically or phonetically in the translation. Perhaps they are to be
interpreted as follows:

60 8 70

30 45 6

60 70 31

31 ‫اٮٮ‬ 12

17 17 12

4 17 12

In the lower square, ‫ اٮٮ‬may stand for 13 (‫ا‬+‫ي‬+‫ ب‬or 1+10+2), but the usual abjad notation
for 13 is ‫( ٮج‬or 10+3).
78 hallum

bers they contain and the beast is made to walk on them. It will be cured
by the will of God the Exalted. This is one of the occult properties of num-
bers.

3.2.3 Commentary
Note that the theme of release is present in these earliest medical prescrip-
tions using the 3×3 number square (whether true wafq or not): the words of
the Psalm “release my soul from prison,” the release of the stuck fetus, and, here,
the release of the stopped urine.

3.3 The Jābirian Corpus (c. 260/874–c. 365/975)

The 3×3 wafq is next found in the writings attributed to the semi-legendary
alchemist Jābir b. Ḥayyān. This author is reputed to have lived in the second/
eighth century, so he was perhaps a contemporary of Sahl Rabban al-Ṭabarī, but
the vast corpus of texts that pass under his name are generally thought to be the
work of several Shiʿi authors writing between about 260/874 and about 365/975.
The authors of the Jābirian corpus deal with the 3 × 3 wafq using their trade-
mark method of esoteric exposition: “dispersal of knowledge” (tabdīd al-ʿilm),
or dividing up the discussion of a given topic and spreading it across several
texts in order to prevent the casual reader from grasping the whole meaning
without considerable effort.60 Accordingly, we find four separate discussions
of 3×3 wafq scattered across the Jābirian corpus.

Into a section of the Jābirian Small Book of Balances (Kitāb al-mawāzīn al-
ṣaghīr) in which the occult properties (khawāṣṣ) of animals, plants, and min-
erals are discussed, the author inserts the following passage on the 3 × 3 wafq.

3.3.1 Translation

This image, whose number is three vertically, horizontally, and diagon-

ally, is fifteen in every direction. Apollonius claimed that it is one of the
puzzles of magic (min ʿuqad al-siḥr). It has nine cells, and this is its image:

60 On this esoteric writing practice as found in the writings of Jābir and other ancient and
medieval authors, see Paul Kraus, Jâbir Ibn Ḥayyân: contribution à l’histoire des idées sci-
entifiques dans l’ Islam (Cairo, Imprimerie de l’ Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale,
1942–1943), 2:xxxi–xxxiii, and Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture,” 106–108.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 79

4 9 2

3 5 7

8 1 6

When you write this image on two pieces of pottery untouched by water and
place them beneath the leg of a woman for whom childbirth has become diffi-
cult, she will give birth.61

3.3.2 Commentary
Here the wafq is transmitted with the approval of the Neopythagorean philo-
sopher Apollonius of Tyana (d. c. 100). It is hardly surprising to find Apollonius
mentioned in this context. Often referred to in Arabic sources simply as “the
talisman maker” (ṣāhib al-ṭalāsim/al-ṭilasmāt), this wandering holy man and
wonder-worker is the alleged author of many Islamicate pseudepigraphic texts
on the occult sciences, and his name was already associated with talismans in
Greek sources as early as the time of Eusebius of Caesarea (d. 339 CE).62 The
talismans of which he is said in these Greek texts to be the author, however,

61 Marcellin Berthelot, ed., Histoire des sciences: La chimie au moyen âge (Paris: Imprimerie
Nationale, 1893), 3:118 of the Arabic text.
‫[ خمسة عشر من كل جهة‬Berthelot prints ‫وهذا الصورة التي عددها ثلثة طولا ًوعرضا ًوقطرا ً]قطرها‬
‫و بلينوس زعم أنها من عقد السحر وهي تسعة بيوت وهذه صورتها‬

٢ ٩ ٤

٧ ٥ ٣

٦ ١ ٨

‫فإذا كتبت هذه الصورة على خزفتين لم يصبهما الماء ووضعتها تحت رجل المرأة التي قد عسر عليها ولادتها‬
.‫ولدت‬
62 For a discussion of the sources for the Greek tradition of Apollonius’s talismans, see
Manuel Á. Martí-Aguilar, “Talismans against Tsunamis: Apollonius of Tyana and the stelai
of the Herakleion in Gades (VA 5.5),” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 57 (2017): 971–
981; for the Arabic tradition, see Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften
im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 378–381.
80 hallum

are not magic squares nor even the portable, often written, talismans known
from Islamicate sources but rather monumental stone statues and stelae with
apotropaic powers.63
In the Jābirian presentation of the 3×3 wafq, Ibn Rabban’s appeal to the
divine and healing power of the Judaeo-Christian Syriac Psalms is absent.
Instead, the power of the square is understood in terms of khawāṣṣ (sing.
khāṣṣa), “occult properties” or mysterious forces inherent in objects that allow
them produce an empirically verifiable effect with no apparent cause.64 In fact,
Ibn Rabban probably also viewed the power of the eutocic wafq in relation
to khawāṣṣ, since one of the earliest descriptions of these occult properties is
found in his Paradise of Wisdom. In the chapter “On the properties of things”
(Fī khawāṣṣ al-ashyāʾ, 5.1.1), Ibn Rabban explains khawāṣṣ as follows:

Everything has a power (quwwa) evidenced by experience of it, and a

property (khāṣṣa) whose cause is unknown and source undiscerned
except by experimentation. For properties (khawāṣṣ) are concealed and
hidden in things like the property of the magnet by which it attracts iron,
and [that of] amber [by which it attracts] wheat chaff.65

In another Jābirian passage concerning occult properties (khawāṣṣ), this time

in the Book of the Passage of Potentiality into Actuality (Kitāb ikhrāj mā fī l-
quwwa ilā l-fiʿl), we find the following fleeting reference to the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq,
with no associated image or diagram:

63 I have been unable to find awfāq in any of the Arabic writings attributed to Apollonius
that could plausibly be authentic translations from the Greek.
64 For the Galenic background to the concept of khawāṣṣ, see Emma Gannagé, “Between
Medicine and Natural Philosophy. Avicenna on Properties (khawāṣṣ) and Qualities (kay-
fiyyāt),” in The Occult Sciences in Pre-modern Islamic Cultures. Beiruter Texte und Studien
138, ed. by Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann (Beirut: Ergon Verlag Würzburg, 2018), 41–45;
for the concept of khawāṣṣ in the Jābirian corpus, see Kraus, Jâbir Ibn Ḥayyân, 2:61–95; and
for a more general study of khawāṣṣ, see Lucia Raggetti, “The ‘Science of Properties’ and
its Transmission,” in In the Wake of the Compendia: Infrastructural Contexts and the Licens-
ing of Empiricism in Ancient and Medieval Mesopotamia, ed. Justin Cale Johnson (Berlin:
De Gruyter, 2015), 159–176. Especially important in interpreting the next few passages we
shall adduce is Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif,” 299–309.
65 ‫إن لكل شيء قوة يستدل عليها بمذاقتها وله خاصة لا يعرف علتها ولا يدرك غورها إلا بالتجارب لأنها‬
‫خواص غامضة خفية في الأشياء مثل خاصة حجر المغناطيس الذي يجذب به الحديد والـكهر باء لقشور‬
‫الحنطة‬. al-Ṭabarī, Firdausu’l-Ḥikmat, ed. Siddiqi, 356, lines 7–9.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 81

3.3.3 Translation

If we arrange in the nine cells anything other than what indicates fifteen,
childbirth will not be eased.66

3.3.4 Commentary
The passage is so brief and contains so few details that its subject would hardly
be recognizable without comparison to other such references in the Jābirian
corpus and elsewhere.

The most extensive discussion of the 3×3 wafq known from the Jābirian cor-
pus appears in the Great Book of Occult Properties (Kitab al-khawāṣṣ al-kabīr,
chap. 18).67 Here the action of the wafq is assessed and reasons for its possible
failure are explained. The passage is of particular interest because it while it
lacks appeals to religious or philosophical authorities, instead it frames the dis-
cussion in terms of causation based on Aristotelian natural philosophy and on
astrological principles:

3.3.5 Text68

‫وقد كنا مثلنا لك في موضع آخر من هذه الـكتب ما العلة التي لها صار المثلث الذي يجمع خمسة‬
‫عشر من العدد يعمل في أمر الولادة ما يمر ّ عنه مشهور إلا أن ذلك وإن كان يعمل على الحقيقة‬
ً ‫مخ ْل ِفا‬
ُ ‫وهو من الخواص فإني امتحنه فوجدته قد يبطئ في بعض الأعمال حتى يكاد أن يكون‬
‫البتة َوذلك لز يادة العلة على مقدار قوة العمل ولعلة أخرى أحسن من هذه وهي لأجل علة غير‬
‫علة الولادة قد عارضته والكتاب والحساب إنما ينفع الولادة وليس له في العلة الأخرى مدخل‬
‫فامتنع لذلك السبب فلسبب آخر وهو غير ذلك وهو الوقت الحاضر الذي تمت فيه الكتابة أن‬
‫يكون كتب ونحس طالع فأوجب ما حدث من الامتناع من الولادة في ذلك الوقت وهو‬
‫وإن تأخر وأبطأ فإنه لا بد كائن فاعمل ما وصفناه وما كنا قد صو ّرنا هذه الحروف فغير ضائر أن‬

66 ‫فإن ّا لو نصبنا في البيوت التسعة غير ما يدل على خمسة عشر لم تسهل الولادة‬. Jābir b. Ḥayyān, Mukhtār
rasāʾil Jābir b. Hayyān. Essai sur l’ histoire des idées scientifiques dans l’Islam, vol. 1, Textes
choisis, ed. Paul Kraus (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khānjī, 1935), 1:76, lines 8–9.
67 On this text, see Kraus, Jâbir ibn Ḥayyân, 1:148–152 and 2:64–91, esp. 73, and Ullmann, Die
Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 207. For a partial edition of the text, excluding the pas-
sage on the wafq, see Jābir b. Ḥayyān, Mukhtār rasāʾil, ed. Kraus, 1:224–332.
68 Jābir b. Ḥayyān, Kitāb al-khawāṣṣ al-kabīr, BL, Or. 4041 (eighth/fourteenth century), fol. 36r,
line 13 to 36v, line 8, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100044824246.0x000051.
82 hallum

‫نورد ذكر هذه الأبيات التسعة فإن ما ذكرتها مصورة إلا هاهنا وفي موضع آخر من كتبي ولـكني‬
‫قد ذكرتها لك هاهنا إذ هو أخص المواض به فامتحنه واعمل به فإنه من كبار الفوائد وقد نحب‬
‫[ إليه من‬fol. 36v] ‫أن يكون في الوسط منه خمسة وفي تحصيل هذه الخمسة خروج ما يحتاج‬
‫باقي ما فيه وذلك أنهما ثلثة بيوت ففي الأعلى منها ثمانية وفي الذي يليه ثلاثة وفي الأسفل أر بعة‬
‫فذلك خمسة عشر وفي النصف الأوسط واحد في الأعلى وفي الذي دونه خمسة وفي الأسفل‬
‫تسعة فذلك خمسة عشر وفي الجانب الثالث في الأعلى ستة والذي دونه سبعة وفي الأسفل‬
:‫أثنان فذلك خمسة عشر وهذه صورته‬

‫ثمانية‬ ‫واحد‬ ‫ستة‬

‫ثلثة‬ ‫خمسة‬ ‫سبعة‬

‫أر بعة‬ ‫تسعة‬ ‫إثنان‬

‫ولا يعود في الواحد منها حساب مثل ما في الآخر بوجه ولا سبب وإلّا فسد الحساب ومتى‬
‫جمعت الزوايا كانت أيضا ً خمسة عشر وإذا جمعت عرضا ً كانت مثل ما جمعت طولا ً سوى‬
.‫وذلك أيضا ًمثل حل الأعداد بخاصية عجيبة فاعمل في ذلك ترى فيه ما تحب إن شاء الله‬

3.3.6 Translation

Elsewhere in these books, we have given you an example of the reason

why, among numbers, the threefold [i.e. 3 × 3] which adds up to fifteen
performs the action it is renowned for with regard to the matter of child-
birth. But even if, in fact, it does perform [this action], this is due to its
occult properties (min al-khawāṣṣ). Indeed, I have tested it and found that
in some cases it can be so slow as to be almost completely disappointing.
But this is due to an additional cause, which surpasses the limit of [the
square’s] potential to act, and to another cause superior to this [power of
the square]. This is on account of a counteracting cause other than that of
the birth [itself], so although the writing and numbering [of the square]
aids the birth, it has no effect on the other cause, and for this reason it
is obstructed. Another reason [the square can fail] apart from this is that
the present moment in which the writing of the square is completed may
be such that it is written while the ascendant is malefic (wa-naḥis ṭāliʿ),
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 83

so this necessitates that the birth be obstructed at that time. But, even if
it is late and slow, it will inevitably work. So, do what we have described
and [make] these nine letters we have depicted. It will cause no harm if
we mention these nine cells. Indeed, I have not mentioned them with an
illustration except here and in another place in my books, but I have men-
tioned them to you here, because this is the most apposite place for it. Test
it and work with it, for it is one of the greatest aids. Say we wish for 5 to
be at the centre of it, and this 5 so placed, the rest of what is needed in
it comes out, [fol. 36v] namely three cells: 8 in the upper [cell], 3 in the
next one, and 4 in the lower [cell], and that [makes] 15. In the middle
half, 1 is above, 5 in the one beneath it, and 9 in the lowermost [cell],
and that [makes] 15. On the third side, 6 is in the upper [cell], 7 in the
one beneath it, and 2 in the lower [cell], and that [makes] 15. This is the
image:

Six One Eight

Seven Five Three

Two Nine Four

The numbers in each [cell] must nowise repeat, or there is an error in

the numbering. And when the corner [diagonals] are added up, they too
[make] fifteen, and when [the numbers] are added up horizontally they
equal [the sum of the numbers added] vertically, and that also is the like
solution to the numbers by means of a wondrous occult property. So, per-
form this operation and you will surely achieve the result you desire, God
willing.

3.3.7 Commentary
This passage is particularly significant in that it contains the earliest known
discussion of the importance of the astrologically determined moment propi-
tious to the efficacy of the wafq. The link between awfāq and astral influences
continued to develop in later centuries as awfāq became a fundamental com-
ponent of the Islamicate science of talismans. In the Jābirian corpus, however,
there is no suggestion that the actions of the 3×3 wafq might be modified by the
practitioner through the choice of various astrologically significant moments
at which to construct the talisman in order that it might be used for something
84 hallum

other than its traditional eutocic purpose. This text simply warns that using
the wafq at an astrologically inopportune moment (for example, when the
ascendant is malefic) can impede its eutocic power. Furthermore, there is no
indication in the Jābirian corpus that the properties of awfāq of higher orders
could be harnessed talismanically.

The Book of Selections (Kitāb al-nukhab) is a comprehensive treatise on talis-

man making in twelve chapters.69 It is considered to be one of the youngest
writings in the Jābirian corpus and is not mentioned in any other Jābirian
text. It is, however, cited in Maslama al-Qurṭubī’s (d. 353/964) Goal of the Sage
(see §3.5, below), so it must have been written before the mid-4th/10th cen-
tury.70
In Chapter Five of the Book of Selections, there is a discussion of substances
with khawāṣṣ that act through the senses. Here, the author mentions the euto-
cic effects of the 3×3 wafq as an example of the inscrutability of khawāṣṣ in
general and numerical khawāṣṣ in specific.

3.3.8 Text71

‫ الولادة يا معشر الناس‬74‫ الحساب في تسهيل‬73‫ هذه الأشكال الجامعة لمبادئ‬72‫وإلى ماذا ن ُسب‬
‫[ فقد قلنا فيما سبق مثل ذلك وهل ذلك منسوب ومتطلب من الروائح أو من الطعوم‬C 114r]
‫[ ما قال قوم من أهل الشرع ونسبه‬P 56r] ‫أو من اللموس أو من سائر الباقية أم الحال فيها على‬

69 I am grateful to Liana Saif for bringing this passage to my attention and for providing me
with the manuscripts and her draft transcription and translation, which I have adapted
here. On this text, which is also incorrectly known as the Book of Research (Kitāb al-baḥth),
see Kraus, Jâbir ibn Ḥayyân, 1:142–146; Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften,
207 and 383–384; Fuat Sezgin, Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums (Leiden: Brill, 1967–),
4:263. These will soon be superseded by Liana Saif, Kitāb al-Nukhab attributed to Jābir
bin Hayyān: A Critical Edition, Translation and Commentary (forthcoming) and Liana Saif,
“From Jābir to Maslama: The Early Development of Esoteric-Occult Discourse” (forthcom-
ing).
70 Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī, Picatrix: das Ziel des Weisen, von Pseudo-Maǧrīṭī, ed. Helmut
Ritter (Leipzig: Teubner, 1933), 146, lines 12–13.
71 Jābir b. Ḥayyān, Kitāb al-nukhab, C = Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Carullah 1721, fols. 113v,
line 26–114r, line 1; P = BnF, Arabe 5321, fols. 55v, line 18–56r, line 3, https://gallica.bnf.fr/
ark:/12148/btv1b90653135/f59.item.
72 ‫ ]نسب‬C: ‫ ينسب‬P.
73 ‫ ]لمبادى‬P: ‫ للمبادى‬C.
74 ‫ ]الحساب في تسهيل‬P: om. C.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 85

‫إلى سيدة نساء العالمين مر يم صلوات الله عليها وأنها رحمة منها للنساء وقد ن ُسب ذلك إلى سيدتنا‬
75‫فاطمة عليها السلام أم كيف الجواب في ذلك وهذه صورة الشكل‬

‫ستة‬ ‫واحد‬ ‫ثمانية‬

‫سبعة‬ ‫ثلاثة‬

‫اثنين‬ ‫أر بعة‬

3.3.9 Translation

But to what is the eutocic effect of these figures that contain the prin-
ciples of arithmetic to be attributed, o crowd of people? [C 114r] We have
previously spoken of similar things, and so is this [also] attributed to
and demanded of odors, flavors, textures (al-lumūs) or the other remain-
ing [sensations]? Or is their [i.e. these figures’] case what some religious
scholars say, who attribute it to the Mistress of the Women of the Worlds,
Maryam—the prayers of God be upon her—, that they are an act of mercy
from her to women? It has also been attributed to Our Lady, Fāṭima—
peace be upon her. Otherwise, what is the answer concerning this? This
is an image of the figure:

Eight One Six

Three Seven

Four Two

75 ‫مثل ذلك وهل ذلك منسوب … وهذه صورة الشكل‬, and following figure] P: om. C.
86 hallum

3.3.10 Commentary
As is later the case in Maslama al-Qurṭubī’s Goal of the Sage, the wafq in the
Book of Selections appears in a list of things with known khawāṣṣ. In contrast
with the previously mentioned things, the khawāṣṣ of a mathematical entity
such as a wafq cannot conceivably be modulated by its interaction with the
senses since it has no inherent color, odor, flavour, sound or texture. Nor are
astral influences mentioned in the Book of Selections as an interfering factor as
they were in the Jābirian Great Book of Occult Properties. Rather, it is suggested
that the wafq’s khawāṣṣ stem from its association with, or perhaps invention
by religious authorities, either Maryam (mother of Jesus) or Fāṭima (daugh-
ter of the prophet Muḥammad, especially venerated by the Shiʿi authors of
the Jābirian corpus as the wife of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and mother of Ḥasan and
Ḥusayn). The association of this wafq with female religious figures is appropri-
ate because of its eutocic property.
The unusual appearance of the wafq in the Book of Selections with its num-
bers missing from the lower two cells of the central column may not have been
the author’s intention but simply a defect in P, the only manuscript to contain
this diagram. Alternatively, the numbers could have been left out deliberately
either by the author or by the scribe of P in order not to activate the khawāṣṣ
of the wafq unintentionally.

3.4 Epistles of the Brethren of Purity (Mid-Fourth/Tenth Century)

The next appearance of the eutocic 3×3 wafq is in the Epistles of the Brethren
of Purity (Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ), written by a secretive group of anonymous
authors probably at Baghdad during the mid-fourth/tenth century.76 Here, we
find a shift in the frame of reference in which the awfāq are considered. The
Epistles of the Brethren of Purity discuss not only the 3 × 3 wafq but the first seven
awfāq (3×3 to 9×9). While it is unlikely the Brethren of Purity were the first
to write about awfāq of orders higher than three, owing both to uncertainties
concerning the composition date of their Epistles and to the patchiness of our
evidence for the early study of the awfāq, we are unable to render a final judg-
ment. There is, however, no indication that they associated these first seven
awfāq with the seven planets, as becomes routine in Islamicate literature about
a century later.

76 For this dating of the composition of the Epistles, see Liana Saif, “Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s Reli-
gious Reform and Magic: Beyond the Ismaʿili Hypothesis,” Journal of Islamic Studies 30,
no. 1 (2019): 55–56, n. 87.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 87

With the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, we leave the medical context in which
the 3×3 wafq appears in the Paradise of Wisdom and in which it remains, to a
certain extent, in Ibn Akhī Ḥizām’s hippiatric treatise and in the Jābirian cor-
pus. The discussion of awfāq in the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity still focuses
on occult properties (khawāṣṣ), just as in the Jābirian corpus, but it is framed
within the mathematical discourse of the “Epistle on Geometry” (2.26).77 Here,
the awfāq are clearly conceived of in terms of figurate numbers78 and, as such,
are imagined to combine the occult properties inherent in both the num-
bers they contain and the geometrical figures into which these numbers are
arranged. When the two sets of occult properties are combined, they yield new
and unexpected properties. Epistle 2.26 begins with the Brethren of Purity’s
conception of the combination of number and form.

3.4.1 Translation79

Since we have shown something of the properties of these figures …,

and, previously, something of the properties of numbers …, we want to

77 Epistles of the Brethren of Purity: On Arithmetic and Geometry. An Arabic Critical Edition and
English Translation of Epistles 1 & 2, ed. and trans. Nader El-Bizri (Oxford: Oxford University
Press in association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2012), 138–144 (text), 154–159
(translation). For an introduction to the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s broader arithmological frame-
work, see Nader El-Bizri, “The Occult in Numbers: The Arithmology and Arithmetic of the
Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,” in The Occult Sciences in Pre-modern Islamic Cultures. Beiruter Texte und
Studien 138, ed. Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann (Beirut: Ergon Verlag Würzburg, 2018),
17–40.
78 That is, the arrangement of sequences of numbers into geometrical patterns, the most
famous ancient example of which is the Pythagorean tetractys.
79 Epistles of the Brethren of Purity 2.26, ed. El-Bizri, 138 (text), 154–155 (translation, adapted
here).

ً ‫ فنر يد أن نذكر طرفا‬،… ‫ وقبلها طرفا ً من خواص العدد‬،… ‫وإذ قد بينّ ا طرفا ً من خواص الأشكال‬
‫ وذلك أن ّه إذا جُم ِـَع بين بعض الأعداد و بين بعض الأشكال الهندسية ظهر منها‬،‫من خواص مجموعهما‬
‫ب التسعة الآحاد في الشكل المتسع‬ ُ ‫ مثال ذلك إذا‬.‫خواص ُأخ َر ُ لا يتبي ّن في كل واحد منهما بمجر ّده‬
َ ِ ‫كت‬
:‫ مثل هذا‬،‫صيته في الشكل المتسع أن ّهكيفما ع َُّد كانت الجملة خمسة عشر‬
ّ ‫ن خا‬
ّ ‫على هذه الصورة فإ‬

٦ ٧ ٢

١ ٥ ٩

٨ ٣ ٤
88 hallum

mention something of the properties of their combination. That is to say

that, when some numbers are combined with some geometrical figures,
other properties are manifested out of them that had been indiscernible
in either of them in isolation. An example of this is when the nine units
are inscribed in a ninefold figure in this form [shown below], its prop-
erty within this ninefold figure is that, however it be added up, the sum is
fifteen, like this:

6 7 2

1 5 9

8 3 4

3.4.2 Commentary
The results of the combinations of number and form are observed in changes
in properties (khawāṣṣ) and specifically in the appearance of new, previously
unknown properties. The 3×3 wafq is chosen as an example of such unique
properties manifested by a geometrical arrangement of numbers. The Brethren
of Purity explain that the new, previously indiscernible property made mani-
fest when the first nine numbers (i.e., 1–9) are combined in a 3 × 3 square is
the sum ( jumla) of the numbers in each row, column, and the two corner-to-
corner diagonals, namely fifteen.80 Although the term khāṣṣiyya (pl. khawāṣṣ)
can simply mean “property” or “characteristic,” the discussion at the end of
Epistle 2.26 leaves no doubt that what is meant are “occult properties,” that
is, an object’s active properties the cause of which is not readily apparent
but which allows the possessor of such properties the power to act from a
distance.81 In the case of the wafq, the occult property is equated with the

80 This sum is often referred to in modern literature as the “magic constant” of a magic
square. In Arabic awfāq literature, the magic constant is often simply called the “harmony”
(wafq) or “harmonious number” (al-ʿadad al-wafq).
81 The standard example of such khawāṣṣ is, as we saw in the quotation from the Para-
dise of Wisdom (see § 3.3.2, above), the power of the magnet to attract iron from a dis-
tance without apparent cause. The intermediary position between the sciences of geo-
metry, arithmetic, khawāṣṣ, and talisman making occupied by awfāq in the Epistles of the
Brethren of Purity remains discernible, even after their wholesale assimilation into lettrism
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 89

“magic constant” itself, which only manifests when the nine numbers are prop-
erly arranged within the square.

After displaying the arrangements, stating the magic constants of each of the
first seven awfāq, and suggesting that the same example could be followed for
other numbers and figures, the text uses the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq to exemplify the
awfāq’s practical utility. Some fascinating details are given concerning the way
in which the Brethren of Purity imagined the talismanic power of the awfāq to
function.

(ʿilm al-ḥurūf ), in the division of sciences laid out by the Ottoman encyclopaedist Taşkö-
prüzāde (d. 968/1561) in his Key of Felicity and Lamp of Sovereignty (Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-
misbāḥ al-siyāda, completed 948/1541): “This science [sc. “the science of the numbers of
harmony,” i.e., of awfāq] is one of the branches of the science of number with respect to
their numerical calculation and one of the branches of the science of khawāṣṣ with respect
to their effects and benefits” (‫ ومن‬،‫وهذا العلم من فروع علم العدد من حيث حساب الأعداد‬
‫فروع علم الخواص من حيث آثاره ومنافعه‬, Aḥmad b. Muṣṭafā Taşköprüzāde, Miftāḥ al-saʿāda
wa-misbāḥ al-siyāda [Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 1985], 1:373, s.v. ‫“ ;)علم أعداد الوفق‬It
is possible to place this science [sc. “the science of spiritual properties from number
and letter awfāq and number and letter permutations (taksīrāt)”] among the branches
of the science of arithmetic with respect to the arrangement of numbers, and among the
branches of the science of geometry with regard to the equilibration of those numbers
or letters in the harmonious tables [i.e., the physical arrangement within the grids of the
awfāq]. But, because one can place it among the [science of] the properties of letters in
consideration of the laying out of the harmony with letters [i.e., letter squares], I have
mentioned it [here] in [the article on] the properties of letters, which are among the prop-
erties of the Qurʾān” (‫ ومن‬،‫وهذا العلم يمكن جعله من فروع علم الحساب من حيث ترتيب الأعداد‬
‫ لـكن لما أمكن جعله‬.‫فروع علم الهندسة من جهة تعديل تلك الأعداد أو الحروف في الجداول الوفقية‬
‫ً ذكرناه في علم الحروف التي هي من خواص القرآن‬،‫من خواص الحروف باعتبار جعل الوفق حرفيا‬,
Taşköprüzāde, Miftāḥ al-saʿāda, 2:548, s.v. ‫علم الخواص الروحانية من الأوفاق العددية والحرفية‬
‫)والتكسيرات العددية والحرفية‬. For a discussion of Taşköprüzāde’s treatment of the occult sci-
ences that focuses on these two passages, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One:
The Mathematicalization of the Occult Sciences in the High Persianate Tradition,”Intellec-
tual History of the Islamicate World 5, no. 1 (2017): 173–176, esp. n. 171; I adapt his translation
here.
‫‪90‬‬ ‫‪hallum‬‬

‫‪3.4.3‬‬ ‫‪Translation82‬‬

‫‪As for their benefits and uses, we have mentioned this in the “Epistle on‬‬
‫‪Talismans and Incantations” and presented something of them [there].‬‬
‫‪But we will give one example of them in this chapter as an indication of‬‬
‫‪the truth of what we have said.‬‬
‫‪We say: The property and benefit of this ninefold figure is that it eases‬‬
‫‪childbirth when inscribed on two pieces of pottery untouched by water‬‬
‫‪and you suspend them from a woman suffering in labor. If the Moon hap-‬‬
‫‪pens to be in the ninth house and is joined to the lord of the ninth [house],‬‬
‫‪it [i.e., the figure] eases childbirth, or if it is [joined] to the lord of its house‬‬
‫‪in the ninth [degree], or some similar ninefold [astral arrangement].‬‬

‫‪82‬‬ ‫‪Epistles of the Brethren of Purity 2.26, ed. El-Bizri, 142–144 (text), 159 (translation, adapted‬‬
‫‪here).‬‬

‫وأما منافعها والفائدة منها فقد ذكرنا ذلك في رسالة الطلسمات والعزائم وأوردنا طرفا ًمنها ولـكن نذكر‬
‫صْدق ما قلنا‪.‬‬
‫منها في هذا الفصل مثالا ًواحدا لً يكون دلالة ًعلى ِ‬
‫ب على خزفتين لم يصبهما‬
‫كت ِ َ‬
‫فنقول‪ :‬إن من خاصية هذه الشكل المتسع ومنفعته تسهيل الولادة إذا ُ‬
‫ب التاسِع سهل‬
‫الماء وعلقتهما على المرأة التي ضر بها الطلق وإن ات ّفق أن يكون القمر في التاسع متصلا بً ر ِّ‬
‫ب بيته من التاسع وما شاكل ذلك من المتسعات‪:‬‬
‫الولادة َ أو بر ّ‬

‫ح‬ ‫ج‬ ‫د‬

‫ا‬ ‫ه‬ ‫ط‬

‫و‬ ‫ز‬ ‫ب‬

‫وعلى هذا الطر يق سلك أصحاب الطلسمات في نصبها وذلك أنه ما من شيء من الموجودات الر ياضية‬
‫والطبيعية والإلهية إلّا وله خاصية ليست لشيء آخر من الموجودات ولمجموعاتها خواص ليست لمفرداتها‬
‫من الأعداد والأشكال والصور والمكان والزمان والعقاقير والطعوم والألوان والروائح والأصوات‬
‫ت بينها على النسب التأليفية ظهرت خواصها وأفعالها‬
‫والكلمات والحروف والأفعال والحركات فإذا جمع َ‬
‫والدليل على صحة ما قلنا أفعال التر ياقات والمراهم والشر بات وألحان الموسيقى وتأثيراتها في الأجساد‬
‫ب حكيم فيلسوف كما بينّ ا طرفا ًمن ذلك في رسالة الموسيقى‪.‬‬
‫والنفوس جميع ًا مماّ لا خفاء به عن كل ذي ل ّ‬
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 91

D J Ḥ

Ṭ H A

B Z W

Talisman makers arrange them following this method. That is, there is
nothing in existence, be it mathematical, physical, or divine, without
some property that it shares with nothing else in existence, [nor are
there] combinations [of properties] without properties they share with
no individual [i.e., uncombined] number, figure, form, place, time, ele-
ment, flavor, color, odor, sound, word, letter, action, or movement. So,
when you combine them according to harmonious relationships, their
properties and actions are manifested. The actions of theriacs, ointments,
and potions are evidence that what I have said is correct, [as are] the influ-
ences of musical melodies on bodies and souls alike, which do not escape
the notice of every intelligent and sage philosopher, of which we have
explained something in the “Epistle on Music.”

3.4.4 Commentary
The instructions given here for using the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq are similar to those
already seen in the writings of Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī and Vṛnda and in the
Jābirian corpus. But, in contrast to those texts, the Brethren of Purity offer both
a more theoretical conceptualization of the powers of the wafq and further
astrological instructions for its use. A wafq’s powers, they tell us, are the res-
ult of “the harmonious relationships” (al-nasab al-taʾlīfiyya) that exist between
the various numbers it contains and between those numbers and the figure
in which they are arranged. In arranging the numbers harmoniously within a
wafq, the talisman maker is like the physician who effects great cures through
the harmonious relationships he sets up when he skillfully mixes his many and
varied materia medica or like the musician who blends tone and rhythm in
his melodies and is thus able to affect at a distance both the bodies and souls
of his listeners. Although the Brethren of Purity never use the term wafq (lit.
“harmony”) to refer to a magic square, their insistence that a “harmonious rela-
tionship” (al-nisba al-taʾlīfiyya) is the source of its power is a good indication of
what the name wafq implies from a talismanic point of view.
This passage is also the first to give clear instructions on electing an astro-
logically propitious moment to construct the 3 × 3 wafq. Several potentially
92 hallum

good options are presented, but they all have in common the observance of
the Moon in relation with the number nine (e.g., the ninth house, the lord
of the ninth house, the ninth degree). It is common in later Islamicate texts
on the awfāq to associate the 3×3 wafq with the Moon, and the Brethren of
Purity are the first to hint at this association. If they did mean to associate
the 3×3 wafq with the Moon, which is not certain, as we shall see from the
next passage, it might be assumed that their reason for introducing the first
seven awfāq directly before this passage was to suggest that the next six awfāq
(4× 4 to 9×9) are associated with the rest of the seven planets, but they do
not make this explicit. It is unclear, for example, how the associated astrolo-
gical numbers would work as the order of the squares increases. The 9 of the
3 ×3 wafq works because there are more than nine houses and degrees within a
house. Users of this system might struggle to find astrally significant 81s for the
9 × 9 wafq, since there are only twelve houses and only thirty degrees in each
house.
But the Brethren of Purity have more to say on this matter. The beginning
of this passage suggests that the present discussion of awfāq is just a small
sample of a more extended exploration of this subject to be found in another
epistle called the “Epistle on Talismans and Incantations” (Risāla fī l-ṭalismāt
wa-l-ʿazāʾim). The epistle referred to is the epistle on magic, the title of which
begins “On what magic, incantations, the evil eye, taming, imagination, and
spells are; and on how talismans are used ….”83 Surprisingly, however, no further
discussion of the awfāq appears in either of the two recensions of the “Epistle
on Magic” (epistles 52a and 52b). The end of the passage, however, points us in
the direction of the “Epistle on Music,” and there we find a similar description
of the use of the eutocic 3×3 wafq.

Following a discussion of the numerous tetrads found in creation (e.g., the four
ages of man, seasons, elements, and cardinal directions) and the correspond-
ences and oppositions between them, the potency of combinations embodying
a “harmonious relationship” (nisba taʾlīfiyya) is illustrated by medicine. Again,
the examples of theriacs, ointments, and potions are given. Finally, talisman
making is adduced as an example of an art that employs an underlying struc-
ture of harmonious relationships timed with corresponding terrestrial and

83 ‫في ماهية السحر والعزائم والعين والزجر والوهم والرقي وفي كيفية أعمال الطلسمات‬. Epistles of the
Brethren of Purity: On Magic I. An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle
52a, ed. and trans. Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno Halflants (Oxford: Oxford University
Press in association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2011), 5 (text), 87 (translation,
adapted here).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 93

astral phenomena to bring about a desired result. The prime example of talis-
manic method is the eutocic 3×3 wafq.

3.4.5 Translation84

Know, my brother—God aid you and us by means of a spirit from Him!—

that when these corresponding things are joined in a harmonious rela-
tionship (ʿalā al-nisbati al-taʾlīfati), they are combined, doubling their
potentials. Their actions are manifested, they overcome their opposites,
conquering what is contrary to them. By knowing them, the sages dis-
covered medicines that cure diseases and heal illnesses like the theri-
acs, ointments, and potions known among physicians and prescribed in
their books. Talisman makers work similarly in their preparations, follow-
ing their knowledge of the natures, properties, and correspondences of
things, how they are composed and their harmonious relationships. An
example of this is the ninefold figure in its facilitation of childbirth when
the nine numbers are inscribed in it during the ninth month of pregnancy,
at the ninth hour of labor, when the lord of the ascendant is in the ninth
house or the lord of the ninth is in the ascendant, and the Moon is in
the ninth house or joined to a planet in the ninth house, or some similar
ninefold [astral arrangement].

84 Epistles of the Brethren of Purity: On Music. An Arabic Critical Edition and English Transla-
tion of Epistle 5, ed. and trans. Owen Wright (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association
with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2010), 161–162 (text), 159 (translation, adapted here);
annotated French translation in Amnon Shiloah, “L’épître sur la musique des Ikhwān al-
Ṣafa,” Revue d’ études islamiques 34 (1967): 182–183.

‫ت‬
ْ َ ‫واعلم يا أخي أي ّدك الله وإيانا بروح منه بأن هذه الأشياء المشاكلة إذا جمع بينها على النسبة التأليفية ائتلف‬
‫ و بمعرفتها استخرجت الحكماء‬،‫وتضاعفت قواها وظهرت أفعال ُها وغلبت أضدادها وقهرت ما يخالفها‬
‫الأدو ية المبرئة من الأمراض الشافية للأسقام مثل التر ياقات والمراهم والشر بات المعروفة بين الأطباء‬
‫ وعلى مثل ذلك عمل أصحاب الطلسمات في نصبها بعد معرفتهم بطبائع الأشياء‬،‫الموصوفة في كتبهم‬
‫ المثال في ذلك الشكل المتسع في تسهيل الولادة إذا‬،‫وخواصها ومشاكلتها وكيفية تركيبها ونسب تأليفها‬
‫ و يكون رب الطالع في‬،‫ب فيه الأعداد التسعة في الشهر التاسع من الحمل في الساعة التاسعة من الطلق‬
َ ِ ‫كت‬
ُ
‫ وما شاكل‬،‫ و يكون القمر في التاسع أو مت ّصلا بً كوكب منه في التاسع‬،‫التاسع أو رب التاسع في الطالع‬
.‫ذلك من المتسعات‬
94 hallum

3.4.6 Commentary
This passage is nearly identical in content to the passage from the “Epistle
on Geometry,” discussed above (§3.4.3). Here, in the “Epistle on Music,” the
action of the wafq is not explicitly likened to music, as this analogy is implied
by the context. Once again, however, the property of the wafq is compared to
that of knowledgeably and skillfully mixed compound remedies, and especially
the elaborate and wonderous antidotes known as theriacs. We are addition-
ally told that the harmonious relationships within the wafq (as also within
compound remedies and music) double the potential of their constituent ele-
ments, empowering them to overcome their opposites. Finally, further ninefold
arrangements are given as options for the timing of the wafq’s construction:
three astral (the lord of the ascendant in the ninth house, the lord of the ninth
house in the ascendant or the Moon joined to a planet in the ninth house) and
one terrestrial (the ninth month of pregnancy at the ninth hour of labor). The
fact that not all the suggested ninefold astral arrangements involve the Moon
may be taken as evidence that the Brethren of Purity did not, in fact, associate
the 3×3 wafq solely with the Moon. At any rate, it is clear that a larger role in
the timing of this wafq’s construction is played by the number 9—perhaps the
Brethren of Purity would prefer that we say the “ennead” or “novenary”—than
by any particular astral body.

3.5 Maslama al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964)

It should be noted that, in the passages so far adduced, the term wafq has not
been used. In fact, no standard term is used in these early texts to refer to
the magic square itself or to the “harmonious” arrangement of numbers in it.
Rather, the awfāq are generically referred to as “figures” (ashkāl, sing. shakl) by
Ibn Rabban and the Brethren of Purity and “image” (ṣūra, pl. ṣuwar) by Ibn Akhī
Ḥizām and the Jābirian corpus.
The first use of the term wafq to refer to a magic square in an extant text in
the tradition of the eutocic 3×3 square is found in Abū al-Qāsim Maslama b.
Qāsim al-Qurṭubī’s influential grimoire, the Goal of the Sage (Ghāyat al-ḥakīm,
Lat. Picatrix). The Goal of the Sage (6.8) contains only a single, brief mention of
the eutocic 3×3 wafq.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 95

3.5.1 Translation85

The 15 from the numbers in the three cells of the wafq is [helpful] for a
difficult childbirth.

3.5.2 Commentary
Despite the brevity of the reference to the wafq, the fame and wide diffusion of
the Goal of the Sage was perhaps influential in ensuring the general accept-
ance and continued use of wafq as the standard technical term for a magic
square, although the term may already have been standard in mathematical
literature (see below). It is noteworthy also that, just as in the Jābirian Book
of Selections (see text §3.3.8–9 above), the eutocic power of the 3 × 3 wafq is
mentioned in the Goal of the Sage amongst substances and objects with occult
properties (khawāṣṣ) and not in a section of the text devoted to talisman mak-
ing. The intermediary position held by the wafq in the Goal of the Sage between
something like a stone, a letter, or a number that might have naturally inher-
ent khawāṣṣ and a fully elaborated talisman that must be constructed out of
the correct substances in the correct form at the correct astrologically elected
moment may owe something to the fact that Maslama al-Qurṭubī knew the
Book of Selections.86
It is interesting that Maslama al-Qurṭubī places in his list of things with
khawāṣṣ the number 15 itself (the “magic constant” of the 3 × 3 wafq obtained
by adding specified sets of three numbers within its cells), rather than all nine
numbers arranged within the wafq from which the 15 is derived as was the case
in the Book of Selections. This is similar to The Brethren of Purity’s explanation
in the “Epistle on Geometry” (see §3.4.1 above) that the new, previously indis-
cernible property (khāṣṣiyya) made manifest when the numbers of the 3 × 3
wafq are combined harmoniously is 15. This similarity should come as no sur-
prise, however, because the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity are a major source
for the writings of Maslama al-Qurṭubī, who even claimed to be one of their
authors.87

85 Al-Qurṭubī, Picatrix, ed. Helmut Ritter, 400, line 13.

.‫والخمسة عشر من العدد في ثلاثة بيوت الوفق لعسر الولادة‬

86 See above, note 70.
87 See Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Magia en al-Andalus: Rasāʾil Ijwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rutbat al-Ḥakīm y
Gāyat al-Ḥakīm (Picatrix),” Al-Qanṭara 34, no. 2 (2013): 297–344; Godefroid de Callataÿ and
Sébastien Moureau, “Again on Maslama Ibn Qāsim al-Qurṭubī, the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and Ibn
Khaldūn: New Evidence from Two Manuscripts of Rutbat al-ḥakīm,” Al-Qanṭara 37, no. 2
(2016): 332–336; Godefroid de Callataÿ and Sébastien Moureau, “A Milestone in the His-
96 hallum

3.6 Ibn al-Zarqālluh (d. 493/1100)

Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Yaḥyā al-Naqqāsh al-Tujībī al-Ṭulayṭulī b. al-Zarqālluh’s
Treatise on the Movements of the Wandering Stars (Maqāla fī ḥarakāt al-kawākib
al-sayyāra)88 marks a major turning point in the cultural history of the awfāq.
This Andalusian work outlines practices for using the first seven awfāq (i.e.,
3 ×3 to 9×9) as talismans of the seven planets and is probably the earliest
known text in which correspondences between all these awfāq and the plan-
ets are stated explicitly. It is also probably the first text to explain the talis-
manic use of awfāq of orders higher than three and the first to assert that a
single wafq can have more than one talismanic function (both beneficial and
harmful), depending upon the materials used to create it, the astrologically
elected moment at which it is created, the incense used to suffumigate it, and
the method by which it is employed. In Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s treatise, the choices
and actions of the talisman maker are at least as important for activating and
directing the power of the wafq as the correct arrangement of the numbers
in the wafq. With that, the awfāq become more or less identical with other
types of talismans. For purposes of comparison, I will extract here only Ibn al-
Zarqālluh’s treatment of the eutocic power of the 3 × 3 wafq (which, following
his atypical system, is associated not with the Moon but with Saturn) and leave
out his discussion of its other powers.89

tory of Andalusī Bāṭinism: Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī’s Riḥla in the East,” Intellectual
History of the Islamicate World 5 (2017): 88–90 and 112; and Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to
Šams al-maʿārif,” 303–304.
88 Cambridge, MS Gg. 3.19, fols. 140r–148v (c. 860/1456, hereafter A). This treatise is also called
the Epistle on the Movements and Governance of the Wandering Stars (Risāla fī ḥarakāt al-
kawākib al-sayyāra wa-tadbīrihā, Cairo, Dār al-Kutub, MS Ṭalʿat majāmīʿ 424, fols. 51v–60v
[c. 1200/1785], hereafter C1), and The Operation of the Authority and Figures of the Plan-
ets (Tadbīr amr al-kawākib wa-ashkālihā, Vienna, Nationalbibliothek Wien, MS A.F. 162d,
fols. 1v–11v [c. 963/1556], hereafter V). This treatise is also found, without title, in BL, Add.
MS 9599, fols. 128r–131r and 133r–136v (c. 1223/1808, hereafter B). I follow Julio Samsó, “Ibn al-
Zarqālluh,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed. in calling this author Ibn al-Zarqālluh, whose
name appears in various forms in the sources (e.g. Walad al-Zarqiyāl and al-Zarqālī). I am
grateful to Liana Saif for acquainting me with the earliest copy of this text (A), which
is not mentioned by modern scholars in relation to Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s treatise on awfāq.
The dating of the Cambridge copy is based on the colophon to another text in the same
manuscript (fol. 98v); an erroneous reading of the date in this colophon as 767/1366 is
given in Edward G. Browne, A Hand-List of the Muhammadan Manuscripts, Including All
Those Written in the Arabic Character, Preserved in the Library of the University of Cambridge
(Cambridge: The University Press, 1900), 201. I am currently preparing a study of the tradi-
tion of Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s treatise, which will include annotated editions and translations
of the Arabic text as well Latin and Old Castilian versions edited, translated, and analyzed
by Rosa Comes and Emilia Calvo.
89 Ibn al-Zarqālluh goes on to explain that, under different conditions, this wafq can also be
used to destroy and depopulate an area, depose a governor, or win the favor of a king.
‫‪new light on early arabic awfāq literature‬‬ ‫‪97‬‬

‫‪3.6.1‬‬ ‫‪Text90‬‬

‫فإذا أردت العمل به في أي وجهكان‪ 91‬فاصنع على‪ 92‬ما أصف لك وهذا صورته‪93‬‬

‫‪٤‬‬ ‫‪۹‬‬ ‫‪۲‬‬

‫‪۳‬‬ ‫‪٥‬‬ ‫‪۷‬‬

‫‪۸‬‬ ‫‪۱‬‬ ‫‪٦‬‬

‫فإذا أردته‪ 94‬لمن تعسرت في الولادة فاكتبه‪ 95‬يوم السبت في ساعة زحل‪ 96‬وهو في يسره أو‬
‫ز يادته أو ملائه‪ 97‬وتعرف ذلك في الم َكر ُمة المرسومة‪ 98‬له‪ 99‬تأخذ‪ 100‬خرقة جديدة من ثوب‪101‬‬
‫قطن وتنزل فيها الشكل‪ [C1 54r] 102‬على صفته‪ 103‬وتر بطه على الخصر الأيمن‪ 104‬وتبخره‪ 105‬بو بر‬
‫الشهم وهو القط‪ 106‬فإن الحابل تضع في الحـين‪107.‬‬

‫‪90‬‬ ‫‪Ibn al-Zarqālluh, Maqāla fī ḥarakāt al-kawākib al-sayyāra, A fol. 142r, C1 fols. 53v–54r, V‬‬
‫‪fol. 4r and B fol. 133v.‬‬
‫‪91‬‬ ‫‪ C1 B: om. V.‬في أي عمل شئب ‪] A:‬في أي وجهكان‬
‫‪92‬‬ ‫‪) B.‬فاصنع ‪ (om.‬على ‪) A:‬على ‪ (om.‬فاصنع ‪] V C1:‬فاصنع على‬
‫‪93‬‬ ‫‪ V: om. A B.‬وهو هذا ‪] C1:‬وهذا صورته‬
‫‪94‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬فإذا أردت ‪ C1:‬فإن أردته ‪ V:‬فإن أردت ‪] A:‬فاذا اردته‬
‫‪95‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬لعسر النفاس فاكتبه ‪ V C1:‬لعسر الولادة تكتبه ‪] A:‬تعسرت في الولادة فاكتبه‬
‫‪96‬‬ ‫‪ V.‬ساعته ‪] A C1 B:‬ساعة زحل‬
‫‪97‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬ولاكن يكون زحل في يسره وفي ز يادته أو يكون في امتلائه ‪] A V C1:‬وهو في يسره … أو ملائه‬
‫‪98‬‬ ‫‪ C1.‬في الـكرامة مرسومة ‪ A:‬من الـكرمة المرسومة ‪] V:‬في المكرمة المرسومة‬
‫‪99‬‬ ‫‪] om. B.‬وتعرف ذلك … المرسومة له‬
‫‪100‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬وتكون الكتابة في ‪] A V C1:‬تأخذ‬
‫‪101‬‬ ‫‪] A V C1: om. B.‬ثوب‬
‫‪102‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬وتنزل شكل المثلث فيها ‪] A V C1:‬وتنزل فيها الشكل‬
‫‪103‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬الصفة التي تأتي إن شاء الله ‪] A V C1:‬صفته‬
‫‪104‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬ثم تر بطها المرأة على خاصرتها اليسرى ‪ V:‬وتر بط خصر الأيمن ‪] A C1:‬وتر بطه على الخصر الأيمن‬
‫‪105‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬بعدما تبخر الشكل ‪] A V C1:‬وتبخره‬
‫‪106‬‬ ‫‪ B.‬بشوك القنفود )‪ C1: (sic‬بو بر تعسهم وشيهم ملو القسط ‪ V:‬بو بر وشهم ‪] A:‬بو بر الشهم وهو القط‬
‫‪107‬‬ ‫فإنها تولد الصغير و يسهل الله في ‪ C1:‬تضعه في الحـين ‪ V:‬تضع في الحـين ‪] A:‬فإن الحابل تضع في الحـين‬
‫‪ B.‬ولادتها بحوله وقوته‬
98 hallum

3.6.2 Translation

If you wish to work with it in any way, make it as I describe it to you. This
is an image of it:

4 9 2

3 5 7

8 1 6

If you want it for someone who is having difficulty in childbirth, inscribe

it on Saturday, at the hour of Saturn, when it [sc. Saturn] is in its “ease,”
“increase,” or “fullness,” which you will know from the generous gift drawn
up for it.108 Take a new rag from a cotton robe, mark the figure on it [C1
54r] as it has been described, and tie it to the [woman’s] right hip. Suffu-
migate it with the fur of “the sagacious one” (i.e., a cat), and the pregnant
woman will give birth immediately.

3.6.3 Commentary
While this description of how to use the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq is similar, in some
respects, to earlier prescriptions, there are major changes to both the materials
used and their employment. For example, only one wafq is to be used, and it is
not to be written on a piece of new pottery and placed under the feet but on
a rag of new white cotton and tied to the hip.109 More substantial innovations
are the addition to the prescription of a suffumigation and the election of an
astrologically propitious moment for constructing the wafq, both of which are
fundamental talismanic practices.

108 “Generous gift” (makruma) is the term Ibn al-Zarqālluh uses for the tables placed at the
end of his treatise, which indicate when each planet is in various states such as the “ease,”
“increase,” and “fullness” mentioned here.
109 The shift from a piece of pottery (‫ )خزف‬to a rag (‫ )خرقة‬can be explained by the graph-
ical similarity between these words in Arabic, but the other changes lack obvious textual
explanations.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 99

3.7 Abū al-Walīd al-Mālaqī (d. c. 530/1135)

Abū al-Walīd Ismaʿīl (b. ʿAlī?) b. al-Ḥasan (or al-Ḥusayn) b. Abī Naṣr al-Fatḥ al-
Mālaqī was a mathematician and astronomer from Málaga.110 The only surviv-
ing work of this relatively unknown, younger Andalusian contemporary of Ibn
al-Zarqālluh is a short treatise on the talismanic use of the awfāq that survives
in a single manuscript: The Treatise on the Existence of the Cause of Amicable
Numbers and Square Figures with Numerical Planes, and their Properties with
regard to the Arrangement of the Properties of the Celestial Bodies (Maqāla fī
wujūd ʿillat al-aʿdād al-mutahābba wa-al-ashkāl al-murabbaʿa dhawāt al-sutūḥ
al-ʿadadiyya wa-khawāṣṣihā min jihat awḍāʿ khawāṣṣ al-ajrām al-falakiyya).111
This treatise is similar to Ibn al-Zaqālluh’s Treatise on the Movements of the Wan-
dering Stars in that it contains instructions for the talismanic use of the first
seven awfāq associated with the seven planets, but al-Mālaqī adds the 10 × 10
wafq, which he associates with the sphere of the fixed stars. This is one of the
many differences between al-Mālaqī’s and Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s treatises that show
that neither of these authors drew directly from the other in composing his own
treatise. In fact, it is not even certain whether Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s or al-Mālaqī’s
treatise was composed first.112
Because al-Mālaqī mentions the eutocic effect at both the beginning and the
end of his treatment of the 3×3 wafq, I present the passage here in full.

110 See Ibn al-Abbār (d. 658/1260), al-Takmila li-kitāb al-Ṣila, ed. ʿAbd al-Sallām al-Harrās, 4
vols. (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1995), 1:155, item 487 and Jorge Lirola Delgado and José Miguel
Puerta Vílchez, eds., Biblioteca de al-Andalus, 9 vols. (Almería: Fundación Ibn Tufayl de
Estudios Árabes, 2004–2017), 3:159, item 470. I am grateful to Julio Samsó for identifying
al-Mālaqī and providing me with these references.
111 Al-Mālaqī, Abū Walīd Ismāʿīl, Maqāla fī wujūd ʿillat al-aʿdād al-mutaḥāba wa-l-ashkāl al-
murabaʿa dhuwāt al-suṭūḥ al-ʿadadiyya wa-khawāṣṣihā min jihat awḍāʿ khawāṣṣ al-ajrām
al-falakiyya. Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussicher Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, MS
Or. Quart. 98, fols. 2r–7r, http://resolver.staatsbibliothek‑berlin.de/SBB000041CE00000
005. See Wilhel Ahlwardt, Verzeichnis der arabischen Handschriften der Königlichen Bib-
liothek zu Berlin, 10 vols. (Berlin: Asher, 1887–1899), 3:505–506, item 4115.
112 There is one further pre-7th/13th-century Andalusian appearance of the eutocic 3×3 wafq,
of the more traditional variety, in a Hebrew medical treatise attributed to Abraham b. Ezra
(d. c. 560/1165), which clearly derives from Arabic sources on the science of occult prop-
erties (ʿilm al-khawāṣṣ). The prescription is a simple formulation similar to that found in
the Jābirian Small Book of Balances (see § 3.3.1, above), but it is, unusually, attributed to
the Graeco-Roman physician Galen of Pergamon (d. c. 215). See Abraham b. Ezra, Sefer
hanisyonot. The Book of Medical Experiences. Medical Theory, Rational and Magical Ther-
apy. A Study in Medievalism, ed. and trans. Joshua Otto Leibowitz and Shlomo Marcus
(Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1984), 70–71 (commentary) and 238–241 (text and translation).
In general, magic squares in Jewish literature (both Hebrew and Judaeo-Arabic), although
undoubtedly deserving of study in their own right, stem from and form a part of the larger
Islamicate tradition.
‫‪100‬‬ ‫‪hallum‬‬

‫‪3.7.1‬‬ ‫‪Text113‬‬

‫وأما الأشكال المر بعة على كمية قسمة السطوح وعللها وخواصها من جهة الأفلاك‪ 114‬فاعلم‬
‫أن الشكل المثلث هو أول الأشكال متناسبة‪ 115‬أعداده من الواحد إلى ما يجتمع في أضلاعه‬
‫على التوالي وهو منسوب لفلك القمر وخواصه وأعداد وفقه إذا جمعت في الطول والعرض‬
‫والقطر كان المجتمع فيه أبد ًا ي̅ ه عدد ًا ومن خواصه إخراج المحبوس والجنين وتسهيل كل عسير‬
‫وأنواع ما ينسب إلى القمر وهو أول الأشكال وفلك القمر أول الأفلاك من جهة الـكون‬
‫والفساد فينبغي أن ينقش أعداده بالحروف الطبيعية في فضة خالصة والطالع برج الثور والقمر‬
‫في السرطان في الثالث من الطالع في بيته بر يئ ًا من النحوس يستعان به في الأسفار والحركات‬
‫والشرف وقضاء الحوائج وسرعها والآخر أن يكون الطالع السرطان والقمر فيه ينجح سعيه فإن‬
‫كان القمر في الثور تقضي حوائجه و يتحبب للناس وإن كان القمر في التاسع في برج الحوت‬
‫يستعين به على سفر البحر ]‪ [fol. 3v‬وصيده وللطلق وخروج المحبوس فاعلم ذلك موفق ًا‪.‬‬

‫د‬ ‫ط‬ ‫ب‬

‫ج‬ ‫ه‬ ‫ز‬

‫ح‬ ‫ا‬ ‫و‬

‫‪3.7.2‬‬ ‫‪Translation‬‬

‫‪As for the square figures with [arranged] according to the quantity of the‬‬
‫‪divisions of their planes, and their causes and properties with regard to‬‬
‫‪the celestial spheres, know that the threefold figure is the first of the fig-‬‬
‫]‪ures whose numbers are proportionate from one to the sum of [the cells‬‬
‫‪in its rows consecutively. It is associated with the Sphere of the Moon and‬‬
‫‪its properties. The numbers of its harmony (aʿdād wafqihi), when added‬‬
‫‪vertically, horizontally or diagonally, in each [case] always result in the‬‬

‫‪113‬‬ ‫‪Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussicher Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, Ms. or. quart. 98,‬‬

‫‪fol. 3r, line 5–3v, line 1.‬‬
‫‪114‬‬ ‫‪ cod.‬الفلك ‪] scripsi:‬الأفلاك‬
‫‪115‬‬ ‫‪ cod.‬المتناسبة ‪] scripsi:‬متناسبة‬
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 101

number 15. Its properties include the releasing of a prisoner or a fetus, the
easing of every difficulty, and things that are associated with the Moon.
It is the first of the figures and the Sphere of the Moon is the first of the
spheres from the perspective of generation and corruption [i.e., the sub-
lunary world]. Its numbers must be engraved in natural letters on pure
silver when the sign of Taurus is ascendant and the Moon is in Cancer—
the third [house] from the ascendant—in its house, and free from mis-
fortune. Then it will be helpful for journeys, movements, nobility, and the
speedy fulfilment of needs. Otherwise, [engrave it when] the ascendant is
Cancer and the Moon is in it, its movement being favorable. If the Moon
is in Taurus, his needs will be fulfilled, and he will become popular with
people. If the Moon is in the ninth [degree] of Pisces, it will be helpful for
seafaring, [fol. 3v] fishing for labor pains, and releasing captives, so know
that with success.

B Ṭ D

Z H J

W A Ḥ

3.7.3 Commentary
Al-Mālaqī unequivocally associates the 3×3 wafq with the Moon, and calls for
this talisman to be constructed at times that are astrologically propitious for
that planet: when it is in Taurus (the Moon’s house) or Cancer (the house of
the Moon’s exaltation) or when one of these two signs of the Zodiac are ascend-
ant. He also appears to follow the talismanic method of the Brethren of Purity
in prescribing a ninefold astral arrangement when he calls for the talisman to
be made when “the Moon is in the ninth [degree] of Pisces,” but this could be
coincidental.

Echoes of Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī’s association of the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq with both
the easing of childbirth and the words of the Psalm “Bring my soul out of prison”
(see §3.1, above) may be detectable in al-Mālaqī’s treatise when he says that
“its properties include the releasing of a prisoner or a fetus” and that “it will be
helpful … for labor pains and releasing captives.” Al-Mālaqī does not, however,
follow the traditional method of inscribing the 3 × 3 wafq on pottery to achieve
its eutocic effect, nor does he follow Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s innovation of inscribing
it on cloth. Instead he stipulates that it should be inscribed on pure silver (the
102 hallum

metal associated with the Moon) and that the numbers in the wafq must be
represented by means of letters.

In explicitly associating the 3×3 wafq with the Moon and insisting upon the
use of silver for its talisman, al-Mālaqī appears to be the father of a tradition
of associating the awfāq with the planets more popular than that of Ibn al-
Zarqālluh. Al-Mālaqī’s system of planetary associations (the exact opposite of
Ibn al-Zarqālluh’s system) and talismanic techniques continued in use at least
until the early 11th/17th century, when it appeared in The Greater Sun of the
Gnostics (Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā) falsely attributed to al-Būnī.116

3.8 Al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111)

Any survey of literary appearances of the 3×3 wafq before the seventh/thir-
teenth century must mention Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad b. Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī
al-Ghazālī. Indeed, his association with the 3× 3 wafq is so strong that it is
sometimes named after him as the “threefold” (muthallath) or “seal (khitām)
of al-Ghazālī”. In fact, however, he did no more than adduce it as a well known
example of something with occult properties (khawāṣṣ) that are mysterious
and inscrutable, which is nonetheless undeniably effective.
In his autobiographical Deliverer from Error and Transmitter to the Possessor
of Power and Glory (al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl wa-l-muwaṣṣil ilā dhī l-ʿizza wa-
l-jalāl), al-Ghazālī argues against “those whose faith has been corrupted by
way of philosophy” (man fasada īmānuhu bi-ṭarīq al-falsafa) so that they have
lapsed into denial of prophecy and prophetic injunctions. During the course
of his arguments, he uses examples chosen to be acceptable to students of
philosophy such as “the occult properties of medicine and the stars, … phys-
ics, magic, and talismans” (khawāṣṣ al-ṭibb wa-l-nujūm … wa-l-ṭabīʿa wa-l-siḥr
wa-l-ṭilasmāt).117 “Why,” asks al-Ghazālī, “is it not permissible that, within the
prescriptions of the sharīʿa, there should be occult properties for healing and

116 For the planetary awfāq talismans in Pseudo-al-Būnī’s Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā, see
the eleventh/seventeenth-century BnF, MS Arabe 2650, fols. 84v–85r, https://gallica.bnf
.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b11002467q/f87.item.r=Arabe%202650. On the compilation date of the
Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā and its false attribution to al-Būnī, see Gardiner, “Forbidden
Knowledge?,” 123–129 and Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture,” 33–37. A com-
prehensive history of literature on the planetary awfāq talismans is the subject of a forth-
coming study by the present author.
117 Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Ghazālī, al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl wa-l-muwaṣṣil ilā dhī l-ʿizza
wa-l-jalāl, ed. Kāmil ʿAyyād and Jamīl Ṣalībā (Beirut: Dār al-Andalus, 1967), 124; translation
in William Montgomery Watt, The Faith and Practice of Al-Ghazālī (London: George Allen
and Unwin, 1953), 77 (adapted here).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 103

purifying hearts that are incomprehensible by intellectual wisdom but visible

only to the eye of prophecy?”118
Al-Ghazālī goes on to forestall his opponents’ objections, using the example
of the inscrutable yet undeniable khawāṣṣ of the 3 × 3 wafq. If one believes that
the numbers in the wafq hold inexplicable powers, why should he deny that the
numbers prescribed by the Prophet (e.g., the specific numbers of inclinations
and prostrations [rakaʿāt] prescribed in each of the five daily prayers) might
also hold inscrutable powers?

3.8.1 Translation119

Indeed, they [i.e. philosophers] have recognized occult properties (kha-

wāṣṣ) more wondrous than this in what they have presented in their writ-

118 ‫ ما لا يدرك‬،‫ في مداواة القلوب وتصفيتها‬،‫فلم َ لا يجوز أن يكون في الأوضاع الشرعية من الخواص‬
‫ بل لا يبصر ذلك إلى بعين النبوة؟‬،‫ بالحكمة العقلية‬al-Ghazālī, Munqidh, ed. ʿAyyād and Ṣalībā,
126; translation in Watt, Faith and Practice, 79 (adapted here).
119 Al-Ghazālī, Munqidh, ed. ʿAyyād and Ṣalībā, 126–127 (some punctuation modified and
orthography standardized here); translation in Watt, Faith and Practice, 79–80 (adapted
here).

‫ وهي من الخواص العجيبة المجر بة في‬،‫بل قد اعترفوا بخواص هي أعجب من هذا فيما أوردوه في كتبهم‬
:‫ بهذا الشكل يكتب على خرقتين لم يصبهما ماء‬،‫معالجة الحامل التي عسر عليها الطلق‬

‫ب‬ ‫ط‬ ‫د‬

‫ز‬ ‫هـ‬ ‫ج‬

‫و‬ ‫ا‬ ‫ح‬

٢ ٩ ٤

٧ ٥ ٣

٦ ١ ٨

‫ وقد أقر ّوا بإمكان‬.‫ فيسرع الولد في الحال إلى الخروج‬،‫ وتضعها تحت قدميها‬،‫وتنظر إليهما الحامل بعينها‬
‫ يكون مجموع ما‬،‫ يرقم فيها رقوم مخصوصة‬،‫ذلك وأوردوه في عجائب الخواص وهو شكل فيه تسعة بيوت‬
.‫في جدول واحد خمسة عشر ؛ قر َأته في طول الشكل أو في عرضه أو على التأر يب‬
104 hallum

ings of the wondrous properties proven in the treatment of a pregnant

woman for whom delivery is difficult, by means of this figure inscribed
on two rags untouched by water.

D Ṭ B

J H Z

Ḥ A W

4 9 2

3 5 7

8 1 6

The pregnant woman gazes at them with her eyes, and they are placed
beneath her feet, then at once the child comes out quickly. They acknow-
ledge the possibility of this and list it among the wonders of occult prop-
erties (khawāṣṣ). It is a figure in which there are nine cells, each with a
specific number written in it, [so that] the sum of what is written in a
single line ( jadwal) is 15 [whether] you read it in the figure vertically, hori-
zontally, or diagonally (? ʿalā al-taʾrīb).

3.8.2 Commentary
Al-Ghazālī’s philosophical opponents took the efficacy of the eutocic 3 × 3 wafq
for granted. Al-Ghazālī, for his part, says nothing to suggest that he does not also
believe in the power of the wafq, and, in fact, uses its khawāṣṣ as an example to
make the same point in a Persian tract against antinomian Sufis.120 By the time
al-Ghazālī wrote the Deliverer from Error in Seljuk Khurasan, it seems that the
perceived truth of the power of the eutocic 3×3 wafq was unassailable.

120 Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Ghazālī, Die Streitschrift des Ġazālī gegen die Ibāḥīja im per-
sischen Text herausgegeben und übersetzt, ed. and trans. Otto Pretzl (Munich: Verlag der
Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1933), 19–20 (text), 41–42 (translation).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 105

The early texts on the eutocic powers of the 3 × 3 wafq reviewed above do
not explain the mathematical rules governing the construction of awfāq, nor
do they give instructions for algorithms by which their constructions could
be carried out even if not fully understood. The texts are accompanied by
images of the awfāq that must be slavishly copied by would-be practition-
ers. Even the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, in which a discussion of awfāq
from 3×3 to 9×9 appears in a mathematical context, and the treatises of Ibn
al-Zarqālluh and al-Mālaqī, with their extensive treatment of the talismanic
uses, are silent about their methods for constructing these same awfāq. There
are some apparently early awfāq treatises that deal with both the khawāṣṣ of
the awfāq and their talismanic uses on the one hand and the mathematics
behind their methods of construction on the other, but these texts have yet
to be securely dated.121
Most treatises devoted entirely to awfāq, which I term awfāq literature
proper, and written before the seventh/thirteenth century deal almost exclus-
ively with mathematics. This is not to say that the authors of such awfāq liter-

121 An important example of these dual-genre awfāq treatises is al-Tustarī’s Revelation of the
Truths (see above, note 54), the first two thirds of which deal exclusively with the math-
ematics of awfāq and the last third with their talismanic uses. Another such text is the
anonymous Persian treatise found in manuscript BL, Add. MS 7713 (hereafter Anon. Pers.
BL; see Charles Rieu, Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum [London:
British Museum, 1879–1883], 2:487). This manuscript, which appears to date from the sev-
enth/thirteenth century, has a colophon added by a hand perhaps later than that of the
main scribe (fol. 237v) dated Rajab 608/December 1211–January 1212, although this date
may have been transcribed from its archetype. The manuscript is defective at beginning
and end, so the preface, part of the introduction and some folios near the end, and the
end of the conclusion are missing. The first folio is a replacement on European paper,
containing a new beginning (fol. 1v) by a much later (Ottoman?) hand, which attributes
the treatise to the Persian astrologer Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī (d. 272/886). This attribution is,
however, surely as spurious as the attribution to Abū Maʿshar of another treatise involving
awfāq (see Oliver Kahl and Zeina Matar, “A Treatise on the Amicable Numbers 220 and 284
Attributed to Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī,” Journal of Semitic Studies 35, no. 2 [1990]: 233–243).
A forthcoming article by Sâqib Bâburî and the present author will argue that the text pre-
served in Anon. BL Pers. is the product of mid-sixth/twelfth-century Ghaznavid patronage.
Anon. Pers. BL is of particular interest here because, as is the case with al-Tustarī’s Revel-
ation of the Truths, the bulk of this text is devoted solely to mathematical constructions
giving no cause to suspect that the interest in these constructions is not purely mathem-
atical but also magical. Then, a brief and fragmentary conclusion (fol. 237v) discussing
the occult properties (khawāṣṣ) and astral associations of certain awfāq demonstrates
that there is no reason to assume a mathematician fully engaged in arithmetical ana-
lyses should necessarily dismiss the magical properties of the awfāq. Cammann frequently
refers to awfāq from Anon. Pers. BL in his “Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. Part I” and
“Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. Part II.”
106 hallum

ature were not interested in employing the khawāṣṣ of the awfāq they studied
but merely that this was not the aim of this genre of text. Regardless of the ulti-
mate intentions of these authors with the awfāq, however, their mathematical
advancements in this field allowed the construction of larger and more com-
plex awfāq, not just in the form of squares, but also as triangles, circles, stars,
cubes, cones, and spheres. Research presented by these mathematicians (e.g.,
methods for the inclusion of names and words into awfāq) prepared the way for
the confluence of lettrism and awfāq popularized in the writings of al-Būnī and
others and taken up enthusiastically by later authors such as ʿAbd al-Raḥmān
al-Bisṭāmī (d. 858/1454).122

4 The Rise of awfāq Literature

The question of who wrote the earliest treatise devoted to the awfāq remains
open. The earliest known text with a title containing the word wafq/awfāq is by
Abū ʿUthmān ʿAmr b. Baḥr al-Jāḥiẓ (d. 255/868–869), who tells us that he wrote
a work (now lost) called the Book of Awfāq and Mathematics (Kitāb al-awfāq
wa-l-riyāḍāt).123 Given the fact that al-Jāḥiẓ is a well known author of adab
works and is not known to have written any mathematical or, strictly speak-
ing, scientific treatises, it is unlikely that this text is a candidate for the earliest
mathematical treatise on awfāq. It is all but certain that al-Jāḥiẓ’s Book of Awfāq
and Mathematics is an adab work, no more a treatise on the mathematics of
awfāq than his Book of Circling and Squaring (Kitāb al-tarbīʿ wa-l-tadwīr) is a
treatise on geometry.124 But, just as the Book of Circling and Squaring touches on
questions of geometry, his Book of Awfāq and Mathematics may well have dealt
tangentially with the mathematics of awfāq. Be that as it may, the title alone is
evidence that the awfāq themselves were sufficiently well known by this name

122 See Noah Gardiner, “The Occultist Encyclopedism of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī,”Mamlūk
Studies Review 20 (2017): esp. 13.
123 ʿAmr b. Baḥr al-Jāḥiẓ, Kitāb al-ḥayawān, ed. ʿAbd al-Salām Muḥammad Hārūn (Beirut: Dār
al-Jīl, 1996), 1:7. See Charles Pellat, “Ǧāḥiẓiana III. Essai d’inventaire de l’œuvre Ǧāḥiẓ-
ianne,” Arabica 3, no. 2 (1956): 153 (item 29).
124 In fact, the context in al-Jāḥiẓ’s Book of Animals (Kitāb al-ḥayawān) suggests that the gen-
eral subject of the Book of Awfāq and Mathematics was trade (see James E. Montgomery,
Al-Jāḥiẓ: In Praise of Books [Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2013], 114 and 135).
For a brief description of the Book of Circling and Squaring, see Charles Pellat, The Life
and Works of Jāḥiẓ. Translations of Selected Texts (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969),
21.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 107

and their link with mathematics sufficiently established in the mid-third/ninth

century that al-Jāḥiẓ’s use of the term would have had cultural currency.125
If al-Jāḥiẓ’s Book of Awfāq and Mathematics was not the first Islamicate treat-
ise dedicated to the awfāq, what was? To date, there has not been a satisfactory
answer to this question. It is often claimed that the earliest Arabic work devoted
to the awfāq was written by the Sabian mathematician, translator, and physi-
cian Abū l-Ḥasan Thābit b. Qurra al-Ḥarrānī (d. 288/901). This claim rests on
good authority, since Ibn al-Qifṭī (d. 646/1248) lists an Epistle on the Harmoni-
ous Number (Risāla fī l-ʿadad al-wafq) among the works attributed to Thābit b.
Qurra, and he tells us that he is merely reproducing a list he found in a genealo-
gical document relating to Thābit b. Qurra, which was written by Thābit’s great-
great-grandson Abū ʿAlī al-Muḥassin b. Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābiʾ (d. 410/1010).126
Despite the excellent pedigree of this information, there remain reasons to
doubt whether Thābit b. Qurra did, in fact, write a treatise on awfāq. Not only
does this text not appear in the earliest list of Thābit b. Qurra’s works, that of
al-Nadīm’s (d. c. 385/995) Fihrist,127 but it is not mentioned in any source that
is not dependent on Ibn al-Qifṭī. Rosenfeld and İhsanoğlu claim that there is
a reference to Thābit’s Epistle on the Harmonious Number in al-Bīrūnī’s (d. c.
442/1050) Treatise on the Derivation of the Chords in a Circle (Maqāla fī istikhrāj

125 The Book of Awfāq and Mathematics must have been composed before the Kitāb al-
ḥayawān in which it is mentioned. On the date of the Kitāb al-ḥayawān, see Pellat, “Ǧāḥ-
iẓiana III,” 153 (item 29), who thinks it was written before 232/847, and Montgomery,
Al-Jāḥiẓ: In Praise of Books, 237, who argues it was written after 244/858. Either way, al-
Jāḥiẓ wrote his Book of Awfāq and Mathematics at roughly the time, and perhaps some
years before, Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabarī wrote the Paradise of Wisdom, and about a century
before the term wafq appeared in Maslama al-Qurṭubī’s Ghāyat al-ḥakīm.
126 Thābit’s treatise on awfāq is named in Jamāl al-Dīn Abū l-Ḥasan ʿAlī Ibn al-Qifṭī’s Tāʾrīkh
al-ḥukamāʾ, ed. August Müller and Julius Lippert (Leipzig: Dieterich’sche Verlagsbuch-
handlung, 1903), 119, line 2; this information is repeated in IAU, 1:220, line 14. Al-Muḥassin
b. Ibrāhīm is identified as the source of this information at Ibn al-Qifṭī, Tāʾrīkh al-ḥukamāʾ,
ed. Müller and Lippert, 116, lines 3–7. See Roshdi Rashed, “Thābit ibn Qurra: From Ḥarrān
to Baghdad,” in Thābit ibn Qurra. Science and Philosophy in Ninth-Century Baghdad, edited
by Roshdi Rashed (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), 23; reprinted in Roshdi Rashed, Figures and
Commentators in Arabic Mathematics. A History of Arabic Sciences and Mathematics, ed.
Nader El-Bizri, trans. Roger Wareham et. al. (London and New York: Routledge, 2012), 121–
122. For a family tree of the Harranian Sabians of Baghdad, see Figure 3.3.
127 The list of Thābit b. Qurra’s works is found in Muḥammad b. Isḥāq al-Nadīm’s Kitāb al-
Fihrist, ed. Gustav Flügel, Johannes Roediger, and August Müller (Leipzig: F.C.W. Vogel,
1871–1872), 1:272; translation in Muḥammad b. Isḥāq al-Nadīm, The Fihrist of al-Nadim: A
Tenth-Century Survey of Muslim Culture, ed. and trans. Bayard Dodge (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1970), 2:648.
108 hallum

al-awtār fī l-dāʾira),128 but a search through the two printed editions of this text,
Suter’s German translation, and the manuscripts presented by Hogendijk has
failed to locate any such reference.129 Elsewhere, Rosenfeld goes further and
claims that Thābit introduced the correspondence between the seven planets
and the first seven awfāq in his Epistle on the Harmonious Number, but this
claim must be baseless if that text is not extant (if it ever existed).130 It may
also be suspected that a discussion of awfāq might be found in the treatise
on talismans attributed to Thābit b. Qurra, but no such thing appears in the
surviving Judaeo-Arabic fragments of that text or in the Latin version, De Ima-
ginibus. The talismans ascribed to Thābit in that text are similar to those of the
ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica in many regards, including the fact that neither set
contains any mathematical talismans.131

128 Boris A. Rosenfeld and Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, Mathematicians, Astronomers, and Other
Scholars of Islamic Civilization and Their Works (7th–19th c.) (Istanbul: IRCICA, 2003), 52
(text M26). For bibliographical details, references, and digitized resources for the study
of al-Bīrūnī’s treatise, see Jan Hogendijk’s comprehensive al-Bīrūnī website, http://www
.albiruni.nl/, text B2.8.
129 Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Bīrūnī, Rasāʾil al-Bīrūnī (Hyderabad: Maṭbaʿat Jamīʿat Daʾirat al-
Maʿārif al-ʿUthmāniyya, 1948), 2–226; Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Bīrūnī, Istikhrāj al-awtār
fī l-dāʾira bi-khawaṣṣ al-khaṭṭ al-munḥanī fīhā, ed. Aḥmad Saʿīd al-Dimirdāsh (Cairo: al-
Muʿassasah al-Miṣriyyah, 1965) and Heinrich Suter, “Das Buch der Auffindung der Sehnen
im Kreise von Abū’l-Raiḥān Muḥ. el-Bīrūnī,” Bibliotheca Mathematica, ser. 3, 11 (1910–1911):
11–78. I have not been able to inspect the Russian translation in Pavel Georgievich Bul-
gakov and Boris A. Rozenfel’d, Abu Raĭkhan Beruni, 973–1048, Izbrannye Proizvedeni͡ıa,
vol. 7, Matematicheskie i astronomicheskie traktaty (Tashkent: Fan, 1987), 27–77.
130 Boris A. Rozenfelʹd and Nurii͡a G. Khaĭretdinova, Sabit ibn Korra: 836–901 (Moscow: Nauka,
1994), 102. Although admitting that the Epistle on the Harmonious Number (Risāla fī l-ʿadad
al-wafq) is not extant, Rosenfeld and Khaĭretdinova silently alter the title to read Book of
the Number of the Wafq (which presupposes Kitāb ʿadad al-wafq) and assume arbitrarily
that the “number” in question is the sum of all the numbers in a wafq (rather than, e.g., the
root [or order number] of the square, its magic constant, middle term, highest number,
or any of the other significant numbers derivable from it), saying “the title of his treatise
… seemingly implies the sum of its numbers that was placed in correspondence with the
Sun, Moon and the planets.” From this assumption, they reach the groundless conclusion
that the correspondence between Saturn and the 3×3 square based on the fact that the
numerical value of the Arabic for Saturn (Zuḥal, [Z = 7] + [Ḥ = 8] + [L = 30] = 45) is equal
to the sum of all the numbers in the 3 × 3 square (1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 = 45) “was
already mentioned in the treatise by Thābit Ibn Qurra.” Rosenfeld and Khaĭretdinova also
repeat as fact, again without evidence, that “the use and application of magic squares was
well known in the Hellenic world.” I thank Katya Nosyreva for translating this reference
from the Russian.
131 See Charles Burnett, “Ṯābit ibn Qurra the Ḥarrānian on Talismans and the Spirits of the
Planets,” La Corónica, 36, no. 1 (2007): 13–40 and Charles Burnett and Gideon Bohak, “A
Judaeo-Arabic Version of Ṯābit ibn Qurra’s De imaginibus and Pseudo-Ptolemy’s Opus ima-
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 109

Not only does no trace of any text by Thābit b. Qurra on awfāq survive, but
no later treatises on awfāq even mention Thābit b. Qurra among the authors
of works on this subject. Moreover, Thābit is mentioned in the introduction to
an anonymous sixth/twelfth-century awfāq treatise edited and translated by
Sesiano but not as an author of an awfāq treatise himself.132 Rather, he is said
there to have followed Plato in writing on amicable numbers—a reference to
Thābit’s Book of Amicable Numbers (Kitāb al-aʿdād al-mutaḥābba).133
This same anonymous sixth/twelfth-century awfāq treatise also credits the
pre-Socratic father of natural philosophy Thales of Miletus (d. c. 545 BCE) with
the discovery of magic squares (lit., “the harmonious number” [al-ʿadad al-
wafq]), and, with this, we are in the realm of origin legends of the awfāq.134
The ancient Greek philosophers are commonly made to be the originators of
the awfāq in these legends. As we have seen (§3.3.1, above), the Jābirian Small

ginum,” in Islamic Philosophy, Science, Culture, and Religion. Studies in Honour of Dimitri
Gutas, ed. Felicitas Opwis and David Reisman (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 179–200.
132 Jacques Sesiano, “Une compilation arabe du XIIe siècle sur quelques propriétés des nom-
bres naturels,” SCIAMVS 4 (2003): 153 (translation) and 173 (text).
133 For a recent discussion of Thābit’s work on amicable numbers along with a new edition
and French translation of the treatise, see Roshdi Rashed and Christian Houzel, “Théorie
des nombres amiables,” in Thābit ibn Qurra. Science and Philosophy in Ninth-Century Bagh-
dad, ed. Roshdi Rashed (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), 77–151. The earliest author to mention
amicable numbers is not, in fact, Plato but Iamblichus, who attributes the discovery of
the only pair of amicable numbers (phíloi arithmoí) known in antiquity (220 and 284) to
Pythagoras (d. c. 495 BCE). Iamblichus, In Nicomachi Arithmeticam, ed. and trans. Nich-
olas Vinel (Pisa: Fabrizio Serra Editore, 2014), book II, 126. Whether or not Pythagoras
himself knew the amicable numbers, the fact that they are two matching halves of an
arithmetical whole that fit together only with each other makes them a suitably mathem-
atical Pythagorean symbolon, on which, see Peter T. Struck, Birth of the Symbol: Ancient
Readers at the Limits of their Texts (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), chap. 2.
134 Sesiano, “Une compilation arabe,” 154–155 (translation) and 173–174 (text). Thales is there
said to have placed a 100 × 100 square in a temple where it was used for swearing oaths
and curing diseases. The odd phrase al-ʿadad al-wafq (lit., “harmonious number,” strange
in that it uses wafq adjectivally) appears, as we shall see, in the titles of a some of the
earliest Arabic awfāq literature as a designation of their subject. From its use here and
in other early awfāq literature, it is clear that the phrase “harmonious number” (al-ʿadad
al-wafq) referred to the awfāq themselves (i.e., the harmonious arrangements of the num-
bers within their grids [ jadāwil], and most importantly their “magic constants”), but also
to the science behind these arrangements. For the adjectival use of the word wafq, see
Francis Joseph Steingass, The Student’s Arabic-English Dictionary. Companion Volume to the
Author’s English-Arabic Dictionary (London: Crosby Lockwood and Son, 1884), 1224. I am
grateful to Julia Bray for pointing me to this dictionary. See also Jacques Sesiano, “Le Traité
d’ Abū’l-Wafāʾ sur les carrés magiques,” Zeitschrift für Geschichte der arabisch-islamischen
Wissenschaften 12 (1998): 141.
110 hallum

Book of Balances claims that Apollonius of Tyana at least discussed if not inven-
ted the 3×3 wafq. Zakariyyāʾ b. Muḥammad al-Qazwīnī (d. 682/1283) attributes
the invention of magic squares to Archimedes (d. 212 BCE).135
The legends of the awfāq also frequently link them with the prophets and
figures from early Islamic history. Al-Tustarī’s Revelation of the Truths attrib-
utes the discovery of the 100×100 wafq to the legendary Persian king Fereydūn
and says that it was handed down through the line of Persian kings, kept in
their treasuries to ensure their military invincibility, and then found by the
caliph ʿUmar b. al-Khāṭṭāb (d. 23/644) after his defeat of the last Sassanid shah,
Yazdegird III (d. 30/651).136 A briefer but similarly worded version of the story
of Fereydūn, Yazdegird, and the 100×100 wafq was presented by Luṭfullāh al-
Ṭūqātī (d. 900/1494), palace librarian to the Ottoman sultan Mehmed II (r.
848–850/1444–1446 and 855–886/1451–1481) at Istanbul, later recommended to
Sultan Bāyezīd II (r. 886–918/1481–1512) for the same position by the celeb-
rated astronomer ʿAlī Qūshjī (d. 879/1474), erstwhile head of the observatory
of Ulugh Beg at Samarqand.137 In his Treatise on the Doubling of the Altar [of
Delos] (Risālat Taḍʿīf al-madhbaḥ), Luṭfī al-Ṭūqātī extended the lineage of the
wafq in question through Greek astrologers and philosophers and the Abra-
hamic prophets all the way back to Adam.138

135 Āthār al-bilād, Fifth Clime, s.v. Yūnān (= Zakariyyāʾ b. Muḥammad al-Qazwīnī, Zakarija ben
Muhammed ben Mahmud el-Cazwini’s Kosmographie, ed. Ferdinand Wüstenfeld [Göttin-
gen: Dieterich’sche Buchhandlung, 1848–1849] 2:358); see Eilhard Wiedemann, “Beiträge
zur Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften V,” Sitzungberichte der physikalisch-medizini-
schen Sozietät zu Erlangen 37 (1905) 392–445.
136 Al-Tustarī, Kashf ḥaqāʾiq al-asrār, Dublin, CBL, Ar. 5087, fol. 125r–v.
137 Al-Ṭūqātī went on to be executed for his unorthodox beliefs and is thus known also as Luṭfī
al-Maqṭūl (“the killed”); see Luṭfullāh al-Ṭūqātī, La Duplication de l’autel (Platon et le prob-
lème de Délos), ed. Şerefettin Yaltkaya, trans. Abdulhak Adnan and Henry Corbin (Paris:
E. de Boccard, 1940), 4–5. For links between Qūshjī and the court of Bāyezīd II, see Ahmet
Tunç Şen, “Reading the Stars at the Ottoman Court: Bāyezīd II (r. 886/1481–918/1512) and
His Celestial Interests,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-
Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64 (2017): esp. 589. Al-Ṭūqātī’s
inclusion of a closely worded paraphrase of the legend of the discovery of the 100×100
wafq as told in al-Tustarī’s Revelation of the Truths suggests that he knew the story either
from the Revelation of the Truths itself, from a text derived from the Revelation of Truths
or from a common source text.
138 The discussion of the 100 × 100 wafq is found in al-Ṭūqātī, La Duplication de l’autel, 16–21
(text) and 52–61 (trans.); see also Sesiano, Les Carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques,
266–268. A version of the legend of ʿUmar’s discovery of Yazdegird’s 100×100 wafq even
briefer still—the wording of which is less similar to that in al-Tustarī’s Revelation of the
Truths—is recounted by Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) in Muqaddima vi, 27 (= Muqaddimat
Ibn Khaldūn. Prolégomènes d’Ebn-Khaldoun, ed. Éttiene Quatremère [Paris: Benjamin
Duprat, 1858], 3:135; translated by Franz Rosenthal in The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to
 new light on early arabic awfāq literature 111

Legends and unverified attributions aside, scholarship—thanks largely to

the editorial and analytical efforts of Jacques Sesiano—has uncovered enough
texts to present a detailed history of early Arabic awfāq literature. Sesiano has
identified nine texts written before the seventh/thirteenth century that are
entirely devoted to the awfāq or contain substantial sections devoted to them
(see Table 3.1) to which we can add the treatise by al-Mālaqī (see above, text 7).

table 3.1 Pre-seventh/thirteenth-century awfāq treatises mentioned by Sesiano

Title Author/date Location(s) of Patron(s) of author

author

1 Commentary on the Arith- Abū l-Qāsim Antioch?; Baghdad ʿAḍud al-Dawla, Buyid
metical [Introduction] ʿAlī al-Anṭākī amīr (r. 367–372/978–
(Kitāb tafsīr al-Arithmā- (d. 376/987) 83)
ṭīqī)139
2 Book on the Arrangement Abū l-Wafāʾ Bāb al-Tibn Obser- ʿAḍud al-Dawla, Ṣam-
of the Harmonious Num- al-Būzjānī vatory, Baghdad ṣām al-Dawla, and
ber in Squares (d. 388/998) (c. 348/960) Sharaf al-Dawla, Buyid
(Kitāb fī tartīb al-ʿadad amīrs (combined
al-wafq fī l-murabbaʿāt)140 reigns 367–379/978–
89)

History [London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1958], 3:168–169). According to a variant of the
legend preserved in a gloss in a twelfth/eighteenth-century manuscript, knowledge of the
awfāq originated with the prophet Hūd, who placed a 100×100 wafq in the foundations of
Mecca, and the caliph ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/661) was the first to employ this wafq on the
banner of Islam. On the manuscript containing this gloss, see Jacques Sesiano, Un traite
médiéval sur les carrés magiques: De l’ arrangement harmonieux des nombres. Édition, tra-
duction et commentaire d’un texte arabe anonyme décrivant divers modes de construction
(Lausanne: Presses Polytechniques et Universitaires Romandes, 1996), 13–14, n. 16; and text
5 in Table 3.1, below. Sesiano, Les carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques, 267, n. 164, also
mentions Saʿd Allāh b. Ṣadr al-Dīn’s Risala fī l-wafq (Süleymaniye, MS Reşid Efendi 1068,
fols. 49v–56r [not 53r]) as a further source of such legends. In fact, that text is anonym-
ous, and Saʿd Allāh b. Ṣadr al-Dīn is the manuscript’s scribe, not the text’s author. The text
mentions al-Būnī (so was written after the mid-seventh/thirteenth century) and claims
that Archimedes studied awfāq and that Thales was inspired to invent the 100×100 wafq,
and he also discusses the problem of the doubling of the altar of Delos (fols. 49v–50r).
139 Only Chapter 3 of this work is extant, and only section 2 of that chapter is dedicated to
awfāq. The text is edited and translated in Sesiano, Magic Squares in the Tenth Century,
120–205 (translation), 260–334 (text).
140 Excerpts edited and translated in Sesiano, Magic Squares in the Tenth Century, 207–252
 112 hallum

Table 3.1 Pre-seventh/thirteenth-century awfāq treatises mentioned by Sesiano (cont.)

Title Author/date Location(s) of Patron(s) of author

author

3 On the Numbers of Har- Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥasan Basra (354– al-Ḥākim bi-Amr
mony Ibn al-Haytham c. 390/965– Allāh, Fatimid caliph
(Fī ʿadād al-wafq)141 (d. c. 430/1040) c. 1000); Cairo (r. 386–411/996–1021)
(from c. 390–
430/c. 1000–1039,
with a gap)
4 Abridgment on Guid- Unknown (fl. Unknown Unknown
ance to the Harmony of early fifth/elev-
Numbers (Mukhtaṣar enth century?)
fī l-irshād ilā wafq al-
aʿdād)142
5 Book of Numeration on the Unknown (fl. 1st Unknown Unknown
Harmony of Numbers half of fifth/elev-
(Kitāb al-iʿdād fī wafq al- enth century?)
aʿdād)143

(translation), 335–381 (text). See also Jacques Sesiano, “Le Traité d’Abū’l-Wafāʾ sur les
carrés magiques,” Zeitschrift für Geschichte der arabisch-islamischen Wissenschaften 12
(1998): 121–244.
141 Lost text mentioned by Ibn al-Qifṭī, Tāʾrīkh al-ḥukamāʾ, ed. Müller and Lippert, 168, line 1
and IAU, vol. 2, 98, line 14, and appearing in two anonymous premodern bibliographies of
Ibn al-Haytham’s works. See Rosenfeld and İhsanoğlu, Mathematicians, Astronomers, and
Other Scholars, 135 (text M43); Sesiano, Les Carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques, 12,
and Roshdi Rashed, Ibn Haytham and Analytical Mathematics. A History of Arabic Sciences
and Mathematics, ed. Nader El-Bizri, trans. Susan Glynn and Roger Wareham (London and
New York: Routledge, 2013), 2:392–393. Within awfāq literature, Ibn al-Haytham’s treatise is
mentioned in the anonymous sixth/twelfth-century treatise edited in Sesiano, “Une com-
pilation arabe,” 181–185.
142 Edited and translated in Jacques Sesiano, “L’abrégé enseignant la disposition harmonieuse
des nombres, un manuscrit arabe anonyme sur la construction des carrés magiques,” in
From Baghdad to Barcelona. Studies in the Islamic Exact Sciences in Honour of Prof. Juan
Vernet, ed. Josep Casulleras (Barcelona: Instituto “Millás Vallicrosa” de Historia de la Cien-
cia Arabe, 1996). See also Sesiano, Les Carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques, 13–14.
143 Edition, translation, and study in Sesiano, Un traite médiéval. See also Sesiano, Les Carrés
magiques dans les pays islamiques, 13.
 new light on early arabic awfāq literature 113

Table 3.1 Pre-seventh/thirteenth-century awfāq treatises mentioned by Sesiano (cont.)

Title Author/date Location(s) of Patron(s) of author

author

6 Treatise on the Movements Abū Isḥāq Toledo; Córdoba Ṣaʿīd al-Andalusī,

of the Wandering Stars Ibrāhīm Ibn (from c. 482/1080) astronomer and
(Maqāla fī ḥarakāt al- al-Zarqālluh chief qāḍī of Toledo
kawākib al-sayyāra)144 (d. 493/1100) (d. 472/1070)

7 Unknown145 Abū Ḥātim Isfahan (from Jalāl al-Dīn Malikshāh,

al-Muẓaffar 476/1074–1075); Seljuk sultan (r. 465–
al-Isfizārī (d. c. Balkh (c. 506/1112) 485/1073–1092)
510/1116)
8 Epitome on the Harmoni- Jamāl al-Zamān Marw Sanjar b. Malikshāh?,
ous Number al-Kharaqī Seljuk sultan (r. 511–
(Talkhīṣ fī l-ʿadad al- (d. 533/1138–1139) 552/1118–1157)
wafq)146
9 Unknown147 Unknown (fl. Unknown Unknown
515–587/1121–
1191)

144 For variations in the title of this work, see above, note 88. Edition, translation, and study of
this text and its Latin and Old Castilian versions in preparation by the present author, Rosa
Comes, and Emilia Calvo. See Mercè Comes and Rosa Comes, “Los cuadrados mágicos
matemáticos en al-Andalus. El tratado de Azarquiel.” Al-Qanṭara 30, no. 1 (2009): 137–
169, and Rosa Comes, “The Transmission of Azarquiel’s Magic Squares in Latin Europe,”
in Medieval Textual Cultures. Agents of Transmission, Translation and Transformation, ed.
Faith Wallis and Robert Wisnovsky (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), 159–198. For the Latin ver-
sion of the treatise, see Jacques Sesiano, “Magic Squares for Daily Life,” In Studies in the
History of Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, ed. Charles Burnett et al. (Leiden:
Brill, 2007), 715–734.
145 Traces of this lost treatise may be found in the anonymous sixth/twelfth-century treatise
edited in Sesanio, “Une compilation arabe,” 185. See also Sesiano, Les carrés magiques dans
les pays islamiques, 14–15, and below.
146 Edited and translated in Jacques Sesiano, “Herstellungsverfahren magischer Quadtrate aus
islamischer Zeit (III),” Sudhoffs Archiv 79 (1995), 211–226. See also Wiedemann, “Einleitung
zu Werken von al Charaqî,” Beiträge zur Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften 70, in Sitzun-
gberichte der physikalisch-medizinischen Sozietät zu Erlangen 58–59 (1926–1927) 203–218.
147 Edited in Sesiano, “Une compilation arabe.” See also Jacques Sesiano, “Herstellungsver-
fahren magischer Quadtrate aus islamischer Zeit (I),” Sudhoffs Archiv 64 (1980): 187–196
and Sesiano, Les Carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques, 15.
114 hallum

5 New Manuscript Evidence for Early awfāq Literature

Despite Sesiano’s pioneering work, the majority of works of Islamicate awfāq

literature remains unstudied in manuscripts, and the treatises edited by
Sesiano tend to be short. The largest pre-seventh/thirteenth-century text dealt
with by Sesiano is the Book of Numeration on the Harmony of Numbers (Kitāb
al-iʿdād fī wafq al-aʿdād, text 5 in Table 3.1), which, despite running to only
forty-four folios in the manuscript (74 pp. in Sesiano’s edition), is, according to
Sesiano, one of the longest and oldest awfāq treatises known.148 Its anonymous
early fifth/eleventh-century author tells us in the introduction that he has spent
the smaller portion of the book recounting information about the awfāq from
earlier sources, but he does not cite any of his sources by name. The larger por-
tion is devoted to his own discoveries with the awfāq, which go no higher than
10× 10 and are all squares (no triangles, circles, or other wafq figures). The treat-
ise does, however, contain an early discussion of methods for inserting names
and other text into a wafq using the abjad values of the letters, a technique that
would become widespread in later lettrist talisman making.149
Several much longer early awfāq treatises, which are also more diverse in
content and even more historiographically detailed, do, in fact, survive in the
manuscripts. The previously mentioned Anon. Pers. BL, for example, runs to
237 folios, making it, to my knowledge, the single largest Islamicate treatise
on the mathematical construction of awfāq, covering square, triangular, and
circular figures.150 Later, al-Tustarī’s Revelation of the Truths (late 8th/14th cen-
tury?) deals with constructions for triangular, circular, cubic, and spherical
awfāq.151 As with the Persian treatise just discussed, the Revelation of the Truths
begins with a long section devoted entirely to the mathematical constructions
of awfāq without mention of their khawāṣṣ but then concludes with detailed
instructions for their talismanic uses.

148 Sesiano, Les Carrés magiques dans les pays islamiques, 13. For a brief description of the
contents of the treatise see Sesiano, Un traité médiéval, 11–12.
149 Sesiano, Un traité médiéval, 72–74 (text) and 129–132 (translation). Sesiano removes the
names (Sirāj, Shihāb, ʿAlī, and Aḥmad) from his translation, leaving only their numerical
values, so that readers of the French translation without access to the Arabic text would
have no idea that the text is discussing meaningful names and not randomly chosen num-
bers.
150 See above, note 121.
151 For a brief description of the oldest surviving manuscript, a ninth/fifteenth-century copy
of 125 folios, see Arthur J. Arberry, The Chester Beatty Library, A Handlist of the Arabic
Manuscripts (Dublin: Emery Walker and Hodges, Figgis, 1955–1966), 7:29, who was un-
aware of the identity of the manuscript’s text.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 115

A newly discovered sixth/twelfth-century Arabic treatise of ninety-two

folios, the Collection of Harmonious Number (Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq), provides
invaluable resources for the early history of awfāq literature. Although the iden-
tity of the author of this treatise is unknown, by carefully citing the sources
of the information he transmits, he substantially increases our knowledge of
mathematicians engaged in the study of awfāq and their writings and discov-
eries. We now consider the history of the unique manuscript that contains this
text.

5.1 British Library, Delhi Arabic 110

The British Library’s Delhi Collection is a rich and largely untapped resource
for the literary and intellectual history of Islamicate India and Central Asia.152
The collection comprises more than 3,700 manuscripts (mostly Arabic and Per-
sian but also Urdu, Panjabi, and Pashto) from the Mughal Imperial Library and
other collections in Delhi that were dispersed during British reprisals follow-
ing the Indian Uprising of 1857–1858 and then sold to the (British imperial)
Government of India at a sale arranged in 1859 by the Delhi Prize Agents.153
An inventory in the form of a handwritten Catalogue of the Delhi Collection was
drawn up in Calcutta at some time after 1869, under the supervision of Heinrich
(Henry) Ferdinand Blochmann (1838–1878), philological secretary of the Asi-
atic Society of Bengal and assistant professor at the Calcutta Madrasa.154 The

152 On the Delhi Collection, see S.C. Sutton, A Guide to the India Office Library with a Note
on the India Office Records (London: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1967), 32, 34–35, 45–
46 and 87; Arthur J. Arberry, The Library of the India Office. A Historical Sketch (London:
India Office, 1938), 84–85; Ursula Sims-Williams, “The Arabic and Persian Collections in
the India Office Library,” Collections in British Libraries on Middle Eastern and Islamic
Studies, ed. Paul Auchterlonie (Durham: University of Durham, Centre for Middle East-
ern and Islamic Studies, 1981), 49–50; and Hugh Goodacre, Ursula Sims-Williams, and
Penelope Tuson, Arabic Language Collections in the British Library (London: British Lib-
rary, 1984), 16–17. For further resources relating to the Delhi Collection, see “The Delhi
Collection,” Collection Guides, British Library, https://www.bl.uk/collection‑guides/the
‑delhi‑collection.
153 On the Mughal Imperial Library, see Shaykh Abdul Aziz, The Imperial Library of the
Mughuls (Lahore: Panjab University Press, 1967) and Dharma Bhanu, “The Mughul Lib-
raries,” Journal of the Pakistan Historical Society 2, no. 4 (1954): 287–301.
154 BL, IO Islamic 4601–4606. Blochmann’s catalog contains basic information on each text in
the collection’s manuscripts, listing, when known, the author, title, incipit, explicit, pro-
duction date, number of folios, and lines per page, along with basic judgments on the
condition of the paper and quality of script. A brief description of this “extremely slight,
and not particularly accurate” handlist is found in Arthur J. Arberry, “Hand-List of Islamic
Manuscripts Acquired by the India Office Library, 1936–8,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Soci-
ety 3 (1939): 381.
116 hallum

collection was subsequently shipped to London and deposited in the Library

of the India Office in 1876. Some of the Arabic manuscripts from the Delhi Col-
lection appear in published and unpublished catalogs compiled in the first half
of the twentieth century, but many have not been described since the time of
Blochmann.155 In 1982 the India Office Library was incorporated into the British
Library, where the Delhi Collection is now housed.
The Delhi Collection’s strong holdings of Indian Islamic religious and mys-
tical texts have long been noted, but its few scientific texts have been almost
entirely ignored.156 One of these overlooked texts is Delhi Arabic 110, a compos-
ite volume comprising two unrelated manuscripts: a thirteenth/nineteenth-
century manuscript of Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī’s (d. 852/1449) Selection of
Thoughts Concerning the Traditionists’ Terminology (Nukhbat al-fikr fī muṣṭalaḥ
ahl al-athar, fols. 2v–27r), and the Collection of the Harmonious Number (Dīwān
al-ʿadad al-wafq, fols. 28r–119v, hereafter Dīwān). Blochmann’s catalog presents
the following information about the Dīwān:157

١١٠ (‫)ب‬
‫ديوان العدد الوفق‬
Díwánul’ad walwafq158
Author: ‫مفضل بن ثابت‬

155 Some Arabic manuscripts of the Delhi Collection appear in Charles Ambrose Storey, ed.,
Catalogue of the Arabic Manuscripts in the Library of the India Office, vol. 2 (London: India
Office Library, 1930–1940). Unpublished draft catalog entries for the Delhi Persian material
can be accessed through Nur Sobers-Khan and Ursula Sims-Williams, “A Newly Digitised
Unpublished Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts,” British Library: Asian and African Studies
Blog, July 7 2014, http://britishlibrary.typepad.co.uk/asian‑and‑african/2014/07/a‑newly
‑digitised‑unpublished‑catalogue‑of‑persian‑manuscripts.html; and for the Delhi Arabic
material, see Reuben Levy and Charles Ambrose Storey, “Unpublished draft for Vol.III
of Catalogue of Arabic Manuscripts in the India Office Library,” Charles Ambrose Storey
Papers, BL, Mss Eur D563, http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Mss_Eur
_D563,_ff_1‑751 and http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Mss_Eur_D563,_
ff_752‑1208.
156 An exception to this rule is Delhi Arabic 1949, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc
_100028004317.0x000001. This sixth/twelfth- or seventh/thirteenth-century manuscript
of Sharaf al-Zamān Ṭāhir al-Marwazī’s (fl. mid-fifth/eleventh–early-sixth/twelfth century)
zoological treatise The Natures of Animals (Ṭabāʾīʿ al-ḥayawān) was hailed by Arberry as a
“tantalizing witness to the pristine splendour of the Royal Library at Delhi” (Arberry, The
Library of the India Office, 85).
157 Catalogue of the Delhi Collection, Arabic MSS, vol. 1, 165, BL, IO Islamic 4604.
158 Whoever added this transliteration (not the same hand that added the transcriptions) was
apparently confused by this title, since he read the second dāl in ʿadad as a wāw, changing
the title to the Collection of Enumeration and Harmony.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 117

Beginning: 159‫نذكر فيها انشاء الله ما يحتاج إليه طالبه في شايط العدد الوفق‬
End: Wanting
Date of Copy: Wanting
Persian character: middling good
Paper: Nice, somewhat worm eaten and water stained
Number of leaves: 96
Number of lines p[er] page: 25.

5.2 Description, Provenance, and Date of the Manuscript of the Dīwān

The manuscript is defective at beginning and end, and the remaining first and
last folios have been mutilated and repaired, with the loss of some text. Since
the catalog entry above states that the manuscript comprised ninety-six folios,
while, in its current state, it comprises ninety-two folios, it seems that four
folios have been lost from the Dīwān in the time since about 1869. Historic foli-
ation in eastern Arabic numerals begins at 3 on fol. 29r—the corner bearing this
foliation on fol. 28r, the present first folio of the Dīwān manuscript, has been
mutilated—which suggests that only a single leaf has been lost from the begin-
ning.160 The historic foliation is continuous and does not indicate any folios
missing from the middle of the text, so we can say that three or more folios are
missing from the end. A comparison of the extant text with the table of con-
tents (fols. 28r–29r) shows that the missing final leaves contained part of bāb 3
and the whole of bābs 4 and 5 of maqāla 8.
From the perspective of the arts of the Islamic book, as opposed to Arabic
literature or the history of scientific thought, the copy of the Dīwān in Delhi
Arabic 110 is most notable as a masterpiece of layout and design rather than
decoration and artistry. The hand used is not ornate or excessively polished
but neat, legible, and uniform. It is really in the precision and clarity of line in
the accompanying figures (of which there are more than 325 squares and tri-
angles), the skillful use of color and shape to present technical material and the
well conceived and executed tables and diagrams that this manuscript achieves
distinction.
In the absence of any scribal colophon or patron statement (due to the loss
of the initial and final folios) we have no firm evidence of the manuscript’s

159 This text comes not from the beginning of the manuscript but from the beginning of
maqāla 1 (fol. 29v).
160 It is thus probable that only a single page of text, or less, has been lost from the beginning;
the text in a carefully prepared Islamic manuscript customarily begins on the verso side,
and some space on that side may have been taken up by a decorative ʿunwān (‘title’ or
other heading).
118 hallum

date. On palaeographical grounds, it appears to date from late ninth/fifteenth-

or early tenth/sixteenth-century Timurid Iran or Central Asia. A manuscript
copied in a similar hand, on similar paper, in a similar format and, indeed, on a
similar subject (square and other figurate lettrist talismans) can be seen in MS
Princeton University Library, Third Series, no. 591.161 According to its colophon
(fol. 26v), this Princeton manuscript was transcribed on 17 Rajab 888/21 August
1483 by Ḥājjī b. Jamāl al-Kātib al-Kāshī. Furthermore, the abjad (alphanumeric)
numeral forms employed in Delhi Arabic 110 in particular are typical of late
ninth/fifteenth- or early tenth/sixteenth-century Iranian manuscripts.162
Provenance information in the form of owners’ inscriptions, marginalia, and
seal impressions does not extend back far enough to support this production
date but does prove that the manuscript was part of the Mughal Imperial Lib-
rary collection. To begin with, the seal of ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq b. Qāsim Shīrāzī (d. 1054
or 55/1644–1645), dated 1037/1627–1628 is found on fol. 28r, the present first folio
of the treatise.163 ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq Shīrāzī, known from 1141/1632 as Amānat Khān,
was a palace librarian under Shāh Jahān (r. 1037–1076/1628–1666) whose seal
appears in many of the manuscripts then in the Mughal imperial library, but
he is best known as the master calligrapher whose work is signed on the Taj
Mahal and other eleventh/seventeenth-century Mughal monuments.164 The
appearance of his seal on this folio suggests that the original first folio of the
manuscript was already lost and the historic foliation was already present at the
beginning of Shāh Jahān’s reign. Later, during the reign of Awrangzīb (ʿĀlam-
gīr, r. 1068–1118/1658–1707), another librarian, Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad, left his
seal impression dated 1110/1698–1699 along with the following valuation note
(fol. 27ar):165

161 A digital surrogate of this “Treatise on charms and talismans,” along with a catalog record
can be found on the Princeton University Library website, http://arks.princeton.edu/ark:/
88435/8336h195t.
162 See Rida A.K. Irani, “Arabic Numeral Forms,” Centaurus 4, no. 1 (1955): 3–10.
163 See the CBL Islamic Seals Database, seal no. 186. A further two illegible seal impressions
are found on BL, Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 28r and 119v.
164 See Wayne E. Begley, “Amānat Khān and the Calligraphy on the Tāj Maḥal,” Kunst des Ori-
ents 12, nos. 1–2 (1978–1979): 5–60; Wayne E. Begley and Ziyaud-Din A. Desai, Taj Mahal:
The Illumined Tomb. An Anthology of Seventeenth-Century Mughal and European Docu-
mentary Sources (Cambridge, MA: Harvard; MIT; Seattle: University of Washington Press,
1989), 245–257; and John Seyller, “The Inspection and Valuation of Manuscripts in the
Imperial Mughal Library,” Artibus Asiae 57, nos. 3–4 (1997): 255.
165 The seal and note are found on a detached strip of repair paper inserted between fols. 27
and 28, now bound into the volume as fol. 27a. For a nearly identical seal impression, bear-
ing the same name but dated 1126/1714–1715, see CBL Islamic Seals Database, seal no. 632.
I thank Sâqib Bâburî for his invaluable assistance in deciphering this note.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 119

(A)
‫نسخة ديوان العدد الوفق‬
… ‫من المفضل بن ثابت‬
‫فقط‬
(B)
‫ايـ]ـن[ نسـ]ـخٔە[ نفيسٔە نادره در وفق اعداد … دار الخلافه شاهجهان ]آباد[ … نموده ]افـ[ـقر‬
… ‫ قيمت حال … حال‬.‫احقر ]فـ[ـخر الدين محمد‬

(A)
Copy of the Collection of Harmonious Number
from al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit …
end
(B)
This precious and rare copy concerning the harmony of numbers … the
Abode of the Caliphate Shāh Jahān[ābād, i.e., Delhi] … the most needy
and wretched Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad. The present value [semi-
legible raqm numbers followed by the seal impression] … present [semi-
legible raqm numbers].

Although the value ascribed to the manuscript by Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad is

not clearly legible, we can see that already in the early twelfth/late seventeenth
century it was considered “precious and rare.” Also probably dating from the
manuscript’s time in the Mughal library is a fragmentary note in the repaired
upper margin of fol. 28r that indicates the relationship between awfāq literat-
ure (even of a strictly mathematical nature) and the occult sciences in Mughal
India:

⟨‫هذ⟩ا⟨ الكتاب ديوان العدد در علم حساب ور يا]ضة …[ كالـكيمياء والإكسير للعالم هذ⟩ا‬
‫العلم‬

This book is the Collection of Number concerning the science of arith-

metic and mathe[matics …] like alchemy and the elixir for the connois-
seur of this science.
120 hallum

5.3 The Text of the Dīwān

The Dīwān is a comprehensive treatise on the construction of awfāq, which
focuses solely on mathematical analyses and neglects entirely the subject of
their occult properties (khawāṣṣ) or talismanic uses.166 Because the first folio
of the unique manuscript of the Dīwān is missing, the text begins abruptly in
a preface, which lists the types of awfāq that will be dealt with. The author
then explains briefly his method of composition and the meaning of the treat-
ise’s title, states the text’s composition date (517/1123–1124), and gives an outline
of the structure of the Dīwān before it is presented visually in a table of con-
tents that directly follows the preface. The complete text of what remains of
the author’s preface is presented here (fol. 28r, lines 1–10):

ّ ‫… الساذج ثم ّ بعده المحل ّق ثم ّ الوفق الغر يب ثم ّ المو‬

ّ ‫شح والممتزج و بعد جميعها المر‬
‫كب بعضها‬
‫مع بعض ونختمه بالوفق المجس ّم العجيب ووفق الشكل المثل ّث ونشير إلى النوادر واختلاف‬
‫الوقوع في مواضعها على أوجز ما يمكن من غير إخلال بأصل من أصول منها بل نسهّل‬
ّ َ ‫فيه الغامض ونبي ّن الخفي وسميناه كتاب ديوان العدد الوفق وهذا اسم يوافق م‬
‫سماه إذ‬
‫ل فيه إلى يومنا وهو سن ّة سبع عشرة وخمسمائة هجر ية وإيراد أقسامه‬
َ ِ ‫غرضي فيه نجمع ما ق ُب‬
‫ل ما تعو ّد وصلناه ثماني مقالات الأولى منها في المقدمات‬
ّ ‫ن لك‬
ّ ‫المرت ّبة بألفاظ سهلة لأ‬
‫ضا وقطر ًا الثالثة في الوفق المحل ّق طول ًا‬
ً ‫التي تحتاج إليها الثانية في الوفق الساذج طول ًا وعر‬
ّ ‫ضا وقطر ًا وإحاطة الرابعة في الوفق الغر يب الخامسة في الوفق المو‬
‫شح أعني الشكل في‬ ً ‫وعر‬
‫الشكل والسادسة في المختلط الملم ّع عماّ ذكرنا السابعة في الوفق المجس ّم والثامنة في وفق الشكل‬
‫ب وفصول كما في هذا‬
ٍ ‫ل قسٍم فيها على أبوا‬
ّ ‫ل مقالة فيها يشتمل على أقساٍم وك‬
ّ ‫المثل ّث وك‬
… ‫الفهرست‬

… the simple (sādhaj) [wafq], then, after that, the ringed (muḥallaq),
then the rare (gharīb) wafq, then the adorned (muwashshaḥ) and mixed
(mumtazij), and after all of them the composite (murakkab) one with
another [i.e., composed by joining multiple awfāq]. We conclude it [sc.
the Dīwān] with the wondrous solid (mujassam ʿajīb) wafq and the tri-
angular (shakl muthallath) wafq. We point out rarities and discrepancies

166 This is true for the extant portions of the text. Khawāṣṣ and talismans may, of course,
have been discussed in the missing portion at the beginning of the authors preface or in
the missing bābs at the end of maqāla 8. See above, note 121.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 121

that appear in the passages [from previous works on awfāq] in which they
occur as succinctly as possible, without being unfaithful to any one of
their sources. Rather, we simplify what is obscure in it [i.e., in each source
text] and clarify what is mysterious. We named it The Book of the Collection
of Harmonious Number, and this name suits the thing named, because
my aim in it is to collect all that has been contributed on this [subject]
up to our own day, that is, the year 517AH [1123–1124 CE]. The exposition
of its ordered parts (aqsām) is in simple terms, since all that is wont to
be communicated is in eight books (maqālāt): the first deals with the
required prolegomena (muqaddimāt), the second with the simple wafq
that is vertically, horizontally, and diagonally [harmonious], the third
with the ringed [wafq] that is vertically, horizontally, diagonally, and con-
centrically (iḥāṭatan) [harmonious], the fourth with the rare wafq, the
fifth with the adorned (muwashshaḥ) wafq, the sixth with the mixed glit-
tering (mukhtalaṭ mulammaʿ) [wafq] from what I have mentioned, the
seventh with the solid wafq, and the eighth with the triangular wafq. Each
of these books consists of parts, and each of these parts of chapters and
sections as [shown] in this table of contents.

The treatise is divided into eight books (maqālāt), each successively subdivided
into parts (aqsām), chapters (abwāb), and sections ( fuṣūl). Occasionally a fur-
ther subdivision into “methods” (wujūh) is used that is not mentioned in the
preface or table of contents. These demonstrate individual techniques of con-
struction, each given a rubricated heading with description. The general logical
structure of the Dīwān is as follows.

1 Book (maqāla)
1.1 Part (qism)
1.1.1 Chapter (bāb)
1.1.1.1 Section ( faṣl)
1.1.1.1.1 Method (wajh)

The Dīwān’s distinctive table of contents (fols. 28r–29r) is a work of great clarity
and efficiency, expertly designed to help the reader visualize and navigate the
intricate hierarchy of its divisions in a legible tabular fashion. While unusual,
this type of table of contents is not unique and, as we shall see below, may help
identify or at least contextualize the Dīwān’s author.
Following the preface printed above and the table of contents (fols. 28r–29r),
the Dīwān’s eight books are as follows:
122 hallum

Book I: Introductions (fols. 29v–35v)

Book II: The Simple (sādhaj) Wafq (fols. 35v–58v)
Book III: The Bordered (muḥallaq) Wafq (fols. 58v–80v)
Book IV: The Unique Strange Bordered (al-fard al-gharīb al-muḥallaq)
Wafq (fols. 80v–93v)
Book V: The Adorned (muwashshaḥ) Wafq (fols. 93v–99r)
Book VI: The Mixed (mumtazij) Wafq (fols. 99r–109v)
Book VII: The Solid (mujassam) Wafq (fols. 109v–116v)
Book VIII: The Triangular Harmonious Number (al-ʿadad al-wafq bi-l-
shakl al-muthallath, fols. 116v–119v, defective at end).

The most elaborate and largest wafq in the Dīwān covers a full opening (fols.
108v–109r). It is a composite (murakkab) wafq of 28 × 28 cells, which contains all
the numbers from 1 to 784 and has a magic constant of 10,990. This wafq consists
of sixteen 7×7 awfāq, each containing forty-nine consecutive numbers. Each of
these sixteen 7×7 awfāq is a bordered (muḥallaq) wafq. This means that if the
outer border of cells is removed from any of them, a 5 × 5 wafq remains, and
if the outer border of that 5×5 wafq is removed, a 3 × 3 wafq remains.167 The
middle term (i.e., the number in the central cell) of each of the 7 × 7 (and, thus,
5 × 5 and 3×3) awfāq has been circled, and these circled middle terms form a
4 ×4 wafq with a magic constant of 1570. Unfortunately, the accompanying text
does not attribute this wafq to a particular author, so although it may have been
extracted by the author of the Dīwān from an earlier work, it is only possible to
assign it a terminus ante quem of 517/1123–1124, the composition date of Dīwān.
Even so, the Dīwān is the earliest known text to describe a wafq of such size and
complexity.
As the author the Dīwān says in the preface, he bases his treatise on previ-
ous works of awfāq literature and names explicitly seven authors of such works,
though without mentioning the titles of their treatises. The composition date
(517/1123–1124) given in the author’s preface is lent credence by the fact that,
of these seven authors, none lived later than the sixth/twelfth century. These
authors are presented in Table 3.2 in roughly chronological order.

167 This property of bordered squares to maintain their harmonious (i.e., mathematically
“magic”) qualities with the removal of each successive concentric border (i.e., the cells
of each of the outer rows and columns) is what the author of the Dīwān means when he
says in the preface that the bordered square is harmonious “concentrically” (iḥāṭatan, lit.,
“surroundingly”).
 new light on early arabic awfāq literature
123

figure 3.2 A composite 28× 28 wafq comprising sixteen bordered awfāq. Colored inks on paper. Page
27×18 cm. London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 108v–109r
Image in the Public Domain, available from the Qatar Digital Library.
 124 hallum

table 3.2 Authors of awfāq treaties mentioned in the Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq (asterisks
indicate authors discussed by Sesiano)

Author/date Location(s) of Patron(s) of author Appearance in

author Dīwān168

1 Abū l-Khaṭṭāb Baghdad al-Muhallabī 3.2 (60v–64r), 4.1

al-Mufaḍḍal b. (d. 352/963), wazīr (80v–87r), 5.1 (94r–
Thābit al-Ḥarrānī to Muʿizz al-Dawla, 95v), 5.2 (95v–99r), 6
(d. before 368/978– Buyid amīr (r. 334– (102r–109v)
979) 356/945–967) Total: 50 pages
2* Abū l-Wafāʾ Bāb al-Tibn obser- ʿAḍud al-Dawla, Ṣam- 3.3 (64r–77v), 4.2
al-Būzjānī (d. 388/ vatory, Baghdad ṣām al-Dawla, and (87r–91v), 4.3.1 (91v–
998) (c. 348/960) Sharaf al-Dawla, 92r), 5.1 (94r–95v), 5.2
Buyid amīrs (com- (95v–99r)
bined reigns 367– Total: 52 pages
379/978–989)
3* Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥasan Basra (354– al-Ḥākim bi-Amr 2.1 (35v–40v)
Ibn al-Haytham c. 390/965–c. 1000); Allāh, Fatimid caliph Total: 11 pages
(d. c. 430/1039) Cairo (from c. 390– (r. 386–411/996–1021)
430/c. 1000–1039,
with a gap)
4 Majd al-Dīn al-Amīr ? ? 2.4 (51r–53v), 6.intro
b. Abī Naṣr Manṣūr (on fol. 101v in
b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī square)
(d. early-sixth/ Total: 7 pages
twelfth century?)
5* Abū Ḥātim al- Isfahan (from Jalāl al-Dīn Malik- 2.2 (41r–44v)
Muẓaffar b. Ismāʿīl 476/1074–1075); shāh, Seljuk sultan (r. Total: 8 pages
al-Isfizārī (d. c. Balkh (c. 506/1112) 465–485/1073–1092);
510/1116) Abū l-Muẓaffar Barki-
yāruq, Seljuk sultan
(r. 487–498/1094–
1105); Abū Saʿd Jarrāḥ,
Khwārazmshāh
prince at Balkh

168 Included in this column are lists of all folios in BL, Delhi Arabic 110 (a) on which the given
author is referred to explicitly or (b) which comprise sections of the Dīwān indicated in
their titles or elsewhere as being drawn from the writings of the given author.
 new light on early arabic awfāq literature 125

Table 3.2 Authors of awfāq treaties mentioned in the Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq (cont.)

Author/date Location(s) of Patron(s) of author Appearance in

author Dīwān

6 ʿUmar b. Ibrāhīm Malikshāh observat- Jalāl al-Dīn Malik- 6.1.2 (107v–109v)

al-Khayyāmī ory, Isfahan (from shāh, Seljuk sultan Total: 5 pages
al-Nīsābūrī (d. c. 476/1074–1075); (r. 465–485/1073–
517/1123) Balkh (c. 506/1112); 1092); Abū Saʿd Jarrāḥ,
Marw (after Khwārazmshāh
485/1092) prince at Balkh

7 Abū l-Fatḥ Marw Sanjar b. Malikshāh, 2.5 (53v–58v), 3.4

ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Seljuk sultan (r. 511– (77v–80v), 4.3.2–3
al-Khāzinī (d. after 552/1118–1157) (92r–93v), caption to
525/1130–1131?) squares (fol. 100v–
101r), 7 (109v–116v),
comment on al-
Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit
(fol. 60v)
Total: 40 pages

Comparing the list of awfāq treatise authors in Table 3.2 with that of the
authors discussed by Jacques Sesiano in Table 3.1, we can get a general view
of awfāq authorities, observe pockets of interest in the mathematical study of
awfāq, and suggest chains of transmission of knowledge in this field. First, it
can be seen that authors of awfāq treatises written before the seventh/thir-
teenth century tended to be astronomer-mathematicians, many of whom were
employed at observatories under royal patronage and engaged in the produc-
tion of zījes (books of astronomical tables). Furthermore, concerning the geo-
graphic distribution of these authorities, a concentration is observed in Iraq
in the fourth/tenth century, with important developments to the west in the
fifth/eleventh century (e.g., the Basran Ibn al-Haytham who spent much of
his career in Egypt and Ibn al-Zarqālluh and al-Mālaqī in al-Andalus),169 fol-
lowed by a subsequent eastward movement across Iran into Khurasan in the

169 Ibn al-Zarqālluh and al-Mālaqī’s work on awfāq should, however, not be considered isol-
ated Iberian phenomena but contextualised in the international cultural-scientific scene
that had developed in Islamicate Spain during the so-called orientalisation of Andalus-
126 hallum

first half of the sixth/twelfth century. This geographic pattern of development

may indicate little more than the fact that awfāq treatises were produced in the
major Islamicate centers of political power and scientific patronage as these
shifted to the east, a phenomenon that mirrors the geographic development of
mathematics and astronomy more generally.170 But this eastward shift of awfāq
activities in the period directly preceding the composition of the Dīwān does
allow us to speculate on the location, professional and scholarly affiliation, and
even the identity of the author of the Dīwān.

6 Defining Hubs of awfāq Activity

In the remainder of this article, we look more closely at the two major hubs
of activity in the study of awfāq that have been identified by the manuscript
evidence in Iraq and Iran/Khurasan. Both of these hubs have been partially
highlighted by the work of Sesiano, so we will pay particular attention to awfāq
authorities newly made known by the Dīwān and explore their social and sci-
entific contexts. We will work in reverse chronological order, beginning nearest
in time to the author of the Dīwān and moving backward.

6.1 Seljuk Isfahan and Marw

The three latest authorities drawn upon by the Dīwān, al-Isfizārī, al-Khayyāmī
(better known in Europe as ʿUmar Khayyām, although it is doubtful whether
the poet and mathematician were the same person), and al-Khāzinī, were well
known astronomer-mathematicians of Seljuk-era Iran and Khurasan and were
among the most brilliant scientists of their day. The few biographical details
we have of these three scholars indicate close connections between them.171

ian science in the third–fifth/ninth–eleventh centuries. See Miquel Forcada, “Astronomy,

Astrology and the Sciences of the Ancients in Early al-Andalus (2nd/8th–3rd/9th Centur-
ies),” Zeitschrift für Geschichte der arabisch-islamischen Wissenschaften 16 (2004/05): 1–74;
Julio Samsó, Las ciencias de los antiguos en el Al-Andalus (Almería: Fundación Ibn Tufayl
de Estudios Árabes, 2011), 45–49, and Julio Samsó, “Ibn al-Zarqālluh,” in Encyclopaedia of
Islam, 3rd ed.
170 See Edward S. Kennedy, “The Exact Sciences in Iran Under the Saljuqs and Mongols,” in
The Cambridge History of Iran, ed. John Andrew Boyle (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1968), 5:678.
171 Mohammed Abattouy and Salim al-Hassani, The Corpus of al-Isfizārī in the Sciences of
Weights and Mechanical Devices. New Arabic Texts in Theoretical and Practical Mechan-
ics from the Early XIIth Century. English Translation, Partial Analysis and Historical Context
(London: al-Furqān Islamic Heritage Foundation, 2015), 31–49, and Kennedy, “The Exact
Sciences in Iran,” 674.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 127

Al-Isfizārī and al-Khayyāmī were colleagues under the patronage of Sultan

Malikshāh in the Great Seljuk capital Isfahan, where they collaborated on astro-
nomical observations documented in the Zīj-i Malikshāhī (also known as Zīj-i
Jalālī and Zīj-i Khayyām), which were necessary for the calendrical reforms that
resulted in the establishment of the Jalālī calendar in 471/1079. Later, al-Isfizārī
and al-Khayyāmī are known to have been together in Balkh in 506/1112.172 By
508/1114, al-Khayyāmī had moved east into “the religious, cultural, and intellec-
tual heart of the Islamic world,” to Marw, the capital of the Great Seljuk sultan
Sanjar, where he worked under the patronage of that sultan, with al-Khāzinī as
his pupil.173
It is not known when or where al-Isfizārī died, but the Seljuk historian al-
Bayhaqī (d. 565/1169) relates, probably spuriously, that his death was brought
about by the destruction of a complex hydrostatic balance he had constructed
for the measurement of density. The balance was designed to use the density
of an alloy to ascertain the relative quantities of its constituent metals for the
purpose of testing the purity of gold and silver used for currency. A treasurer
wishing to hide his adulteration of the currency destroyed this balance, so the
story goes, and, when al-Isfizārī learned of its destruction, he fell ill and died.174
Regardless of the veracity of this tale, al-Isfizārī’s interest in hydrostatics and
mechanics more generally is well attested, as is the fact that he did construct
a hydrostatic balance;175 this is another area of study, besides astronomy and
awfāq, that unites al-Isfizārī, al-Khayyāmī, and al-Khāzinī.
Al-Khāzīnī’s best known writing is the Book of the Balance of Wisdom (Kitāb
Mīzān al-ḥikma), a comprehensive survey of literature on densimetry and the

172 Abattouy and al-Hassani, The Corpus of al-Isfizārī, 32–33.

173 Charles-Henri De Fouchécour and Boris A. Rosenfeld, “ʿUmar K̲ h̲ayyām,” in Encyclopaedia
of Islam, 2nd ed. On Central Asia as the heart of the Islamicate world during this period,
see Deborah G. Tor, “The Importance of Khurāsān and Transoxiana in the Classical Islamic
World,” in Medieval Central Asia and the Persianate World: Iranian Tradition and Islamic
Civilisation, ed. Andrew C.S. Peacock and Deborah G. Tor (London: I.B. Tauris, 2015), 4. On
Great Seljuk patronage of the sciences, see Andrew C.S. Peacock, The Great Seljuk Empire
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015), 186–187, and on al-Khāzinī in particular
see George Saliba, “Al-Khāzinī’s Astronomy under the Seljuqs: Inferential Observations
(iʿtibār), Calendars and Instruments,” in The Seljuqs and Their Successors: Art, Culture and
History, ed. Sheila Canby, Deniz Beyazit and Martina Rugiadi (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni-
versity Press, 2020), 180–196.
174 Ẓahīr al-Dīn al-Bayhaqī, Tāʾrīkh ḥukumāʾ al-Islām, ed. Mamdūḥ Ḥasan Muḥammad (Cairo:
Maktabat al-Thaqāfa al-Dīniyyya, 1996), 144; translation in Max Meyerhof, “ʿAlī al-Bay-
haqī’s Tatimmat Ṣiwān al-Ḥikma: A Biographical Work on Learned Men of the Islam,” Osiris
8 (1948): 175–176.
175 See most recently the texts edited in Abattouy and al-Hassani, The Corpus of al-Isfizārī.
128 hallum

practical construction and use of hydrostatic balances, which traces develop-

ments in these areas from Euclid (fl. 300 BCE) and Archimedes (d. 212 BCE)
down to al-Khāzinī’s own day.176 In this work, al-Khāzinī summarizes texts
by both al-Isfizārī and al-Khayyāmī concerning the hydrostatic balance. This
close relationship between these three scholars—who shared interests, per-
sonal relationships of patronage, and training, and wrote on similar subjects
and about each other’s work—should be considered as something of a school
(in the sense of a node in the network of scholars) in which the study of the
awfāq played an important role in the intellectual content of the worldview and
output presented to their patrons. This Seljuk Iṣfahānī/Marwazī school special-
izing in, among other things, mathematical astronomy, mechanics, and awfāq
is of particular interest to us because it seems probable that the author of the
Dīwān was a member of this school himself or at least drew much inspiration
from it.

6.2 The Author of the Dīwān

The first indication that the author of the Dīwān may have been a mem-
ber of the Seljuk school and probably a resident of Marw is its composition
date, 517/1123–1124. When the authorities drawn upon by the Dīwān author are
arranged chronologically there is, as we have seen, a general eastward shift in
their locations, and the last two or three authors (i.e., those who were con-
temporaries of the Dīwān author) were located at Marw. The Dīwān author’s
familiarity with the works of these contemporary authors suggests a proximity
that made their works available to him soon after their publication.
Furthermore, there are notable similarities between the works of al-Khāzinī
and the Dīwān that suggest the strong influence of al-Khāzinī on the Dīwān
author. First, there is a conceptual similarity between the Dīwān and al-Khā-
zinī’s Balance of Wisdom, in that both texts are unusual in approaching theoret-
ical and technical subjects with an eye to charting their historical development,
naming previous authorities, and quoting from their works. While the Dīwān
does not keep to the strictly chronological structure of the Balance of Wisdom,
in both works contributions of previous authorities are kept distinct and clearly
attributed through explicit citations and clear signposting by means of section
headings and diagram captions.
The second similarity between the Dīwān and the works of al-Khāzinī is styl-
istic and has to do with the clear signposting just mentioned. The hierarchical

176 This text has been edited most recently in Abū l-Fatḥ ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Khāzinī, Kitāb
mīzān al-ḥikma, ed. and trans. Faïza Laridhi Bancel (Carthage: Académie Tunisienne des
Sciences des Lettres et des Arts, Beït al-Ḥikma, 2008).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 129

structure of the Dīwān is identical to that of al-Khāzinī’s Zīj for Sanjar (al-Zīj
al-muʿtabar al-Sanjarī) composed at Marw in about 532/1137 and dedicated to
the sultan Sanjar b. Malikshāh.177 Furthermore, the Zīj for Sanjar contains a
table of contents with the same unusual and distinctive layout as that found
in the Dīwān mentioned above.178 Based on this evidence, it is tempting to
suggest that the Dīwān author may have been a close associate of al-Khāzinī,
perhaps his student. An apparent anachronism in the Dīwān, however, raises
some doubts about this. The only author mentioned in the text whose name
is routinely followed by the Islamic benediction formula for the deceased (tar-
ḥīm) is al-Khāzinī. But al-Khāzinī is believed to have died only after 532/1137.179
This means that, while al-Khāzinī was alive for at least a decade and a half
following the composition of the Dīwān in 517/1123–1124, the Dīwān author
appears to have believed he had already died by that date. It is hard to square
these two facts unless a later copyist in the chain of transmission between the
author’s autograph of the Dīwān and the surviving copy added the tarḥīm fol-
lowing al-Khāzinī’s death, but, then, why did other authorities mentioned in
the text not receive the same treatment?180

177 David Pingree (“A Preliminary Assessment of the Problems of Editing the Zīj al-Sanjarī of
al-Khazini,” In Editing Islamic Manuscripts on Science, ed. Yusuf Ibish [London: Al-Furqān
Islamic Heritage Foundation, 1999], 107) gives the composition date as c. 513/1120. In fact,
al-Khāzinī seems to have written his zīj after 10 Rabīʿ I 532/26 November 1137, which is the
latest date mentioned in the chronology of the Seljuk dynasty al-Khāzinī included in the
Zīj for Sanjar (see BL, Or. 6669, fol. 77v, at foot of table). Pingree does not mention the occa-
sional appearance of wujūh in the Zīj for Sanjar, but they can be found in BL, Or. 6669, on
e.g., fols. 22r and 46v, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100029495503.0x000001.
178 See BL, Or. 6669, fols. 2v, 1r, 1v, and 3r and compare with the table of contents in the Dīwān,
Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 28r–29r, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100046596797
.0x000043. Just as in the Dīwān, the sections of the Zīj for Sanjar called wujūh are not
included in the table of contents. See also the similar table of contents in al-Khāzinī’s
Book of the Balance of Wisdom, University of Pennsylvania, LJS 386, pp. 17 [= 15] and 18 [=
16], http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/d/medren/4824919. A less complex predecessor of
the type of table of contents employed in the works of al-Khāzinī and in the Dīwān can be
seen in Abū Rayḥan Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Bīrūnī’s (d. c. 440/1048) Canon for Masʿūd
(al-Qānūn al-Masʿūdī, see BL, Or. 1997, fols. 2r–5r, https://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/
vdc_100022880536.0x000001).
179 For further evidence that al-Khāzinī was still alive in 517/1123–1124, see Pingree, “A Pre-
liminary Assessment,” 105, who states that al-Khāzinī published a Summary of the Zīj for
the Sultan (Wajīz al-zīj al-muʿtabir al-sulṭānī), an abridgment of his own Zīj for Sanjar, in
525/1130–1131.
180 A second apparent anachronism in the Dīwān is that its author follows the first mention
of Majd al-Dīn al-Amīr b. Abū Naṣr Manṣūr b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī with benedictions that
show that the author believed this scholar still to be alive (fol. 51r). I have not, however,
been able positively to identify this scholar, who seems to have been a son of the math-
130 hallum

Could the Dīwān author be among those studied by Sesiano and listed in
Table 3.1? Because the Dīwān author would not have listed himself as a pre-
vious authority on awfāq, he cannot be among the authors listed in Table 3.2.
If we remove these authors from the list in Table 3.1, also discarding authorit-
ies who lived too early to have written the Dīwān in 517/1123–1124, two authors
remain: (a) the unknown author of the anonymous text edited in Sesiano, “Un
compilation arabe” (text 9 in Table 3.1), and (b) Jamāl al-Zamān ʿAbd al-Jabbār
b. ʿAbd al-Jabbār Abū Muḥammad al-Kharaqī (d. 533/1138–1139), who flourished
at Marw and wrote the Epitome on the Harmonious Number (Talkhīṣ fī l-ʿadad al-
wafq; text 8 in Table 3.1). The anonymous author lists only three awfāq author-
ities in his text, one of whom (Ibn al-Haytham) is discussed in the Dīwān, but
another of whom (al-Anṭākī, see text 1 in Table 3.1 for references) is not men-
tioned in the Dīwān; the third author appears in the unique manuscript of that
text as Abū Ḥātim Muẓaffar al-Isfarāyinī, which Sesiano correctly emends to
Abū Ḥātim Muẓaffar al-Isfizārī.181 If the error in this name was made by the
author of the text rather than by a later copyist, then this, plus the references
to al-Anṭākī, missing from the Dīwān, make it unlikely that the unknown author
of this text is the Dīwān author. As for al-Kharaqī, both the title of his treatise
and the Dīwān contain the phrase al-ʿadad al-wafq,182 so it might be hoped that
the Epitome of the Harmonious Number is an epitome of the Dīwān (full title:
Collection of the Harmonious Number). Unfortunately, a comparison between
the contents of the two treatises reveals little other similarity in terms of ter-
minology, structure, or subject matter. So, although there is some overlap in
terminology and authorities used in the anonymous treatise and in the Dīwan
and the date and location of al-Kharaqī match those expected for the Dīwān
author, the available evidence does not permit a positive identification. It is
therefore probable that the Dīwān author does not appear in Table 3.1.

ematician and astronomer Abū Naṣr Manṣūr b. ʿAlī b. ʿIrāq (d. c. 427/1036), a student of
al-Būzjānī and teacher of al-Bīrūnī. If this identification is correct, it is difficult to ima-
gine that Ibn ʿIrāq’s son could have outlived his father by more than eighty-five years,
which must have been the case had he still been alive at the time of the Dīwān’s com-
position.
181 Süleymaniye, Fatıh 3439, fol. 181r, line 25 and Sesiano, “Une compilation arabe,” 138, 168
(translation) and 185 (text). The error in the manuscript is probably due to confusion with
the name of the theologian Abū al-Muẓaffar al-Isfarāyinī (d. 471/1078–1079).
182 The anonymous treatise just discussed also uses the phrase al-ʿadad al-wafq, but it is not
known if it appeared in the work’s lost title (Sesiano, “Une compilation arabe,” 173).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 131

6.3 Awfāq in the Renaissance of Islam

The other hub of awfāq activity, Buyid Baghdad, is also already known through
the work of Sesiano. There, in the latter half of the fourth/tenth century, around
the time the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity were written or shortly thereafter,
Abū l-Qāsim ʿAlī al-Anṭākī (d. 376/987) and Abū l-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī (d. 388/998)
worked and wrote awfāq treatises under the patronage of Aḍud al-Dawla (r.
338–372/949–983) and subsequent Buyid amirs (see Table 3.1). Just as it did for
the awfāq hub in Seljuk Isfahan and Marw, the Dīwān introduces us to a new
Baghdādī authority, adding to the sense of there having been a school of awfāq
thought in Buyid Baghdad.
As mentioned above, it is reported by Ibn al-Qifṭī, on the authority of Abū ʿAlī
al-Muḥassin b. Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābiʾ, that Thābit b. Qurra wrote a treatise on
awfāq, but this text is not mentioned by any author independent of Ibn al-Qifṭī.
No trace of this work has been found, but the Dīwān introduces us to the pre-
viously unsuspected author of the earliest known awfāq treatise, al-Mufaḍḍal
b. Thābit al-Ḥarrānī, providing new details about this author and his work, as
well as insights into the Harranian Sabian community of Buyid Baghdad.
At first glance, the name al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ḥarrānī appears to belong
to one of the sons of Thābit b. Qurra. This identification even appears to be
confirmed by the fact that, at one point in the Dīwān, we find him mistakenly
referred to as al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit b. Qurra (fol. 80v, title to Book 4, Part 1, see
below). In fact, however, this al-Mufaḍḍal is from another Harranian Sabian
family in Baghdad descended not from Qurra but from Zahrūn (see Table 3.3).
Keeping the two families distinct is not always easy, however, due not only to
intermarriage but also to the popularity of certain names in the Sabian com-
munity at Baghdad. Al-Mufaḍḍal’s father, for example, shared not only his ism
(Thābit) with Thābit b. Qurra but also the kunya Abū l-Ḥasan as well as the
nisbas al-Ḥarrānī and al-Ṣābiʾ. This, combined with Thābit b. Qurra’s family’s
reputation as mathematicians makes accidental co-option of al-Mufaḍḍal into
the line of Thābit b. Qurra all but inevitable.
The Harranian Sabian identity of al-Mufaḍḍal, the fact that no other math-
ematical texts are attributed to him, and confusion with Thābit b. Qurra in the
manuscript of the Dīwān itself all suggest that al-Muḥassin b. Ibrāhīm al-Ṣābiʾ’s
list of works by Thābit b. Qurra, which was copied by Ibn al-Qifṭī, erroneously
contained a work actually by al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit, al-Muḥassin b. Ibrāhīm’s
first cousin once removed (i.e., his great uncle’s son). At any rate, regardless of
whether Thābit b. Qurra did indeed write a lost awfāq treatise or whether he
has merely received credit for a work actually written by al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit,
the Dīwān provides fascinating details of what is now the earliest known awfāq
treatise. But what do we already know about its Sabian author?
132 hallum

figure 3.3 Family tree of the Harranian Sabians of Baghdad

After François C. de Blois, “Ṣābiʾ,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd
ed., and Muhammad Yonis Abdel All Riḍwan, “Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-
Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ṣābiʾ wa-mā tabqā min nathrihi: nathr
wa-dirāsa,” Majallat Jāmiʿat al-Malik Saʿūd 2, al-Ādāb 1 (1990): 39

7 The Earliest Known Awfāq Author

The Ḥarrānians can easily be made into secret agents or scapegoats of

intellectual history … precisely because so little is known about them.183

Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit b. Ibrāhīm b. Zahrūn al-Ṣābiʾ al-Ḥarrānī (b.

c. 315/927–928, d. before 368/978–979) is unknown to the history of science, and
most references to him in pre-modern literature concern his poetry.184 Apart

183 Kevin van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes: From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2009), 81.
184 See above, Table 3.2, author 1. The only modern study devoted to Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-
Mufaḍḍal is Riḍwan, “Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ṣābiʾ,” in which the fra-
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 133

from the discussion of his treatise on awfāq in the Dīwān, there is no indica-
tion in the historical record that he produced scientific literature or had strong
interests in the sciences. His family context was, however, conducive to such
interests.
Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal was born into an influential family of Sabian
physicians at Baghdad, descended from a certain Zahrūn, who lived in the gen-
eration of Thābit b. Qurra. Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s father, Abū l-Ḥasan
Thābit b. Ibrāhīm b. Zahrūn (d. 365 or 369/976 or 980), was an elite physician
in early Buyid Baghdad and an older friend and colleague to Thābit b. Qurra’s
grandson Abū l-Ḥasan Thābit b. Sinān (d. 365/976).185 Beyond practicing medi-
cine, Thābit b. Ibrāhīm translated Greek texts into Arabic (perhaps via Syriac
intermediaries), wrote medical writings of his own, and perhaps studied math-
ematics.186

gments of his poetry are assembled and discussed and a list of primary sources men-
tioning Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal is given on p. 38, n. 1. See also Daniel Abramovich
Chwolson, Die Ssabier Und Der Ssabismus (St. Petersburg: Kaiserliche Akademie der Wis-
senschaften, 1856), 1:586.
185 Abū l-Haṣan Thābit b. Ibrāhīm was probably the character intended by the Muʿtazilī theo-
logian ʿAbd al-Jabbār b. Aḥmad al-Hamadhānī (d. c. 415/1024) when he claimed that Abū
l-Ḥasan b. Zahrūn al-Ṣābiʾ al-Ḥarrānī was “the principal and chief of medical science in
Baghdad” (wāḥid al-ṭibb bi-Baghdād wa-raʾīsuhu; ʿAbd al-Jabbār b. Aḥmad al-Hamadhānī,
Tathbīt dalā’il al-nubuwwa, ed. ʿAbd al-Karīm ʿUthmān [Beirut: Dār al-ʿArabiyya lil-Ṭibāʿa
wa-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzīʿ, 1966], 619; on ʿAbd al-Jabbār see Margaretha T. Heemskerk, “ʿAbd
al-Jabbār b. Aḥmad al-Hamadhānī,”Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.). The popularity of the
kunya Abū l-Ḥasan among the Sabians of Baghdad seems to have confused premodern and
modern editors alike; for example, Gregor Schwarb, who cites in translation the passage
referring to Abū l-Ḥasan b. Zahrūn al-Ṣābiʾ al-Ḥarrānī, can hardly be blamed for identi-
fying this character as Thābit b. Qurra without further comment (“Early Kalām and the
Medical Tradition,” in Philosophy and Medicine in the Formative Period of Islam, ed. Peter
Adamson and Peter E. Pormann [London: Warburg Institute, 2017], 134; I adapt Schwarb’s
translation here). Details of Thābit b. Ibrāhīm’s medical career are found in Ibn al-Qifṭī,
Tāʾrīkh al-ḥukamāʾ (ed. Müller and Lippert), 111–115, and 396 line 11 and IAU, 1:227–230. Bar
Hebraeus (d. 685/1286), Taʾrikh mukhtasar al-duwal, ed. Khalīl al-Manṣūr (Beirut: Dār al-
Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyya, 1997), 152, relates an anecdote in which Thābit b. Ibrāhīm’s prodigious
diagnostic skills are said to be “prophesy not medicine” (nubuwwa lā ṭibb), and their ori-
gins are discerned in his natal horoscope.
186 Al-Nadīm, Fihrist, ed. Flügel, Roediger, and Müller, 1:292 and 303 (trans. in al-Nadīm, The
Fihrist of al-Nadīm, ed and trans. Dodge, 696 and 710) lists four of his literary works: (1–
2) translations of two medical treatises by Philagrios (on whom see John Scarborough,
“Philagrios of Ēpeiros (300–340 CE),” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient Natural Scientists: The
Greek Tradition and Its Many Heirs, ed. Paul Keyser and Georgia Irby-Massie, 643–644.
[London and New York: Routledge, 2008]), (3) a correction (iṣlāḥ, presumably a recen-
sion of the Arabic translation produced in 318/930) of some chapters from the Syriac
Pandects (Kunnāsh) of Yūḥannā (or Yaḥyā) Ibn Sarābiyyūn (or Sarāfiyyūn, fl. latter half
134 hallum

Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal is generally overshadowed by his older and more

famous cousin Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābiʾ (d. 384/994), the great-
grandson of Thābit b. Qurra, and his rivalry with this cousin all but defines
him in the literature. Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal and Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm were
among the first generation of Harranian Sabians to serve as chancery secretar-
ies (kuttāb dīwān al-inshāʾ) to the Abbasid and Buyid courts. Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm
found greater political success than his younger cousin. He achieved great
fame, first as secretary to the Abbasid caliph al-Muṭīʿ (r. 334–363/946–974), then
as chief secretary (ṣāḥib dīwān al-inshāʾ) to the Buyid amīrs of Iraq from Muʿizz
al-Dawla to Bahāʾ al-Dawla (combined reigns 324–403/945–1012).187 It was per-
haps through his cousin’s intercession that Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal entered
the circle and patronage of Abū Muḥammad al-Muhallabī (d. 352/963), vizier
to Muʿizz al-Dawla (r. 324–356/936–67), where he consorted with some of the
greatest minds of his day.188 Although nothing is known of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-

of third/ninth century; see IAU, 1:174–175, and Ullmann, Medizin im Islam, 102), and (4) a
Book of Answers to Questions Asked of Him. No mathematical work attributed to Thābit b.
Ibrāhīm is known, but an interest in mathematics is suggested by his appearance in a list
of the students (talāmīdh) of Thābit b. Qurra in a section of al-Nādim’s Fihrist (ed. Flügel,
Roediger, and Müller, 1:272) devoted to the “Class of Modern Geometers and Masters of
Mechanics, Numbers and the like” (Ṭabaqat muḥdathīn min al-muhandisīn wa-aṣḥāb al-
ḥiyal wa-l-aʿdād wa-ghayrih). It is, however, chronologically difficult to imagine that Thābit
b. Ibrāhīm studied with Thābit b. Qurra in person, because the former is thought to have
been no older than eight when the latter died. Thābit b. Ibrāhīm’s propensity for math-
ematics is reiterated by al-Bayhaqī, Tāʾrīkh ḥukamāʾ al-Islām, 90 (trans. in Meyerhof, “ʿAlī
al-Bayhaqī’s Tatimmat Siwān al-Hikma,” 152), who also calls him a “sage of the falsafa tra-
dition” (ḥakīm mutafalsif ).
187 For a précis of Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s political career and his role in the creation of Buyid
dynastic propaganda, see Wilferd Madelung, “Abū Isḥāq al-Ṣābī on the Alids of Ṭabaristān
and Gīlān,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 26, no. 1 (1967): 17–56. To the bibliography of
Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s edited official letters given by Madelung, one can now add Klaus
U. Hachmeier, Die Briefe Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm al-Ṣābiʾs (st. 384/994A.H./A.D.) (Hildesheim:
Georg Olms, 2002) and Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābiʾ, Dīwān Rasāʾil al-Sābī, ed. Iḥsān
Dhannūn al-Thāmirī, 2 vols. (London: Muʾassasat al-Furqān lil-Tūrāth al-Islāmī, 2017),
which contains letters referring or addressed to Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal in 1:253–256,
620–621, 624–626 and 2:620–622. Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm was taken as a case study of elite
Sabian success in Abbasid/Buyid society in Alexandre M. Roberts, “Being a Sabian at Court
in Tenth-Century Baghdad,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 137, no. 2 (2017), 253–
277. See also van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes, 97, n. 144 and 106–108.
188 On the circle of al-Muhallabī, see Joel L. Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam.
The Cultural Revival during the Buyid Age (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 54–55. One of the two anec-
dotes about Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal not relating to his poetry—both preserved by Abū
Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī (d. 414/1023)—is set in al-Muhallabī’s majlis. In this anecdote we find
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 135

Mufaḍḍal’s scientific pursuits apart from his interest in awfāq, more can be said
about those of his cousin Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm, and these may at least suggest
Abū l-Khaṭṭāb’s own interests.
Although best remembered as the consummate secretary, master of adab,
prose stylist, and poet, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm began his career, following family tra-
dition, as a hospital physician before abandoning that path on account of a dis-
taste for medicine.189 Throughout his subsequent secretarial career, however,
he kept up his scientific activities in the other family specialties: mathemat-
ics and astronomy. His correspondence concerning questions of geometry and
mechanics with the mathematician and astronomer Abū Sahl al-Kūhī (d. c.
384/995)—himself an associate of the awfāq author Abū l-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī
at Baghdad’s Bāb al-Tibn observatory—are partially extant, while the book of
astronomical tables (zīj) and treatise on geometry he produced for the Buyid
amīr ʿAḍud al-Dawla have not survived.190
Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm was also a noted maker of scientific instruments. He is
known to have constructed an astrolabe for Qābūs b. Wushmgīr, the Ziyārid
ruler of Tabaristan and Gurgan (r. 367–371/978–981 and 387–402/997–1012), and
he combined his skills in mathematical astronomy with his poetic talents in the
miniature astrolabes he constructed for ʿAḍud al-Dawla and his son Ṣamṣām al-
Dawla (r. 372–388/983–998), both of which were presented with accompanying
poems.191

a snippet of a conversation between Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal and his cousin, in which
Abū l-Khaṭṭāb asks Abū Isḥāq about the physiological and temperamental basis for dif-
ferences in thought and opinion amongst various people. In the second anecdote we find
Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal in discussion with Abū Sulaymān al-Sijistānī (d. 375/985), a
philosopher of the so-called Baghdad School of Aristotelians around the Jacobite philo-
sopher Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī (d. 363/974), and approving of Abū Sulaymān’s reformulations of Sufi
sentiments in philosophical language. For both anecdotes, see Kraemer, Philosophy in the
Renaissance of Islam, 75–76.
189 On Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s upbringing and education, see Muḥammad al-Dībājī, al-Udabāʾ
al-Ṣābiʾa fī l-ʿaṣr al-ʿAbbāsī (Casablanca: Manshūrat Jāmiʿat al-Ḥasan al-Thānī, 1989), 53–
74; his abortive medical career is discussed on 55–56.
190 On al-Kūhī, see J. Len Berggren, “Kūhī: Abū Sahl Wījan ibn Rustam [Wustam] al-Kūhī [al-
Qūhī],” in BEA. Their correspondence has been edited and translated in J. Len Berggren,
“The Correspondence of Abū Sahl al-Kūhī and Abū Isḥāq al-Ṣābī: A Translation with Com-
mentaries,” Journal for the History of Arabic Science 7, nos. 1–2 (1983): 39–124. On Abū
Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s lost zīj and geometrical treatise, see Roberts, “Being a Sabian,” 266, and
Mohamed Abuzayd, David A. King, and Petra G. Schmidl, “From a Heavenly Arabic Poem
to an Enigmatic Judaeo-Arabic Astrolabe,” Suhayl 10 (2011): 87–88.
191 See Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam and its Place in the General History of the Obser-
136 hallum

Alexandre M. Roberts argues convincingly that much of Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s

scientific output can be viewed, at least in part, as a conscious attempt to
emphasize the distinctive attributes of his Sabian religious minority status
(special mastery of mathematical and astronomical/astrological arts) in the
hope of increasing his own cachet and cultural capital.192 A similarly overt
expression of Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm’s Sabianism can be seen in an anecdote
about a dinner at the house of the vizier Abū Muḥammad al-Muhallabī, at
which Abū Isḥāq refused to eat on account of the presence on the table of
fava beans, which were forbidden by Sabian dietary laws as they were by
the Pythagorean precept (kuámōn apékhesthai—a fabis abstine—abstain from
fava beans).193
Such a desire to highlight his Sabian uniqueness may well have been part of
Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s own motivation in writing his treatise on awfāq.
At least since the appearance of the “Epistle on Geometry” in the Epistles of the
Brethren of Purity (2.26) in the mid-fourth/tenth century, the talismanic func-
tion of the awfāq had been considered part of astral magic. Therefore, by their
mathematical and astral characteristics, awfāq could well have been expected
to fall within the realm of Sabian expertise: the awfāq were part of what Roberts
has called the “Ṣābian brand,” even though they had not originated with the
Sabians.194

7.1 Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ṣābiʾ al-Ḥarrānī in the

Dīwān
From a historiographical point of view, the most unusual and valuable aspect
of the Dīwān is that its author explicitly names his sources and indicates clearly
which sections of the Dīwān are attributable to which authority. Judging by
the wide range of subjects covered by the Dīwān that are attributed to Abū l-
Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal, we can assume that his lost treatise on awfāq was not
a brief work. These subjects include the bordered (muḥallaq) wafq (fols. 60v–
64r), the unique, rare bordered (al-fard al-gharīb al-muḥallaq) wafq (fols. 80v–

vatory (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 1960), 158; and François Charette, “The Loc-
ales of Islamic Scientific Instrumentation,” History of Science 44 (2006): 133 and Abuzayd,
King, and Schmidl, “From a Heavenly Arabic Poem,” 85–96.
192 See Roberts, “Being a Sabian.”
193 Abū Manṣūr al-Thaʿālibī (d. 430/1038), Yatīmat al-dahr fī maḥāsin ahl al-ʿaṣr, ed. Mufīd
Muḥammad Qumayḥa (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 2000), 2:288–289, cited by van
Bladel, The Arabic Hermes, 97, n. 144, and Roberts, “Being a Sabian,” 260.
194 Roberts, “Being a Sabian,” 269.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 137

87r),195 the adorned (muwashshaḥ) wafq (fols. 94r–95v), a construction tech-

nique called the balanced mixture (al-mizāj al-muʿtadil) (fols. 95v–99r), and
awfāq of mixed (mumtazij) composition (fol. 102r–109v).
After mentioning Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s adorned wafq and balanced
mixture, the author of the Dīwān claims that Abū l-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī “alluded
to” (ashāra ilayhi) the adorned wafq and “presented in his book” (awradahu …
fī kitābihi) the balanced mixture. The Dīwān author does this in such a way as to
imply that Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal treatise on awfāq predated al-Būzjānī’s.
This is not unlikely, given the age difference between the two authorities (al-
Būzjānī was born in 328/940 and al-Mufaḍḍal in about 315/927).196
The preface to maqāla 3, qism 2 of the Dīwān (fol. 60v, lines 1–12) contains a
long quotation from Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s treatise in which he describes
his own autodidactic initiation into awfāq studies and the books he consulted
along the way. This passage is especially noteworthy because it preserves the
earliest known awfāq author discussing his predecessors in the field. It is thus
the earliest known source for the history of mathematical interests in awfāq.
The fact that this passage is historical rather than legendary sets it apart from
other known Arabic discussions of the origins of awfāq, which, as we have
seen, attribute their discovery and transmission to legendary figures, such as
Fereydūn and Thales, who had nothing to do with them. This passage is full of
details about Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s context, resources, and hermeneutic
methodology, as well as several obscure references and phrases, so it warrants
transcribing and translating in full here.

‫القسم الثاني من الوفق المحل ّق‬

‫ضل بن ثابت الحراّ ني على سبيل الحكاية دون البرهان‬
ّ ‫في اختصار ما أورده المف‬

195 This section contains a wafq of 19× 19 cells (fol. 86v), the largest in any of the sections of the
Dīwān attributed to Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal, and, indeed, one of the largest to appear
in the Dīwān or in other early awfāq literature.
196 See Behnaz Hashemipour, “Būzjānī: Abū al-Wafāʾ Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad ibn
Yaḥyā al-Būzjānī,” in BEA, and Ulrich Rebstock, “Abū l-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī,” in Encyclopaed-
ia of Islam, 3rd ed. Al-Būzjānī’s only surviving work on awfāq, the Book on the Arrange-
ment of the Harmonious Number in Squares (Kitāb fī tartīb al-ʿadad al-wafq fī l-murabbaʿāt),
has been studied and partially edited and translated by Sesiano, Magic Squares in the
Tenth Century, 207–252 (translation), 335–381 (text), and Sesiano, “Le Traité d’Abū’l-
Wafāʾ sur les carrés magiques,” who does not, however, indicate that it contains refer-
ences to Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal or, for that matter, to any other previous author-
ities.
138 hallum

‫ كان أّول معرفتي بأمر العدد الوفق جدول الثلثة الذي ذكره نيقوماخس في‬:‫[ قال‬1]
‫[ ثم ّ وقع إلى أبي الٰقسم الحجازي جدول الأر بعة الذي يبتدئ من الواحد‬2] ‫الأرثماطيقي‬
‫[ ثم ّ وجدت جدول الست ّة على ظهر‬3] ‫جب منه‬
ّ ‫يتفاضل واحٍد واحٍد إلى ست ّة عشر وكان تع‬
‫[ ثم ّ وقع إليّ كتاب فيه ثلثة أو أر بعة جداول مما دون العشرة‬4] ‫كتاب أقليدس نسخة ِ إسحق‬
‫ على أكثرهما حتى لا‬197‫ض‬
ُ َ ‫[ ثم ّ وجدت في خزانة من كتب شيوخنا كتابين قد أتت الَأر‬5]
‫[ وكان المختصر منهما بخّط الماهاني والورقة الأولى من الأكثر بخّط‬6] ‫يفهم منهما إلّا اليسر‬
‫[ ولاح‬8] ‫[ فنظرت فيهما فوجدت استخراجهما متعب ًا جًّدا‬7] ‫ بن موسى النو بختي‬198‫الحسن‬
‫ل واحد منهما بما سلم من صاحبه و بأْن يقوم في‬
ّ ‫لي أن ّه تهيأّ أْن يستخرج بعض ما تلف من ك‬
ُ ‫[ فابتدأت ذلك واستعن‬9] ‫ح العرض‬
‫ت الله‬ ّ ‫النفس المعنى فيقام اللفظ مقام اللفظة حتى يص‬
.‫ طول اختصرناه مؤامرة ً وجدول ًا‬199‫ كان في تصنيفه‬:‫[ وقال الخازني‬10] ‫عليه‬

Part Two of the Bordered Wafq:

Summary of what al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ḥarrānī presented by way of
narrative, without proofs

[1] He said: “My knowledge of the harmonious number began with the
grid of three ( jadwal al-thalātha) mentioned by Nicomachus [of Gerasa]
in the Arithmetic. [2] Then Abū l-Qāsim al-Ḥijāzī came upon the grid of
four ( jadwal al-arbaʿa), which begins from one and increases ( yatafāḍal)
one by one to sixteen, and he was amazed by it. [3] Then I found the grid
of six ( jadwal al-sitta) on the flyleaf (ẓahr al-kitāb)200 of Isḥāq’s text201 of
the book of Euclid. [4] Next, I came upon a book in which were three or
four of the grids below [the order] ten. [5] Then, in a storehouse of the

197 ‫ض‬ُ َ ‫ ]الَأر‬scripsi: ‫ الأرضية‬cod.

198 ‫ ]الحسن‬scripsi: ‫ الحسين‬cod.
199 ‫ ]تصنيفه‬scripsi: ‫ تصنفه‬cod.
200 The ẓahr al-kitāb is the “recto of the first folio” of a manuscript, often used as a flyleaf or
title page, a typical location for owners’ inscriptions, seal impressions, and other notes. See
Adam Gacek, “Ownership Statements and Seals in Arabic Manuscripts,”Manuscripts of the
Middle East 2 (1987): 88, and Adam Gacek, The Arabic Manuscript Tradition. A Glossary of
Technical Terms and Bibliography (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 96.
201 Reading nuskhati Isḥāq (“of Isḥāq’s text”) rather than nasakhahu Isḥāq (“copied by Isḥāq”).
Although the points on the presumed tāʾ marbūṭa of ‫ نسخة‬are not present in the manu-
script, I prefer this reading for reasons mentioned below and because, properly speaking,
the relative pronoun allādhī would be needed after the definite kitāb Ūqlīdis if “the Book
of Euclid copied by Isḥāq” were meant.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 139

books of our elders, I found two books so destroyed by termites that only
a little of each of them could be made out. [6] The shorter (mukhtaṣar
[lit., “abridgment, summary”]) of the two was [copied] by the hand of
al-Māhānī, and the first folio of the longer was [copied] by the hand of
al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā al-Nawbakhtī. [7] When I read them, I found compre-
hending them extremely fatiguing ( fa-wajadtu istikhrājahumā muʿtiban
jiddan),202 [8] but it occurred to me that it was possible to derive some
of what was damaged in each one of them from what had survived in
the other and from the fact that, because they deal with the same sub-
ject, the same terminology is used in the same ways, so that the collation
can be confirmed. [9] So I began this [task], asking for God’s assistance in
it.” [10] Al-Khāzinī said, “His [sc. Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s] work con-
tains the whole of what we have summarized by way of instruction [i.e.,
algorithm?] and tabulation (muʾāmaratan wa-jadwalan).”

It is not the custom in the Dīwān for qāla (“he said”) to introduce the authorial
voice, which is typically introduced in this treatise by the 1st person plural nad-
hkuru/dhakarnā (“we will mention/we mentioned”). The use of qāla to intro-
duce this passage thus indicates a quotation or paraphrase of a voice other
than that of the author, namely that of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal.203 It is also
linguistically significant that al-Mufaḍḍal uses the term “harmonious number”
(al-ʿadad al-wafq) to refer to the subject of his treatise: the “magic constant,”
which stands by synecdoche for the awfāq themselves (i.e., for the harmoni-
ous arrangements of the numbers in their grids [ jadāwil]) and, by extension,
for the science that seeks to understand these arrangements. This same term is
found in the titles of the earliest known awfāq treatises, such as that attributed
to Thābit b. Qurra and that by al-Būzjānī.204

202 ُ ‫“( ا ِْست ِْخر َا‬the eliciting of the meaning of that which
Cf. the saying ِ‫ج المعُ َ َمّى م َت ْعبَ ةَ ٌ للِ ْ خوَ َاطِر‬
is made enigmatical is a cause of fatigue to minds”) transmitted by al-Zamakhsharī
(d. 538/1144; Asās, s.v. ‫تعب‬, cited in Edward William Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon,
Derived from the Best and Most Copious Eastern Sources … [Beirut: Librarie du Liban, 1863],
s.v. ‫ استخراج‬and ‫)تعب‬. The translation is Lane’s.
203 Cf. The beginning of maqāla 4, qism 1 of the Dīwān, “On the unique, strange bordered
[wafq] mentioned by al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit b. Qurra (!) in his book by way of narrative”
( fī l-fard al-gharīb al-muḥallaq allādhī dhakarahu al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit b. Qurra fī kitābihi
ʿalā sabīl al-ḥikāya, fol. 80v, lines 19–21), which also starts with qāla introducing the quo-
tation or paraphrase from his treatise.
204 On this term see above, note 134. For examples of early awfāq treatises with titles contain-
ing this term, see Tables 3.1 and 3.2.
140 hallum

The passage takes the form of a stylized discovery narrative, so we should

recognize that Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal is not simply recording a biblio-
graphy that can be taken at face value.205 Stylistics aside, it is significant that, al-
though Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal was himself a Sabian, the authorities from
which he claims to have drawn his knowledge of awfāq are not Sabians but
rather a Graeco-Roman Pythagorean, a Nestorian Christian, a Persian Shiʿi Mus-
lim, and Arab Sunnis. Far from indicating that awfāq were initially secret know-
ledge or the special preserve of Sabian scholars, Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s
sources suggest that interest in awfāq was widespread and, more generally, that
they are illustrative of the cosmopolitan and collaborative intellectual scene in
Abbasid/Buyid Baghdad and of the Sabian engagement with that scene.
It is curious to see that the first of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s sources is
the Arithmetical Introduction by the Neopythagorean philosopher and math-
ematician Nicomachus of Gerasa (d. c. 120 CE), in which Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-
Mufaḍḍal claims to have found the 3×3 wafq. The text of the Arithmetical Intro-
duction survives in the original Greek and in an Arabic translation by Thābit
b. Qurra, but neither of these texts mentions awfāq.206 Although the Arith-
metical Introduction itself does not discuss awfāq, the third and only extant
chapter of a Commentary on the Arithmetical [Introduction] (Kitāb tafsīr al-
Arithmāṭīqī) by Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s contemporary Abū l-Qāsim ʿAlī al-
Anṭākī (d. 376/987) is devoted in part to awfāq, from 3 × 3 to 12 × 12. Perplexingly,
there is no discernible connection between Nicomachus’s text and al-Anṭākī’s
commentary.207 Why both al-Mufaḍḍal and al-Anṭākī should relate the Arith-
metical Introduction to awfāq is a mystery, but if Vinel is correct in his claim that
there are veiled allusions to magic squares in Iamblichus’s commentary on the
Arithmetical Introduction (see §2.1 above), perhaps the tradition of that com-
mentary had some influence on Arabic authors of the fourth/tenth century.

205 The idea, for example, that Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal came upon the awfāq in more or
less consecutive order, learning first of the 3 × 3 wafq, then the 4×4 etc., is surely a literary
conceit.
206 The Greek text is edited in Nicomachi Geraseni Pythagorei Introductionis arithmeticae
libri II, ed. Richard Gottfried Hoche (Leipzig: Teubner, 1866), and translated into Eng-
lish in Nicomachus of Gerasa, Introduction to Arithmetic, trans. Martin Luther D’Ooge
(New York: Macmillan, 1926). The Arabic version is edited in Ṯābit B. Qurra’s arabische
Übersetzung der “Arithmētikē eisagōgē” des Nikomachos von Gerasa, ed. Wilhelm Kutsch
(Beirut: Imprimerie Catholique, 1959). Kutsch’s text, without apparatus, is available in “A
Digital Corpus for Graeco-Arabic Studies,” https://www.graeco‑arabic‑studies.org/single
‑text/text/kutsch‑87.html, and a digital surrogate of the manuscript from which Kutsch
edited the text (BL, Add. MS 7473, fols. 122r–164r [seventh/thirteenth century]) is available
at http://www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100023677047.0x00000f.
207 See Sesiano, Magic Squares in the Tenth Century, 15.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 141

It is unclear whether the Abū l-Qāsim al-Ḥijāzī mentioned in sentence 2 is an

authority read by Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal or a personal acquaintance of his.
Either way, I have found no mathematical texts attributed to an author of that
name, who may, however, be identifiable with the author of the Supplement-
ary History (al-Taʾrīkh al-mulḥaq) and scribe of a copy of the Book of Internal
Reports (Kitāb al-akhbār al-dākhila) seen by Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s con-
temporary, the bibliographer al-Nadīm.208
The next source is even more obscure. If I am correct in reading “Isḥāq’s text
of the book of Euclid,” this is probably a reference to Isḥāq b. Ḥunayn’s (d. c.
298/910) translation of Euclid’s (fl. c. 300BCE) Elements. Al-Mufaḍḍāl does not,
however, specify the identity of the author of the awfāq he saw on the flyleaf of
that book.
Sentences 5–9 give us our best insight into Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s
world. Sentence 5 tells us that an ancestral library at Baghdad contained at
least two manuscripts on awfāq, but to whom did al-Mufaḍḍal refer as “our eld-
ers” (shuyūkhunā)? With whom was he identifying when he wrote “our”? It is
tempting to think that he meant the elders of the Sabian community at Bagh-
dad, but there are other plausible explanations.209 For example, he may have
been referring to the elders of some other group of which he felt a part, such
as the majlis around the vizier al-Muhallabī. Sentence 6 identifies the scribes,
but not the authors, of the two manuscripts he found in this ancestral library,
the shorter of which is said to be an abridgment (mukhtaṣar) of the longer. The
two scribes are, in their own right, illustrious characters from late third/ninth-
century intellectual history: the abridgment was copied by the mathematician
Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad b. ʿĪsā al-Māhānī (d. c. 275/888), while at least the
first folio of the longer manuscript was copied by the Shiʿi Muʿtazilī mutakallim
al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā l-Nawbakhtī (d. between 300/912 and 310/922), descendant of
the Persian astrologer Nawbakht (who assisted in the calculations for the elec-
tion of the most propitious moment for the founding of Baghdad in 145/762)
and older associate of such translators of Greek and Syriac texts as Isḥāq b.

208 Al-Nadīm, Muḥammad b. Isḥāq. Kitāb al-Fihrist, ed. Riḍā Tajaddud (Tehran: Maṭbaʿat Dān-
ishgāh, 1971) 119 and 263.
209 On the question of whether the Harranian Sabians of Baghdad had an archive, see (with
caution) Tardieu “La filiation ascendante de Ṯābit B. Qurra,” in Perspectives arabes et médi-
évales sur la tradition scientifique et philosophique grecque. Actes du colloque de la SIHSPAI
(Société internationale d’ histoire des sciences et de la philosophie arabes et islamiques).
Paris, 31 mars–3 avril 1993, ed. Ahmad Hasnawi, Abdelali Elamrani-Jamal, and Maroun
Aouad (Leuven: Peeters; Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe, 1997), 270. Bear in mind the
numerous criticisms of Tardieu’s understanding of the Sabians, usefully summarised in
van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes, 69–77.
142 hallum

Hunayn and Thābit b. Qurra.210 The description in sentences 5 and 9 of the

method of collation used by al-Mufaḍḍal in order to reconstruct the text of two
manuscripts badly damaged by insects shows a rigorous scholarly approach to
manuscript research and textual criticism akin to that demonstrated by the Ris-
āla of the celebrated translator Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq (d. 264/873) on his translations
of the works of Galen.211 Finally, in sentence 10, the author of the Dīwān states
that al-Mufaḍḍal’s treatise on awfāq was discussed with approval by al-Khāzinī
in his own lost awfāq treatise.
The veracity and exact details of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s statement
about his personal initiation into the science of awfāq must await future re-
search. For the moment, however, it appears to demonstrate that the science
of awfāq already had, by about the mid-fourth/tenth-century, a developed liter-
ature in Arabic and a diverse set of engaged researchers, including at least one
Harranian Sabian of Baghdad, and that this research and literature stretched
back to the latter half of the third/ninth century, about the time al-Jāḥiẓ wrote
his Book of Awfāq and Mathematics (see §4, above). This strongly suggests that
Arabic mathematical texts on awfāq were already in existence when al-Jāḥiẓ
wrote his Book of Awfāq and Mathematics (see above, § 4) and Ibn Rabban al-
Ṭabarī discussed the eutocic 3×3 wafq in his Paradise of Wisdom (see above,
§ 3.1).

8 Conclusion

Awfāq were believed, from their earliest appearance in Islamicate literature, to

have wondrous healing powers. By the time of the earliest extant mathemat-
ical treatises devoted to awfāq were written in the mid-fourth/tenth century,

210 Although al-Mahānī is not known from other sources to have worked as a scribe, there
are numerous examples of other mathematicians and scientists (most famously Ibn
Haytham) earning an income in this way, especially by copying scientific texts. On al-
Mahānī, see Jacques Sesiano, “Muḥammad b. ʿĪsā b. Aḥmad al-Māhānī,” in Encyclopaedia
of Islam, 2nd ed. Al-Nawbakhtī, on the other hand, is known from al-Nadīm, Fihrist (ed.
Flügel, Roediger, and Müller), 177, line 14 to have copied many books. On al-Nawbakhtī, see
Marwan Rashed, Al-Ḥasan ibn Mūsā al-Nawbaḫtī, Commentary on Aristotle De generatione
et corruptione, edition, translation and commentary (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 343–392 and
Wilferd Madelung, “Al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā al-Nawbakhtī on the Views of Astronomers and
Astrologers,” in Law and Tradition in Classical Islamic Thought. Studies in Honor of Pro-
fessor Hossein Modarressi, ed. Michael Cook et al. (New York: Palgrave, 2012), 209–218.
211 Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq, Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq on His Galen Translations: A Parallel English-Arabic Text,
ed. and trans. John C. Lamoreaux (Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 2016).
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 143

the occult properties (khawāṣṣ) of the awfāq that produced their occult prop-
erties had already been associated with astral forces.
Two major concentrations of state-sponsored research into awfāq appear in
the historical record. The first is in fourth/ninth-century Baghdad during the
so-called Renaissance of Islam, especially under the patronage of the Buyid
amīr ʿAḍud al-Dawla. The second is in the late-fifth/eleventh and early-sixth/
twelfth centuries under the patronage of the Great Seljuks, first at Sultan
Malikshāh’s capital, Isfahan, and then at Marw, the capital of his son, Sultan
Sanjar.212 Both of these efflorescences of awfāq literature appear at locations
and times already known as sites of so-called “cultural revival.” In practice, they
are situated at the sites of large-scale state-sponsored astronomical observation
and zīj production.
On the one hand, this says little, because state-funded astronomer-mathe-
maticians would probably have accounted for the majority of people at any
given moment who had the requisite mathematical knowledge and training to
engage significantly with the mathematics of awfāq. Indeed, most of the known
Buyid and Seljuk awfāq authors were state-sponsored astronomer-mathema-
ticians involved in both observations and zīj production. On the other hand,
the case of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal offers an example of serious mathem-
atical engagement with the awfāq by a figure not known to have been dir-
ectly involved in astronomical work. His prominent place in the Buyid court,
however, shows that research into the awfāq was, like astrology and talismanry,
of central importance to the ruling classes of the day. Furthermore, the frag-
ment of Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal’s lost awfāq treatise preserved in the Dīwān
and presented above provides evidence that Arabic mathematical texts on
awfāq already existed by the latter half of the third/ninth century.
By the time of the Andalusians Ibn al-Zarqālluh and al-Mālaqī, in the lat-
ter half of the fifth/eleventh century, if not before, the first seven or eight
awfāq (3×3 to 9×9 and sometimes 10×10) had become astral talismans in their
own right. By at least the early sixth/twelfth century, mathematical procedures
were well understood that allowed names and other words and phrases to be
entered into and manipulated within awfāq. These centuries of development
prepared the necessary technology for the boom in talismanic applications of

212 A recent study of royal patronage of the ancient and occult sciences amongst the Rūm
Seljuks (the Anatolian Seljuk sultanate) highlights the likelihood that Great Seljuk patron-
age of awfāq studies sought talismanic results and not merely mathematical amusement
or edification. See Andrew C.S. Peacock, “A Seljuq Occult Manuscript and its World: MS
Paris person 174,” in The Seljuqs and Their Successors: Art, Culture and History, ed. S. Canby,
D. Beyazit and M. Rugiadi (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2020), 163–179.
144 hallum

awfāq in the number/letter-magic traditions called the “science of letters” (ʿilm

al-ḥurūf ), which rose to great popularity from the seventh/thirteenth century
onward under the influence of the Sufi-occultist synthesis spearheaded by Ibn
ʿArabī and al-Būnī. Only when we have uncovered the early history of the sci-
ence of letters, of which the science of awfāq was a fundamental part, and
explored its protagonists, affiliations, patrons, detractors, and developments
will we understand what was inherited by its later masters, codifiers, and pop-
ularizers in the seventh/thirteenth century and beyond.

Abbreviations

A Ibn al-Zarqālluh, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Yaḥyā al-Naqqāsh. Maqāla fī

ḥarakāt al-kawākib al-sayyāra. Cambridge, University Library, MS Gg.
3.19, fols. 140r–148v.
Anon. Pers. BL Anonymous awfāq treatise [Persian], BL, Add. MS 7713.
B Ibn al-Zarqālluh, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Yaḥyā al-Naqqāsh. No Title. BL,
Add. MS 9599, fols. 128r–131r and 133r–136v.
BEA Thomas Hockey et al., eds. The Biographical Encyclopedia of Astro-
nomers, 2 vols. (New York: Springer, 2007). BEA articles on Islamicate
astronomers are available at http://islamsci.mcgill.ca/RASI/BEA/.
BL London, British Library.
BnF Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France.
C Jābir b. Ḥayyān. Kitāb al-nukhab. Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Carullah 1721.
C1 Ibn al-Zarqālluh, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Yaḥyā al-Naqqāsh. Risāla fī
ḥarakāt al-kawākib al-sayyāra wa-tadbīrihā. Cairo, Dār al-Kutub, MS
Ṭalʿat majāmīʿ 424, fols. 51v–60v.
CBL Chester Beatty Library
Dīwān Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq. BL, Delhi Arabic 110, fols. 28ar–119v. https://
www.qdl.qa/en/archive/81055/vdc_100040730535.0x000002.
HR History of Religions.
IAU Ibn Abī Uṣaybiʿa, Aḥmad b. al-Qāsim. ʿUyūn al-anbāʾ fī ṭabaqāt al-
aṭibbāʾ, edited by August Müller, 2 vols. in 1 (Königsberg i. Pr.: pub-
lished by the author, 1882–1884).
P Jābir b. Ḥayyān. Kitāb al-nukhab. BnF, Arabe 5321, fols. 1r–102v. https://
gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b90653135.
V Ibn al-Zarqālluh, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Yaḥyā al-Naqqāsh. Tadbīr amr
al-kawākib wa-ashkālihā. Vienna, Nationalbibliothek Wien, MS A. F.
162d, fols. 1v–11v.
new light on early arabic awfāq literature 145

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 chapter 4

A Study of the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s Epistle on Magic,

the Longer Version (52b)

Liana Saif

Khitāmuhu misk. Wa-fī dhālika fa l-yatanāfas al-mutanāfisūn.

Its conclusion, musk. So for this, let the competitors compete.

Qurʾan 83:26

∵
Magic is given a prestigious place in Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (“The epistles of
the Brethren of Purity”). It is the subject of the concluding epistle, wherein the
principal themes of the entire encyclopedia are brought together—the vital
powers of the cosmos and its emanationist scheme, salvation, the intelligibility
of nature, and the compatibility of philosophy and revelation. Mastering this
knowledge gives power to humans over nature and, most importantly, actual-
izes their potential for spiritual enlightenment, the ultimate magical act and
the real goal of the sage.
Yet, this epistle is understudied. One finds little about it in Alessan-
dro Bausani’s monograph on the Rasāʾil, in Ian Netton’s Introduction to
the Thought of the Brethren of Purity, or in the works of Abbas Hamdani
and Carmela Baffioni, all of whom studied the Rasāʾil in depth. It is also
conspicuously overlooked by Manfred Ullmann in his Die Natur- und Ge-
heimwissenschaften im Islam.1 Bausani explicitly dismisses it as irrele-

1 Alessandro Bausani, L’ enciclopedia dei Fratelli della Purità: Riassunto, con introduzione e
breve commento dei 52 Trattati o Epistole degli Ikhwān aṣ-Ṣafā’ (Naples: Istituto Universit-
ario Orientale, 1978), 279–281; Ian Richard Netton, Muslim Neoplatonists: An Introduction to
the Thought of the Brethren of Purity, Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (London: Allen & Unwin, 1982), 50–
52; Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur-und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972),
Ullmann mentions the epistle as a source on the lunar mansion, see 351–353; he mentions
them in passing also at 338, 370; no substantial mention is found in Abbas Hamdani, “The
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 163

vant.2 The epistle’s subject matter, its asymmetrical structure, and its disorgan-
ized content may have been behind its exclusion, especially as it manifests in
the uncritical yet widely available Bombay (1887–1889), Cairo (1928), and Beirut
(1957) editions.3
Based on these uncritical editions, Yves Marquet pays much more attention
to the epistle on magic. In La philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, he describes its
astrological content, the juxtaposition of miracles and magic, the typology of
magic, and its relevance to prophecy and sacral power.4 In his Les Frères de
la Pureté, pythagoriciens de l’Islam, he describes the content along lines sim-
ilar to the aforementioned work, while trying to discern some structural logic
by dividing the epistle into five sections interrupted by digressions and addi-
tions. His discussion of these sections and their authorship is, unfortunately,
highly speculative.5 In La philosophie des alchimistes et l’ alchimie des philo-
sophes, Marquet describes the Ikhwān’s distinction between licit and illicit
magic and reiterates the relationship between the occult sciences, prophecy,
and sacral power. Furthermore, he discusses its alchemical content.6 Marquet
is interested mainly in the epistle on magic for its articulation of astrological
doctrines and its references to the concepts of imamhood and caliphate, the
primary theme of his doctoral dissertation that was later published as La philo-
sophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ.7

Arrangement of the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and the Problem of Interpolation” (83–100), or
Carmela Baffioni, “The Scope of the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ” (101–122), both in Epistles of
The Brethren of Purity: The Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and their Rasāʾil: An Introduction, ed. Nader el-
Bizri (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies,
2008).
2 Bausani, L’ enciclopedia dei Fratelli Della Purità, 12.
3 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle
52a, ed. and trans. Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno Halflants (Oxford: Oxford University Press
in association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2011), 1–3; on the uncritical editions, see
Ismail K. Poonawala, “Why We Need an Arabic Critical Edition with an Annotated English
Translation of the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,” in el-Bizri, The Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and Their Rasāʾil:
An Introduction, 33–57.
4 Yves Marquet, La philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (Dakar: Université de Dakar, Faculté des
Lettres et Sciences Humaines, Departement d’ Arabe, 1973), 138, 485–486, 486–489.
5 Yves Marquet, Les “Frères de la Pureté,” pythagoriciens de l’Islam (Paris: S. E. H. A.—Edidit,
2006), 9–23; Daniel de Smet, “Yves Marquet, les Iḫwān al-Ṣafāʾ et le pythagorisme,” Journal
Asiatique 295 (2007): 491–500.
6 Yves Marquet, La philosophie des alchimistes et l’ alchimie des philosophes. Jâbir ibn Hayyân et
les Frères de la Pureté (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1988), 18–23, 32–39.
7 Yves Marquet, “La détermination astrale de l’ évolution selon les Frères de la Pureté,” in
164 saif

The uncritical editions used in the aforementioned studies conflate what

were shown by manuscript examination to be two independent versions of
the epistle, which have become known as the shorter version (52a) and the
longer version (52b).8 A critical edition of 52a was published in 2011, edited and
translated by Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno Halflants. In the introduction,
Halflants treats the manuscript tradition of the epistle on magic, noting that
“the short and the long versions of the epistle do not seem to be reducible to
one common origin,” which led to the publication of these versions separately.
The introduction of the critical edition of 52a includes the first analysis of some
of the Ikhwān’s ideas on magic based on manuscripts, heralding a new stage in
the study of this subject.9
This article focuses on the structure and content of the longer version, com-
paring them with those of 52a while arguing for the integrality of 52b to the
entire encyclopedia. The Ikhwān’s unique approach to magic in 52b will be ana-
lyzed. Some of 52b’s themes taken up by Marquet and Lory, such as the typology
of magic and its relation to prophecy and sacral power, will be revisited here
and presented in a new light directed by manuscript evidence and by situat-
ing magic within the religio-philosophical enterprise of the Ikhwān and their
Rasāʾil as a whole. Finally, the influence of the epistle, particularly 52b, on magic
will be considered.

1 Concordance10

The Beirut edition places the two versions under one heading, Fī māhiyyat al-
siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ʿayn (“On the quiddity of magic, conjurations and the
[evil] eye”). The following table shows the variation of the title across the
manuscripts available to the present author (Table 4.1):

“Sciences occultes et l’ Islam,” ed. Pierry Lory and Annick Regourd, special issue of Bulletin
d’ études orientales 44 (1992): 127–146.
8 Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 2008), 283–312 (short version), 312–463
(long version); The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I.
9 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 5.
10 For the long version of the epistle on magic, I refer to manuscripts that are outlined by
Godefroid de Callataÿ’s and Bruno Halflants’s critical edition of the shorter version of the
epistle on magic but rely mainly on Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, which is the
oldest (sixth/twelfth century). It is checked against other manuscripts from their list, in
addition to four others to which I had access: London, British Library, Or. 2359 (dated 27
 a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 165

table 4.1 Variation of the title across the manuscripts

Manuscript11 Title

Of 52a: The title in the Fī māhiyyat al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ʿayn wa-l-zajr wa-l-wahm wa-l-
52a critical edition based ruqā wa-fī kayfiyyat aʿmāl al-ṭillismāt wa-mā ʿummār al-arḍ wa-mā
on Istanbul, Süleyman- al-jinn, wa-mā al-shayāṭīn wa-mā al-malāʾika wa-kayf afʿālihim wa-
iye, Köprülü 871, dated taʾthīrāt baʿḍihim fī baʿḍ, wa-l-gharaḍ minhā huwa-l-bayān anna
(820/)1417; and Istanbul, fī al-ʿālam fāʿilīn ghayr marʾiyīn wa-lā maḥsūsīn yusammayūn al-
Süleymaniye, Esad Efendi rūḥāniyyīn: “On the quiddity of magic, conjurations, the [evil] eye,
3637, dated c. seventh/thir- auspices, illusory magic, and charms, and the methods of mak-
teenth century. ing talismans; and [concerning] who populates the earth, who
the jinn are, who the devils are, who the angels are, how they act
[upon things] and their influences on each other. The purpose of it
[the epistle] is to show that there exist in the world invisible12 and
intangible agents called spiritualities.”

Of 52b (as all the rest Fī māhiyyat al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ruqā wa-l-kihāna wa-l-faʾl wa-
below): Istanbul, Süley- l-zajr: “On the quiddity of magic, conjurations, charms, divination,
maniye, Atif Efendi 1681. auguries, and auspices.” (fol. 537r)
Dated 577–578/1182.

Ṣafar 1008/18 September 1599); Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Ragip Pasha 840; Istanbul, Süley-
maniye, Ragip Pasha 839; Sotheby’s Lot 27, p. 26 in Sotheby’s “Arts of the Islamic World,”
London 26 April 2017 (683/1284). For the short version, I refer to de Callataÿ’s and Hal-
flants’s critical edition, which employs two manuscripts that are on their list; I have also
consulted London, British Library, Or. 4518 and Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Ragip Pasha 840,
the latter containing both the long version and the short. For other epistles, I use the
texts published so far by the OUP/IIS critical editions series. Where I refer to an epistle
not published yet in that series, I use the widely available yet uncritical Beirut edition,
Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 2008) checked against the manuscripts
for accuracy.
11 For details on the manuscripts, I refer to “the technical introduction” in The Brethren of
Purity, On Magic I, 69–81.
12 This title is similar to the one found on manuscripts of 52a, though, in the IIS/OUP critical
edition and translation, ghayr marʾiyīn was transcribed erroneously as ghayr murattabayn
(in the dual form), which was, as a result, translated as “autonomous”; see The Brethren of
Purity, On Magic I, 5 (Arabic), 87–89 (English).
 166 saif

Table 4.1 Variation of the title across the manuscripts (cont.)

Manuscript Title

Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Epistle title: Fī māhiyyat al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-zajr wa-l-ʿayn

Ragip Pasha 840: which wa-l-ruqā wa-kayfiyyat aʿmāl al-ṭillismāt wa-mā al-jinn wa-mā al-
contains both the long shayāṭīn wa-ma al-malāʾika wa-kayf afʿālihim wa-taʾthīrāt baʿḍihim fī
version and the short. baʿḍ, wa-l-gharaḍ minhā huwa al-bayān anna fī l-ʿālam fāʿilīn ghayr
Undated marʾiyīn wa-lā maḥsūsīn: “On the quiddity of magic, conjurations,
auspices, the [evil] eye, and charms, and the methods of making
talismans; and [concerning] who the jinn are, who the devils are,
who the angels are, how they act [upon things] and their influences
on each other. The purpose of it [the epistle] is to show that there
exists in the world invisible and intangible agents.”
52b heading: Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ruqā wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ṭillismāt: “On
magic, charms, conjurations, and talismans.” (fol. 452r)

Istanbul, Süleyman- Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim: “On magic and conjurations.” (fol. 548bisr)
iye, Ragip Pasha 839.
Undated

Paris, Bibliothèque Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim: “On magic and conjurations.” (fol. 184v)
Nationale 6.647–6.648.
Dated 695/1295

Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ruqā wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ṭillismāt wa-l-kihāna wa-l-

Esad Efendi 3638. Dated c. nijāma wa-māhiyyatihā wa-kayfiyyatihā: “On magic, charms,
686/1287 conjurations, talismans, divination, astrology, their quiddity, and
methods.” (fol. 284r)

Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Fī māhiyyat al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ʿayn wa-l-zajr wa-l-wahm,

Feyzullah 2131. Dated c. wa-kayfiyyat aʿmāl al-ṭillismāt, wa-mā ʿummār al-arḍ, wa-mā
686/1287 al-jinn, wa-mā al-shayāṭīn wa-mā al-malāʾika wa-kayf af ʿāli-
him wa-taʾthīrāt baʿḍihim fī baʿḍ, wa-l-gharaḍ minhā al-bayān
anna fī l-ʿālam fāʿilīn ghayr marʾiyīn wa-lā maḥsūsīn yusam-
mūn al-qawm rūḥāniyyīn: “On the quiddity of magic, conjura-
tions, the [evil] eye, auspices, and illusory magic, and the meth-
ods of making talismans, and [concerning] who populates
the earth, who the jinn are, who the devils are, who the angels
are, how they act [upon things], and their influences on each
 a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 167

Table 4.1 Variation of the title across the manuscripts (cont.)

Manuscript Title

other. The purpose of it is to show that in the world there exist

agents who are invisible and intangible, called the spiritual folk.”
(fol. 142r)

Oxford, Bodleian, Marsh Fī māhiyyat al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-qiyāfa wa-l-zajr wa-l-wahm:

189. Undated “On the quiddity of magic, conjurations, ichnomancy13 (qiyāfa),
auspices, and illusory magic.” (fol. 376v)

Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim: “On magic and conjurations.” (fol. 308r)
Köprülü 870. Dated c.
ninth/fifteenth century

Paris, Bibliothèque Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ruqā wa-l-ʿazāʾim: “On magic, charms, and conjura-
Nationale, Arabe 2303, tions.” (fol. 492r)
Dated 1020/1611

Sotheby’s Lot 27, p. 26 Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ruqā wa-l-ʿazāʾim wa-l-ṭillismāt: “On magic, charms,
in Sotheby’s Arts of the conjurations, and talismans.” (non-foliated)
Islamic World, London
26 April 2017. Dated
683/1284

Paris, Bibliothèque Fī l-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim: “On magic and conjurations.” (fol. 454v)
Nationale, Arabe 2304.
Dated 1064/1654

Curiously, although manuscripts of 52a have titles that promise inclusion of

some practical instructions, this version contains no such thing, whereas 52b
contains various sections on divination, astrological elections, an explanation
of the existence of jinn and devils, conjurations, and instructions to make talis-
mans and magical concoctions for attracting animals. The content of 52b con-
forms most closely with the titles given in manuscripts and reflects the titles

13 Divination by observing footprints.

168 saif

and descriptions given to the epistle on magic in other parts of the Rasāʾil. In
Epistle 49 the reader is referred to their “epistle on magic and conjurations,”
where they discuss “the actions of the rūḥāniyyāt of the lunar mansions.”14 This
discussion is absent from 52a but forms a long section in 52b.15
The tone of 52b indicates its interconnection with the entire encyclopedia.
It is a personal one concordant with the general tone of the Rasāʾil. In the
shorter version, the subjective perspective is completely lacking, and it reads
more as a history of magic and astrology than as the esoteric agenda enunciated
throughout the Rasāʾil. In contrast, in 52b, one of the Ikhwān16 even mentions
his own involvement with magic and astrology. He relates how he was taught
astrology by an esteemed practitioner and friend.17 Elsewhere, instructions in
astrological prediction about a city under siege are given to the Ikhwān: “if one
of our brethren were in a city that becomes besieged by his enemy …”18
These clues suggest that 52b is more integral to the Rasāʾil than is 52a,19
although a curious reference in 52a alerts us to a kind of continuity between
the two texts. There, the Ikhwān tell us “that a group among the people of India
influences others by causing them to experience strange things unbelievable to
most people through illusions (bi iwhāmahum), thus fending off magic, as we
have said about them in this epistle [my italics].”20 There is no other reference
to Indian illusory magic in 52a, but the Ikhwān elaborate on it in the final sec-
tion of 52b, where the power of wahm (hypnotic states, illusions) is discussed
and the expertise of Indians in this art is emphasized. In fact, Chapter 7 of 52a,
titled “On the power of charms, conjurations, and the [evil] eye” is a summary
of the long chapter that forms the ending of 52b, as found in Atif Efendi 1681

14 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:223.

15 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:428–443; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 572v–576r.
16 This part is clearly related by a single member of the brotherhood. Though it begins with
the first person plural, kāna lanā saḍīq (we had a friend), the rest is in the first personal sin-
gular: fa ḥaḍartuhu, fa saʾaltuhu, urīd an adhkur, Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ:
4:397; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi fol. 562v. It is clear that the epistles were written
collectively, in a group and by individual contributors.
17 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:397; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 562v.
18 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:406; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 565r.
19 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, “Introduction,” 5–10; here de Callataÿ’s suggests that
52a is “genuine” being “part and parcel of the encyclopaedic endeavor of the Brethren
of Purity” to the exclusion of 52b, based on consideration of the former’s concordance
with other epistles in size, the number of Qurʾanic references, inner structure, and cross-
references in 52a to other epistles.
20 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 97 (Arabic), 154 (English).
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 169

(see above). In addition to the power of wahm, discussed in more detail below,
it contains the same ideas on occult properties, with similar examples.
Nevertheless, both 52a and 52b are “genuine,” for there is a precedence to the
existence of multiple versions of the same epistle, such as Epistle 32: the longer
version (32b), as Paul E. Walker surmises, seems to be an expanded text of the
shorter version (32a), with changes and additions.21 This could be the result of
a long editing and revision process during the composition of epistles 52 and
3222 or even of intervention by later members, if we understand the Ikhwān as a
fraternity with continuous membership beyond its first founders. Furthermore,
it is possible that the Ikhwān intentionally produced two versions simultan-
eously. One is inclined to accept the first of these possibilities and conclude
that the fifty-second epistle never settled as a single stable text.
The situation is complicated further by the existence of 52b in various redac-
tions. After the section on the lunar mansions, the text differs in three ways:
1) Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atif Efendi 1681: in the last chapter, the part on the
lunar mansions is followed by a discussion about the powers of wahm in
healing and about magic and counteracting it. The scribe of Atif Efendi
1681 adds another ending that he found in other exemplars. It is a longer
exposition on wahm, the influence of mind and soul on the body, and the
theory of occult properties, with many examples of magical and medical
uses of natural things. This longer ending is taken up by Istanbul, Süley-
maniye, Feyzullah 2131; Oxford, Bodleian, Marsh 189; Oxford, Bodleian,
Laud Or. 260, Paris, BnF, Arabe 2303, Sotheby’s and Istanbul, Süleymaniye,
Esad Efendi 3638.23

21 The Brethren of Purity, Sciences of the Soul and Intellect. Part I: An Arabic Critical Edition
and English Translation of Epistles 32–36, ed. and trans. Paul E. Walker, Ismail K. Poon-
awala, David Simonowitz, and Godefroid de Callataÿ (Oxford: Oxford University Press in
association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2016), 9.
22 Maribel Fierro proposes the year 936 CE as the terminus ante quem of the Rasāʾil. We may
add that if the mention of ʿīd Ghadīr in Epistle 42 “On Beliefs and Religion” is referring to
the public commemoration of Ghadīr Khumm started by the Buyids then the terminus
post quem should be 945, the year the Buyids took over Baghdad. This confirms Abū
Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī’s account of the Brethren being active under the Buyids. Abbas Ham-
dani, “Abū Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī and the Brethren of Purity,” International Journal of Middle
East Studies 9, no. 3 (October, 1978): 345–353. Maribel Fierro, “Bāṭinism in al-Andalus.
Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964), Author of the Rutbat al-Ḥakīm and the Ġāyat
al-Ḥakīm,” Studia Islamica 84 (1996): 87–112 (106); Hugh Kennedy, The Prophets and the Age
of the Caliphate (New York and Oxford: Routledge, 3rd ed., 2016), 196.
23 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fols. 576r–581v; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Feyzullah
2131, fols. 166v–169v; Oxford Bodleian, Marsh 189, fols. 395v–398v; Oxford, Bodleian, Laud
170 saif

2) The scribe of Esad Efendi adds another “epistle” at the end, which deals
with the meaning of divination after claiming to have dealt with magic,
conjurations, charms, resolve (himma), illusory magic (wahm), and talis-
mans.24
3) Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870; Paris, BnF, Arabe 2304; and Paris,
BnF 6.647–6.648: the lunar mansions are followed by a long discussion
on creating magical concoctions from various organic material, includ-
ing four for the purpose of attracting animals. It also contains an anec-
dote about a sage who freed an imprisoned man by making the nīranj of
Mars, followed by remarks on the difference between prophets and sages
and ending with the same two paragraphs as Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atif
Efendi 1681. Beirut follows this. Paris, BnF 6.647–6.648 is incomplete. The
text stops in the middle of the discussion about the organic concoctions.25
This demonstrates how unstable a text 52b is, complicating further the ques-
tion of its relation to 52a. Nevertheless, as the two versions appear to us now,
52b is more demonstrative of the Ikhwān’s ideas on magic in relation to the
entire corpus. The earliest manuscripts are of 52b, not 52a, indicating the pos-
sibility that it (52b) was circulating more widely around the time of its com-
position.

2 The Polysemy of “siḥr”

Although the Ikhwān seem to expose their esoteric agenda by the very act of
writing about it, they strategize their disclosure of “meanings” (maʿānī) con-
sonant with the layer of the encyclopaedic discourse they want to emphasize.
This is achieved in a way that has the potential both to reveal and to allude.
This is most evident in their definitions of siḥr, generally translated as “magic,”
which may at times seem to contradict each other. To understand Epistle 52b,
one must be able to discern the sense the Ikhwān ascribe to the term siḥr,
as their discourse drifts widely and wildly between the literal and metaphor-
ical.26 Magic is included in Part IV of the Rasāʾil concerned with the divine and

Or. 260, fols. 270r–272v; Paris, BnF, Arabe 2303, fols. 525v–529v; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Esad
Efendi 3638, fols. 300r–302v.
24 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Esad Efendi 3638, fol. 303r.
25 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870, fols. 330v–338r; Paris, BnF, Arabe 2304, fols. 86v–91v;
and Paris, BnF 6.647–6.648, fols. 217v–218v.
26 Marquet, La philosophie des alchimistes, 22; Marquet, La philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
487.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 171

legal laws (al-ʿulūm al-nāmūsiyya wa-l-sharʿiyya). In Epistle 7, concerned with

the classifications of sciences, magic and talismanry are considered parts of
propaedeutic knowledge (riyāḍiyya) which comprises sciences that facilitate
living well, such as writing, language, transactions, poetry, alchemy, and trade.27
This apparent ambiguity can be resolved by identifying the level of discourse
in which the term siḥr is used: literal/practice, metaphorical/revelation, even
political.
52b begins with a declaration that siḥr has many meanings in Arabic. Gen-
erally, however, magic is “clarifying and revealing the reality of a thing and
causing it to manifest, [it is also] speed and precision in action”;28 this is the
first definition provided. Then the Ikhwān provide the “senses” of this expertly
action:
1) “telling what will happen before its occurrence,” to which astrology and
divination belong.
2) “altering essences (qalb al-aʿyān) and violating norms (kharq al-ʿāda),”
which include prestidigitation, trickery, and sense-altering suffumiga-
tions. Talismans and medicine can be added.
3) “that which the prophets were accused of and sages known for.”
4) “that which is the special knowledge of women.”
5) fine skill in rhetoric, eloquence, and wit.29

2.1 Astrology as Magic

The Ikhwān explain that knowledge of astrology, divination, and even talis-
manry is achieved discursively. Their practitioners can attain them

only after they know the foundations and the branches that emerge out of
them. If they establish this, they gain knowledge [of something] accord-
ing to those things which they must know [beforehand],30 and they dis-
close it by indicating what occurs and is caused by it. In this they [people]

27 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 1:266–267; Godefroid de Callataÿ, “The Classific-
ation of Knowledge in the Rasāʾil,” in el-Bizri, The Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and their Rasāʾil: An
Introduction, 58–82.
28 In the Beirut edition: al-bayān wa-l-kashf ʿan ḥaqīqat al-shayʾ wa-iẓhārihi bi surʿat al-ʿamal,
Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:312; in Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681
and others it is: al-bayān wa-l-kashf ʿan ḥaqīqat al-shayʾ wa-iẓhārihi, wa-surʿat al-ʿamal,
fol. 537v.
29 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:312–313; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 537v.
30 In the Beirut edition and other manuscripts: ʿamilū bi ḥasab mā yanbaghī lahum an
yaʿmalūh; in Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681: ʿalimū … yaʿlamūh.
172 saif

are different in degrees and vary in ranks depending on their diligence in

education, perseverance in learning, acquaintance with scholars; [how
often] they accompany sages, and [how much] they occupy themselves
with the study of the books31 composed on them [astrology, divination,
and talismanry], testing32 them with mental purity, employing patience,
and examining what was to judge what will be …. If he [the seeker] hits
the correct target and savors its sweetness, little will he err, since, by being
correct, his insight strengthens and he progresses in his pursuit and dili-
gence.33

The importance of astrology stems from its being a branch of the superior
science of mathematics. Mathematics is described as a king, and astrology
as his vizier; the former produces quantitative knowledge, the latter qualitat-
ive. Moreover, mathematics is like “the First Intellect” and astrology like “the
Soul emerging from the Intellect,” indicating the Ikhwān’s conviction that epi-
stemological modes are inextricable from ontological realities.34 If one masters
mathematics and astrology, one is engaging on both micro- and macrocosmic
levels, tapping into the very principles of the universe, “aiding their master to
attain the eminent rank and degree in religion (dīn) and this world.”35 Astrology
reveals the ways by which all terrestrial beings and events are ruled and caused
by the celestial spheres: “the lower world is connected to the higher world in all
its conditions and states.”36 Yet the Ikhwān see the universe as governed by a
volitional causality that does not exclude “spiritual forces” (quwā rūḥāniyya).
These are astral vital agents—the celestial souls—that flow through causal

31 In the Beirut edition: wa-l-ishtighāl bi-l-dars; in Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681: istiʿmāl
al-dars, which does not make sense. Other manuscripts, such as Paris, BnF 6.647–6.648
(fol. 190r), agree with the Beirut edition.
32 In the Beirut edition, Paris, BnF 6.647–6.648; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870; Paris,
BnF, Arabe 2304, Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Ragip Pasha 839: al-tabaḥḥur; in Istanbul, Süley-
maniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Esad Efendi 3638, Istanbul, Süleymaniye
Feyzullah 2131; Oxford, Bodleian, Laud Or. 260; Sotheby’s Lot 27; Istanbul, Süleymaniye
Ragip Pasha 840: wa-l-tajruba.
33 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:332; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 543r.
34 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:396; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 562r–v.
35 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:396; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 561v–562v.
36 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:386; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 559v–560r.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 173

channels, communicating the Divine Will.37 Sometimes they are referred to as

the angels (al-malāʾika).38

The actions of the planets and their rūḥāniyyāt flow in the world of gen-
eration and corruption like the flow of the powers of the soul in bodies.
Each planet in [its] sphere has aspects and terms, and the terms are in
degrees that have forms. From each form a rūḥāniyya descends into the
world of generation and corruption connected to that which is like it and
attached to its image. It is assigned to it for a decreed time. These are the
angels of God Almighty.39

After reiterating that “the higher celestial world governs (ḥākim) the terrestrial
world,” the Ikhwān refer the reader to their epistle on the action of the spiritual
principles (rūḥaniyyīn), citing their explanation of the influence of the macro-
cosm on the microcosm.40 Indeed, in Epistle 49 on the states of the spiritual
principles, they discuss the place of the rūḥāniyyāt in the Neoplatonic eman-
ative scheme. They use the term rūḥāniyyāt to describe the localizations of the
power of the Universal Soul in the planets, being the agency by which planets
influence the microcosm. There too they are referred to as angels. Moreover,
under each planetary rūḥāniyya they provide a set of correspondences that
includes plants, talents, professions, and other things.41
We find a Neoplatonic explanation of these spiritual forces in 52a. The Ikh-
wān explain that “the first power that flows from the Universal Soul towards
the world is in the noble luminous entities that are the fixed stars and then
after them [into] the moving stars.”42 The rūḥāniyyāt are linked to and interact
with the terrestrial world in two ways; first, “by way of the natures of bodies [to

37 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:340; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 546r.
38 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:410; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 566r–v; Liana Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif : Ways of Knowing and
Paths of Power in Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Mat-
thew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4
(2017): 297–345, esp. 305–308; The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, “Introduction,” 44–
45.
39 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:339; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 545v–546r.
40 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:367; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 553v–554r.
41 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:212–226.
42 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 12–13.
174 saif

which they are linked], as is reported in the books of astrology,” and second, by
way of their souls and volition.43
For the Ikhwān, astrology and divination constitute a type of magic because
they conform to their definition of siḥr as the knowledge and art of predicting
the future and revealing hidden things, including the concealed inner thoughts
of the querent.44 They also emphasize that astrology is the foundation of talis-
manry.45 Most significantly, it is a kind of knowledge that elucidates the work-
ings of the universe and the spiritual networks that govern the celestial and
terrestrial worlds. Without astrology wisdom itself is out of reach.46

2.2 Magic as Salvation

The second definition of siḥr given by the Ikhwān—“altering essences (qalb al-
aʿyān) and violating norms (kharq al-ʿāda)”—has exoteric and esoteric mean-
ings. In the literal sense, it includes any magical operation that causes external
transformation, such as talismans and amulets, but it also alludes to self-
transformation. Magic and astrology-as-magic, in the esoteric sense, thus
become eschatological tools. Such an undertone is missing in 52a, but we are
told there that magic is that “whereby subjects are joined to [the rank of] kings
and kings to that of angels.”47 In 52b, they write that acquiring “knowledge of
this necessitates to whoever learns it the attainment of human excellence, that
is receiving angelic forms after death,” which is the Ikhwān’s priority in their
encyclopedic discourse as a whole.48 To demonstrate this, they include in their
epistle on magic a fable that at first sounds out of place, that of the ailing king
and his vizier.

43 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 120–121.

44 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:353; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 550r.
45 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:333. Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 543v.
46 Astrology permeates the Rasāʾil, but it is not within the scope of this article to investigate
the various ways it is incorporated into the world-view of the Ikhwān. Our interest here
is the relationship between astrology and magic in 52b. For an overview of astrology in
the Rasāʾil, see Marquet, “La détermination astrale,”passim; Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Intro-
duction to Epistle 36,” in The Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, Sciences of the Soul and
Intellect, Part I: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistles 32–36, ed. Paul
E. Walker, Ismail K. Poonawala et al. (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with
the Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2015), 137–190, here 137–142, 146–153.
47 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 95 (English); 16 (Arabic).
48 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:339; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 546r.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 175

At the pinnacle of his wealth and power, a Persian king sees an apparition
of a well-dressed handsome young man who stares at the king with derision
and scorn. He orders his men to capture the young one but to no avail. The
king demands to know who he is. The young man replies: “O you pitiful man! O
you who is enticed by temporal sovereignty and partial kingship! What kind of
king are you? You are a slave (mamlūk) and not master (mālik) …. I am heavenly
kingship and divine sovereignty!”
From this encounter, the king becomes overwhelmed by the mundanity of
his powers, and as a result, he falls ill, in mind and body. His vizier consults a
sheikh who recommends that they seek the help of a wise man from the moun-
tains of Sarandīb [present-day Sri Lanka]. Hope reinvigorates the king and he
begins to recover. They send for the wise man who dispatches two of his pupils.
He orders them to begin instructing the king on the propaedeutic sciences after
which they ought to progress to the divine sciences. They instruct the king and
his vizier accordingly until both of them reach enlightenment and spiritual sal-
vation. The king rewards the two wise men and grants them his own kingdom.
The temptations of mundane kingship overwhelm them and they trade “heav-
enly kingship” for it. We are told “they desert the licit magic (siḥr ḥalāl) that
descended onto them, by which they were ordered to abide, and through which
salvation was reached by those who were saved. They returned to illicit magic
(siḥr ḥarām), misguided and misguiding.”49
To assert this eschatological narrative, the Ikhwān subvert the traditional
interpretation of the Qurʾanic verses dealing with Hārūt and Mārūt that
presents them as the angels who tested humans by teaching them sorcery.50
Instead, the Ikhwān engage in a kind of esoteric exegesis and correlate the
demise of the monks with that of Hārūt and Mārūt, explaining,

As for the magic mentioned in the Qurʾan, endowed upon the two angels
in Babel, Hārūt and Mārūt, the public has made many banal statements
about it without any truth. This narrative [concerning Hārūt and Mārūt]
has a subtle meaning described by the scholars who have [attained know-
ledge] of the Book [and communicated it] to the elite (khawāṣṣ) whom
they trusted. They conferred it to their noble progeny and eminent
friends. We want to give an example of this.51

49 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:327; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 538r–542r.
50 Yahya Michot, “Ibn Taymiyya on Astrology: Annotated Translation of Three Fatwas,” Jour-
nal of Islamic Studies 11, no. 2 (2000): 147–208, here 158–159.
51 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:315; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 538r.
176 saif

This example is the fable of the king and his vizier. In a section concerned
with magic in the Qurʾan, 52a refers to the verse containing the story of Hārūt
and Mārūt, but no such taʾwīl (interpretation) is given, only the exoteric mean-
ing of magic is delivered: “If, from the power and the science of magic, one
could already ensure the separation of man and wife, what would be left after
that? Or would there be doubt about this narrative after what is uttered by the
Qurʾan, whose validity we know?”52 This attests again to the compatibility of
52b with the rest of the Rasāʾil and the Ikhwān’s methods.
It is not only magic but astrology too that are given eschatological mean-
ings.53 The Ikhwān write, “Know O Brother, may God support you and us with
a spirit from Him, that through knowledge of astrology, you attain guidance in
ascending the heavens and entry to the Highest Location.”54 Elsewhere, they
assert that it is through astrology that one is able “to reach the angelic home
and the heavenly rank.”55 Astrology allows this because:

All things in the world of generation and corruption, small or large, subtle
or manifest, are [what they are] by celestial decree and heavenly com-
mand. All of this is delineated in a manifest book. Whoever reads it well
will have knowledge of all these, and his soul will yearn (tashawwaqat) to
ascend to the world of the spheres, the expanses of the heavens, the abode
of life, the space of bliss, the garden of spirits, the home of jubilance and
fulfilment.56

This reflects a Neoplatonic leaning and is reminiscent of the following state-

ment from Plotinus’s second Enneads (II.3):

We may think of the stars as letters perpetually being inscribed on the

heavens or inscribed once for all and yet moving as they pursue the other
tasks allotted to them: upon these main tasks will follow the quality of
signifying, just as the one principle underlying any living unit enables us

52 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 105 (English), 27 (Arabic).

53 Pierre Lory, “La magie chez les Ikhwân al-Safâʾ,” in “Sciences occultes et l’Islam,” ed. Pierry
Lory and Annick Regourd, special issue of Bulletin d’études orientales 44 (1992): 147–159,
here 156.
54 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:367; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 554r.
55 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:386; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 559v–560r.
56 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:393. Not in Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi
1681.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 177

to reason from member to member, so that for example we may judge of

character and even of perils and safeguards by indications in the eyes or in
some other part of the body. If these parts of us are members of a whole,
so are we: in different ways the one law applies. All teems with symbol;
the wise man is the man who in any one thing can read another, a pro-
cess familiar to all of us in not a few examples of everyday experience.
But what is the comprehensive principle of co-ordination? Establish this
and we have a reasonable basis for divination, not only by stars but also
by birds and other animals, from which we derive guidance in our varied
concerns. All things must be enchained [my italics].57

The Ikhwān even say, in their justification of astrology, that knowledge of God
is achievable through the study of His creation because “things are chained to
one another” (al-ashyāʾ kullahā marbūṭa baʿḍuhā bi baʿḍ).58 Despite the strik-
ing similarity of expression here, only enneads IV, V, and VI are believed to
have been paraphrased into Arabic and available at the time of the Ikhwān
as the Theology of Aristotle.59 In this rendition, ascendance is fueled with the
soul’s “yearning” (shawq and tashawwuq), an idea the reader also encounters in
Epistle 3 on “astronomy,” where knowledge of the stars is presented as facilitat-
ing liberation from materiality and the attainment of salvation and enlighten-
ment.60 There the Ikhwān quote explicitly the Theology of Aristotle.61 Moreover,
in Epistle 16, knowledge of the stars (astrology and astronomy) is related to the
ascent of the individual soul to the world of universals through the celestial
world. It is even stretched to explain the return or ascent of the macrocosmic
Soul to the realm of the Intellect, an event that leads to the Great Resurrection
(qiyāma).62

57 Plotinus, The Enneads, trans. Stephen MacKenna (London: Penguin Books, 1991) II.3, 80–
81.
58 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:387, 412; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 560r.
59 Peter Adamson, The Arabic Plotinus: A Philosophical Study of the Theology of Aristotle (Lon-
don: Duckworth, 2002), 6–8.
60 ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Badawī, ed., Uthūlūjiyā Aflūṭīn ʿind al-ʿarab (Qom: Intishārāt Bīdār, 1992
[1413 AH]), 19–20, 117–118.
61 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 1:137–138; The Brethren of Purity, Epistles of the
Brethren of Purity: On Astronomia: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of
Epistle 3, ed. and trans. F. Jamil Ragep and Taro Mimura (Oxford: Oxford University Press in
association with The Institute of Ismaili Institute, 2015), 89; Badawī, Uthūlūjiyā Aflūṭīn, 22.
62 The Brethren of Purity, On the Natural Sciences: An Arabic Critical Edition and English
Translation of Epistles 15–21, ed. and trans. Carmela Baffioni (Oxford: Oxford University
Press in association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2013), 147–154.
178 saif

To the Ikhwān, siḥr is thus never only just magic. Particular and transitive
magical actions and astrological knowledge can disclose universal truths, the
absorption of which transforms the soul of the operator by loosening its bonds
to the material world. This is licit magic (siḥr ḥalāl), described as “the talisman
composed for the cultivation of the world, the sought-for stone, the desired
mineral. It is the grand magnet, and the red sulfur.”63

2.3 Magic of Prophets and Sages

The second definition of magic as “that which the prophets were accused of and
sages known for,” subverts the traditional “binary logic of revelation,” according
to which siḥr of the unbelievers is contrasted with the authentic signs of divine
revelation.64 Instead, the Ikhwān promote siḥr by subsuming miracles under
it and positioning philosophy on a level with prophecy: “every prophet who
spoke, every sage who told the truth and brought about miracles and showed
[divine] signs; he was labeled with this name [sāḥir, mage] and became known
by this brand among the tyrannical nations and unjust parties, as a way to dis-
credit the prophets and challenge the sages.”65 But the Ikhwān reclaim the term
siḥr and apply it to the feats of sages and the miracles of prophets. To do this,
they formulate another, wider definition of magic: “all words and actions that
charm (v. saḥara) the minds, and submit souls with the intention to fascinate
and submit [them], to be listened to, to receive satisfaction, to be obeyed, and
to be complied with.”66
Here one recalls the Theology of Aristotle, where siḥr ḥaqq (true magic) is
distinguished from siḥr ṣināʿī (artificial trickery). The former is described as the
magic of scholars:

And the scholar (al-ʿālim) mage is the one who imitates the world (al-
ʿālam) and performs its actions to the extent that he is able to, in that
he uses love in one situation and domination in another. If he wishes to
use these, he uses medicines and natural operations, and these permeate
earthly things; but some of them often strengthen the action of love in

63 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:413; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 567v.
64 Travis Zadeh, “Magic, Marvel, and Miracle in Early Islamic Thought,” in The Cambridge His-
tory of Magic and Witchcraft in the West from Antiquity to the Present, ed. David J. Collins
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 235–267, esp. 239.
65 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:314; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 537v.
66 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:314; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 538r.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 179

others, and some of them react to others and thus yield to them. At the
outset of a magical operation the mage ought to know well the things that
yield to one another. If he does know them, he is able to attract something
through the power of love that acts on the thing.67

The Ikhwān extend this dichotomy by juxtaposing the magic of the sage/
scholar with that of the prophets. First, they assert that the magic of prophets
is siḥr ḥalāl (licit magic); it is

Calling to God, the Exalted, with truth and honest speech. That which
is illicit is the opposite, like the actions of those who oppose the proph-
ets and the enemies of sages, embellishing falsity and making it manifest,
pushing away the truth and denying it with false speech, inserting doubt
and ambivalence into [the minds of] weak men and women to turn them
away from the path to God and the road to the Hereafter, to enchant their
minds with falsity.68

However, the Ikhwān still distinguish the extraordinary actions of prophets

from those of sages. The first belong to what they call intellectual magic (siḥr
ʿaqlī), by which prophets “enchant the minds of the faithful” under divine
decree. God inspires the intellectual faculty of prophets directly. On the other
hand, the magic of the sages, philosophers, and scholars is “soul-enabled magic”
(sīḥr nafsī) achieved through nature (bi wāsiṭa al-ṭabīʿa); it is also called “nat-
ural magic” (siḥr ṭabīʿī). In this case, the senses register natural phenomena,
then the soul communicates the input to the intellect. The Neoplatonic hypo-
stases are reflected in this process: the Universal Soul directs its attention to the
Intellect from which it emanated and for which it yearns. Unlike intellectual
magic, the magic of the sages is discursive, but, by achieving this knowledge
with the resolve to achieve enlightenment, the sage is able to engage with the
emanative universe.69 Marquet refers to the intellectual magic of the prophets
as one that operates “by means of reason,” understanding the word ʿaql as the
faculty of reason, implying discursive thinking instead of the activation of the
higher part of the soul that receives divine revelation which is a more accurate

67 Badawī, Uthūlūjiyā Aflūṭīn, 75–76.

68 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:314–315; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 538r.
69 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:408–409; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 565v–566r; Lory, “La magie chez les Ikhwân al-Safâʾ,” 154.
180 saif

way of understanding it.70 Here, too, one is reminded of the Theology of Aris-
totle, where a distinction is made between intellectual revelatory knowledge
and discursive thought.71 It is with this in mind that we must understand this
statement by the Ikhwān:

Know, O Brother, that in all crafts, their exoteric aspects (ẓawāhir) are
established for the benefit of bodies, and their esoteric aspects (bawāṭin)
are for the benefit of the souls … their exoteric aspects are identical to
their esoteric aspects and do no negate them. Their exoteric aspects indic-
ate the skill of the Sublime Wise Maker, and their esoteric aspects indicate
His transcendence and calls to His worship; they signify (His right to)
obedience.72

Attending to the transformation and nurture of souls is the magic of the proph-
ets that they actualize through the highest faculties of the soul. Second to it, but
sublime nevertheless, is the magic of the sages that attends to nature and works
with the elements; such action makes the sage more intimate with the works
of God.

2.4 Political Implications

According to the Ikhwān, enlightenment privileges the individual to become a
rightly guided leader of the Muslim community. That great intellectual magic is
the manifestation of power received directly by divine inspiration and aid, and
the Ikhwān stress that “this is the trait of the great walāya/wilāya and the grand
khilāfa; this is the deputyship with which God privileged the People of the Mes-
sage (ahl al-risāla, i.e., the prophets) who do not need a director or a scholar but
themselves … that is why they deserved leadership (riyāsa) and were marked by
deputyship (khilāfa).”73 The Ikhwān also see the Macrocosmic Man as a khal-
īfa, God’s deputy in the created world.74 This recalls the notion of khilāfa in
the Qurʾan: “Your lord said to the angels, ‘I will make upon the earth a khalīfa’ ”

70 Marquet, La philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 488–489.

71 Badawī, Uthūlūjiyā Aflūṭīn, 6–8, 31–32, 61–64.
72 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:396; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 562r.
73 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:375; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 556v.
74 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 1:29, 306; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, al-Risāla al-jāmiʿa, ed.
Jamīl Ṣalība, 2 vols. (Damascus, 1949–1951), 1:496–497; Michael Ebstein, Mysticism and
Philosophy in al-Andalus: Ibn Masarra, Ibn ʿArabī, and the Ismāʿīlī Tradition (Leiden: Brill,
2014), 176–177.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 181

(Q 2:30). Grand deputyship is divine and bestowed upon Adam, the proph-
ets, and the imams.75 The riyāsa of this divine deputyship is contrasted with
the siyāsa of terrestrial and temporal deputyship, which requires astrological
expertise.76 For the Ikhwān, therefore, true caliphate, prophecy, and imamate
constitute the “Great Magic.”77
The Ikhwān then stress that those people who become temporal caliphs, pre-
occupied with mundane affairs, are really the caliphs of Satan; they are unjust
and hostile. Such a caliph is a slave (mamlūk) and not a master (mālik), coming
upon his position with trickery and disobedience. They become restricted by a
planetary spiritual force (rūḥāniyya) and thus need astrology to manage their
affairs.78 Here the Ikhwān appear to articulate anti-Abbasid sentiments—the
Abbasids, as widely known, were avid patrons of astrology79—a sentiment they
also express in the animal fable, as Marquet has pointed out.80

The Ikhwān also write:

And know, O compassionate and loyal brother, that every science per-
fected and action that issued from the prophets, messengers, the Rightly
Guided Caliphs who succeeded them, the pure people of their houses,
and their companions among the faithful, these [belong to] intellectual
magic and divine command … every action, art, craft, and labor, that
manifest from sages and philosophers, [including] the propaedeutic sci-
ences, announcing astral matters and judging according to them, these
[belong to] soul-enabled magic that arise by the mediation of nature.81

75 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:377; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 558r.
76 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:374, 376; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 556r–v.
77 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:378; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 557v.
78 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:374–376; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 556r–557r.
79 Stephen Blake, Astronomy and Astrology in the Islamic World (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni-
versity Press, 2014). Damien Janos, “Al-Maʾmūn’s Patronage of Astrology,” in The Place to Go:
Contexts of Learning in Baghdad, 750–1000 C.E., ed. Jens Scheiner and Damien Janos (Prin-
ceton: Darwin Press, 2014), 389–454; Edward S. Kennedy, Astronomy and Astrology in the
Medieval Islamic World (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998); David Pingree, “Astrology,” in Religion
Learning and Science in the ʿAbbasid Period, ed. M.J.L. Young, J.D. Latham, and R.B. Serjeant
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 290–300.
80 Marquet, Les Frères de la Pureté, 568.
81 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:408; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 565v.
182 saif

We must understand intellectual magic in this religio-political context as

the ability to lead people into rectitude and the establishment of a sacral state
and the power to transform a mundane caliphate into a sublime one. It may
seem a contradiction to dismiss the use of astrology and the mediation of
the rūḥāniyyāt in a text that is occupied with them, but their employment
is only legitimate in soul-enabled magic of the sages, not that of caliphs and
imams.82 Furthermore, the apparent contradiction can be resolved by under-
standing that a metaphorical/esoteric discourse is at work here, along with the
literal/exoteric explication.
Soul-enabled magic can nevertheless be used pragmatically in state admin-
istration. The Ikhwān write: “Know, O brother, that the best thing people have
attained from this art [magic] and absorbing its sciences is knowing the state
of kings, sultans, caliphs, successors, princes, generals, leaders of war, viziers,
secretaries, royal custodians, and the rise of states and their fates, longevity of
natives ….”83 This is followed by astrological elections for ensuring the legitim-
acy of the caliph/king who receives the official oath of allegiance (bayʿa).84
The use of magic and divination in state administration and military mat-
ters is found in the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica, a group of texts that take the
form of epistles and conversations between Alexander the Great and Aris-
totle, in which the philosopher teaches his royal pupil about the workings of
the universe, the forces within it, the hidden powers of nature, and magic.
Aristotle bases his instructions on knowledge he received from Hermes. The
Ikhwān cite the ps.-Aristotelian text known as al-Istūṭās as the source of the

82 Liana Saif, “Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s Religious Reform and Magic: Beyond the Ismāʿīlī Hypothesis,”
Journal of Islamic Studies 30, no. 1 (2019): 34–68. There I argue that the Brethren aimed with
“their Rasāʾil to establish an anti-sectarian religio-political reform that they refer to as the
Third Way. Its strategy comprises reconciling revelation and philosophy; valuing the mes-
sage of religions other than Islam (Christianity, Judaism, Brahmans, and Sabians); and
addressing some Shīʿī specific practices and doctrines which it scrutinizes. The Ikhwān
mitigate the doctrinal boundaries between Shīʿism and other denominations by adopt-
ing a more equable position which is consonant with Zaydī and Ibāḍī attitudes towards
the contentious issues of imamate, caliphate, and wilāya/walāya. Furthermore, magic for
them is a characteristic feature of the Third Way. The Ikhwān see magic as the conceptual
and practical pivot of the Third Way, since it is the culmination of philosophy and rev-
elation, making it the appropriate tool for regulating state guardianship and sublimating
the temporal state itself into a sacred city instead of investing sacral power into a single
person. The Ikhwān themselves are the ushers of this utopia.”
83 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:369; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 554v.
84 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:369; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 554v–556r.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 183

epistle’s magic of the lunar mansions.85 They also reproduce almost the entire
content of another ps.-Aristotelian text concerned with attracting animals by
magic.86
In another text that belonged to this corpus and might have been known by
the Ikhwān, called al-Isṭimākhīs, Aristotle gives instructions for creating four
talismans and four amulets that would aid Alexander in securing victory.87 In
the same text, Aristotle tells Alexander that every king has a spiritual power
(rūḥāniyya) attached to him that connects him to his star, adding that kings
made covenant with these powers to guide them away from harm, ensure
their victory, and defeat their enemies.88 As we saw above, this precise idea
is deemed by the Ikhwān to be characteristic of temporal sovereigns.
The espousal of occult sciences and state administration is also found in the
ps.-Aristotelian (but not expressly Hermetic) Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī tadbīr al-riyāsa
(“The book of governance on managing leadership”) which purports to be an
epistle from Aristotle to Alexander the Great offering political, moral, and diet-
ary advice. The final chapter of the text, Sirr al-asrār, is concerned with astral
magic. The work itself claims in the proem to be a translation from Greek into
Syriac then into Arabic by the translator Yaḥyā b. al-Biṭrīq, who flourished in
Baghdad in the third/ninth century, but there is insufficient evidence for the
existence of a Greek original.89 Aristotle tells Alexander: “If you are able, do not
stand, sit, eat, drink, or undertake any action without consulting astrology.”90

85 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:443–445; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 572r–576r; Turkey, National Library of Manisa, MS 1461, fols. 18v–25v.
86 This section does not appear in Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, but in Ikhwān al-
Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, IV, 450–457; also in Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870 and
Paris, BnF, Arabe 2304. Compare with London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 1946, fols. 21v–
32r.
87 London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 1946, fols. 1v–21r.
88 London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 1946, fols. 5v–5r.
89 ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Badawī, ed., al-Uṣūl al-yūnāniyya lil-naẓariyyāt al-siyāsiyya fī l-Islām
(Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahḍa al-Miṣriyya, 1954), 69. On the influence, circulation, and struc-
ture of this text, see Mario Grignaschi, “L’origine et les métamorphoses du Sirr al-ʾasrâr,”
Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age 43 (1976): 7–112; Mario Grignas-
chi, “La diffusion du Secretum Secretorum dans l’ Europe occidentale,” Archive d’Histoire
Doctrinale et Litterature du Moyen Age 48 (1980): 7–70; Mario Grignaschi, “Remarques
sur la formation et l’ interprétation du Sirr al-asrâr,” in Pseudo-Aristotle The Secret of
Secrets. Sources and Influences, ed. W.F. Ryan and C.B. Schmitt (London: Warburg Institute,
1982), 3–33; Steven J. Williams, “The Early Circulation of the Pseudo-Aristotelian ‘Secret of
Secrets’ in the West,” in Micrologus 2 (1994): 127–144; Mahmoud Manzalaoui, “The Pseudo-
Aristotelian ‘Kitāb Sirr al-Asrār.’ Facts and Problems,” Oriens 23–24 (1974): 147–257.
90 Badawī, al-Uṣūl al-yūnāniyya, 85.
184 saif

In the last chapter, Aristotle prescribes an elaborate talisman known as “the

talisman of the king,” which insures obedience, awe, and victory.91

2.5 Magic as Medicine

The fable of the king and his vizier, overlooked in studies of the Ikhwān’s magic
and occult sciences, encapsulates their esotericism,92 which reveals and obfus-
cates. It unfolds into many layers of meanings that extend even beyond Epistle
52. For example, the king’s salvation represents magic as an eschatological
tool to transcend mundane kingship, and hints at magic as sacral power. His
physical recuperation is a demonstration of magic as a form of medicine. The
Ikhwān expand on this latter meaning after the fable. They write that medi-
cine “is a kind of licit magic (siḥr ḥalāl) because it is the alteration of essences
from a state of corruption to soundness, from deficiency to completion. Illi-
cit magic (al-siḥr al-ḥarām) is its opposite, introducing corruption into sound
bodies with that which ruins and corrupts its temperament and weakens its
natures.”93 Astonishingly, here the Ikhwān refer to the hadith that calls for the
execution of the sorcerer.94 Illicit magic is magic that hurts and damages, and
in this way, in this particular meaning, the Ikhwān endorse the Qurʾanic denun-
ciation of sorcery:

And they followed [instead] what the devils had recited during the reign
of Solomon. It was not Solomon who disbelieved, but the devils disbe-
lieved, teaching people magic and that which was revealed to the two
angels at Babylon, Hārūt and Mārūt. But the two angels do not teach any-
one unless they say, “We are a trial, so do not disbelieve [by practicing
magic].” And [yet] they learn from them that by which they cause separ-
ation between a man and his wife. But they do not harm anyone through
it except by permission of God. And the people learn what harms them
and does not benefit them.
Q 1:102

91 Badawī, al-Uṣūl al-yūnāniyya, 159–164.

92 For an extensive discussion on the evolution of Islamic esotericism, bāṭiniyya, as a shift-
ing and historically contingent discourse, see Liana Saif, “What is Islamic Esotericism?,” in
“Islamic Esotericism,” ed. Liana Saif, special issue of Correspondences: Journal for the Study
of Esotericism 7, no. 1 (2019): 1–59.
93 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:327; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 542r.
94 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:328; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 542r; al-Tirmidhī, al-Jāmiʿ, bk. 17, ch. 27, ḥadīth 44, https://sunnah.com/tirmidhi/17/
44.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 185

The same verse that, above, was interpreted esoterically is now taken liter-
ally when the discourse shifts into the transitive practice of medicine, which
is akin to talismanry. Both practices must be used to achieve amelioration and
progress; this is the condition of their legitimacy. Furthermore, just as in mak-
ing talismans, in medicine, a physician needs to learn “the starry craft” (al-ṣināʿa
al-nujūmiyya) “because it is the root and the foundation of all terrestrial oper-
ations and occurrences in natural bodies.”95
The miracles of the prophets and the actions of the sages work on deficient
souls just as the medicines of the physicians heal the bodies. Any soul that lacks
knowledge of God is “deficient and incomplete, sick and unhealthy.” Prophets
and sages direct “people with illnesses of the soul” (aṣḥāb al-ʿilal al-nafsāniyya)
back to the path to God by calling for patience.96 At this point, the Ikhwān refer
the reader to the fable of the physician in Epistle 44 (on the convictions of the
Brethren of Purity) in which medicine as magic now takes on a metaphorical
garb. There we are told of the sage/physician who comes upon a city whose
people are suffering from an “invisible illness” (maraḍ khafī) without being
aware of their affliction. Believing that if he gives them a diagnosis bluntly, they
would turn away from him and reject his help, he approaches one of the noble-
men of the city and gives him a medical potion and some snuff. His health is
restored immediately. Grateful, the nobleman asks the physician what he can
do in return; the physician requests only that the nobleman heal with these
medicines just one more person. This has a secret ripple effect. Eventually the
healers are strengthened and emboldened by the increase in public health, they
eventually make the truth known and administer by force the medicines to the
rest, until the entire population is healed.97 This is an allegory expressing the
mission of the Ikhwān themselves, whose identity is hidden but is destined
to emerge: “It is we, the society ( jamāʿa) of Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, noble and pure
friends, who were asleep in the cave of our father Adam for a period of time
while the vicissitudes of ages and the calamities of misfortune rolled on, till
the day of reckoning following the dispersal in the lands of the kingdom of the
Greatest Law (al-nāmūs al-akbar).”98 The Ikhwān refer to themselves as “phys-
icians of the souls,” making them similar to the prophets. It is clear, then, that

95 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:328; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 542r (margins); Liana Saif, “Between Medicine and Magic: Spiritual Aetiology and
Therapeutics in Medieval Islam,” in Demons and Illness from Antiquity to the Early Mod-
ern Period, ed. Siam Bhayro and Catherine Rider (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 313–338.
96 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:329–330; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 542v.
97 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:14–15.
98 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:18.
186 saif

their discussion of medicine exemplifies perfectly the subtle shifts in discourse

that characterize their style of writing. Medicine is medicine, but it is also magic
and a religio-political mission.

2.6 Magic as wahm

For the Ikhwān, it is the faculty by which the feat is facilitated that distinguishes
the magic of the prophets from that of the sages. The miracles of the prophets
are direct divine effusions that are received by their intellect, whereas the sage-
mage acts on nature and others through the soul (nafs). In the final portions of
all the manuscripts, save the ones containing the ps.-Aristotelian concoctions
(including the Beirut edition), the Ikhwān describe the most inferior type of
magic, that is, illusory magic.
The Ikhwān explain that the sphere of the Moon is its body, upon which
its soul acts. Similarly, “the [human] body is the sphere of the pneuma” upon
which it acts. The parts of the body correspond to parts of the zodiac, and the
kind of effect the pneuma has on the body is therefore determined by celes-
tial conditions. The pneuma courses through the body at the command of the
“head,” the body’s sun. The welfare of the pneuma depends on the welfare of
the body. The link between body and pneuma is forged by the faculty of wahm.
This word can be translated as “imagination,” but in this context it indicates the
capacity to process sensory input to perceive internal significance and related
images. The Ikhwān say, “Know that wahm is a power that extracts mean-
ings from sensory input (maḥsūsāt) and channels them to the pneuma.” Con-
sequently, if the physical temperament is balanced, the wahm would channel
well-rounded and balanced perceptions to the pneuma. Because the body fol-
lows the pneuma, it is affected by its vacillations. The Ikhwān give an example
of this: A man eats a good meal. Just as he finishes, another comes and tells him
that the food is poisoned. If the man is intellectually limited (qalīl al-ʿaql), he
will believe this to be true, making his pneuma and then his body sick, and he
may even die because of this wahm.
The Ikhwān then employ a tactic used before, conflating the vocation of the
physician with that of the mage. They tell us that physicians strengthen the
physical temperament using “good wahm.” One of Galen’s friends, they report,
believed he was cursed by a woman. Galen reassured him that it could not be
so, but the man insisted that he had been bewitched. The next time the friends
met, Galen gave him a recipe for a “magical” concoction, which the friend pre-
pared and used. As a result of his wahm, he recovered (a kind of the placebo
effect). According to the Ikhwān, conjurations and invocations taken from the
Torah, Bible, and Qurʾan also work by wahm. They especially affect women,
children, and fools but have little effect on “people of understanding.” The evil
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 187

eye is facilitated by the same faculty. They emphasize that these things take
effect by belief and are made ineffective by denial.99
In the alternative ending provided in Atif Efendi 1681, we finally have an
explanation of what the Ikhwān mean by women’s magic: “the magic that
women specialize in [works] through awhām (pl. of wahm) and penetrates the
[minds of] fools among men, women, and youths by the superstitions (khurā-
fat) and old wives’ tales (makhārīq) that they use, the nonsense they write, and
the incitements and nīranjs they create.” This is immediately contrasted with
the magic of the scholars (ʿulamāʾ), which depends on the knowledge of the
spiritual forces of the cosmos, constituting the foundation of talismanry and
“the transformation of essences,” the true siḥr of the Ikhwān.100
To understand this “womanly” magic, a distinction must be made between
what is referred to in this article as “soul-enabled” magic, practiced by philo-
sophers and sages, and pneumatic magic, that is, wahm magic. This is based
on the Aristotelian conceptualization of the soul. Wahm is the lowest faculty of
the soul (nafs); it operates on the level of perception and interacts with semi-
substantial pneuma (nafs), which is the intermediary between body and soul.
It is more akin to the medical spiritus/rūḥ (rūḥ/arwāḥ), whereas soul-enabled
magic operates at the high level of understanding ( fahm). The magic of the
prophets is actualized through the highest faculty of intellection.

3 Practice

One of the main features of 52b that distinguishes it from 52a is the domin-
ance of astrological theory and practical instructions, despite being scattered
randomly through the text. It includes chapters on advantageous states of the
planets, astrological correspondences, methods of astrological interrogation
(such as those aiming to discover a hidden thing), ascertaining the occurrence
of conception, the state of a fetus, the validity of news, and the identity of a
thief. It has chapters also on the properties of stones and other natural mater-
ials. The longest chapter of the epistle is on the twenty-eight lunar mansions
and the talismans to be constructed under each of them. It is derived from
the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetic text al-Istūṭās.101 In some manuscripts of 52b

99 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi, fols. 576v–577r; 579v–580v.

100 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fols. 560v–561r.
101 Turkey, National Library of Manisa, MS 1461, fols. 18v–25v; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ, 4: 428–443; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fols. 572r–576r. Most of the
texts that constitute the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica are given strange, Greek-sounding
188 saif

this is followed by recipes for natural amulets known as nīranjs and four con-
coctions to attract animals, which are likewise taken from another known ps.-
Aristotelian Hermetic text.102 In 52a, the Ikhwān devote the longest chapter to
the magic and rituals of Sabians and Harranians, but there is nothing resem-
bling the content of the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica.103 Although the content of
the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica accords well with some descriptions found in
medieval histories concerning the Sabians,104 their conflation with a Hermetic
or ps.-Hermetic body of belief and practice, a tendency found in Pingree, Mar-
quet, and many others, is problematic.105
In the versions of 52b that contain the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetic concoc-
tions (see above), a more explicit restriction on practice is found: “I ask you
to stay away, loyal and gentle brother, may God Almighty support you and us
with a spirit from him, from prohibited [magical] work or that which is not
allowed by the Law, except for asset burial, digging a well or a river, building

titles: Isṭimākhīs, Isṭimāṭīs, Istūṭās, Hadīṭūs, and Madīṭīs. See also Kevin van Bladel, The
Arabic Hermes: From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2009), 101–102, 114, and Charles Burnett, “Arabic, Greek and Latin Works on Astrological
Magic Attributed to Aristotle,” in Pseudo Aristotle in the Middle Ages: The Theology and
Other Texts, ed. J. Kray, W.F. Ryan, and C.B. Schmitt (London: Warburg Institute, 1989), 84–
97.
102 London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 1946, fols. 21v–32r; Oxford, Bodleian, Arab 221, fols. 1v–
4r; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870, fols. 333r–338rv; Paris, BnF, Arabe 2304, fols. 88v–
89v.
103 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 116–146 (English), 44–85 (Arabic).
104 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, “Introduction,” 36–41; David Pingree, “The Sabians of
Harran and the Classical Tradition,” International Journal of the Classical Tradi-
tion, 9 (2002): 8–35; J. Hämeen-Anttila, “Continuity of Pagan Religious Traditions in
Tenth-Century Iraq,” in Ideologies as International Phenomena, ed. A. Paniano and G.
Pettinato (Bologna: International Association for Cultural Studies, 2002), 89–107; Ta-
mara Green, The City of the Moon God: Religious Traditions of Harran (Leiden: Brill,
1992); F.E. Peters, “Hermes and Harran: The Roots of Arabic-Islamic Occultism,” in
Intellectual Studies on Islam: Essays Written in Honour of Martin B. Dickson, ed. Michael
Mazzaoui and Vera B. Moreen (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1990), 185–
215.
105 Marquet, Les Frères de la Pureté, 10, Pingree, “Some Sources of the Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm,”
Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 43 (1980): 1–15, here 15; for an assessment
of Marquet’s views on the Sabians of Harran and Hermeticism, see Godefroid de Callataÿ,
“Les sabéens de Ḥarrān dans l’ oeuvre d’Yves Marquet,” in Images et Magie: Picatrix entre
Orient et Occident, ed. Jean-Patrice Boudet, Anna Caiozzo, and Nicolas Weill-Parot (Paris:
Honoré Champion, 2011), 41–56; the conflation of Harranians and Sabians is thoroughly
analyzed and proven to be historically unfounded by Kevin van Bladel, in The Arabic Her-
mes.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 189

a ship or house, marriage, entering [the presence of] a sovereign, travel, sow-
ing and planting, buying property, and what is similar to these things. As for
the rest, God Almighty has safeguarded our brethren from doing them: I mean
controlling emotions (al-ʿuṭūf ), tying and binding, and similar things. We have
explained these to our brethren in order to introduce the methods of those who
practice them.”106
To these reprehensible practices they add trickery by prestidigitation and
necromancy. The former is too mundane and useless.107 The latter, they assert,
is real and serious, as demonstrated by Jesus. They warn their reader that “this
type of magic spoils minds and ruins the souls fascinated by and approaching
it. Our brethren must not, God aid them, turn to this art by way of comparison,
reading books, or experimenting.”108

4 Influence

The earliest evidence of the influence of the Ikhwān’s 52b is found in Ghāyat al-
ḥakīm, written in the 340s/950s by the Cordoban ʿālim, bāṭinī (esotericist), and
occultist Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī (293–353/906–964).109 In their German
translation of the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, Martin Plessner and Helmut Ritter highlight
numerous elements taken from 52b and similar content: the talismans of the
lunar mansions and one of the definitions of magic mentioned above, namely,
“all words and actions that charm (v. saḥara) the minds, and submit souls with
the intention to fascinate and submit [them], to be listened to, receive satisfac-
tion, to be obeyed, and to be complied with.”110 They also recount conceptual
parallels, such as the correspondences of body parts to parts of the macro-
cosm.111 For now, it suffices to refer the reader to the Plessner/Ritter translation

106 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:444; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870, fol.
333r.
107 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:387; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 560r.
108 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:426.
109 Maribel Fierro, “Bāṭinism in al-Andalus. Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964), Author
of the ‘Rutbat al-Ḥakīm’ and the ‘Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm’ (Picatrix),” Studia Islamica 84 (1996):
87–112; Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Magia in al-Andalus: Rasāʾil Ijwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rutbat al-ḥakīm
y Ghāyat al-ḥakīm (Picatrix),” Al-Qantara 34, no. 2 (2013): 297–344; Godefroid de Callataÿ
and Sébastien Moureau, “Towards the Critical Edition of the Rutbat al-ḥakīm: A Few Pre-
liminary Observations,” Arabica 62 (2015): 385–394, here 391.
110 Maslama al-Qurṭubī, Picatrix: das Ziel des Weisen, translated into German by Hellmut
Ritter and Martin Plessner (London: Warburg Institute, 1962), lx–lxi; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, IV: 314; Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fol. 538r.
111 Ritter and Plessner, Picatrix, lxi.
190 saif

for the textual parallels between the two texts. The Ghāya is the earliest evid-
ence of the influence of 52b, rather than 52a, which supports the antiquity of
the former.
Accepting the erroneous attribution of the Ghāya to the mathematician
Maslama al-Majrītī (339–398/950–1007), Holmyard and Flügel perceive a con-
nection with the Rasāʾil based on statements made by the author himself in
the Rutbat al-ḥakīm—the Ghāya’s alchemical sister text—the most significant
of which is:

And we have presented (qaddamnā) among [our] compositions on the

mathematical sciences and philosophical secrets / books and epistles
/ fifty-one epistles /112 in which we have assimilated (istawʿabnā fīhā)
[knowledge] that no one among the people of our age has preceded us
in assimilating. These epistles spread and prevailed among them, so they
competed in investigating them and impelled the people of their times
to [read] them without knowing who composed them (allafa) and where
they were composed. The ingenious among them, when they strove to
read them diligently due to liking them and enjoying their turn of phrases,
realized that they are contemporary compositions, without knowing who
composed them and where.113

Elsewhere in the Rutba, the author even presents his alchemical work as a sub-
stitute for the epistles.

I insist, I wrote this book as a substitute for these Epistles in their total-
ity. Please find here, therefore, as a compensation for you, a reflection
on animals according to what the experts in the art of alchemy have
described. You will appreciate what I have arrived at. Next I shall report
on minerals and their causes, having left aside the discussion of plants,
because it is found in a well known epistle from among these Epistles and
because a philosopher does not require it, unless he wants to become a
physician. Who wishes this—well, let him read it in the Epistles, God the
Exalted willing.114

112 “Philosophical secrets,” in Istanbul, Nuruosmaniye, 2794, fol. 141r, and Nuruosmaniye,
3623, fol. 3r; “fifty-one epistles,” in Tehran, Center for the Great Islamic Encyclopedia,
MS 463, fol. 5v; “books and epistles,” in Pakistan, Karachi University Library, MS 2159, 7.
113 Pakistan, Karachi University Library, MS 2159, 7.
114 Pakistan, Karachi University Library, MS 2159, 23.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 191

S.M. Stern mentions this in passing, without giving any weight to it in his
discussion of the authorship of the Rasāʾil.115 On account of Maribel Fierro’s
compelling attribution of the Ghāya and Rutba to Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī
rather than al-Majrītī the mathematician, the question of the connection be-
tween these two texts and the Rasāʾil must be revisited, now that this is chrono-
logically plausible. Fierro notes that the suggestion that al-Qurṭubi had made
a new recension of the Rasāʾil “should be taken into consideration.”116 This
was taken up by Godefroid de Callataÿ and Sébastien Moureau in two recent
articles. They demonstrate the reasons that a historical connection was made
between Maslama al-Majrītī, as author of the Ghāya, and the Rasāʾil, buttressed
by the existence of some manuscripts that explicitly attribute their authorship
to him.117 They also show that this was especially true among the intellectuals of
western Islamic regions, such as Ibn Sabʿīn (d. c. 667/1269).118 They then reject
the possibility that Maslama al-Qurṭubī is the author or one of the authors of
the Rasāʾil, basing their argument on their interpretation of the verb qaddama
in the previous long quotation from the Rutba as meaning “made them known.”
Al-Qurṭubi thus merely introduced the Rasāʾil to al-Andalus through a copy he
brought from his eastern sojourn.119
It is, indeed, unlikely that al-Qurṭubī contributed to the composition of
the Rasāʾil. There is, however, another possibility, which is to see Ghāyat al-
ḥakīm as an elaboration on 52b, which employs various other sources to
substantiate its arguments, such as the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica, works
attributed to Jābir ibn Ḥayyān and Ibn Waḥshiyya’s al-Filāḥa al-nabaṭiyya
(“The Nabatean agriculture”). As the above statement from the Rutba shows,
al-Qurṭubī was eager to be seen as a member of the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ whom
he might have met in Iraq during his travels in the eastern regions or even
as their representative in al-Andalus.120 Although the verb qaddama can
mean to “present” or “introduce,” his use of the expression waḍaʿnā hādhihi
al-kutub (“we composed these books”) and writing that they are the Rasāʾil
“wherein we have assimilated (istawʿabnā fīhā) [knowledge] that no one

115 S.M. Stern, “New Information about the Authors of the ‘Epistles of the Sincere Brethren’,”
Islamic Studies 3 (1964): 405–428, here 420.
116 Fierro, “Bāṭinism in al-Andalus,” 106–108.
117 Godefroid de Callataÿ and Sébastien Moureau, “Again on Maslama ibn Qāsim al-Qurṭubī,
the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and Ibn Khaldūn: New Evidence from Two Manuscripts of Rutbat al-
ḥakīm,” Al-Qanṭara, 37 (July–December 2016): 329–372, here 331–333.
118 De Callataÿ and Moureau, “Again on Maslama ibn Qāsim al-Qurṭubī,” 336–337.
119 Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Magia en al-Andalus: Rasaʾil ijwan al-Safaʾ, Rutbat al-hakim y Gayat
al-hakim (Picatrix),” Al-Qanṭara 34, no. 2 (July–December, 2013), 297–344, here 319–320,
327–328; de Callataÿ and Moureau, “Again on Maslama Ibn Qāsim al-Qurṭubī,” 333–336.
120 Fierro, “Bāṭinism in Al-Andalus,” 106.
192 saif

among the people of our age have preceded us in assimilating” indicate at least
a desire to seem to have been involved in the writing of the Rasāʾil.121
In the Rutba, following the statement regarding it being a replacement of
some or all epistles, al-Qurṭubī mentions the value of the other “craft” and
“outcome”—that is magic—which is integrated into (dākhila fī) alchemy, “for
whoever wants to advance into the one called alchemy, mastering the other is
indispensable.”122 This suggests that the Ghāya is part of his declared objective
of expanding themes that are found in the Rasāʾil.
The Ghāya and 52b share the same worldview, in which everything is gov-
erned by a system of volitional causality in a Neoplatonically hypostatic uni-
verse. In both texts, the micro-macro links and resulting correspondences jus-
tify the potential for interacting with and manipulating the astral and terrestrial
worlds. The Ghāya’s structure as a manual contrasts with 52b’s irregularly sized
chapters and random sequence of topics;123 and the freedom with which al-
Qurṭubī recommends aggressive magic in the Ghāya,124 which accords with the
siḥr ḥarām (illicit magic) that the Ikhwān describe as corrupt and dangerous.
Nevertheless, we do find in 52b some references to destructive magic in the sec-
tion on the talismans of the lunar mansions. For example, we are instructed to
make “nīranjs for hostility, feuds, the separation of two people, lethal poisons,
and all kinds of it [nīranj] that lead to feuds and harm” under the seventeenth
mansion, known as al-iklīl and similarly under the twenty-first mansion, al-
balda.125 However, the Ikhwān assert that they “have explained these to our
brethren to introduce the methods of those who practice them” rather than
to recommend them.126 The description of the lunar mansions in the Ghāya
differs markedly from that found in 52b. 52b’s list is similar to that found in
Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-nujūm (“The book of insights into the science of the
stars”) by al-Malik al-Ashraf (d. 695/1296).127 It is possible that al-Malik’s list was

121 Pakistan, Karachi University Library, MS 2159, 7.

122 Pakistan, Karachi University Library, MS 2159, 24.
123 Constant Hamès, “La Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm: son époque, sa postérité,” in Boudet, Caiozzo, and
Weill-Parot, Images et magie, 215–232, here 220–224.
124 Maslama al-Qurṭubī, Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm wa-aḥaqq al-natījatayn bi-l-taqdīm, ed. Helmut
Ritter (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1933), examples of aggressive talismans at 27 (destruction
of a country, annihilation of enemies) and 31–32 (causing separation and animosity).
125 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:437, 439; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fol. 574v, fol. 575v.
126 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:444; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870, fol.
333r.
127 Daniel Martin Varisco, “The Magical Significance of the Lunar Stations in the Thirteenth-
Century Yemeni Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-nujūm of al-Malik al-Ashraf,” in “Divination,
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 193

derived from 52b, but it is more likely that the authors of both independently
consulted the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetic source.
The influence of the Rasāʾil is also discernible in texts attributed to the
occultist Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Būnī (d. c. 622/1225). Jean-Charles Coulon
points out several parallels in Shams al-maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al-ʿawārif (“The sun of
knowledge and the secrets of gnosis”)128 that indicate knowledge of the Rasāʾil
as a whole, including a reference to their doctrine of revolutions. Coulon also
mentions that the angelology of this text is derived from the Rasāʾil.129 None
of these, however, point to the content of 52b but rather to other epistles, such
as number 49, on the action of the spiritual principles (rūḥāniyyīn), and num-
ber 36, on cycles and revolutions.
Shams al-maʿārif ’s list of the lunar mansions nevertheless contains elements
found only in 52b’s list. The author reformulates this list to reflect his lettrist
knowledge, according to which each mansion corresponds to a set of letters
and divine names, all of which encapsulate the mansion’s talismanic powers,
including aggressive ones. As mentioned earlier, the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetic
text known as Kitāb al-Istūṭās was a major source of magic for the lunar man-
sions.130 It is the Ikhwān’s direct source, as evinced by the similarities in detail.
However, they introduce a specific expression in their version: “from this [lunar
mansion], descends ( yanḥaṭṭu) to this world a rūḥāniyya,” and elsewhere a vari-
ation of this, which is not found in the Kitāb al-Istūṭās but is used in Shams al-
maʿārif.131 Other similarities of expression in this section indicate the author’s
use of 52b. The lunar-mansion list of the Shams al-maʿārif is taken from an ori-
ginal text by al-Būnī called Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt (“The secrets of signs”), which also
contains these expressions and other similarities.132
The lunar mansions apparently constitute the nexus of 52b’s influence. This
is demonstrated also by a ninth/fifteenth-century manuscript in the Biblio-

magie, pouvoirs au Yémen,” ed. Anne Regourd, special issue of Quaderni di Studi Arabi
13 (1995): 19–40.
128 This is a text incorrectly attributed to al-Būnī but which formed the basis of the eleventh/
seventeenth-century al-Būnian compendium known as Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā (“The
sun of knowledge: the larger version”) on which his wide fame mainly rests; see Noah
Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture: Aḥmad al-Būnī and His Readers through
the Mamlūk Period” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2014), 6, 20, 27–30, 96, 102–103;
Jean-Charles Coulon, “La magie islamique et le corpus bunianum au Moyen Âge” (PhD
diss., Université Paris IV—Sorbonne, 2013), 1:80–84.
129 Coulon, La magic islamique, 1:718, 906, 906, 958.
130 Turkey, National Library of Manisa, MS 1461, fols. 18v–25v; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:428–443; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fols. 572r–576r.
131 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 4:429; Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681,
fols. 572v–573r; Paris, BnF, Arabe 2647, fol. 13v, fol. 15r.
132 Paris, BnF, Arabe 2658, fols. 25v–27r.
194 saif

thèque Nationale de France (Arabe 2596) that contains an anonymous text

titled Anwār al-jawāhir wa-l-laʾāliʾ fī asrār manāzil al-maʿdan al-ʿālī (“The glow
of jewels and pearls over the secrets of the stations of the sublime metal”). Its
unnamed author discusses the influence and magical applications of the lunar
mansions from various sources, including al-Būnī and other lettrists (asḥāb al-
ḥurūf ), the ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica, and other authorities.133 Although the
text itself contains no reference to the Ikhwān, the compiler of the manuscript
appends Epistle 52b in its entirety to the anonymous text, most likely to com-
plement it with the Ikhwān’s description.134 A tantalizing reference to the
Rasāʾil as a whole is found in Kitāb Sharāsīm al-hindiyya (“the book of Sharāsīm
the Indian”), a magic text containing mostly practical instructions regarding
suffumigations, fermentations (taʿāfīn), and concoctions, as well as a chapter
on the names of planetary spirits and another on magical scripts.135 At the end
of the text (only in some manuscripts), a strange reference is made to the fifty-
one epistles: “There are too many scripts (aqlām) to enumerate, and I have
mentioned the scripts that were used by the people of knowledge to codify
their books. People had used the script of the fifty-one introductions known
as The Epistles of the Brethren that has appeared in this age and with it they
wrote much.”136 It is not clear what this refers to, as there is no discussion of
magical scripts in the Rasāʾil, and no manuscript written in code is known.
The rest of the text contains nothing that indicates knowledge of 52b or the
other epistles. It is notable that the text stresses the contemporaneousness of
the Rasāʾil, an emphasis that we encountered above, made by al-Qurṭubī in the
Rutba.
Another reader of the Ikhwān by whom we can gauge the influence of the
epistle on magic is the Mamluk theologian Ibn Taymiyya (661–728/1263–1318).
As Yahya Michot demonstrates, Ibn Taymiyya was acquainted with the Rasāʾil.
He adopted Abū Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī’s narrative on the identity of the Ikhwān
and labeled them pejoratively as philosophers, esotericists (bāṭinīs), Qarām-
iṭa, and Ismāʿīlīs. He criticized them for reconciling Divine Law and Greek
philosophy. For him, their thought consists of “insipid crumbs of Pythagoras’s

133 Paris, BnF, Arabe 2596, fols. 1r–215v. The scribe used an exemplar dated 19 Rabīʿ al-Awwal
867 (12 December 1462). The date of the completion is the day of ʿAshūrā of what appears
to be the year 971(/1564) (fol. 215v), but on the title page one reads that the manuscript
came to be owned by a certain ʿUmar in 884 (/1479).
134 Paris, BnF, Arabe 2596, fols. 217r–286v.
135 Jean-Charles Coulon is preparing an edition of Kitāb Sharāsīm al-hindiyya. I am grateful
for his guidance on this text. See his chapter in this volume.
136 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Hamidiyi 189, fols. 193v–194r.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 195

philosophy.”137 Most interesting is his description of the Ikhwān as Aristotelian-

Sabian philosophers. In Bayān talbīs al-jahmiyya, Ibn Taymiyya delineates the
transmission of Greek knowledge into the Islamic domain, saying that it in-
cluded the religion of the Sabians (central to which is the veneration of the
planets) including “Aristotle and his kin” (Arisṭū wa-dhawīh) from whom the
Ikhwān, as Qarāmiṭa, have taken their doctrines on the soul, intellect, light, and
darkness.138 This reference is reminiscent of 52a’s introduction to the section
on the Sabians and their rituals, which states that among the Greeks are the
Sabians and Harranians, who base their doctrines on Babylonian and Egyp-
tian knowledge as a result of “the transmission of arts and sciences.” Their
chief sages were Agathodaimon, Hermes, Ūmahris, and Aratus, from whom
Pythagoreanism, Aristotelianism, Platonism, and Epicureanism branched out.
After this introduction, the Ikhwān delve into the doctrine of soul.139 Admit-
tedly, this is not wholly conclusive evidence for Ibn Taymiyya’s knowledge of
52a, as such associations were made by others, including al-Masʿūdī in Murūj
al-dhahab (“The fields of gold”).140
Other signs perhaps point to 52b in his works. Ibn Taymiyya’s condemna-
tion of the Ikhwān’s equating the prophets’ miracles with the feats of philo-
sophers—and specifically their description of the former as a sort of soul-
enabled power—is an indication of his possible knowledge of 52b, because it
is there where they elaborate most on this. They do, however, also touch upon
it elsewhere.141 This inconclusive evidence of the influence of the fifty-second
epistle (whether in the long or the short version) on Ibn Taymiyya is made
even more equivocal in light of the fact that, in al-Nubuwwāt (“Prophecy”), he
spends much effort and space to distinguish between prophecy and magic in a
way that might be seen as a response to the Ikhwān’s discourse on this matter
in 52b. He does not cite them in this discussion, but, elsewhere in this work,
they are briefly referred to as bāṭinīs and Ismāʿīlīs in an unrelated context.142

137 Yahya Michot, “Misled and Misleading … Yet Central in Their Influence: Ibn Taymiyya’s
Views on the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,” in el-Bizri, The Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and their Rasāʾil: An Intro-
duction, 139–179, here 143–144, 140, 145, 149, 151; Nader el-Bizri, “Prologue,” in el-Bizri, The
Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ and their Rasāʾil: An Introduction, 3–5.
138 Michot, “Misled and Misleading,” 150–151; Ibn Taymiyya, Bayān talbīs al-jahmiyya, 8 vols.
(Munawwarah: Majmaʿ al-Malik Fahd, 1426/2005–2006) 2:473–474.
139 The Brethren of Purity, On Magic I, 44–45 (Arabic), 116–118 (English).
140 Abū l-Ḥasan b. ʿAlī al-Masʿūdī, Murūj al-dhahab wa-maʿ ādin al-jawāhir, ed. Kamāl Marʿī,
4 vols. (Beirut 2005), 2:133.
141 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 2: 10; The Brethren of Purity, On the Natural Sci-
ences, 19–23; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, 3:13.
142 Ibn Taymiyya, al-Nubuwwat, ed. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Ṭweiān, 2 vols. (Riyadh: Aḍwāʾ al-Salaf,
2000), 1:403–405.
196 saif

Contrary to what one would expect, he does not seem to denounce them as
mages or authors on siḥr.
The case is similar with Ibn Khaldūn (732–808/1332–1406), who dedicates
long sections of his Muqqadima to defining, explicating, and denouncing the
occult sciences: magic, the science of letters, astrology, alchemy, and divina-
tion. He even decries the author of the Ghāya and Rutba (whom he believes to
be Maslama al-Majrītī) and Jābir b. Ḥayyān as arch-sorcerers of the West and
East, respectively, adding al-Būnī and Ibn ʿArabī to the list of infamy.143 Yet, the
Rasāʾil are conspicuously absent from the entire work, especially as authors on
magic.144 De Callataÿ and Moureau argue for the impact of the Ikhwān on him,
and, taking into account his knowledge of the Ghāya and Rutba, they suggest
that Ibn Khaldūn followed other thinkers and considered Maslama al-Majrītī
the author of the Rasāʾil; this implies that the denunciation of al-Majrītī is also
a denunciation of the Ikhwān. After all, if Ibn Khaldūn did derive some of his
ideas from the Rasāʾil, it would be counterintuitive to denounce them harshly
by name, as he does with Maslama al-Majrītī and Jābir b. Ḥayyān. Neverthe-
less, this remains speculative, especially given that he speaks of al-Majrītī only
as the author of the Ghāya and Rutba.
The intellectual influence of the Rasāʾil on the thought of Ibn Khaldūn is yet
to be fully substantiated. Some propose that he derived his idea of the evolu-
tionary potential of species, especially humans, from the Ikhwān, but he could
have also been exposed to such ideas from others, such as Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī
(597–672/1201–1274).145 The fact that both the Rasāʾil and the Muqaddima refer
to the science of letters has been used to forge a link between the texts, but the
alphanumerical theory of the Ikhwān differs markedly from the Sufi-oriented
ʿilm al-ḥurūf (science of letters), which began to develop and become sys-
tematized from the sixth/twelfth century. They have different epistemological
foundations: the Ikhwān’s is naturalistic and arrived at by intellection, while
Ibn Khaldūn’s is revelatory and downplays the intellect.146

143 Ibn Khaldūn, al-Muqaddima, ed. Darwīsh Juwaidī (Beirut: al-Maktaba l-ʿAsriyya, 2000),
482–483, 485, 488.
144 As de Callataÿ and Moureau highlight, some literature overstated the influence of the
Rasāʾil on the thought of Ibn Khaldūn. On their argument for the impact of the Brethren
of Purity on him, see de Callataÿ and Moureau, “Again on Maslama,” 338–341.
145 Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah. An Introduction to History, trans. Franz Rosenthal, 3 vols.
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), 2:423; de Callataÿ and Moureau, “Again on
Maslama,” 337–338; Nāṣir al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī, The Nasirean Ethics, trans. G.M. Wickens (Lon-
don: George Allen & Unwin, 1964), 49–50, 78–79.
146 Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif,” 316–317, 326–330; Ibn Khaldūn, Al-Muqqa-
dima, 488–490.
a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 197

There is nothing in the Muqaddima that shows Ibn Khaldūn’s familiarity

with the Ikhwān or any of its members as proponents of magic or sorcery.
However, if he had at his disposal the shorter version (52a), he would have had
no reason to denounce them as sorcerers or mages. As noted above, 52a con-
tains no practical elements and is very “objective” in its tone. This might also
be the reason that they were excluded from the anti-magic discourse of Ibn
Taymiyya, who had perhaps likewise read only 52a.
The best candidates for demonstrating a deep influence of the Ikhwān’s
epistle on magic are the informally networked occultists and lettrists self-styled
as the neo-Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, who were influential cultivators of the occult sci-
ences in Timurid, Mamluk, and Ottoman domains. Among its best known
members are Sayyid Ḥusayn al-Akhlāṭī (d. 799/1397); ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-
Bisṭāmī (d. 858/1454), Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka Iṣfahānī (d. 835/1432), and Sharaf al-
Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī (d. 858/1454), in whose works al-Būnī’s influence is detected. This
association is probably due to “the Pythagorean and Neoplatonic philosophical
orientation of the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ or the shroud of anonymity which lent both
authority and mystery to their Rasāʾil.”147
In addition to his erudition in the science of letters, al-Bisṭāmī was acquain-
ted with ancient and medieval philosophy and occult sciences, as demon-
strated by the list of sources he provides in his autobiographical account Durrat
tāj al-rasāʾil (“The crown jewel of the epistles”) and Shams al-āfāq fī ʿilm al-
ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq (“The sun of horizons on the science of letters and magic
squares”). This list includes some ps.-Aristotelian Hermetica and Ghāyat al-
ḥakīm, but not Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ.148 Furthermore, his Shams al-āfāq

147 İlker Evrim Binbaş, Intellectual Networks in Timurid Iran: Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī and the
Islamicate Republic of Letters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 8–15, es8,
104–113; Matthew Melvin-Kouski, “The New Brethren of Purity: Ibn Turka and the Renais-
sance of Neopythagoreanism in the Early Modern Persian Cosmopolis,” in Companion to
the Reception of Pythagoras and Pythagoreanism, ed. Irene Caiazzo and Constantin Macris,
2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming); Cornell Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom and New Sciences:
Prophecies and the Ottoman Court in the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in Fal-
nama: The Book of Omens, ed. Massumeh Farhad and Serpil Bağcı (London: Thames and
Hudson, 2009), 232–243; Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript Culture,” 156–157, 322–
325; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest for a Universal Science: The Occult Philosophy
of Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka Iṣfahānī (1369–1432) and Intellectual Millenarianism in Early Timurid
Iran” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2012); and see Noah Gardiner’s and Matthew Melvin-
Koushki’s chapters in this volume.
148 Binbaş, Intellectual Networks in Timurid Iran, 105; London, British Library, Add MS 7494,
fols. 4r–6r. This list is studied by Noah Gardiner, “The Occultist Encyclopedism of ʿAbd
al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī,” Mamlūk Studies Review 20 (2017): 3–38.
198 saif

reveals no conceptual parallels that could testify to their influence or that of

the epistle on magic particularly. It contains a table on the lunar mansions, but
it is clearly derived from al-Būnī, one of the major sources of this work, rather
than 52b.149 It seems that there is no real influence in these works of the epistle
on magic specifically or the Rasāʾil generally.
This survey does not, of course, deal with all the readers of the Rasāʾil. It
is impossible, so far, to speak of a deep and lasting impact of Epistle 52b or
52a, except on Ghāyat al-ḥakīm. It is clear that Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī’s
work on magic was connected to 52b through borrowings and also by possibly
being an expansion of 52b. The lack of mention of the Ikhwān in Ibn Khal-
dūn’s Muqaddima and in Ibn Taymiyya’s works begins to show the insubstantial
recognition of the Ikhwān as authors on magic. This could also mean that 52a is
the version accessed by these intellectuals or that their knowledge of the Rasāʾil
itself was not so intimate. With al-Būnī, the only indicator of reception is the
lunar-mansions list, which seems to be taken from 52b, as attested by linguistic
borrowings. As shown, no influence is detected in the works of al-Bisṭāmī, a
member of the neo-Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ network.

5 Conclusion

This article sought to provide a thorough analysis of the Ikhwān’s conceptual-

ization of magic based on the longer version of their epistle on magic (52b).
Unlike the shorter version (52a), its detailed content, esoteric layers, and per-
sonal tone is in better alignment with the rest of the Rasāʾil. Once this align-
ment has been established, it becomes clear how the layering of meaning the
Ikhwān give to magic encapsulates their ideas on the enlightenment of the
soul and the sublimation of leadership and state, the ultimate objective of the
Rasāʾil.
To the Ikhwān, siḥr is essentially any act of transformation directed by will:

And know, O brother (may God support you with a spirit from Him) that
all actions, creations, crafts, professions, and all that takes place among
people, giving and taking, buying and selling, talking and responding, dis-
agreement in creeds, establishing proof and evidence, and anything that
involves violating the norm and transforming essences, converting things
from one thing to another, and mixing them with one another—all of this

149 London, British Library, Add MS 7494, fols. 87r–89v.

a study of the ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ’s epistle on magic 199

is magic (siḥr) and will. All the [the people in the] world depend on know-
ledge thereof, but everyone acts upon it according to their abilities.150

Cooking, making, transforming matter, minds, or souls, and medicine are all
siḥr. According to the Ikhwān, one must not adhere to a single assumed defin-
ition or commit to one of the many that they give us. Instead, the reader must
navigate a polysemous discourse that exercises the various faculties of the soul:
sensory and intellectual. Perhaps the Ikhwān aim with this epistle, as with the
rest of their encyclopedia, to hone the soul of the reader through the very act of
reading, especially reading their Rasāʾil and the subtle meanings in it, derived
from an all-embracing attitude toward various sources of knowledge:

And know, oh brother, that we do not oppose any science nor are we intol-
erant toward (nataʿassab ʿalā) any religious school (madhhab), nor do we
cast aside any book among the books of the sages and philosophers, [con-
taining] all sorts of knowledge that they have set down and authored and
[containing] the subtleties of meaning that they had extracted with their
intellects and scrutiny.151

One wonders if this dilution of the term “magic,” which distances it from sor-
cery, has limited the impact of the epistle on Islamicate magical traditions or
even stood in the way of recognizing the Ikhwān as authors on magic. The influ-
ence of 52b apparently occurred through the reception of Ghāyat al-ḥakīm of
Maslama al-Qurṭubī, who was keen to be known as one of the Ikhwān, as we see
in his Rutbat al-ḥakīm. Despite being received enthusiastically in early modern
Europe as the Picatrix, translated into Spanish and Latin in the second half of
the seventh/thirteenth century, the Ghāya’s influence is difficult to discern in
late medieval and early modern Islamicate occult thought. Nevertheless, it is
not an exaggeration to say that it, like 52b, paved the way for later magical and
even lettrist traditions by reworking the Neoplatonic worldview in a way that
accommodates ideas of volitional causality, allowing for the incorporation of
transitive and theurgic magical practices in the dynamics of the universe.
We have shown that the length and themes of 52b attest to its importance
and intellectual weight in the Rasāʾil. This is not surprising, given that the very
identity of the Ikhwān is vested with magic. They write in 52b:

150 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atıf Efendi 1681, fol. 546r; Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
4:340.
151 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Epistle 48 (Fī kayfiyat al-daʿwa ilā allāh, “The
Method of Calling to God”), 4:167.
200 saif

We have called this epistle of ours “the epistle on magic and invocations”
and revealed our discourse on what they are, the number of their divi-
sions, and methods of their practice, in order for our loyal brethren to
infer the hidden secrets when they investigate them with luminescent
souls and virtuous talents, and [when] they become thoroughly occupied
with examining them with deliberation and reflection, in order to need
no one else for [obtaining] the necessities of life that they require. And if
they reach this rank and attain this grade, it is appropriate for us to call
them the Brethren of Purity. Know, O Brother, that the truth behind this
name is the quality (al-khāṣṣa) that exists in those who are worthy of it,
in reality and not by way of metaphor only.152

Acknowledgements

Research for this article was facilitated during my work as a fellow in the
research project “Speculum Arabicum: Objectifying the contribution of the
Arab-Muslim world to the history of science and ideas: the sources and re-
sources of medieval encyclopaedism” at the Université Catholique de Louvain,
2012–2017. I am grateful to Godefroid de Callataÿ, Sébastien Moureau, Travis
Zadeh, and Francesca Leoni for their feedback. I am also deeply indebted to my
friend A.O.M. for his generousity and help in accessing some of the manuscripts
consulted for this project.

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 chapter 5

Sabian Astral Magic as Soteriology in Fakhr al-Dīn

al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr al-maktūm

Michael Noble

1 Introduction

The Islamic philosopher-theologian Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210) was one
of the most prominent, influential, and prolific writers in the post-Avicennan
period.1 Many of his works evince a deep critical engagement with the philo-
sophy of Avicenna (Ibn Sīnā, d. 428/1037). Among al-Rāzī’s earliest works was
al-Sirr al-maktūm (“The hidden secret,” henceforth al-Sirr), a magisterial study
of astral magic.2 While much of it is devoted to the recording of celestial-
sublunary correspondences and the practical details of the craft (ṣināʿa), al-
Sirr contains one of the most philosophically sophisticated theories of astral
magic ever produced in the Islamicate world. Drawing on the astrology of Abū
Maʿshar al-Balkhī (d. 171/787) and the cosmology and psychology of Avicenna,
al-Sirr presents the craft as the culmination of philosophy by means of which
the soul can realize perfection: it is an occult soteriology.3
The Sabians, to whom al-Sirr attributes this craft, were a historical group
representing the last vestiges of Mesopotamian astrolatrous religion surviv-
ing into the Islamic period, but, in the Islamicate historical imagination of
the sixth/twelfth century, the Sabians came to represent any form of learned
pagan culture—be it Greek, Indian, or Mesopotamian—that was versed in

1 On al-Rāzī’s biography, see Frank Griffel, “On Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s Life and the Patronage He
Received,” Journal of Islamic Studies 18, no. 3 (2007): 313–344.
2 Because the definition of “magic” is the subject of interminable scholarly debate, I shall
restrict the meaning of the phrase “astral magic” to that provided by al-Rāzī in his work and
discussed below. The only existing edition available of al-Sirr is the undated lithograph, pro-
duced by Mīrzā Muḥammad Shīrāzī in Cairo. All subsequent references to the work are from
this edition. For a chronology of his works, see Eşref Altaş, “Fahreddin er-Rāzī’nin Eserlerinin
Kronolojisi,” in İslâm düşüncesinin dönüşüm çağında Fahreddin er-Râzî, ed. Ömer Türker and
Osman Demir (Istanbul: İSAM Yayınları, 2013), 91–164.
3 On Abū Maʿshar’s theories on astral influence, see Liana Saif, The Arabic Influences on Early
Modern Occult Philosophy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 9–26.
208 noble

natural philosophy and steeped in the worship of the heavenly bodies.4 The
Sabians also stimulated the interest of al-Rāzī’s predecessor, the philosopher-
theologian Muḥammad Ibn ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Shahrastānī (d. 548/1153), with
whose heresiological work Kitāb al-Milal wa-l-niḥal (“Book of the religions and
sects”) al-Rāzī was deeply familiar.5 For the Sabians provide al-Shahrastānī with
a useful analytical framework in which to organize those belief systems, such
as the Indic, which are rooted in soil foreign to the Abrahamic scriptural tradi-
tions.
Although more clearly articulated in al-Sirr, the Sabian body of theory and
practice that emerges from the writings of both philosopher-theologians co-
ordinated cosmology, astrology, alchemy, medicine, and psychology to elevate
natural philosophy to the level of an alternative soteriology. For the Sabians,
an infinitely intricate pattern of hidden celestial-sublunary connections bound
together the reality disclosed by sense perception to the embodied human
soul.
Their soteriological vision identified man’s salvation in his potential to tran-
scend his embodied existence by forging a noetic connection with the spirits
animating the celestial spheres, the motions of which determined the rhythms
of change and impermanence that characterize the terrestrial plane. Since they
knew of the sublunary effects of their motions, this connection imbued man
not only with knowledge of the future and matters which lie beyond the ken
of human perception but also with power over generation and corruption in
the sublunary world. Working with this intricate pattern, employing sacrifice,
special diet, suffumigation, ceremonial clothing, and sacred liturgy, the Sabi-
ans’ astral ritual established a noetic link with the operative planet of his need

4 See Kevin van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes: From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2009), 121–234; Godefroid de Callataÿ, “The Ṣābians of Ṣāʿid al-
Andalūsī,” Studia graeco-arabica 7 (2017): 291–306; Alexandre M. Roberts, “Being a Ṣābian at
Court in Tenth-Century Baghdad,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 137, no. 2 (2017):
253–277.
5 Henceforth, I shall refer to Kitāb al-Milal wa-l-niḥal simply as al-Milal. I rely on the edition
prepared by Amīr ʿAlī Mahna and ʿAlī Ḥasan Fāʿūr (Beirut: Dār al-Maʿrifa, 1993). For a suc-
cinct biography of al-Shahrastānī, see Toby Mayer, Keys to the Arcana: Shahrastānī’s Esoteric
Commentary on the Qurʾān (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 3–19. For a partial English translation of al-
Milal, see Muslim Sects and Divisions: The Section on Muslim Sects in Kitāb al-Milal wa’l-Niḥal,
trans. Abdul Khaliq Kazi and John G. Flynn (London: Kegan Paul, 1984); for a French transla-
tion, see Livre des religions et des sects, trans. Daniel Gimaret, Guy Monnot, and Jean Jolivet,
2 vols. (Paris: UNESCO, 1986–1993). For an analysis of the section treating of the Sabians in
al-Milal, see Bruce Lawrence, Shahrastani on the Indian Religions, ed. L. Laeyendecker and
J. Waardenburg (The Hague: Mouton, 1976), 63–74.
sabian astral magic 209

in order to fulfill his purpose, be it that of self-transformation or of a transit-

ive sublunary goal. In the perfection of such knowledge and power, man could
transcend his own humanity to join the ontological rank of the celestial spirits.
A corollary of this perfection was his ability to work marvels here on earth.
In al-Shahrastānī’s al-Milal, thaumaturgical power was wielded also by
Indian Brahmins who, belonging to a learned pagan culture, are nevertheless
treated separately from the Sabians, along with other Indic subgroups. They
are portrayed as masters of meditation, the concentrated focus of which could
direct the transitive power of an Avicennan internal sense-faculty, called the
wahm, to work prodigies.
In al-Sirr, al-Rāzī invokes Indian sources along with Avicennan psycho-
logy to amplify the importance of spiritual training, ritual, meditation and
the power of the wahm to establish the noetic connection necessary for the
occult soteriology. With the aim of proposing al-Shahrastānī as an important
influence on al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr, this article will outline the main contours of the
Sabian system of belief and practice as portrayed in al-Milal; touch briefly on al-
Shahrastānī’s depiction of the Brahmin masters of meditation; and then sketch
al-Rāzī’s elaboration of the occult soteriology in al-Sirr. Forging a stronger bond
between Sabian practice and Indian meditation, this elaboration adapted the
Avicennan naturalistic theory of prophethood to account for the power of the
wahm to facilitate connection with the celestial souls and to both transform
the soul of the practitioner and act with thaumaturgic effect on terrestrial phe-
nomena.

2 Al-Shahrastānī on the Sabians

That al-Rāzī was well familiar with al-Shahrastānī’s celebrated study in compar-
ative religion and philosophy al-Milal is evident from al-Munāẓarāt, al-Rāzī’s
autobiographical account of his travels and debates in Transoxania.6 While the
first of the two main divisions of al-Milal treats of religions rooted in recog-
nized Abrahamic scriptural traditions, the second treats of those, such as the
Sabians, the philosophers and the Indians, who stand in opposition to the reli-
gions based on a prophetic dispensation, claiming to rely purely on “sound
primordial predisposition” (al-fiṭra al-salīma), on “perfect intellect” (al-ʿaql al-

6 Fathalla Kholeif, A Study on Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī and his Controversies in Transoxania (Beirut:
Dar el-Machreq, 1966), 62–63.
210 noble

kāmil), and on “pure mind” (al-dhihn al-ṣāfī).7 The second division begins with
a detailed treatment of the Sabians, which provides the analytical framework
for his subsequent discussions of the other groups, particularly the Indians.

3 Sabian Belief and Practice

Less an actual doctrinal school than a general current of thought characterized

by a resurgent form of degraded, popularized Avicennism, the philosophical
orientation of the Sabianism depicted in al-Shahrastānī’s al-Milal enshrined
the following: (1) an angelo-astrolatrous belief in the heavenly bodies as the
proximate causes of change in the sublunary world and the worthy objects of
human devotion; (2) a naturalistic psychology; and (3) antipathy toward the
Islamic institution of prophethood. Insofar as Avicenna never defended such
attitudes, this trend in thought cannot be said per se to be Avicennan. It is pos-
sible, however, to select creatively from Avicenna’s thought certain arguments
that can be deployed to defend them.8
Sabian antipathy to the institution of prophethood, which we encounter as
a prominent feature of Sabian belief in al-Shahrastānī’s al-Milal, is the natural
corollary of their angelo-astrolatrous belief system and naturalistic psychology:
God is absolutely transcendent; the spiritual beings (rūḥāniyyāt) that govern
the planets provide the only effective mediation between Man and God; any
man can train his own soul to connect with and receive knowledge and occult
power from them. Prophecy and knowledge of the unseen world are thus no
longer the monopoly of the Islamic prophets.
In al-Shahrastānī’s typology of religions, the Sabians occupy a liminal cat-
egory that separates the Abrahamic faiths from those religions and philo-
sophies that deny altogether the institution of prophethood. Restricting them-
selves to the revelation of Agathodaimon and Hermes, who taught them the
names of the zodiac, the heavenly bodies, and their relationship to sublunary
change, the Sabians’ soteriological paragon was that of Hermes who, provid-
ing the paradigm for the planetary ascent ritual in al-Sirr, divested himself
(khalaʿa) of the outer garment of humanity to ascend to the heavenly realm.9 It
is for this reason that al-Shahrastānī reports the Sabian claim that “Sabianism is

7 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 305.

8 Jean Michot, “L’avicennisation de la sunna, du ṣabéisme au leurre de la ḥanîfiyya. À propos du
Livre des religions et des sectes, II d’ al-Shahrastânî,”Bulletin de philosophie médiévale 35 (1993):
113–120.
9 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 346.
sabian astral magic 211

being released from the [ontological] shackle of humanity (al-ṣabwa al-inḥilāl

ʿan qayd al-rijāl).”10
As man occupies the highest ontological rank in the sublunary world, his
release from the “shackles” of his own humanity would entail his salvific lib-
eration from his terrestrial embodied existence and his elevation to the onto-
logical rank of the spiritual beings that animate the celestial spheres. While
al-Shahrastānī’s Sabians affirm a wise creator God, His utter transcendence
demands that humans petition the intercession of the Spiritual beings whose
purity and sanctity qualify them uniquely for this soteriological role.11 Because
they are the proximate causes of the perfection of all sublunary phenomena,
including man, it is to the spiritual beings and the planets that serve as their
temples (hayākil) that the Sabian turns in pursuit of his own perfection.12
Even on the terrestrial plane, presiding over each type of phenomenon per-
ceived by the Sabian eye is a hierarchy of spiritual beings that are equated with
angels. Thus, beneath the authority of a universal spirit which governs the rain
operates a manifold host guiding the descent of each particular raindrop:

Moreover, the influences could be universal, issuing from a universal spir-

itual being; or they could be particular, issuing from a particular spiritual
being. So, together with the genus of rain there is an angel, [just as] there
is with each raindrop an angel. There are [other] spiritual beings that gov-
ern metereological phenomena including those that rise from the earth
and descend thereon such as rain, snow, ice, and wind; those that descend
from the sky, such as thunderbolts and meteorites; and those that occur in
the atmosphere, such as thunder, lightning, clouds, fog, rainbows, comets;
other spiritual beings govern the snow, rains, wind, comets, thunder, light-
ning, clouds, earthquakes.13

But the superiority of the celestial spirits to Man was guaranteed by their essen-
tial transcendence beyond space and time, being naturally disposed toward

10 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 308. The word qayd carries a technical philosophical meaning of
“individuating specificity;” see Ayman Shihadeh’s “Avicenna’s Corporeal Form and Proof
of Prime Matter in Twelfth-Century Critical Philosophy: Abū l-Barakāt, al-Masʿūdī and
al-Rāzī,” Oriens 42 (2014): 384. In this context, however, I translate it more literally as “onto-
logical shackle,” in order to convey the sense of dissolution, release, and untying connoted
by the verbal noun inḥilāl.
11 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 308.
12 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 310.
13 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 310.
212 noble

purity and the worship of God.14 Being pure lights (anwār maḥḍa) created ex
nihilo (ubdiʿat ibdāʿan lā min shayʾ) neither from matter nor hyle, they were held
to be so subtle that neither vision nor intellect nor imagination could appre-
hend them. By way of contrast, humans are composite, made of matter and
form, subject to base desire and anger, by which the Spiritual beings are unen-
cumbered.15 Unlike humans, they are pure form, abstracted from matter which
is nonexistence (ʿadamiyya), the source of all evil, corruption, and ignorance.16
They do not oscillate between good and evil.17 Moreover, they

excel corporeal beings ( jusmāniyyāt) in both knowledge of unseen mat-

ters and action [in worship]. As for knowledge, their complete awareness
of matters that are hidden from us (iḥāṭatuhum bi-mughayyabāt al-umūr)
and their cognizance of states that will affect us in the future, cannot
be denied, because their knowledge is universal, while the knowledge
of corporeal beings is particular; their knowledge is active (ʿulūmuhum
fiʿliyya), while the knowledge of corporeal beings is passive; their know-
ledge [springs from] their natural disposition ( fiṭra), while the knowledge
of corporeal bodies is acquired (kasbiyya). Thus, in these aspects is real-
ized their nobility over corporeal beings.18

Belonging to a completely transcendent ontological order, in relation to which

physical reality is merely lesser and derivative, the hope of men, according to
the teaching of Agathodaimon and Hermes, is to place trust in their interces-
sion. For men, they are gods (āliha and arbāb).19
To secure this intercession, man must establish a special correspondence
(munāsaba) between them and his soul by exerting himself diligently in spir-
itual discipline in the imitation of their purity and freedom from base desire.
Success in this enterprise is ensured by a synergy between his own efforts and
the aid of the spiritual beings themselves, whose succor he entreats by way of
prayer, fasting, charity, ritual diet, sacrifices, incense offerings, and the repeti-
tion of incantations.20

14 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 308.

15 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 311–314.
16 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 318.
17 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 332.
18 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 322.
19 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 308–309.
20 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 309.
sabian astral magic 213

If successful in his devotions, the Sabian worshiper will achieve within his
soul a state of receptivity (istiʿdād) to their revelations and an ability to call on
their aid directly (istimdād):

Thus will there occur to our souls a receptivity and ability to entreat [their
aid] (istiʿdād wa-istimdād) without intermediary. Indeed, judgment on
our [practice] and judgment on [the practice] of him who claims divine
revelation is that [both follow] the same procedure (bal yakūn ḥukmu-nā
wa-ḥukmu man yaddaʿī al-waḥy ʿalā watīra wāḥida).21

Drawing on Avicenna’s naturalistic theory of imaginational prophethood, and

especially the last section of Avicenna’s Ishārāt, al-Shahrastānī’s allusion to the
use of ritual and spiritual discipline to gain noetic connection with the spir-
itual beings, is, as we shall see, developed much further in al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr. For
al-Shahrastānī’s Sabians, their method of achieving this noetic connection is
the same as that which produces the revelation claimed by the prophets of the
Abrahamic faiths. A sound understanding of the naturalistic means by which
this connection is established thus democratizes revelation and renders otiose
the institution of prophethood on which the Abrahamic traditions are groun-
ded: for, in essence, the prophets and the Sabian divines observe the same
procedure for revelation.
In imitating the planets through mimetic astral ritual, man becomes closer
to the spiritual beings which govern them, and thence to God. In this way his
requests may be fulfilled:

It is necessary for individuals, in their actions and motions, to imitate [lit.,

follow] the traces of the spiritual beings (iqtifāʾ āthār al-rūḥāniyyāt) in
their actions and their motions such that they closely observe the states of
the temples (hayākil) [i.e., the planets] and the motions of their spheres
[with respect to] time and space; substance and configuration ( jawhar
wa-hayʾa); garments, incense, incantation (taʿzīm), astral ritual (tanjīm),
invocation (duʿāʾ), and specific need (ḥāja khāṣṣa) [governed by] each
temple. This is in order to become closer to the temple; thence to the spir-
itual being that is specific to it; thence to the Lord of Lords, the Cause of
Causes, such that his need is fulfilled and request granted.22

21 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 309.

22 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 335–336.
214 noble

The Shahrastānīan Sabian follows the traces of the planet that has dominion
over the nature of his specific need; he gathers together in mimetic astral ritual
those sublunary phenomena that are governed by its motion; in imitating the
celestial sphere’s motions and by reflecting its substance and appearance in his
ritual garments, incense, and invocation, he comes nearer to the spiritual being
that governs it and thence to God and the fulfilment of his need.

4 Perfection, Mimesis, and the Eschatological Return

The eschatological return to the world of the spiritual beings represents the
denouement of the drama of cosmogenesis and thus the final perfection of all
subordinate spirits. The return of the latter to the former is the process by which
the human soul is perfected:

The spiritual beings are the principles of existing things; their world [rep-
resents] the eschatological return of spirits (ʿālamu-hā maʿād al-arwāḥ).
The principles are essentially nobler than, ontologically prior to, and
higher in rank and level than all other existing things that have come
about through their mediation. Moreover, their world is the world of the
eschatological return (ʿālam al-maʿād); and the eschatological return is
perfection (al-maʿād kamāl); so their world is the world of perfection
(ʿālam al-kamāl).23

To bring into sharp focus their soteriological aim of actualizing the angelic prin-
ciple that lies latent in the human soul, al-Shahrastānī’s Sabians contrast two
definitions of humanity, cast in terms of the nature of the soul and its rela-
tion to embodiment: one that understands man in the context of his sublunary
existence, and the other that understands man insofar as he is to be contras-
ted with the angels. Thus, while the former definition maintains that the soul
is the perfection of the body, the latter proposes that the soul is the perfec-
tion of the body to the extent to which the intellectual principle is actualized.
Man is man if this principle merely lies in potential, but man is angel to the
extent that it is actualized, to become the guiding principle of the body, just as
the intellectual principle is the guiding principle for the motion of the celestial
spheres.24

23 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 337.

24 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 348.
sabian astral magic 215

The degree to which the Sabian can imitate the angels that govern the celes-
tial spheres is thus the degree to which he can bring the intellectual principle,
that lies in potential in his soul, into actuality, and realize his own perfection
and angelic nature. Concerning the ability of the human soul to realize its intel-
lectual potential, al-Shahrastānī’s Sabians say:

As for the intellect, it is a faculty or disposition (hayʾa) of the soul, en-

dowed with the propensity to receive the essences of things, abstracted
from matter (mustaʿidda li-qabūl māhiyyāt al-ashyāʾ al-mujarrada ʿan al-
mādda); with respect to it, people are on equal footing (ʿalā istiwāʾ min
al-qadam). Difference arises [by reason of] two matters: one of them is
beyond human control (iḍṭirārī) and relates to the temperament that
facilitates the reception of the soul; the other is subject to choice, and
that is a matter of effort that is effective in raising the veils of materiality
and [a matter] of polishing from the soul the rust that hinders the inscrip-
tion of intelligible forms (taṣqīl al-nafs ʿan al-ṣadaʾa al-māniʿa li-irtisām
al-ṣuwar al-maʿqūla), such that, if the [exertion of such] effort reaches the
furthest extent of perfection, then all would be on an equal footing and all
would be the same (tasāwat al-aqdām wa-tashābahat al-aqdām.) So, no
man excels another by [virtue of] prophethood, nor does any man domin-
ate another, demanding that he be followed ( fa-lā yatafaḍḍalu bashar ʿalā
bashar bi-l-nubūwwa, wa-lā yataḥakkamu aḥad ʿalā aḥad bi-l-istitbāʿ).25

The process of the intellectual abstraction from matter of the essences of sens-
ible objects (tajrīd) has a distinctly Avicennan tone and provides the rationale
for Sabian astral ritual, a hermeneutical process of cognition that returns the
forms of sensibilia to their celestial origin. Equally Avicennan is the allusion
to the inscription (irtisām) of intelligible forms in the Sabian’s soul after it has
been polished from the “rust” of corporeal desire. All men have the ability to
receive such inscription: thus does the Sabian religion break the monopoly
of the Abrahamic prophets on revelation and bring to an end their claim to
authority over men.

25 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 347–348.

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5 Sabianism and the Delusion of Divinity

As a heresiological category, the Sabians provided al-Shahrastānī the theolo-

gical space in which to frame a meta-history of religions that could account for
the emergence of idolatry and, ultimately, the ego-inflation of tyrants, such as
the Qurʾanic pharaoh, who were seduced from the Sabian religion by delusions
of divinity.
Al-Shahrastānī divides the Sabians into two groups, those who worship the
seven planets directly and those who worship planetary idols. While both have
fallen from the pure worship of God, the latter have fallen further than the
former. The justification adopted by the former for their practice reasons that,
because man cannot worship God except by intermediaries, he requires those
intermediaries to be visible, that he might direct his veneration toward them; in
learning astrology and the relationship between the heavenly bodies and sub-
lunary sensibilia, he is able to perform rituals in worship of the planets, and
he is able, by means of such rituals, to work wonders (ʿajab). Such rituals are
referred to as “talismans,” co-ordinating planetary correspondences with invoc-
ations, evocations, and other ceremonial verbal acts, with suffumigations and
the forging of rings. Al-Shahrastānī uses the word “talisman” primarily to refer
to the astral ritual rather than the ring or idol that is manufactured as the phys-
ical product of the process. “Talisman” is thus primarily a process word.26
The error committed by this first group of Sabians is further compounded
by the second group, who venerate planetary idols, reasoning that, because the
planets rise and set, disappearing from view, idols (ashkhāṣ) must be wrought
in lieu of the planets and worshiped for the fulfilment of the needs of that
second group. Man thus declines from the worship of the transcendent God
to pursue his own sublunary concerns.27
The Ḥanīfs, notional primordial monotheists who engage the Sabians in
theological debate in al-Milal and whose views can safely be assumed to reflect
al-Shahrastānī’s own, argue that Sabian decadence ends ultimately in the delu-
sion of being a god on earth. They condemn what they view as the Sabian
error that God delegated to the spiritual beings that are His creation complete
authority in the supralunary cosmos to move the celestial spheres, and thus a

26 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 308–309. On talismans see Liana Saif’s “From Ghāyat al-ḥakīm to
Shams al-maʿārif : Ways of Knowing and Paths of Power in Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate
Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special
double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 297–345.
27 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 358–361.
sabian astral magic 217

fortiori authority over the sublunary world. Such people “believe the rūḥāniyyāt
are gods (āliha) and the temples [i.e., the celestial spheres] are lords (arbāb),”
represented by their idols; it is by means of these idols, which are cast at the
correct astrological time, that they are able to effect change in this world.28
The Ḥanīfs observe, however, that the logic that informs such beliefs is vul-
nerable to the following criticism: surely the astrological configurations that
prevailed over the birth of the idol maker were nobler and more perfect than
those that obtained when the idol maker wrought his idol; this being the case,
reason compels him to conclude that the one who is possessed of the know-
ledge of how to employ the celestial spheres and spiritual beings is more power-
ful than the idol that he fashions.29 It is precisely this logic which seduced
Pharaoh

to claim for himself divinity and lordship (al-ilāhiyya wa-l-rubūbiyya).

Having originally cleaved to the doctrine of the Sabians (madhhab al-
ṣābiʾa) he deviated ( fa-ṣabā) from it and summoned [the people declar-
ing] “I am your Lord the Most High.”30

Reflecting on his divine pretensions, al-Shahrastānī says that Pharaoh wanted

to penetrate the mysteries of creation by subjecting the celestial spheres and
their movements to observation and analysis. Commenting on Q 40:36–37, he
reports that Pharaoh

wanted to build a lofty structure (ṣarḥ) like an observation tower (raṣad)

by which he could attain [knowledge of] the movements of the celestial
spheres and the heavenly bodies; [of] how they are composed; and [of]
their structure, and the magnitude of their cycles and revolutions (kam-
iyyat adwāri-hā wa-akwāri-hā) that he might haply peer into the mystery
of the ability to create ( yaṭṭaliʿ ʿalā sirr al-taqdīr fī l-ṣanʿa).31

28 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 341.

29 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 341–342.
30 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 342. The quotation is from Q 79:24, in exegesis of which al-Rāzī
says: “Pharaoh never claimed to be the creator of the world. Knowledge that one is not the
creator of the world is self-evident [ḍarūrī]: he who is devoid of this knowledge is insane.
Were he actually insane, God never would have sent to him a prophet” (Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr
al-kabīr, 32 vols. (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1991), 31:43).
31 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 342. “O Hamān, construct for me a tower that I might haply reach
the causes—the causes of the heavens—that I might peer on the god of Moses” (Q 40:36–
37).
218 noble

While both Pharaoh and Nimrod claimed to be “earthly gods” (ilāhān

arḍiyyān) just like the heavenly rūḥānī gods, they were not seduced into believ-
ing that they were the creators of the world. Such would be the delusion of a
lunatic. But rather, empowered by their knowledge of the heavens with control
over sublunary phenomena, they became despots on earth and tyrants over
men.32
Against the tyranny of Pharaoh, who falls from the worship of celestial
intermediaries into the worship of his own vain passion for power, stands the
prophet of the Ḥanīfs whose unique ontological position represents a conjunc-
tion between humanity and angelicity. His role as intermediary between Man
and God guarantees the guidance of humanity and its freedom from tyranny.
The prophet

in one aspect resembles the species (nawʿ) of human; on the other, he

resembles the type of angels, and, in bringing them together (bi-majmūʿi-
himā), he excels both species, such that his humanity is superior to the
humanity of [members] of the [former] type in respect of temperament
and propensity (mizāj wa-istiʿdād) and his angelicity (malakiyyatuhu) is
superior to the angelicity of [members] of the latter type in respect of
receptivity and the rendering of service (qabūlan wa-adāʾan) so that he is
neither misled nor seduced into error in his human aspect, nor does he
deviate [from the true religion], nor does he act tyrannically ( yaṭghā) in
his angelic aspect.33

While for the Ḥanīfs, angelicity and humanity are combined in the soteriolo-
gical figure of the prophet, the Sabians contend that the salvific path to per-
fection lies in angelomorphosis through spiritual discipline and the ritualized
mimesis of the celestial spheres.

6 Al-Shahrastānī on Indians

The chapter on Indian religion in al-Milal titled Ārā al-hind (“Opinions of the
Indians”), leads the reader to infer a close philosophical and theological affin-
ity between Sabianism and Indian religion.34 The various categories of Sabian

32 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 343.

33 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 345.
34 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 305–369. Lawrence observes, “Ṣābianism provides the organiz-
ing principle as well as the theological impetus for Ārāʾ al-hind. All the groups which
sabian astral magic 219

whose gradual decadence from worship of supracelestial spiritual beings, to

worship of the planets, to worship of idols, and finally into the self-deifying
delusion of Pharaoh, provide the basic structure for his analysis of Indian
religion, which yields approximately equivalent heresiological categories: the
Brahmins; the people of the spiritual beings (aṣḥāb al-rūḥāniyyāt); the wor-
shippers of the planets (ʿabadat al-kawākib); the worshippers of idols (ʿabadat
al-aṣnām); the sages of India (ḥukamāʾ al-hind). Of particular interest to the
exploration of al-Rāzī’s Sabians, is al-Shahrastānī’s description of a certain sect
of the Brahmins whom he designates the masters of meditation and wahm
(aṣḥab al-fikra wa-l-wahm).35
For these Brahmins, the practice of meditation ( fikr) is given the utmost
importance as the mediator between the sensible and intelligible worlds (al-
mutawassiṭ bayn al-maḥsūs wa-l-maʿqūl); the means by which the forms of
sensibilia, and the essences of intelligibilia, are apprehended; and the reser-
voir of knowledge derived from the two worlds (mawrid al-ʿilmayn min al-
ʿālamayn). This being the case,

they exert their utmost to divert the faculty of the wahm and their medit-
ative focus (al-fikr) away from sensible objects by means of rigorous spir-
itual disciplines and strenuous exertions. So, when the meditating mind
(al-fikr) is abstracted from this [sensible] world, that [intelligible] world
discloses itself to it. Sometimes it is informed of occult matters; some-
times it is empowered to withhold the rains; sometimes it can direct the
faculty of the wahm to [strike] a living man dead in an instant. This pos-
sibility is not remote, for the estimative faculty [can] wield an astonishing
effect that acts on bodies.36

Shahrastānī cites and all the data which he has gathered are related to the categories
transposed from the earlier section on the Ḥarrānian Ṣābians” (Shahrastānī on the Indian
Religions, 74).
35 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 604–605. For a full translation of and commentary on the rel-
evant passage, see Lawrence, Shahrastānī on the Indian Religions, 44–45 and 114–118.
Lawrence translates aṣḥab al-fikra wa-l-wahm as proponents of “meditation and imagin-
ation.” This translation overlooks the significance of al-wahm was a faculty distinct from
the imagination. This sect is not only the most accomplished in the use of meditation and
the direction of the estimative faculty but also “the most knowledgeable concerning the
starless sphere”. According to al-Sirr, this is a field in which the Indian Ṭumṭum al-Hindī
has particular expertise and for which he is cited as the main authority.
36 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 604: “fa-yajtahidūna kulla al-juhd ḥattā yuṣarrifū al-wahm wa’l-
fikr ʿan al-maḥsūsāt bi’l-riyāḍāt al-balīgha wa’l-ijtihādāt al-mujahhada ḥattā idhā tajar-
rada al-fikr ʿan hādhā al-ʿālam tajallā lahu dhālika al-ʿālam fa-rubbamā yukhbar ʿan mug-
hayyabāt al-aḥwāl wa-rubbamā yuqwā ʿalā ḥabs al-amṭār wa-rubbamā yūqiʿ al-wahm ʿalā
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Once the mind has been trained to a high level of meditative focus, it
acquires both knowledge of occult matters and the power to act directly on
bodies and to influence souls: it can even influence the rain and kill a man
remotely. The ability to perform such remarkable acts at a distance is by means
of the wahm, which al-Rāzī brings to the heart of the talismanic theory pro-
posed in al-Sirr. Noted by Avicenna and reproduced by al-Rāzī for the same
purpose in al-Sirr, al-Shahrastānī adduces, as evidence of the operative power
of the estimative faculty on the physical world, the reality of the Evil Eye, and
the power of the wahm to exert a vertiginous effect on a man walking on a high
wall:

Is not the power of the Evil Eye (iṣābat al-ʿayn) the action of the estimat-
ive faculty on an individual? Does not a man, walking along a high wall,
instantly fall, though the steps that he takes are no longer than those
which he takes on flat ground?37

Both Avicennan examples are reproduced by al-Rāzī for the same purpose in
al-Sirr.38
As we shall see, the power of heightened meditative focus, inculcated by spir-
itual discipline and a strict diet, to facilitate (1) the cognition of intelligibilia, (2)
communication with spiritual beings, and (3) the control of natural phenom-
ena, is also displayed by al-Rāzī’s masters of the occult astral craft.

7 Sabians according to al-Rāzī

In the assessment of al-Sirr, occult knowledge, of all fields of inquiry, pos-

sesses the highest virtue. According to its learned pagan masters, as reported
by al-Rāzī, occult astral knowledge is the summit of human intellectual endeav-
our, combining the most august knowledge with the most effective power. The
object of its inquiry is the mysteries of the Higher and Lower Worlds and how
the spirits that inhabit the former effect the generation and corruption of tem-

rajul ḥayy fa-yaqtuluhu fi’l-ḥāl. wa-lā yustabʿadu dhālika fa-inna li’l-wahm atharan ʿajīban fī
taṣrīf al-ajsām wa’l-taṣarruf fi’l-nufūs.” In order to convey the range of meanings conveyed
by the word fikr as it is used in this passage, I have rendered it in three different ways:
‘meditation,’ ‘meditative focus,’ and ‘meditating mind.’
37 Al-Shahrastānī, al-Milal, 605.
38 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 11.
sabian astral magic 221

porally originated phenomena (ḥawādith) in the latter. These spirits, referred to

inconsistently as arwāḥ (sing. rūḥ) or rūḥāniyyāt, are the denizens of the celes-
tial spheres. In al-Sirr, al-Rāzī coordinates these celestial spirits with the angels
of the Islamic revelation.39
The purpose of pursuing this occult knowledge and its practical application
is the soul’s perfection and its ontological transformation into being: “a witness
unto the Spiritual beings (rūḥāniyyāt), their interlocutor—indeed one of their
company and one of their like.”40 From al-Rāzī’s perspective, this transforma-
tion constitutes a claim to angelomorphosis. By means of this transformational
knowledge, the adept is empowered to act in the sublunary world in ways that
are superior to those who act by means of the corporeal. In so doing, he is liber-
ated from engrossment in material reality and raised to the rank of the celestial
angels.
The Sabians of al-Shahrastānī’s al-Milal and of al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr inhabit the
same ensouled universe, which the latter attempts to reconcile with the spir-
itualized vision of the cosmos that is evident in the hadith tradition:

Many are the prophetic traditions which indicate that the one entrus-
ted with the clouds, the thunder, and the lightning is an angel, and the
one entrusted with provision is an angel, and the one entrusted with the
mountains is an angel, and that an angel is entrusted with the seas, and
so on for all phenomena.41

And since, just as al-Shahrastānī’s Sabians assert, any given sublunary phe-
nomenon is governed by a universal spiritual being, while its particular mani-
festations are governed by subordinate spiritual beings, it follows that al-Rāzī’s
Sabians believe that

it is not beyond possibility that a man, if he calls on their names, seeking

their aid, beseeching them, adjuring them by the names of their chiefs
and those appointed in authority over them, that they should respond to
him and perform what he desires from them.42

39 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 109–110.

40 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 3.
41 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 110.
42 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 110.
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8 Sabians and the Emergence of Idolatry

For al-Rāzī, any practitioner of astral magic, irrespective of his theological com-
mitments, his race, language, and culture, was a Sabian. A practitioner could
be a Sabian whether or not he believed in multiple necessarily existent beings;
God as the only Necessarily Existent whose creation is by way of non-volitional
emanation; or God as the only Necessarily Existent Being, and as an agent pos-
sessed of volition. While the second of these theological orientations represen-
ted for al-Rāzī the Avicennan position, it was, of course, the last that approx-
imated most closely al-Rāzī’s own theological commitment, which insisted not
only on God as the only Necessarily Existent Being and as an agent possessed
of choice and volition, but also (4) that there existed no real agency, human or
celestial, that was external to divine will and power.
But because, theoretically, someone of any theological conviction could
learn and practice Sabianism, it was less a religion than an approach to under-
standing and working with the patterns of celestial configurations that charac-
terized the generation and corruption of sublunary phenomena. To what ends
this knowledge was put would determine the extent to which it could foster
the soul’s perfection or hasten its debasement into pure idolatry, the pursuit of
sublunary gain, and immersion in corporeal pleasure.
The decadent arc that describes the descent from the pure monotheism of
al-Rāzī to the compromised monotheism of the third and second of the afore-
mentioned categories of Sabian—to end with the unmitigated polytheism of
the first—mirrors al-Shahrastānī’s heresiological narrative and encapsulates a
theory on religion and the aetiology of idolatry that is articulated more expans-
ively, albeit diffusely, in al-Rāzī’s voluminous Qurʾanic commentary.
According to al-Rāzī’s religious metahistory, idolatry was the oldest form of
religion after the primordial Adamic religion.43 It was first practiced by the
community of Noah which, observing that phenomena in the lower world were
contingent on celestial motion, initiated the veneration of the planets. While
some believed them to be essentially necessarily existent, others held that they
were created but nevertheless empowered to govern the terrestrial plane, act-
ing as mediators between God and the sublunary world.44 This latter position
was adopted by the Chaldean community of Abraham, which wrought metal
idols of the planets to stand in their lieu when they disappeared from sight.45
These idols they believed to be talismans which would benefit their devotees

43 Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, 13:38.

44 Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, 13:39.
45 Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, 13:39.
sabian astral magic 223

and harm those who would spurn them.46 The descent into idolatry begins with
the striking of talismans at certain astrologically propitious times to attract feli-
city or avert misfortune, continues with their veneration in the belief in their
essential efficacy, and concludes with their worship once their original purpose
has been forgotten with the passage of time.47

9 The Sabian Craft

The Sabian craft as presented in al-Sirr involved the “blending” (tamzīj) of

celestial forces into an earthly object by means of a noetic connection that
the practitioner establishes, through ritual and spiritual discipline, with the
celestial spirits. This earthly object was then empowered to bring about, in
accordance with the practitioner’s intention, a terrestrial phenomenon that
ran contrary to the course of natural events. This object could either be a metal
idol or, indeed, the very person of the practitioner himself. Both the process of
blending and the object into which celestial forces were blended are referred
to by al-Rāzī as ṭilasm, “talisman.”
To prepare for this noetic connection, the practitioner must purify his soul
and cease its engrossment in material reality and sensual pleasure by engaging
in rigorous spiritual discipline, fasting, and focusing mentally on the oper-
ative planet. Ritual preparatory diet serves two functions. First, in ceasing
engrossment with material reality, he must reduce his consumption of food
to the barest minimum required to sustain life. Such privation causes inevit-
able imbalances in the soul and thus requires a subtle knowledge of medicine
to ensure its humoral balance and well-being. Second, in consuming ritual
foods the practitioner participates sympathetically in the nature of the spirit
he invokes.
The two distinct objects into which the Sabian practitioner could blend
celestial powers, namely the talismanic idol, or his very own person, represent

46 Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, 22:183. Al-Rāzī’s identification of the community to which Abra-
ham preached as Sabian is confirmed in his Iʿtiqādāt. See Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, Iʿtiqādāt
firaq al-muslimīn wa-l-mushrikīn (Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahḍa al-Miṣriyya, 1938), 90.
47 Al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, 2:123–124. In this same passage, al-Rāzī reports on the astral
idolatry of the pre-Alexandrian Greeks, who erected circular temples to the First Cause,
Pure Intellect (ʿaql ṣarīḥ), Absolute Governance (al-siyasa al-muṭlaqa), and the Soul and
Form. Their temple to Saturn was hexagonal, Jupiter’s triangular, Mars’s rectangular, the
Sun’s square, “Venus’s triangular, its internal shape being square, Mercury’s triangular, its
internal shape being rectangular, and the Moon’s octagonal” (al-Rāzī, al-Tafsīr 2:125). A
closely corresponding passage is to be found in al-Milal, 368.
224 noble

the two major categories of astral ritual described in al-Sirr. Much of the work
is devoted to the description of talismanic idols and the astrologically propi-
tious timing for casting them into their molds. Having blended with the power
of his purified soul celestial forces into the idol, he then, with the same medit-
ative focus, performs a ritual mimetic of his intended effect, which dispatches
these forces to bring about his desired result.
But at the heart of the work is a detailed account of how the Sabian prac-
titioner might summon into his own person the knowledge and power of the
celestial spheres. This long ritual, lasting many years, involves invocations that
address the planets. It represents the central focus of the al-Sirr, I refer to it as
the planetary ascent ritual.
A pre-condition of the ritual is a stabilized noetic connection with his per-
fect nature (al-ṭibāʿ al-tāmm), an astral spirit that is the ontological source
of his soul. Its role is that of hierophant that mediates between him and the
celestial spirits with which he will communicate during his long astral ascent,
which, observing the Ptolemaic planetary order, lasts several years, comprising
seven successive stages. During each, the aspirant addresses the rational soul
of the planet with a liturgical prayer. Through a ritualized planetary mimesis
involving cultic props, gesture, bodily comportment, and emotional attitude,
he radically identifies with the celestial object of his devotion. For some stages,
the aspirant is to expect a certain visionary experience; for others, he must per-
form certain acts that violate moral and social taboos. Particularly shocking are
the Venusian and Martian stages: the former requires that the aspirant engage
in an orgy with singing girls and wine boys lasting three nights, and the latter
demands from him the decapitation of a man, cannibalism, and the brandish-
ing of his severed head. Each stage concludes when the aspirant receives a sign
that the planet has accepted his devotions and is favourably disposed to his
entreaties. He is then to petition the planet for knowledge and power over all
in the sublunary world that it governs. Knowledge of the unseen, power over
all in the sublunary world, and ontological transformation elevating him to the
rank of the celestial spirits are the rewards for completion of the ritual.

10 Theory of Talismanic Magic

Of primary concern to al-Rāzī was the formulation of a rational theory that

could account for the efficacy of Sabian practices. In al-Sirr, al-Rāzī renders
explicit the crucial role in the talismanic process of human psychic interaction
with celestial forces. The philosophical core of the work theorizes on that inter-
action, which can be used either for transitive sublunary ends or for a subjective
sabian astral magic 225

soteriological goal. He needed to explain two things: how the human soul might
connect with the celestial spheres to receive occult knowledge and visions of
the unseen world; and how the human soul might use this connection to bring
about a magical objective.48
Al-Rāzī constructed his theory by adapting Avicenna’s theory on prophet-
hood, crucial to which was a faculty within the soul called the wahm. The wahm
perceives non-material intentions, such as the hostility of the enemy or the
goodwill of a friend, and it can direct the activity of the imagination and func-
tion as a kind of intelligence that mediates between the immaterial intellect
and those cognitive faculties inherent in the brain. But, more than this, it can
also affect corporeal reality, including not only the body of the subject but also
external bodies. It is the faculty with which the prophet performs his miracles,
and the envier destroys the object of his envy. It is the faculty of thaumaturgy.49
Now, Avicenna’s theory on imaginational prophethood explains veridical
dreams and visions as the result of human souls being imprinted by the celes-
tial souls with “traces” that encode their knowledge of sublunary events—
both present and future—that are the effect of heavenly motion. Crucially,
in Avicennan psychology, it is the wahm—mediating mercurially between the
material human brain, the physical substrate of the internal sense faculties, and
the supralunary world—that delivers this celestial “trace” to the imagination.
The imagination then sets about constructing what is experienced as a revel-
atory vision or a veridical dream. In this way, Avicenna explains that, while the
immediate object of the vision is the creation of the perceiver’s own internal
senses, its cause is nevertheless extra-mental, of a celestial origin.
In al-Sirr, al-Rāzī thus builds his theory on what is common to both ima-
ginational prophethood and prophetic occult power: the faculty of the wahm.
But the raw occult power of a prophet or magician, exercised by the wahm is,
in the Avicennan theory, innate. A central focus in al-Sirr is in the notion that
spiritual techniques, including radical asceticism, fasting, and meditation, can
develop and train this power in one not so fortunate as to possess this capacity
innately. Once trained, the practitioner can connect with the celestial souls and
somehow draw down their forces into a talismanic idol or into his own person,
to transformative effect.

48 For a more detailed presentation of al-Rāzī’s account, see my article “The Avicennan aes-
timatio (al-wahm) in Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s Theory of Talismanic Action at a Distance,”
Bulletin de philosophie médiévale 59 (2017): 79–89.
49 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 11–12.
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11 Sabians and Indians

While he drew on the Avicennan accounts of noetics and thaumaturgy to erect

his theory on the Sabian talismanic process, it was the authority of the learned
pagan culture of India that al-Rāzī invoked to articulate the meditative discip-
line demanded. Not only was the legendary figure of Ṭumṭum al-Hindī the key
source for the images of the three hundred and sixty degrees of the starless
sphere, which are so crucial to the talismanic craft described in al-Sirr, but
he was also the authority cited by al-Rāzī to describe the kind of meditative
focus involved in astral ritual.50 According to this Indian divine, the practi-
tioner abstains from sexual relations; sustains himself on a meagre diet devoid
of all animal products; abjures all that would distract from his mental focus;
and coordinates every object of sense perception and every bodily posture or
movement with the object of his meditation, such that they share in its genus.
With sustained effort, he reaches the centre point of meditation (markaz al-
fikr), achieving which, metereological and geological phenomena such as the
rains, lightning, and earthquakes are brought under his command. The earth’s
elements yield to his will; his body becomes a dwelling place that he can freely
inhabit or depart; he can visualize all manner of sublime forms; and he will
delight in communion with wondrous spiritual beings.51
Ṭumṭum’s account of the perfectly realized meditator resonates deeply with
the theme of spiritual discipline as a means of using materiality to transcend
corporeal reality and to gain control over it. The physical senses serve the prac-
titioner’s meditative focus. Not only do the ritual objects of physical perception
share in an occult correspondence with the celestial object of intent, but the
meditating practitioner’s cognition of that relationship must arise from such a
level of mastery of natural philosophy as to be instinctual and immediate. And
such is the level of meditative focus that the noetic connection with the celes-
tial spirits remains unbroken. This degree of intellectual and spiritual accom-
plishment represents human perfection, whereby the soul, unshackled by the
body, can roam wherever it wills; command nature; commune with numinous
beings; and possess knowledge of all forms and power over physical reality. In
this way, the Sabian adept transcends his own humanity and achieves the onto-
logical rank of the celestial realm.
It appears, however, from al-Sirr that the Ḥanīf argument in al-Milal that
Sabianism can lead to tyranny has merit. It is for this reason that this occult

50 On Ṭumṭum al-Hindī as a authority in Islamic occult works, see Manfred Ullmann, Die
Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften Im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 298–299.
51 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 16.
sabian astral magic 227

knowledge must be concealed, for fear that, if it were to fall into the hands of
the man who is unworthy, he would become tyrannical and hubristic, as he
leaves the ontological rank of humanity to enter the rank of divinity:

The wise have agreed that one of the conditions of this knowledge is that
it must be concealed. Sahmiyaṭīs said that the spirits of the wise (arwāḥ
al-ḥukamāʾ) have commanded that these secrets be concealed because if
those who are intent on [pursuing] nature (al-rākibīn li’l-ṭabīʿa) came to
possess this knowledge, they would use it [in the pursuit of] base desires
which are fatal to the living soul; and also because the spirits of the higher
world hate that men come to know their secrets, for when they learn
them, they become tyrannical and arrogant (ṭaghā wa-istakbara), leav-
ing the [ontological] rank of humanity for the rank of divinity (ḥadd al-
nāsūtiyya ilā al-lāhūtiyya).52

12 Conclusion

Common to the accounts of the Sabians in both al-Shahrastānī’s al-Milal and al-
Rāzī’s al-Sirr is the following constellation of ideas: their liminality between the
theological realms of true and false religion; their belief in the celestial spirits as
Man’s only intercessors with an absolutely transcendent God; their deployment
of natural philosophy for spiritual aims; their emphasis on spiritual discipline,
asceticism, and mimetic astral ritual to establish a noetic connection with the
celestial realm; their use of talismanic ritual to control sublunary reality; and
their gradual decadence into idolatry. While the Avicennan naturalistic the-
ory of prophethood remains in the subtext of al-Shahrastānī’s depiction, in
al-Rāzī’s account it is foregrounded, its different aspects being adapted and
integrated to produce a sophisticated theory of astral magic that represents
a dynamic occult soteriology. The extent to which al-Rāzī could integrate this
soteriology with his own Islamic theological commitments will be explored in
my forthcoming study of al-Sirr al-maktūm.53

52 Al-Rāzī, al-Sirr, 6. In the Qurʾan, the verbs ṭaghā (to act tyrannically) and istakbara (to act
arrogantly) are frequently connected with Pharaoh.
53 Based on my PhD dissertation, this study will be published by De Gruyter under the title
Philosophising the Occult: Avicennan Psychology and the ‘The Hidden Secret’ of Fakhr al-Dīn
al-Rāzī (2020).
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Ullmann, Manfred. Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam, edited by B. Spuler.
Leiden: Brill, 1972.
van Bladel, Kevin. The Arabic Hermes: From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2009.
 chapter 6

Lettrism and History in ʿAbd al-Raḥmān

al-Bisṭāmī’s Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk

Noah Gardiner

God apprised us that He is time (dahr) and possesses days. These are the
days of God, which receive their particular being in the world as proper-
ties of the divine names. Each name has days, which are the time (zamān)
of the ruling property of that name. But all are God’s days and all are the
differentiations of time (dahr) in the world by virtue of the ruling prop-
erty. These days penetrate, enter, and cover each other. This is the diversity
of properties that is seen in the world at a single time (zamān wāḥid). It
derives from the commingling, covering, resumption, and repetition of
the days. Each of these divine days has a night and a daytime.
Ibn ʿArabī1

∵
Shahzad Bashir has challenged scholars of Islamic thought, particularly his-
toriography, to consider more carefully the complexities of “Islamic time” by
recognizing temporality as “an ideological and narrative product that is forever
being made and remade within Islamic perspectives.”2 Bashir’s proposal is
highly pertinent to the growing field of inquiry into the “science of letters
and names” (ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-asmāʾ), also known as “lettrism,” the Kabbalah-
like magico-mystical discourse on the relationship between divine speech and
manifest existence that flourished vigorously in mature Islamic thought. This
is because lettrism, in its most influential late-medieval expressions, is above
all a cosmological discourse and as such is deeply concerned with issues of the

1 Ibn ʿArabī, al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyya, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 1968), 3:201. From a translation
in progress by Dr. Ali Hussain, University of Michigan.
2 Shahzad Bashir, “On Islamic Time: Rethinking Chronology in the Historiography of Muslim
Societies,” History and Theory 53 (2014): 521.
lettrism and history 231

nature of time and change over time.3 For Sufi arch-lettrists such as Muḥyī l-
Dīn Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) and Aḥmad al-Būnī (d. 622/1225 or 630/1232–1233),
for example, the turnings of the heavenly spheres that mark time in the world
and continuously shape the sublunary realm through their influences are con-
substantial with cyclical effluxes of the divine names and the letters of God’s
creative speech.4 But while these authors sometimes dwell on these and other
issues of temporality, including the occult prognostication and manipulation
of future events, they do not venture far into the realm of historiography proper,
which is Bashir’s field of investigation. However, a major lettrist author of a later
period did try his hand at Clio’s art, the Antioch-born, Aleppo-initiated Sufi,
occultist, littérateur, and muḥaddith ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī (d. 858/1454),
who not only explores lettrism as a device for understanding the grand narrat-
ive of human history as Islamic Heilsgeschichte but also delves into the history
of the science itself. He also imbues these topics with a crucial relevance to the
events of his own historical moment, which, to his mind and those of many of
his contemporaries, stood indubitably in the shadow of the end of days.
While these subjects run throughout al-Bisṭāmī’s many works, the present
paper is limited to their place in his explicitly historical treatise Naẓm al-
sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk, a work mostly unexamined in modern scholar-
ship.5 As we will see, the temporality that al-Bisṭāmī constructs in the text is

3 Bashir has done his own share of work on lettrism, particularly on Faḍlallāh Astarābādī
(d. 796/1394), founder of the messianic Ḥurūfiyya movement; Shahzad Bashir, Fazlallah
Astarabadi and the Hurufis (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005).
4 As Denis Gril puts it with reference to Ibn ʿArabī’s ideas: “Far from being original or simple
entities … [the] letters themselves are produced by the rotation and interaction of a specific
number of celestial spheres (aflāk) among all the spheres that move concentrically within
the total, ultimate sphere (al-falak al-aqṣā). Along with bringing the letters into existence,
the rotation of the spheres combines physical qualities (heat, cold, dryness, and humidity)
together in pairs. The letters are thus located on the edge of the physical world (ṭabīʿah),
since these qualities or Original Elements (al-ʿanāṣir al-uwal) give birth to the physical ele-
ments (fire, air, water, and earth) when they combine …. The science of letters can thus not be
looked at independently of the science of the heavenly bodies or of the cosmic cycles”; Denis
Gril, “The Science of Letters,” in The Meccan Revelations, ed. Michel Chodkiewicz, 2 vols. (New
York: Pir Press, 2004), 2:108. On al-Būnī’s similar but more explicitly astrological conception
of things, see Noah Gardiner, “Stars and Saints: The Esotericist Astrology of the Sufi Occultist
Ahmad Al-Buni,” Journal of Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 39–65.
5 Cornell Fleischer refers to it briefly in his article “A Mediterranean Apocalypse: Prophecies of
Empire in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries,” Journal of the Economic and Social History
of the Orient 61, no. 1–2 (2018): 18–90. The present author has discussed some passages from
it in “Occultist Encyclopedism,” mentioned above. On the contemporary development and
propagation of similar lettrist theories of history and historiography across the Persianate
world, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki’s chapter in this volume.
232 gardiner

one structured by astral-prophetic cycles and epicycles and a gradual unveil-

ing of knowledge of the divine, ideas many of which are directly inspired
by the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ, the high-Abbasid-era encyclopedic ensemble
of philosophical, religious, and occult-scientific writings. Though concerned
little with letter-speculation per se, the Rasāʾil significantly influenced fourth-
sixth/tenth-twelfth-century thinkers in the Islamic west who developed the
discourse on lettrism that Ibn ʿArabī, al-Būnī, and others of their generation
expanded upon and that so influenced al-Bisṭāmī.6 Within the temporal frame-
work of the Naẓm, each of earth’s seven millennia is ruled over by the influence
of a particular planet and a major prophet, every century within a millennium
being subject to an epicycle of religious and civilizational renewal (tajdīd)
and degeneration enacted by various saints and villains. Iterative rather than
merely repetitive, the process entails a progressive expansion of human know-
ledge of the secrets of God and the creation, culminating in the final unveil-
ing of the divine that will mark the end of time and history—though only, of
course, after a final series of terrible tribulations. The history of knowledge is
thus a central concern of this narrative, and the science of letters and names is
mentioned periodically throughout the work as a prophetic, saintly, and philo-
sophical science par excellence, its appearances often corresponding to crucial
historical moments. Beyond such reports on the history of the science itself,
al-Bisṭāmī sometimes also has recourse to a gematria-like method of ḥisāb al-
jummal7 in exploring connections between the names of God, prophets, and
other sanctified actors and the dates of certain past and future events, a his-
toriographical technique in keeping with the logic of a cosmos shaped by the
cyclical efflux of God’s names and creative speech. As Naẓm al-sulūk has been
little explored in modern scholarship, a brief outline of the vast array of topics
discussed in the book is included in what follows. In focusing on lettrist con-
tent and issues of temporality, however, the bulk of the paper addresses just
four parts: the introduction (muqaddima) to the work, the bāb (chapter) on
the prophets, a faṣl (section) on pagan philosophers (“the nation of the wise
ones,” ummat al-ḥukamāʾ), a faṣl on ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/661), and the final

6 On the relationship of the Rasāʾil to lettrism and related currents in western-Islamic thought,
see Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Philosophy and Bāṭinism in al-Andalus: Ibn Masarra’s Risālat al-
ʿitibār and the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 41 (2014): 261–312;
Godefroid de Callataÿ, “From Ibn Masarra to Ibn ‘Arabī: References and Subtle Allusions to
the RasāʾIl Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ in the Literature of al-Andalus,” Studi Magrebini 12 (2015): 217–
267; Michael Ebstein, Mysticism and Philosophy in al-Andalus: Ibn Masarra, Ibn al-ʿArabī, and
Ismāʿīlī Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 2014); Yousef Casewit, The Mystics of al-Andalus: Ibn Barrajān
and Islamic Thought in the Twelfth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).
7 That is, totaling the numerical values of the Arabic letters in a name or other word.
lettrism and history 233

parts of the book on the events of al-Bisṭāmī’s own century and apocalyptic
predictions for the one following.

1 Al-Bisṭāmī and Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk

Writing in the first half of the ninth/fifteenth century, al-Bisṭāmī was an avid
interpreter and popularizer of the thought of Ibn ʿArabī, al-Būnī, and others
of their ilk but was, in many respects, a different and more political kind of
actor than his lettrist predecessors. As a sort of professional court-intellectual
circulating in Ottoman and Mamluk milieus, one of his chief offerings was a
presentation of lettrism aimed at his courtly audiences and the elite ranks of
cosmopolitan, Sufism-inclined scholar-bureaucrats who served them. This is
evidenced most clearly in his widely-copied encyclopedic lettrist opus Shams
al-āfāq fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq, which claims to assimilate the vast body of
lettrist literature that preceded it while cutting through the obscurities and
secrecy that typified earlier texts on the topic, thus rendering a more accessible,
“post-esotericist” lettrism that offered food for philosophical and devotional
thought as well as sound occult-practical method.8 Though aimed at much
the same audience, Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk is a different sort of
work from Shams al-āfāq, being al-Bisṭāmī’s idiosyncratic contribution to the
genre of the universal chronicle; that is to say, a historical narrative that begins
with the creation and continues up to the author’s time, or nearly so.9 Com-
pleted in Bursa in 833/1429–1430, it is a vanishingly brief work by the standards
of the genre, a mere 137 folia in the holograph copy preserved in the Topkapı
Palace collection (a small fraction of the multivolume works of such writers
as al-Ṭabarī and Ibn al-Athīr), but it nonetheless comprises a history of the
world and, indeed, the cosmos. Written in the ecstatically florid sajʿ (rhyming
prose) for which al-Bisṭāmī was much admired by his contemporaries, and lib-
erally interspersed with poetry, the text seems ideally suited to the tastes of
courtly audiences of the time: concise but monumental in scope, adamantly
self-important, and exceptionally pretty to listen to or read. Lettrism is not the

8 This is argued in Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism.” I use the term “post-esotericist” to

mean a discursive tradition that was once transmitted only in secret (at least notionally),
the public proponents of which trade on the cultural capital of that history of secrecy.
9 On the universal chronicle (or “universal history”), see Chase Robinson, Islamic Histori-
ography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 42–43 and 137–138. On the devel-
opment of this genre in the Mamluk period, see Fozia Bora, Writing History in the Medieval
Islamic World: The Value of Chronicles as Archives (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019), 11–27.
234 gardiner

book’s central topic, but lettrist and lettrism-adjacent ideas, such as ḥisāb al-
jummal and astral-prophetic cycles, pervade it.10
In the introduction (muqaddima) to the Naẓm, which consists of eight sec-
tions ( fuṣūl), al-Bisṭāmī outlines various ideas that would have alerted occult-
inclined readers to his indebtedness to such works as the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-
Ṣafāʾ, Ibn ʿArabī’s al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyya, and al-Būnī’s Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt fī l-
ḥurūf al-ʿulwiyyat. Some of these references are delivered sotto voce, but al-
Bisṭāmī can hardly be accused of excessive discretion. In the first faṣl, for
instance, which extols the excellence of the science of history (ʿilm al-taʾrīkh),
he posits that the discipline holds special significance for the initiated. The
latter he refers to as “brethren of purity and friends of sincerity,”11 while men-
tioning as their spiritual patron “the angel of illumination” (malak al-ḍiyāʾ), an
uncited reference to the Futūḥāt:

The scholars of the schools and eminences eastern and western have gone
to great lengths in the refining of its [ʿilm al-taʾrīkh’s] fundamentals, the
undoing of its knots, the rectification of its sources, and the establishment
of its parts, because in it are treasures and, for the brethren of purity and
friends of sincerity, a healing in the angel of illumination.12

The relevance of the “brethren of purity” reference has already been mentioned
and is discussed in greater detail below. As for the “angel of illumination,” per
the great shaykh himself, this is the angel of inspired knowledge (kashf, “unveil-
ing”) and the names of God.13 Both are fundamental to Sufi thought generally,
but the divine names are of particular importance in Sufi lettrism. Ibn ʿArabī

10 The study of the science of letters and names is still at an early stage relative to the abund-
ance of textual materials and other artifacts. Questions of precisely what counts as lettrist,
lettrism-adjacent, and not-lettrist have not yet been subject to vigorous scholarly debate.
We can presumably look forward to many such debates in coming years.
11 The fact that al-Bisṭāmī and a coterie of his contemporaries referred to themselves with
this label has been much discussed of late, especially in İlker Evrim Binbas̨, Intellectual
Networks in Timurid Iran: Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī and the Islamicate Republic of Letters
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). While this may have been, in part, a mat-
ter of intellectually fashionable posturing, it seems clear that, throughout his introduc-
tion, al-Bisṭāmī is indeed courting readers actually familiar with the Rasāʾil.
12 All references to Naẓm al-sulūk in this paper are marked “NS” and refer to Topkapı Sarayı
Müzesi Kütüphanesi MS 1597, the aforementioned holograph. NS, fol. 4a. “Wa-qad bālagha
ʿulamāʾ al-madhāhib wa-fuḍalāʾ al-mashāriq wa-l-maghārib fī tanqīḥ qawāʾidihi wa-taftīḥ
maʿāqidihi wa-taḥrīr uṣūlihi wa-taqrīr fuṣūlihi bi-mā fīhi ghunya wa-shifāʾ fī malak al-ḍiyāʾ
li-ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ wa-khullān al-wafāʾ.”
13 Ibn ʿArabī, al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, 2:107 ff.
lettrism and history 235

portrays them as the vehicles of both God’s powers of poiesis and the human
capacity to know the divine,14 also discussing the prophets as avatars of partic-
ular names15—an approach that al-Bisṭāmī imitates later in the Naẓm, through
recourse to ḥisāb al-jummal. For al-Bisṭāmī, I would suggest, this angel of the
names becomes the angel of history as well, enabling the worthy to perceive
the divine plan and the promise of ultimate redemption in the tumult and
tragedies of the long course of human events. As we will see near the end of
this paper, the sack of Aleppo by Tīmūr (d. 807/1405) marks a dramatic eschat-
ological turning point in al-Bisṭāmī’s account of the Muslim millennium, his
immense personal suffering over the destruction of a city to which he was
dearly attached being somewhat salved, perhaps, by the promise of the end
of time.
Subsequent sections of the introduction venture into thoroughly Ikhwanian
territory regarding historical cycles and other topics. The second, third, and
fourth fuṣūl address various issues of calendrics, including the reconciliation
of various calendars and the fact that both ancient tribes and the Muslims
began their calendars from key prophetic events, such as the expulsion of
Adam from the garden, the Deluge, and the hijra. Al-Bisṭāmī’s goal is a prophet-
based universal chronology, one that seems at first straightforwardly linear
but which is complicated upon reaching the seventh faṣl, which assigns a
major prophet and a ruling planet to each of the seven millennia of human
history. Adam inaugurates the first, which belongs to Saturn; Idrīs heads the
second, which belongs to Jupiter; Noah heads the third, which belongs to Mars;
Abraham heads the fourth, which belongs to the Sun; Moses heads the fifth,
which belongs to Venus; Jesus heads the sixth, which belongs to Mercury; and
Muḥammad heads the seventh, which belongs to the Moon. Al-Bisṭāmī does
not elaborate on the implications of these correspondences, but readers versed
in occult-scientific thought would have required no further prompting to infer
a cyclical nature to prophecy and the course of human events. The Rasāʾil (as
well as some Ismaʿili thinkers) similarly assign a prophet and a planet to each
of the seven millennia, along with a “delegate” (waṣī) and a chain of Imams
who reveal the inner dimensions of the prophet’s teachings over the course of

14 William Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-ʿArabi’s Metaphysics of Imagination
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), 34 and the index entries for “attributes”
and “names.”
15 For overviews of Ibn ʿArabi’s hagiological thought, see Michel Chodkiewicz, Seal of the
Saints: Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn ʿArabī (Cambridge: Islamic Texts
Society, 1993); Richard McGregor, Sanctity and Mysticism in Medieval Egypt: The Wafāʾ Sufi
Order and the Legacy of Ibn ʿArabī (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 0–26.
236 gardiner

each millennium.16 Al-Bisṭāmī does not adhere slavishly to the Ikhwān’s teach-
ings. Most importantly, whereas their sequence of prophets is Adam, Noah,
Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Muḥammad, and the qāʾim (the messianic figure who
abrogates Muḥammad’s teachings to usher in the final millenium), al-Bisṭāmī
interposes Idrīs between Adam and Noah, pushing Muḥammad forward into
the position of initiating the seventh era, thereby rendering an altogether more
Sunni version of the concept. As for the awṣiyāʾ and Imams of the Ikhwanian
model, al-Bisṭāmī substitutes the well known idea of mujaddidūn (“renew-
ers” [of religion]), who appear at the beginning of each century to clear away
unwarranted religious innovations and otherwise revivify the umma, thus con-
structing a hundred-year epicycle of sanctified actors in each millennium. In
the concise discussion of this topic in the seventh faṣl of the introduction,
al-Bisṭāmī also identifies the mujaddidūn as aqṭāb (“poles,” sing., quṭb) in the
invisible hierarchy of Sufi saints, further nativizing the concept in the popular
imaginary of his period.17 In actual historiographical application later in the
Naẓm, however, his ideas on the mujaddidūn prove more complex, such that
he enlists more than one figure to fill the role in each century, including polit-
ical actors as well as Sufis and scholars.
Other fuṣūl of the introduction further delineate the temporal, spatial, and
metaphysical dimensions of the cosmos. Part of the fourth addresses the
“days”—periods of revolution about the earth—of the planetary spheres, as
well as those of the divine footstool or pedestal (al-kursī) and the divine throne

16 Godefroid de Callataÿ, Ikhwan Al-Safaʾ: A Brotherhood of Idealists on the Fringe of Orthodox

Islam (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005), 41–44; Godefroid de Callataÿ, “Introduction to Epistle 36,”
in Epistles of the Brethren of Purity: Sciences of the Soul and Intellect. Part I: An Arabic Critical
Edition and English Translation of Epistles 32–36, ed. Paul E. Walker et al. (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, in association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2015), 137–189; Yves
Marquet, La philosophie des Iḫwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Nouvelle éd. augmentée (Paris: Société d’Études
de l’ Histoire de l’ Alchimie, 1999); Yves Marquet, “Imâmat, résurrection et hiérarchie selon
les Ikhwân al-Safâʾ,” Revue des études islamiques 30 (1962): 49–142; Yves Marquet, “La rév-
élation par l’ astrologie selon Abū Yaʿqūb as-Sijistānī et les Iḫwān aṣ-ṣafāʾ,” Studia Islamica
80 (1994): 5–28.
17 This list is headed by Muḥammad himself, but see below regarding al-Bisṭāmī’s esteem
for ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, who functions as Muḥammad’s waṣī in Ismaʿili thought. As for the
mujaddidūn of subsequent centuries, he names the fifth Shiʿi Imam Muḥammad al-Bāqir
(d. c. 114/732), the great jurist al-Shāfiʿī (d. 204/820), the historian and exegete al-Ṭabarī
(d. 310/923), the Sufi thinker Abū ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Sulamī (d. 412/1021), the famous
theologian and Sufism-apologist Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111), the philosopher-
theologian Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1209), the scholar and Mamlūk-era grand qāḍī
Ibn Daqīq al-ʿĪd (d. 702/1302), and, finally, his own master in the Aleppo-based Bisṭām-
iyya Sufi order, Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Aṭʿānī (d. 807/1405). This list does not, however,
correspond neatly with discussions of the mujaddidūn later in the book.
lettrism and history 237

(al-ʿarsh). Somewhat as in the Rasāʾil, these Qurʾanic entities are understood as

the two outermost spheres of the cosmos, a “day of the throne” extending for
fifty thousand earth years and a “day of the pedestal” for a thousand—although,
we are told, the pedestal’s day somehow can also be discerned as twenty-four
thousand years, once the turnings of all the “subtle and dense worlds” (al-
ʿawālim al-laṭāʾif wa-l-kathāʾif ) it encompasses are taken into account. The fifth
faṣl establishes the physical dimensions of the cosmos, discussing various reck-
onings of its age as well. The sixth, in contrast, transcends the measurable
confines of creation with an account of sundry imaginal worlds that is cribbed,
mostly verbatim, from Ibn ʿArabī’s travels on the visionary plane he calls “the
vast earth” (al-arḍ al-wāsiʿa).18 Beyond establishing the parameters of the cos-
mos in which al-Bisṭāmī’s narrative transpires, these data testify to the immens-
ity of the knowledge humanity has accumulated in the 6,900 years or so since
Adam, particularly in the Muḥammadan era.
The eighth and final faṣl, the longest of the introduction, discusses alphabets
(ḥurūf al-umam) written right-to-left and vice versa, observing that the former
use connected letters while the others do not; the history of writing in Arabic;
twelve major writing-systems (kitābāt) across various languages and their cor-
respondences to the planets and signs of the zodiac; twenty-three scripts (al-
aqlām al-samāwiyya wa-l-aḥruf al-raqamiyya al-nabawiyya) across various lan-
guages, which are made to correspond to certain prophets and saints; the struc-
tural identity of the primordial Syriac script of Adam and the Arabic script; and
a variety of cipher alphabets attributed to various sages, such as Hermes Tris-
megistus and Dioscorides. This concluding faṣl of the introduction might also
be seen as inspired by the Rasāʾil, in which an essentially astrological theory of
the multiplicity of languages and diversity of peoples is elaborated. However,
much as with his delineation of astral correspondences for the prophets and
millennia, al-Bisṭāmī seems content here simply to invoke the notion that the
stars regulate such processes of cultural change, leaving his audience to ponder
it to the best of their ability. It indicates that he regards languages and writing
systems—without which knowledge could hardly be transmitted—as funda-
mental elements of the cosmology cum Heilsgeschichte he sketches throughout
the introduction, rather than mere creatures of convention.19 It could also be

18 NS, fols. 6b–8b; Ibn ʿArabī, al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, 1:126ff.

19 Al-Bisṭāmī promises, near the end of this faṣl, that he is working on a book on the secrets of
scripts to be titled Mabāhij al-aʿlām fī manāhij al-aqlām. In his autobibliographical work
Durrat tāj al-rasāʾil wa-ghurrat minhāj al-wasaʾil, he lists it as having been completed in
834 (1430–1431 CE), a year after the Naẓm. A surviving copy is Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi
MS Yeni Cami 785/2 (fols. 81a–104b).
238 gardiner

taken to imply that lettrism is a discipline not limited to the Arabic language
and/or script but rather one that applies to all languages, a notion in keeping
with his discussions elsewhere in the book of prophets and philosophers asso-
ciated with languages other than Arabic who were nonetheless master lettrists.
Following the introduction, the main body of Naẓm al-sulūk is divided into
two books. Book one discusses the prophets, from Adam to Muḥammad, in
chronological order; the Jewish prophets; the kings of the Jews, Persia, the
Copts, the Greeks, the Romans, Yemen, Hira, the Sham, the Hijaz, and Kinda;
the nations (umam) of the Sabeans, the Copts, the Persians, the Greeks, the
Jews, the Christians, the Hindis, the Sudanese, the pre-Islamic Arabs, and a spe-
cial collective he refers to as the “nation of the wise ones” (ummat al-ḥukamāʾ,
more on which below); some notes on the classification of the sciences; notes
on geography, the seven climes, Mount Qāf and other special mountains, and
related subjects; eschatological predictions (malāḥim) drawn from the hadith
and other sources; and various wonders of land and sea. The first bāb of book
two contains a more detailed discussion of the prophet Muḥammad. The next
comprises sections on the first four caliphs, ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib most prominently,
along with various of the Prophet’s Companions. The final bāb of the work—
the longest single section—is a century by century chronicle of the history of
Islamic civilization centered on the mujaddidūn of each century. It ends with
a discussion of the tenth Islamic century, in which the tribulations of the final
days would surely occur.

2 Lettrism and the Prophets

We have seen that al-Bisṭāmī sets the stage for his universal chronicle on the
basis of an Ikhwanian vision, mutatis mutandis, of a cosmos that, in its very
turnings, effects an iterative unveiling of God and his creation to humanity.
Prophets are central to this process, as is obvious from the introduction. In the
bāb on prophets that opens Book One, it soon becomes clear that the science
of letters and names is also central.
Lettrism originates with Adam, we are told, to whom God sent down “ten
scrolls on which were a thousand languages and the letters of the alpha-
bet on twenty-one leaves.”20 It is also said that God “sent down to him al-
kalimāt al-wujūdiyya wa-l-ʿadamiyya”;21 this phrase does not lend itself to easy

20 NS, fol. 15b.

21 NS, fol. 15b.
lettrism and history 239

translation—perhaps “existentializing and nihilizing words”—but they are

words of great power in any case. Another report is included, to the effect
that Adam spoke seven hundred languages, the best of which was Arabic. Like
most medieval historians, al-Bisṭāmī is largely compiling bits and pieces from
earlier works of history, hadith collections, Sufi manuals, and other sources
and rarely attempts to reconcile contradictory reports or align them with his
earlier statements.22 No mention is made here, for example, of the Syriac lan-
guage, with which Adam is linked in the introduction. On the authority of Ibn
ʿAṭāʾ (d. 309/922), we learn further of Adam that God “disseminated in him”
(baththa fīhi) the secret of the letters at the time of his creation, a privilege not
afforded to the angels,23 and also that God made him in the form (ṣūra) of the
letters.24 Both claims recall al-Būnī’s assertion that Adam’s intellect, spirit, soul,
and body were sown (gharasa) with the letters as he was formed.25 These are,
of course, riffs on the Qurʾanic account of Adam being taught “the names, all
of them,” an endowment variously interpreted as the names of all the created
things or, particularly in Sufi exegeses, all the names of God.26 Such reports
relate to a vast complex of exegetical, theological, and mystical speculations.
That about Adam being given the form (ṣūra) of the letters, for example, can
be read against the history of attempts to reconcile the hadith-based notion
of Adam having been made in God’s image (ṣūra) with the apophatic tenden-
cies of Muslim theology (kalām), a conflict often resolved by assertions that
Adam was made to embody God’s moral characteristics as conveyed by the
divine names rather than some logically inconceivable body of God. Much the
same complex of ideas underlies the notion of takhalluq bi-akhlāq Allāh, the
taking on of the divine character through recitation (dhikr) of God’s names,
a praxis central to Ibn ʿArabī and al-Būnī’s prescriptions for spiritual accom-
plishment, and one that al-Bisṭāmī also addresses, as discussed below.27 On a
final, strikingly concrete note, Adam is credited with having composed the first
text on lettrism, a work from which all branches of the lettristic sciences are

22 Though it is a desideratum, I have not, except in a few instances, attempted to identify

al-Bisṭāmī’s unidentified sources for this paper.
23 NS, fol. 15b–16a. Qāla [Ibn ʿAṭāʾ] khalaqa Allāh al-aḥruf wa-jaʿala lahā sirran fa-lammā
khalaqa Ādam baththa fīhi al-sirr wa-lam yabuththahu fī l-malāʾika.
24 NS, fol. 15b–16a. Fa-jaʿalahu ṣūratan lahā.
25 Al-Būnī, Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt fī al-ḥurūf al-ʿulwiyyat, BnF MS Arabe 2658, fol. 5a.
26 Q 2:30–33.
27 On takhalluq in Ibn ʿArabī’s thought, see Gerald Elmore, “Shaykh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Mahdawī,
Ibn al-ʿArabī’s Mentor,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 121 (2001): 609; Chittick,
Sufi Path of Knowledge, 21–22.
240 gardiner

derived.28 This is presumably the Sifr Ādam al-Bisṭāmī mentions in the long
list of lettrist works he includes in the introduction to his Shams al-āfāq—
works he there implies he has studied personally, though such a claim is not
made in the Naẓm.29 Various Hebrew occult texts attributed to Adam, such as
Sefer ha-razim, circulated in the medieval and early modern periods. Alexan-
der Fodor identified an Arabic translation of the latter, and it is conceivable
that al-Bisṭāmī had access to texts of that sort.30
Adam’s son Seth (Shīth) was versed in lettrism and is credited with having
written a work on it, presumably the one that appears as Sifr Shīth in the book-
list in Shams al-āfāq. He was also the first to build the Kaʿba with clay and stone
and to formulate the notion of a divine law (sharīʿa).31 He is firmly identified
with the Sabean Agathodaemon and, later in the book and more tentatively,
with Zoroaster.32 The next prophet discussed, Seth’s descendant Idrīs, is also
credited with mastery of lettrism, and the work Kanz al-asrār wa-dhakhāʾir al-
abrār fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf is ascribed to him.33 He was the first to write with the
pen and the first to articulate the science of astrology and the knowledge of
plants. He was the first to build temples and celebrate God therein and the first
to divide people into three classes—priests, kings, and subjects. Idrīs is identi-
fied with the Greco-Egyptian Hermes and biblical Enoch, and it is said that he
was known as Trismegistus (“thrice-great”) because he was a prophet, a king,
and a philosopher. The Idrīs-Hermes-Enoch identification and the association
of Seth with Agathodaemon are both thoroughly conventional, but they are
noteworthy here as keys to al-Bisṭāmī’s construction of a pedigree for the know-
ledge of lettrism among pagan philosophers, as discussed below. Finally among
the antediluvian prophets, Noah, the first to divide the earth among his sons,
is also accounted a master of lettrism and credited with a sifr on the topic.34 In
short, lettrism is a body of prophetic knowledge as old as humanity, and it was

28 NS, fol. 16a. Wa-lahu sifr jalīl al-shaʾn fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-minhu tafarraʿat sāʾir al-ʿulūm al-
ḥarfiyya.
29 For this list, see the appendix to Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism.”
30 Alexander Fodor, “An Arabic Version of Sefer Ha-Razim,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 13, no. 4
(2006): 412–427.
31 NS, fol. 16a–b.
32 NS, fol. 43b.
33 NS, fol. 16b. On this work, on which numerous commentaries were written, see Manfred
Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 375.
34 NS, fol. 17a. On various books attributed to Noah circulating among medieval and early
modern European Jews, many of an occult-scientific nature, see Rebecca Scharbach, “The
Rebirth of a Book: Noachic Writing in Medieval and Renaissance Europe,” in Noah and His
Book(s), ed. Michael E. Stone et al. (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010), 113–133.
lettrism and history 241

an integral part of the wisdom of the ancients who shaped every major aspect
of human civilization. All the major millennial prophets discussed thus far—
Adam, Idrīs, and Noah—were lettrists. This pattern holds for the others in that
class, but, as we have seen with Seth, lesser prophets are sometimes portrayed
also as masters of the science.
The first of the postdiluvian prophets al-Bisṭāmī names as a lettrist is Abra-
ham, who receives the further distinction of having been the first to speak of the
science of awfāq, the mathematical “magic squares” that are among the most
essential tools of occult-practical lettrism. Abraham is said to have placed a
hundred-by-hundred wafq in the foundation of Mecca, which, one presumes,
will protect the holy city until its destruction by the Antichrist (al-Dajjāl), an
event discussed in the later section on eschatological predictions. Al-Bisṭāmī
further notes that “one [or some] of the shaykhs” counts the science of let-
ters among the prophetic miracles (muʿjizāt) of Abraham, which can be taken
to imply that he displayed his mastery as a proof of his prophethood against
those who challenged him.35 The hundred-by-hundred wafq comes up again
later in the bāb, in the discussion of the original Dhū l-Qarnayn, whose vizier
was al-Khiḍr, the quasi-immortal patron of the Sufis; al-Bisṭāmī distinguishes
him from Alexander the Great, who also was known as Dhū l-Qarnayn and
whose vizier was Aristotle. The wafq is said to have been flown on the standard
(liwāʾ) of the first Dhū l-Qarnayn, and its occult properties (khawāṣṣ) are said
to have included healing diseases, curing madness/epilepsy (al-maṣrūʿ), rout-
ing enemy armies, and revealing hidden treasures.36 The wafq is mentioned
again at various points in the Naẓm, including in a martial context in rela-
tion to the Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmūn, as discussed below. There is at least one
surviving early-modern example of a royal standard bearing a wafq of similar
proportions.37 Moses also was a lettrist, though al-Bisṭāmī notes him above all
as the inventor of alchemy, a science he elsewhere calls “the sister of proph-
ecy.”38 Moses’ knowledge of the science of letters is demonstrated by his having
employed a six-by-six wafq inscribed on a golden scroll to raise the bones of
Joseph from the Nile—a lettrist gloss on the biblical account of Moses’ salva-
ging of Joseph’s remains before escaping Egypt, in fulfilment of an oath.39 While

35 NS, fol. 17b. The notion that prophetic miracles (muʿjizāt) are enacted in response to the
challenges of unbelievers is a standard tenet of the Ashʿari school of theology.
36 NS, fol. 18a.
37 Francesca Leoni ed., Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural (Oxford: Ash-
molean Museum, 2016), 66–67.
38 NS, fol. 67a.
39 Exodus 13:19.
242 gardiner

some antediluvian prophets are credited with great knowledge of the letters,
it is only beginning with Abraham’s discovery of the wafq that we hear expli-
citly of the science being put to occult-practical use, whether toward sacred or
imperial ends. This implies that, although based in revelation and thus in some
sense eternal, the science as revealed to the world was susceptible to develop-
ment over time, a theme we will encounter again with regard to the ummat
al-ḥukamāʾ.40
Among the minor Israelite prophets, only Ezekiel and Jeremiah are named
as lettrists, and each is credited with a sifr on the topic. One wonders whether
the malāḥim-like nature of those prophet’s visions, or even their prominent
place in Jewish Kabbalistic literature, recommended their being remembered
as lettrists. Jeremiah, in particular, was portrayed in some late-medieval Jew-
ish texts as having worked from Sefer Yeẓira to derive the letter combinations
necessary to make the Golem.41 As for Jesus, al-Bisṭāmī records that “he was
among the most knowledgeable of the prophets in the intricacies of the sci-
ences and the subtleties of the legal meanings, and the most exalted of his
sciences was the science of letters.”42
Finally, regarding Muḥammad (who is discussed in Book One only briefly,
compared with the long section on him in Book Two), al-Bisṭāmī, on the author-
ity of al-Sulamī, cites Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī as stating:

The science to which al-Muṣṭafā was called is knowledge of the letters.

Knowledge of the letters is in lām-alif. Knowledge of lām-alif is in the
alif. Knowledge of the alif is in the point (nuqṭa). Knowledge of the point
is in the original gnosis. Knowledge of the original gnosis is in knowledge
of the sempiternal. Knowledge of the sempiternal is in the will of God
(al-mashīʾa), meaning that which is fixed (al-maʿlūm). Knowledge of the
will of God is in the mystery of the divine essence (ghayb al-huwiyya). He
whom God called to be His prophet said, “Know that the hāʾ belongs to
the mystery of the divine essence.”43

40 On the development of this science, see Bink Hallum’s chapter in this volume.
41 On the complex of ideas involving Jeremiah, Kabbalah, astrology, Golem-making, and
messianism, see Marla Segol, Word and Image in Medieval Kabbalah: The Texts, Comment-
aries, and Diagrams of the Sefer Yetsirah (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 105–139.
Speculation about al-Bisṭāmī having had access to such sources relies on their having cir-
culated in Arabic, as I am unaware of any evidence that he read Hebrew.
42 NS, fol. 20a. “Wa-kāna min aʿlam al-anbiyāʾ bi-daqāʾiq al-ʿulūm wa-laṭāʾif al-maʿānī al-
ḥikmiyya wa-kāna ajalla ʿulūmihi ʿilm al-ḥurūf.”
43 NS, fol. 20b–21a. “Qāla Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī al-ʿilm allādhī duʿiya ilayhi al-Muṣṭafā huwa ʿilm al-
ḥurūf wa-ʿilm al-ḥurūf fī lām-alif wa-ʿilm lām-alif fī l-alif wa-ʿilm al-alif fī al-nuqṭa wa-ʿilm
lettrism and history 243

A full exegesis of this report could occupy a volume of its own, but a few
comments can be offered here. The lām-alif ligature was often regarded as a
letter in its own right; al-Būnī, for example, is adamant on this point.44 Bashir
points out that the Ḥurūfiyya under Faḍlallāh Astarābādī held that lām-alif
represents the human body as a whole, which they thought it resembled graph-
ically.45 This idea almost certainly preceded Faḍlallāh and probably relates to
the traditions al-Bisṭāmī cites earlier about Adam having been formed from
the letters. Similarly, the alif is often associated with the intellect (al-ʿaql), that
is, the human intellect as something capable of intersection with the Intellect
(nous) as primary metaphysical hypostasis, as in al-Būnī’s cosmology.46 Inso-
far as this report can be taken to describe a method of spiritual attainment,
it might be read as one that begins from the body, proceeds to the individual
intellect and the knowledge of God inherent therein, and thence proceeds to
contemplation of the macrocosm. As for the hāʾ and the “mystery of the divine
essence” (ghayb al-huwiyya), this relates to the final letter in the name “Allāh”
but also to Hū as a name of God. The latter is regarded by some Sufi thinkers
as the “greatest name” (al-ism al-aʿẓam), and it was the subject of a treatise by
al-Bisṭāmī’s lettrist shaykh Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Kūmī (d. early-ninth/fifteenth cen-
tury), Risālat al-Hū, which survives in at least one copy.47 Beyond questions
of interpretation, the function of this report in the context of al-Bisṭāmī’s dis-
course is to clarify that lettrism is not, in the final analysis, merely a source of
wisdom and an effective prognosticative and occult-practical tool but the mys-
tery of mysteries at the heart of Islam. With regard to the history of lettrism, the
implication is that the mystical-experiential, unitive potential of the science
was brought to fruition only at the hands of Muḥammad, who then made it
available to Muslim adepts. Thus, we see again the knowledge of lettrism devel-
oping and expanding in successive eras.
Another way in which al-Bisṭāmī explores the prophets’ relationships to the
letters is through ḥisāb al-jummal, that is, observations based on the numer-
ical values of the prophets’ names and their correlations with divine names
of the same value. His ruminations on this topic touch on several prophets,
many of whom he does not otherwise associate with lettrism. Ṣāliḥ totals 129,

al-nuqṭa fī l-maʿrifa al-aṣliyya wa-ʿilm al-maʿrifa al-aṣliyya fī ʿilm al-azal wa-ʿilm al-azal fī
l-mashīʾa ay al-maʿlūm wa-ʿilm al-mashīʾa fī ghayb al-huwiyya wa-huwa allādhī daʿā Allāh
ilayhi nabiyahu qāla fa-aʿlam annahu wa-l-hāʾ rajiʿ ilā ghayb al-huwiyya.”
44 Al-Būnī, Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt, fol. 3b–4a.
45 Shahzad Bashir, Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2011), 45.
46 On the alif as the Intellect in al-Būnī, see Gardiner, “Stars and Saints,” 49.
47 Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi MS Reşid Efendi 608/3 (fols. 80b–108a).
244 gardiner

which is equal to God’s name (al-)Laṭīf.48 Abraham (Ibrahīm) comes to 258,

which is the value of (al-)Raḥīm.49 Joseph (Yūsuf) totals 154, which is equal to
(al-)Qayyūm. Furthermore, the wāw and sīn of the prophet’s name equal sixty-
six, the value of the name Allāh, while the yāʾ and fāʾ equal ninety, the value
of (al-)Malik.50 Moses (Mūsā) equals 116, the value of (al-)Qawī.51 Jesus (ʿĪsā)
is 150, which equals (al-)ʿAlīm.52 In noting these correlations, al-Bisṭāmī typ-
ically goes on to mention briefly various benefits that can be gained through
the aforementioned praxis of takhalluq bi-akhlāq Allāh—that is, the dhikr of
the names in order to take on the divine qualities. In most cases he does so
without dwelling explicitly on how the divine names specifically informed the
lives of the prophets, but one case in which he does go into such detail is that of
Moses and al-Qawī. He explains that one who attains a vision of the “presence”
(ḥaḍra) of al-Qawī (the Possessor of All Strength) is weakened by the experi-
ence. God possesses all strength, so His servant possesses none. This weakness
explains why Moses begged God to send Aaron with him to speak on his behalf
in confronting Pharaoh. Al-Bisṭāmī goes on to note that, while the letters of
al-Qawī total 116, its “pronounced” (lafẓan) value is 126—that is, due to the gem-
inated yāʾ being counted twice—which is equal to the name Jonah (Yūnus).
Citing a hadith in which the Prophet refers to Jonah as “a weak man,” al-Bisṭāmī
avers that both Moses and Jonah were affected in this way by al-Qawī. This
relationship between the two prophets is further shown, he argues, by Moses
having been cast into the water in the darkness of the reed basket and Jonah
having been cast into the water in the darkness of the fish’s belly. Such gemat-
riatic applications of ḥisāb al-jummal are, to my knowledge, uncommon in the
Muslim exegetical tradition, and these findings may be original to al-Bisṭāmī.
Such methods are relatively common in Jewish exegesis, where gematria is
sometimes used to discover hidden connections between otherwise unrelated
pericopes. It is tempting to think that al-Bisṭāmī was inspired by such methods,
though this is purely speculative.
The idea that the prophets are in some sense embodiments of the divine
names is a central tenet of Ibn ʿArabī’s elaborate hagiology.53 Put simply, the
prophets embody the names, and the saints in turn inherit their particular

48 NS, fol. 17a.

49 NS, fol. 17b.
50 NS, fol. 19a.
51 NS, fol. 19b.
52 NS, fol. 20b.
53 On Ibn ʿArabī’s hagiology, see footnote 15, supra.
lettrism and history 245

forms of sanctity from the prophets, such that some living saints act as the
avatars of each of the names/prophets at every moment in time, with the
inheritors of the major prophets consistently occupying the highest offices of
the invisible hierarchy. It is an understanding of the hidden structure of sanc-
tity and the cosmos that—in combination with Ibn ʿArabī and other Sufis’
vivid accounts of imaginal encounters with prophets and saints of the past—
complicates linear temporality through the enduring presence of long-dead
figures from the past. No figure better embodies this complication of linear
human time than al-Khiḍr, the quasi-immortal teacher of mystics who some-
times intervenes in events recounted in Naẓm al-sulūk. Al-Bisṭāmī’s corpus
includes many such encounters with figures out of time, particularly as he
traces his own authority to speak on lettrism, history, and other matters to a
series of visionary meetings with the Prophet and other discarnates.54 His use
of ḥisāb al-jummal in the Naẓm is thus one means of detecting and explicat-
ing these forces at work in the world, a way of hinting at the ever-present roles
of the divine names, letters, and prophets in the unfolding of the history he
chronicles, and at the iterative nature of history as a whole.

3 Lettrism and the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ

The narrative in Naẓm al-sulūk on the history of lettrism is not restricted to

prophets but also includes several pagan thinkers. Much of this information is
found in the section on the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ (“the nation of the wise ones
[sages, philosophers]”) in the fifth faṣl of the tenth bāb of Book One.55 This
bāb contains discussions of nine nations or peoples (umam), the other eight of
which are recognizable ethno-religious groups, such as Sabeans, Egyptians (al-
Qibṭ, Copts), Greeks, and Jews. The nation of the wise ones, however, is unique
in that, as discussed below, its members are distinguished by their access to
higher realms of knowledge rather than by confession or ethnicity.
Prophets play important roles in the histories of all these peoples as told by
al-Bisṭāmī, not necessarily as law-bringers or warners, as in common Muslim
understandings of prophethood, but rather as wellsprings of philosophical and
occult knowledge. The aforementioned identifications of Seth with Agathodae-
mon and Idrīs with Hermes are key. The Sabeans and Egyptians were pagans,

54 One narrative of such encounters, from al-Bisṭāmī’s Shams al-āfāq, is discussed in Gar-
diner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 24–27.
55 NS, fols. 44a–48b.
246 gardiner

that is, star worshippers. It is implied that, for both groups, this derives from
Idrīs-Hermes, perhaps as a corrupted understanding of his astrological wis-
dom. Al-Bisṭāmī goes into some detail on the Sabean’s astrologically timed
ritual practices, and he disapproves of their alleged sacrifices of children. Both
groups are masters of magic (siḥr), while the Egyptians also excel at talis-
manry and alchemy. A colorful description is provided of an Egyptian temple-
city filled with marvels that is effectively a giant astral talisman.56 The Per-
sians, too, have a link to the prophets through Zoroaster (Zarādasht). Accord-
ing to “the historians” (ahl al-tawārikh), he is identical with Seth, though al-
Bisṭāmī unblinkingly includes another report according to which Zoroaster was
deceived by the devil into thinking he was a prophet.57 The overall impression
is that these nations are powerful due to knowledge derived from the antedi-
luvian prophets but that this has afforded them little in the way of moral or
soterial benefits and has presumably not granted them a deep enough under-
standing of the occult practices at which they excel to perceive God as the
singular author of the cosmos, at least not en masse.
What sets the members of the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ apart from their nations
of origin is their ability, to varying degrees, to commune with and draw wis-
dom from the universal Intellect, a skill linked to the teachings of Idrīs-Hermes
on the attainment of a “perfected inner nature.” Al-Bisṭāmī’s discussion of the
ancient philosophers’ capacity for enlightenment is remarkable, in that he
blurs the lines between prophetic revelation (waḥy) and other types of divine
inspiration, as when he uses waḥy’s verbal form in the following:

Hermes mentioned that, when he wanted to learn the secret of the uni-
verse and the clarification of the secrets of the natures, his perfected inner
nature made it visible to him in the world of dreams, guiding him to
the wonders and advising him on the prodigies …. It was asked of him,
what is the perfected inner nature? He said, the astral spirit (rūḥāniyya)
of the philosopher that is joined to his star. The contemplation of it opens
for him the locks of wisdom, teaches him that which is difficult for him,
reveals to him (tuwaḥiyu ilayhi) that which is correct, and grants him the
keys to the gates in sleeping and waking.58

56 NS, 42b.
57 NS, 43b.
58 NS, fol. 44a–b. “Dhakara Hurmus annahu lammā arāda istikhrāj ʿilm sirr al-khalīqa wa-
bayān asrār al-ṭabīʿa ẓahara lahu ṭabāʿahu al-tamm fī ʿālam al-manām wa-arshadahu ilā
l-ʿajāʾib wa-awqafahu ʿalā al-gharāʾib …. Fa-qīla lahu wa-mā al-ṭibāʿ al-tāmm fa-qāla rūḥān-
iyyat al-faylasūf allati hiya muttaṣila bi-najmihi wa-mudabbira lahu taftaḥu lahu maghālīq
lettrism and history 247

In a related passage, al-Bisṭāmī outlines a spectrum of divine inspiration,

in this case concerning knowledge of the letters specifically, to which at least
some members of the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ were privy:

Thus some of the prophets acquire comprehension of the secrets of the

letters through divine revelation and holy dictation, and some of the
saints through luminescent witnessing in the spiritual existingness, and
some of the pure friends in the purity of constitution and the guidance
granted, and some of the sages through clairvoyance and episodes of
inspiration, and some of the scholars though vision and dreams. All of
them have set down an understanding of some of what God has granted
of knowledge and expertise, whether through the path of explanation or
the path of the symbol and the allusion.59

Al-Bisṭāmī’s final point regarding the two paths these inspirati have taken in
imparting their knowledge of the letters—either by discursive explanation or
symbols and allusions—provides a vital justification for Muslim seekers of illu-
mination to plumb the depths of pagan knowledge in order to decode their
ancient revelations. Indeed, this bāb as a whole marks al-Bisṭāmī as an avid
participant in what John Walbridge has referred to as “Platonic Orientalism,” a
fascination with the ancient sages of the east that assumed major proportions
in mature Islamic thought.60 This tendency was predicated on the proposition
that the ancients had concealed genuine holy wisdom in works that otherwise
seemed irredeemably pagan and thus void of valid religious knowledge. It gave
Muslim thinkers a fresh set of tools with which to construct new understand-
ings of Islamic scriptures and traditions, including by using ancient wisdom-
texts to discover a tradition of secret teachings within Islam that exceeded the
bounds of traditional theology and was more permissive of types of philosoph-
ical speculation and occult-scientific practice that, in previous periods, had
largely been proscribed in public discourse.

al-ḥikma wa-taʿallamuhu mā ashkala ʿalayhi wa-tuwaḥiyu ilayhi bi-l-ṣawāb wa-yulqiyu

ilayhi mafātiḥ al-abwāb fī l-nawm wa-l-yaqaẓa.”
59 NS, fol. 44b. “Fa-baʿḍ al-anbiyāʾ astafādū l-wuqūf ʿalā asrār al-ḥurūf bi-l-waḥy al-sabūḥī
wa-l-ilqāʾ al-qudūsī wa-baʿḍ al-awliyāʾ bi-l-shuhūd al-nūrānī fī l-wujūd al-rūḥānī wa-baʿḍ
al-aṣfiyāʾ bi-l-ṣafāʾ al-fiṭrī wa-l-irshād al-itī wa-baʿḍ al-ḥukamāʾ bi-l-firāsa wa-l-ilhāmāt wa-
baʿḍ al-ʿulamāʾ bi-l-ruʾyā wa-l-manāmāt wa-kull minhum qad alqiya ilā mustafadīhi baʿḍ
mā ātāhu Allāh min al-ʿilm wa-l-mahāra immā bi-ṭarīq al-ʿibāra aw bi-ṭarīq al-ramz wa-l-
ishāra.”
60 John Walbridge, The Wisdom of the Mystic East: Suhrawardi and Platonic Orientalism
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001), 5–16.
248 gardiner

Walbridge’s coining of “Platonic Orientalism” is primarily in reference to the

ideas of the “illuminationist” mystical philosopher Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī
(d. 587/1191), whose ideas claimed a lineage from such giants as Pythagoras,
Plato, and Zoroaster. In Shams al-āfāq, al-Bisṭāmī counts al-Suhrawardī as
among his sources of lettrist knowledge, and he can be counted as an influence
on the discourse in Naẓm al-sulūk. Pythagoras and Plato are thus each treated
of at length in the faṣl on the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ, and the reader is even asked
to consider that Pythagoras may have been a full-fledged prophet (nabī).61
However, neither figure is explicitly discussed as a lettrist per se. Zoroaster is
credited with having written a text on the science, but no tales of his exploits
with it are included. Surprisingly, the only detailed account of lettrist expert-
ise among the philosophers is attached to the more obscure figure of Thales
(Thālīs) of Miletus. It describes his discovery of the hundred-by-hundred wafq,
with a walk-on part at the end for Archimedes (Arshimīdis):

[Thales] took a tablet of equal length and width and drew on it a hundred-
by-hundred wafq until he had inscribed ten thousand cells filled with
non-repeating numbers comprising numerous awfāq and various kinds
of wafq-related arrangements. It is said that he discovered that through
divine inspiration and a type of prophecy. He then placed it in the Temple
of Mercury, and the Greeks, as a group, were blessed by that tablet, and
they exalted it with utmost exaltation. They had recourse to it when they
were concerned with an enemy or other such, taking refuge in it and draw-
ing on its good fortune, and thus they were protected from that calamity
by the permission of God the Highest. That tablet remained among them
for many long years, until the appearance of the sage Archimedes. He
inspected it, deduced its special nature, and explained its utility. The path
to it was unveiled to him by the permission of God the Highest. This tablet
has occult properties and wondrous secrets too numerous to explain.62

61 NS, fol. 45a–b.

62 NS, fol. 45b. “Fa-innahu attakhadha lawḥan mutasāwī al-ṭūl wa-l-ʿaraḍ wa-rasama fīhi wafq
miʾa fī miʾa ḥattā artasama fīhi ʿasharat ālāf bayt mashḥūna bi-aʿdād ghayr mukarrara
tashtamilu ʿalā ʿiddat awfāq wa-nisab min ṣunūf al-munāsabāt al-wafqiyya wa-dhukira
annahu astanbaṭa dhālika min al-ilhām al-rabbānī wa-nawʿ min al-waḥy thumma annahu
waḍaʿa dhālika fī haykal ʿuṭārid wa-ahl yūnān bi-ajmaʿihim kānū yatabarrakūnu bi-dhālika
al-lawḥ wa-yuʿaẓẓimūnuhu ghāyat al-taʿẓīm wa-idhā ahammahum amr min ʿadūw aw
ghayrihi lādhu bihi wa-fazaʿū ilayhi wa-astamaddū min mayāminihi [sic] fa-tankashafa
tilka al-dāhiya ʿanhum bi-idhn Allāh taʿālā wa-baqiya dhālika al-lawḥ bayn aẓharihim
sinīn mutaṭāwila ilā anna ẓahara Arshimīdis al-ḥakīm fa-naẓara fīhi wa-astakhraja khāṣ-
lettrism and history 249

The story reveals an important qualifier about the prophetic or semi-

prophetic status of the ancient sages. Thales is granted the ability to construct
the wafq, but it is not clear that he fully comprehends it. The Greeks benefit
from it, but nothing suggests that they learn from it in any moral or soterial
sense. Archimedes then has to rediscover the secrets it contains and perhaps
does so at a deeper level than Thales had, as he is able to perceive and explain
(bayyana) something of its hidden properties. Moments of revelation occur at
both ends of the story, but there is a chasm of ignorance between them.
The ancient quest for knowledge was not confined to solitary inspirati, as
the final part of the faṣl on the ḥukamāʾ describes how “generation after gener-
ation” of the Greek ʿulamāʾ after Plato discovered ever more varied and complex
awfāq as they became increasingly skilled in arithmetic. Furthermore, their
accomplishments were not purely arithmetical, as they also learned, through
experience (tajriba), the occult-practical uses of the figures, with knowledge of
the simpler awfāq spreading even to the common people. In recounting these
accomplishments, however, al-Bisṭāmī makes no reference to knowledge of the
letters, much less to the divine names that are a vital component of lettrist
awfāq in the manner of al-Būnī and his intellectual descendants. This suggests
that he considers the science of awfāq to be a line of inquiry that was, at some
stages, pursued through mere practice and inductive reasoning, independent
of revelation. The task for al-Bisṭāmī and like-minded “Platonic orientalists” of
his period, then, is to rediscover the various traces of knowledge the ancients
had left behind and to reintegrate them with the secret Islamic tradition of
lettrist knowledge that was coming to light in the final centuries of the sev-
enth millennium. Indeed, al-Bisṭāmī sees this task as essential in preparing for
the trials of the final days.

4 Lettrism and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib

Book One of Naẓm al-sulūk is concerned primarily with history before Mu-
ḥammad, and Book Two covers the period from the life of the Prophet until
Bisṭāmī’s own time, that is, the seventh and final millennium of the series
of prophetic-astrological cycles alluded to in the text’s introduction. As men-
tioned previously, an essential element of the Ikhwanian version of this cosmo-
historical vision is the “delegates” (awṣiyāʾ) and Imams of each prophetic cycle,

ṣiyyatahu wa-bayyana manfaʿatahu wa-kashafa al-ṭarīq ʿalayhi bi-idhn Allāh taʿālā wa-li-
hādhā al-lawḥ khawāṣṣ kathīra wa-asrār ʿajība yaṭūlu sharḥuhu.”
250 gardiner

who, gifted with an esoteric knowledge of their prophet’s message, work to

guide humanity. For this al-Bisṭāmī substitutes the more conventionally Sunni
concept of the “renewers” of religion (mujaddidūn) who emerge at the begin-
ning of each century. In Book Two, it becomes obvious that al-Bisṭāmī is work-
ing with a fluid—even murky—concept of such delegates, one that loosely
combines notions of the mujaddidūn with the concept of the invisible hier-
archy of Sufi saints as well as sanctified political actors, all of it infused with
a dose of Sufi ʿAlidism. Though not labeled a mujaddid per se, ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
is pre-eminent in the crowd of saints with which al-Bisṭāmī populates the sev-
enth millennium. In the faṣl devoted to him in the second bāb of book two, he
is portrayed as a key figure in the history of lettrism in the age of Muḥammad.
Following a selection of well known hadiths and other reports about ʿAlī’s
closeness to the Prophet and his unparalleled access to the hidden meanings
of the Qurʾan, al-Bisṭāmī declares:

The Imam ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, may God be pleased with him, inherited the sci-
ence of letters from the messenger of God, may God honor him and grant
him peace. He, may God honor him and grant him peace, alluded to it in
saying, “I am the city of knowledge and ʿAlī is its gate.” … He is the inher-
itor of the sciences of the prophets and the ones who are sent [by God]
and the pure friends and the righteous ones, the support of the saints and
the Sufis and the proof of the scholars and the lettrists (al-ḥarfiyya).63

This statement calls on notions, well established in the Sufism of the period,
that ʿAlī was the first initiate into the inner mysteries of Islam and that he is
thus the “support” (ʿumda) or foundation of all the saints and Sufis who come
after him. Indeed, numerous Sufi orders trace their initiatic lineages (salāsil,
sing. silsila) back to him. In attaching lettrism to the body of secret knowledge
to which ʿAlī was privy, al-Bisṭāmī follows Ibn ʿArabī and al-Būnī in placing the
science at the heart of the esoteric tradition in Islam. Thus ʿAlī is said, in another
passage, to have learned the secrets of the past and future, in part through
an understanding of one of the mysterious sets of “disconnected letters” (al-
muqaṭṭaʿāt) that appear at the heads of several chapters of the Qurʾan:

63 NS, fol. 96b. “Inna al-imām ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib raḍiya Allāh ʿanhu waritha ʿilm al-ḥurūf min
rasūl Allāh ṣallā Allāh ʿalayhi wa-sallama wa-ilayhi ashāra ṣallā Allāh ʿalayhi wa-sallama
bi-qawlihi anā madīnat al-ʿilm wa-ʿAlī bābuhā … Wa-huwa … wārith ʿulūm al-anbiyāʾ wa-
l-mursalīn wa-l-aṣfiyāʾ wa-l-ṣiddīqīn ʿumdat al-awliyāʾ wa-l-ṣūfiyya wa-ḥujjat al-ʿulamāʾ
wa-l-ḥarfiyya.”
lettrism and history 251

ʿAlī said, “the science of letters is of the knowledge that is kept hidden;
none know of it except the holiest scholars.” He inherited the knowledge
of the first and the last of the prophets and the saints and those who were
sent [by God], and he spoke of the past and the future. He said, “the mes-
senger of God, may God honor him and grant him peace, taught me from
ḥ-m-ʿ-s-q what will be until the day of resurrection.”64

The disconnected letters, a perennial subject in lettrism, come up again in

another episode in which al-Khiḍr teaches ʿAlī a potent prayer (duʿāʾ) in which
all the sets of disconnected letters are invoked and which ʿAlī is said to have
used to secure victory at the Battle of Badr.65 The story echoes that of al-
Khiḍr teaching ʿAlī the famous “Duʿāʾ Kumayl.” ʿAlī is also said to have been the
first among the Companions of the Prophet to wield the hundred-by-hundred
wafq—a report that, in a rare act of citation, al-Bisṭāmī notes is taken from al-
Kūmī’s al-Kanz al-bāhir fī sharḥ ḥurūf al-malik al-Ẓāhir, a work discussed below.
It states that, during ʿAlī’s caliphate, the Muslims were unable, on multiple
occasions, to defeat a certain army of infidels, because the infidels themselves
bore that wafq on their banner. On learning this, ʿAlī added it to the banner
of a party of his warriors, who then swiftly defeated their opponents.66 This
jibes with al-Bisṭāmī’s earlier accounts of the science of awfāq as well known
among the pagans, although the hundred-by-hundred wafq plainly is more
potent when deployed by ʿAlī.67
This framing of ʿAlī as a master of the letters is hardly original to al-Bisṭāmī.
The Imam’s name had been associated with the eschatologically inclined pro-
gnosticative science of jafr since the early centuries of Islam, a discourse that,
by al-Bisṭāmī’s time, was practically synonymous with lettrism.68 He is thus
on well trod ground when he mentions ʿAlī’s having composed (ṣannafa) the
book al-Jafr wa-l-jāmiʿa fī asrār al-ḥurūf wa-maʿānī al-ẓurūf, from which “are
derived all the lettristic sciences and numerical secrets.”69 Nonetheless, two

64 NS, 98a. “Wa-qāla ʿilm al-ḥurūf min al-ʿilm al-makhzūn lā yaʿrifuhu illā al-ʿulamāʾ al-
rabbāniyyūn wa-qad waritha ʿilm al-awwalīn wa-l-ākhirīn min al-anbiyāʾ wa-l-awliyāʾ wa-
l-mursalīn wa-takallama fī l-māḍī wa-l-mustaqbal wa-qāla ʿallamanī rasūl Allāh ṣallā Allāh
ʿalayhi wa-sallama min ḥ-m-ʿ-s-q mā yakūnu ilā yawm al-qiyāma.” The letters ḥ, m, ʿ, s, and
q appear at Q 42:1–2.
65 NS, fol. 99a.
66 NS, fol. 98b.
67 On this point, see Bink Hallum’s Chapter 3 in this volume.
68 Noah Gardiner, “Jafr,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.
69 NS, fol. 98a. Wa-ṣannafa al-Jafr wa-l-Jāmiʿa fī asrār al-ḥurūf wa-maʿānī al-ẓurūf wa-minhu
tafarraʿat sāʾir al-ʿulūm al-ḥarfiyya wa-l-asrār al-ʿadadiyya.
252 gardiner

things stand out with regard to the place of ʿAlī in al-Bisṭāmī’s larger account
of the history of lettrism and the role of lettrism in history. First, there is an
implication that it is in the figures of Muḥammad and ʿAlī that the full spir-
itual and occult-practical powers of lettrism are realized. For, if al-Bisṭāmī’s
account of the Greeks suggests that the science of awfāq was developed among
them largely independently of knowledge of the Arabic letters or the names of
God, then the superior potency of ʿAlī’s wafq banner over that of the infidels
suggests that these bodies of knowledge have been remarried owing to ʿAlī’s
mastery of the deepest secrets of the Qurʾan, especially the muqaṭṭaʿāt. Second,
ʿAlī functions as the figure from whom the lettrist wisdom of Muḥammad, and
indeed all the prophets, is disseminated down through the generations of the
Muḥammadan millennium as an esoteric tradition limited to spiritual elites. As
al-Bisṭāmī notes, “God concealed his [ʿAlī’s] knowledge from the majority of the
scholars.”70 As I have discussed elsewhere, the secrecy with which lettrism had
long been guarded is, in fact, a key component of al-Bisṭāmī’s efforts in Shams
al-āfāq to make the science more widely known in his own time, as he claims
to be finally revealing it in full in order to combat the catastrophic spiritual
degradation of his own period, thus writing a part for himself into the drama
of the impending eschaton.71

5 Lettrism in al-Bisṭāmī’s Lifetime

The third bāb of Book Two addresses the second through ninth centuries of
Islamic history, with a closing section on the final, apocalyptic century to fol-
low. The bāb opens with a discussion of Muḥammad’s prognosticative powers,
largely as a prelude to a discussion of the hadith preserved in Sunan Abī Dawūd
that is the basis for the notion of the mujaddidūn: “God will send to this com-
munity at the head of every century someone who [or some people who, man]
will renew for it the authority of its religion.”72 Al-Bisṭāmī affirms the validity of
the hadith, dwelling at length on an argument that the Israelite prophets who
came in each generation to scold the Jews had fulfilled the same function for the
prophetic era of Moses—a confirmation, one can deduce, that such renewers
form an epicycle within every prophetic cycle, as with the awṣiyāʾ and Imams
for the Ikhwān. Indeed, although al-Bisṭāmī is coy as usual about the relation-

70 NS, fol. 98a. “Wa-qad satara Allāh ʿilmahu ʿan akthar al-ʿulamāʾ.”
71 Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 14–15.
72 Sunan Abī Dawūd, first ḥadīth of Kitāb al-malāḥim. “Inna Allāh yabʿathu li-hādhihi al-
umma ʿalā raʾs kull miʾat sana man yujaddid lahā amr dīnihā.”
lettrism and history 253

ship of his ideas to the Rasaʿil, he forthrightly informs his audience that “the
objective of the introduction that we set forth beforehand and the designs that
we explained [there] is the discourse (kalām) of this hadith.”73 This suggests
that the cyclical, iterative nature of God’s renewals of religion—along with the
descents into ignorance that necessitate the renewals—is the very essence of
history as al-Bisṭāmī would have us comprehend it.
The nature and identity of the mujaddidūn was much debated among
Muslim scholars, though it was generally agreed that the renewers were sent
(baʿatha) by God at regular intervals to attend to the moral decay and unwarran-
ted religious innovations that inevitably accumulated over time.74 Particularly
for late-medieval thinkers, the concept sometimes takes on a millenarian tone,
the centennial cycle of decay and regeneration foreshadowing the war against
Antichrist and other tribulations of the final days that will precede the coming
of the mahdī and the day of judgment. Like some other thinkers of his day, al-
Bisṭāmī’s approach to identifying the mujaddidūn is flexible, and he embraces
the ambiguity of whether the word man (“who”) in the hadith means one or
many people to suggest that numerous actors fill the role in each century. He
also argues that, though it is sometimes assumed that the mujaddidūn must
come from among the scholars, they can just as well be political actors oper-
ating under divine sanction. Neither opinion is radical; Ibn al-Athīr and Ibn
Kathīr, for example, each concurred with both.75 For each century discussed in
the bāb, al-Bisṭāmī identifies at least one political leader and one scholar as ful-
filling the function, usually lavishing the most attention on the former. Many
of his candidates are conventional. For the second century he names ʿUmar II
(r. 99/717 to 101/720) as the ruler-mujaddid,76 and, for the third through seventh
centuries, whichever Abbasid caliph reigned at the turn of those centuries. As
for scholars, his list concords largely with the choices of other writers on the
topic: al-Shāfiʿī in the third century (d. 204/820),77 al-Isfarāʾīnī (d. 418/1027–
1028) in the fifth,78 Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111) in the sixth,79 Fakhr
al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210) in the seventh,80 Ibn Daqīq al-ʿĪd (d. 702/1302) in

73 NS, 106b. “Wa-l-gharaḍ min hādhihi al-muqaddima allatī qaddamnāhā wa-l-maqāṣid allatī
awḍaḥnāhā huwa al-kalām ʿalā hādhā al-ḥadīth.”
74 For an overview of debates on the concept of the mujaddid, see Ella Landau-Tasseron, “The
‘Cyclical Reform’: A Study of the Mujaddid Tradition,” Studia Islamica 70 (1989): 79–117.
75 Ella Landau-Tasseron, “The ‘Cyclical Reform’,” 85.
76 NS, fol. 108b.
77 NS, fol. 117a.
78 NS, fol. 121b.
79 NS, fol. 123b.
80 NS, fol. 130b.
254 gardiner

the eighth,81 and al-Bulqīnī (d. 805/1403) in the ninth82 all appear frequently
in other lists of the mujaddidūn (though his choice of the theologian and his-
torian al-Ṭabarī [d. 310/923] for the fourth century seems idiosyncratic83). He
generously lists other possible candidates for each century as well, often taking
pains to include one from each of the major Sunni schools of law. The ambigu-
ity of his choices is exacerbated by the fact that the list of scholarly mujaddidūn
he gives in his brief discussion of the topic in the introduction does not align
precisely with those named in the third bāb of Book Two. Thus, for example,
his potentially daring choice of the Shiʿi Imam Muḥammad al-Bāqir as the
scholarly mujaddid of the second century is later mentioned only in passing.84
Furthermore, while he names in the introduction his own teacher from the
Bisṭāmiyya Sufi order, Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Aṭʿānī (d. 807/1405), as the
scholarly renewer of the ninth Islamic century, the shaykh is not mentioned in
the third bāb of Book Two. The resolution to this seeming inconsistency may lie
in the fact that he specifically refers to the mujaddidūn named in the introduc-
tion as being among the aqṭāb, a category not typically evoked in the discussion
in book two. Given the air of secrecy that generally surrounds the notion of the
invisible hierarchy of saints, it seems probable that the mujaddidūn from the
introduction are meant to represent specifically those who transmitted the eso-
teric Islamic tradition passed down from Muḥammad through ʿAlī, although
this is nowhere stated. The overall impression is of an abundance of actors
bearing forth the spirit of renewal in each century. Despite that abundance,
the story told in the third bāb is that of a continual struggle of God’s servants
against the forces of ignorance and irreligion as the epicycle of each century
runs its course, a struggle that ultimately—and imminently—will be all but
lost before it is won.
The accounts of the second through eighth Islamic centuries establish a
pattern of crisis and resolution. Al-Bisṭāmī typically focuses on some religio-
political threat the ruler-mujaddid of a given century faced and overcame, such
as the Qarmatian revolts or the Fatimids. A scholar-mujaddid is sometimes rep-
resented as having combated a particular threat as well, such as the Muʿtazilīs.
Lettrism plays no visible role in most of these accounts, an exception being
with regard to the ruler-mujaddid of the third century, the seventh Abbasid
caliph al-Maʾmūn (r. 198–218/813–833). Al-Maʾmūn, we are told, “had a power-

81 NS, fol. 132a.

82 NS, fol. 132b.
83 NS, fol. 118a.
84 NS, fol. 112a.
lettrism and history 255

ful grasp of many sciences, even of the secrets of the astral-spiritual forces and
the occult properties of numbers.”85 He apparently put that knowledge to work,
as he was feared by his enemies because of a ring inscribed with a wafq of the
divine names al-ʿAlī and al-ʿAẓīm, which ensured that he could not be defeated.
Al-Bisṭāmī includes a copy of the wafq, though presumably one would need
to be a mujaddid-caliph to wield it so effectively. One wonders if al-Maʾmūn’s
important role in patronizing the Abbasid translation movement, in which
numerous Hellenistic occult-scientific works were brought into Arabic, under-
lies this memory of him as someone versed in the occult arts. More pointedly,
this most famous of the Abbasids is made here to represent a fusion of Muslim
religio-political power and occult—specifically lettrist—knowledge that aligns
with an image of the sanctified, occultly potent ruler that was beginning to be
cultivated by many court intellectuals of al-Bisṭāmī’s period, a phenomenon of
late-medieval and early-modern Islam that has garnered considerable atten-
tion in recent years.86
As for the century in which al-Bisṭāmī was writing, the ruler-mujaddid is
declared to have been the Mamluk sultan al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq (r. 784–
791/1382–1389 and 792–801/1390–1399). He is the second of the Mamluks to have
filled this role, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad b. Qalāwūn (r. 693/1294, 698–708/1299–
1309, 709–741/1309–1340) having been the mujaddid of the previous century,
following the violent termination of the Abbasid line by the Mongols in 656/
1258. However, while al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s entry follows the usual formula—
he is praised for defeating the “apostate” Ilkhanid Qāzān Khān in Syria—the

85 NS, fols. 115b–116a. “Wa-kāna lahu yad ṭūlā fī ʿulūm kathīra ḥattā fī asrār al-rūḥāniyyāt wa-
khawāṣṣ al-aʿdād wa-laṭāʾif al-asmāʾ al-rabbāniyyāt.”
86 On these notions of sacred/occult kingship, see, for example, Cornell Fleischer, “Mahdi
and Millennium: Messianic Dimensions in the Development of Ottoman Imperial Ideo-
logy,” in The Great Ottoman-Turkish Civilization, vol. 3: Philosophy, Science, and Institutions,
ed. Kemal Çiçek (Istanbul: Isis, 2000), 42–54; Cornell Fleischer, “Shadow of Shadows:
Prophecy in Politics in 1530s Istanbul,” International Journal of Turkish Studies 13 (2007):
51–62; Cornell Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom and New Sciences: Prophecies at the Ottoman
Court in the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in Falnama: The Book of Omens,
ed. Massumeh Farhad and Serpil Bağcı (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press,
2009), 231–244; Cornell Fleischer, “A Mediterranean Apocalypse”; Azfar Moin, The Millen-
nial Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and Sainthood in Islam (New York: Columbia University
Press, 2012); Binbas̨, Intellectual Networks; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islam-
icate Empire: New Forms of Religiopolitical Legitimacy,” in The Wiley-Blackwell History of
Islam, ed. Armando Salvatore, Roberto Tottoli, and Babak Rahimi (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2017), 353–375; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Astrology, Lettrism, Geomancy: The
Occult-Scientific Methods of Post-Mongol Islamicate Imperialism,” The Medieval History
Journal 19, no. 1 (2016): 142–150.
256 gardiner

account of Barqūq and the ninth century stands out from all the preceding ones
in both form and content.
The first part of the entry deals with Barqūq’s reign. He was, we are told,
a “just, discerning, awe-inspiring, and courageous king.”87 Unlike al-Bisṭāmī’s
comments on the rulers of previous centuries, however, Barqūq is commemor-
ated not for the defeat of some enemy of the faith (though one might think that
the so-called Ẓāhirī Revolt would have qualified), but rather for having gathered
around himself “a group from among the learned Sufis and a coterie of the most
skillful of the lettrists,” some of whom composed works in the sultan’s name.88
This group included the aforementioned Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Kūmī, a well-known
Sufi lettrist from Tunis, and Sayyid Ḥusayn al-Akhlāṭī (d. 799/1397), a Persian
lettrist, alchemist, and physician who was a central figure in Cairene occult-
ist circles at the turn of the eighth/fourteenth century, as Evrim Binbas̨ has
discussed in detail.89 Though al-Bisṭāmī himself arrived in Cairo only after Bar-
qūq’s death, both these figures were of central importance to his vocation as
a popularizer of lettrism to the learned classes. In Shams al-āfāq, he claims
al-Kūmī as one of his most important teachers,90 while al-Akhlāṭī initiated
into the occult sciences several of the people al-Bisṭāmī claimed as fellow neo-
Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ. Al-Bisṭāmī thus has a personal stake in crediting the divinely
appointed mujaddid-king with having facilitated the coterie of occult masters
to which his own roots trace. There are also connections between the works
these lettrists wrote for Barqūq and themes running through the rest of Naẓm
al-sulūk. The work by al-Kūmī mentioned by al-Bisṭāmī is the aforementioned
al-Kanz al-bāhir fī sharḥ ḥurūf al-malik al-Ẓāhir, from which the report about
ʿAlī and the hundred-by-hundred wafq is taken. Though I have not yet been
able to locate a copy of this work, the title suggests strongly that it involves
analysis through ḥisāb al-jummal of the sultan’s name, probably to prove that
he was fulfilling a divinely appointed role as ruler of the umma and perhaps to
establish that he had some eschatological role to play. As for the work written
for Barqūq by al-Akhlāṭī, which al-Bisṭāmī refers to only as “a comprehensive
book” (kitāb jāmiʿ), I have argued elsewhere that this may have been a book
of jafr—a prognosticon—specially prepared for the sultan.91 Taken together,
the description of Barqūq and his lettrist courtiers echoes the portrayal of al-

87 NS, fol. 132a. Wa-kāna malikan ʿādilan ʿāqilan muhīban shajāʿan.

88 Ibid., fol. 132a. Waḍaʿa jamāʿa min al-ʿulamāʾ al-ṣūfiyya wa-zumra min ḥudhdhāq al-ḥarfiyya
bi-ismihi kutuban.
89 Binbas̨, Intellectual Networks, 114–140.
90 As discussed in Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,”19–22.
91 Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 18.
lettrism and history 257

Maʾmūn as a divinely guided ruler armed with lettrist knowledge. Seen in this
light, Barqūq’s reign appears as a kind of latter-day golden age, one product of
which, at a slight remove, was al-Bisṭāmī himself.
The second and final part of the account of the ninth Islamic century is
also unusual relative to earlier entries, in that it is consumed by an event that
occurred just after Barqūq’s death, the sack of Aleppo by Tīmūr in 803/1400.
Though he does not otherwise address it in the Naẓm, al-Bisṭāmī has a per-
sonal stake in the city of Aleppo, where, as a young man, he was initiated into
the Bisṭāmiyya Sufi order and first introduced to the occult arts by his shaykh.
His rage and suffering shine hotly through the sajʿ-laced prose of his lament
for the city and its vicious subjugation by Tīmūr’s army, an event he portrays as
following directly from Barqūq’s death, while also describing it as the “point”
(qaṣd) of the book as a whole:92

The point [of this book] is that it was the sultan al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq
whom God appointed to this century, the eight-hundreds. And when God,
may He be praised, willed the execution of his fate and the conclusion
of his destiny, He caused him to die in Cairo at the height of his splen-
did rule, and upon his death piety [lit., the Qurʾān stand, al-riḥāl] died,
and upon his passing perfection passed away, and controversy ensued and
harmony was abolished, even until a vainglorious tyrant appeared from
the east and struck like lightning. He terrorized the lands and worked cor-
ruption in them. He gathered armies, bringing together every scoundrel
and trickster, unleashing heresies and horrors, shedding blood and pil-
laging properties. Then, on the fifth of Rabīʿ I of 803 [24 October 1400]
he descended upon the lands of Aleppo in its golden fields. He pillaged
its properties, murdered its men, subjugated the country, oppressed its
faithful, and captured its women and children. He set his army upon the
shrines, the sanctuaries, the mosques, the prayer halls, and the homes of
the faithful. They put them to the torch and razed them. They abused
the Qurʾans (maṣāḥif ) and the books of knowledge and hadith, throwing

92 The reason for the brackets in the quotation that follows is al-Bisṭāmī’s roundabout means
of stating that this account is the “point” of the book, which results from his perfunctory
mention of the muḥaddith Sirāj al-Dīn al-Bulqīnī as the scholar-mujaddid of the century:
“At the head of this century among the scholars was the shaykh Sirāj al-Dīn ʿUmar al-
Bulqīnī al-Shāfiʿī, and he died in the year 804 [1401–1402CE] in Cairo. It is not the purpose
of this book to mention these matters, but rather the point [of this book] is …” “Wa-
kāna ʿalā raʾs hādhihi al-miʾa min al-ʿulamāʾ al-shaykh Sirāj al-Dīn al-Bulqīnī al-Shāfiʿī
wa-tuwuffiya fī sanat arbaʿ wa-thāmaniya bi-l-Qāhira wa-laysa al-gharaḍ fī hādhā l-kitāb
dhikr hādhihi al-abwāb wa-innamā al-qaṣd anna …” (NS, fol. 132b).
258 gardiner

them out in the street and into every disgusting place. O the calamities
he imposed! The tribulations he labored at! The disaster unlike any other!
The misfortune as has never occurred! In short, that which happened in
Aleppo and its districts and environs and outskirts—swords unsheathed,
injustices inflicted, armies vanquished, minds ruined, women victimized
and shackled, spilled blood unavenged—the like of it was never heard of
in ages past or in any land.93

This grim note is the end of the al-Bisṭāmī’s remarks on the ninth century in
the Naẓm, the remainder of it apparently being beneath mention. Certainly
he provides a dismal assessment in Shams al-āfāq of the state of learning and
spirituality that prevailed in the 820s/1420s when he was writing that book,
describing it as an age in which “the remains of the sciences of wisdom and
metaphysical gnosis are effaced, the paths of the laws of the prophets are wiped
out, [and] the paths of the way of the saints are fallen into oblivion.”94 It is as if
he regards the sack of Aleppo as the end of all that was good in his own century,
an atrocity the severity of which could only be interpreted as an apocalyptic
portent.
The final section of Naẓm al-sulūk relates to the events of the impending
tenth/sixteenth century, which, al-Bisṭāmī states, will be “the mother of all
centuries with regard to calamities.”95 The secrets of this century to come are

93 NS, fol. 132b–133a. “Al-qaṣd [fī hādhā al-kitāb] anna al-sulṭān al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq
huwa aqāmahu Allāh fī awwal hādhihi al-miʾa wa-hiya al-miʾa al-thāmina fa-lammā arāda
Allāh subḥānuhu infādh qaḍāʾihi al-sābiq wa-imḍāʿ qadarihi al-lāḥiq amātahu bi-l-Qāhira
fī quwwat dawlatihi al-zāhira wa-māta bi-mawtihi al-riḥāl wa-fāta bi-fawātihi al-kamāl
wa-waqaʿa al-ikhtilāf wa-rafaʿa al-iʾtilāf ilā an ẓahara min al-sharq wa-lamaʿa ka-al-barq
ṭāghiyyat al-fakhra wa-ṭaghiya fī l-bilād wa-saʿā fīhā bi-l-fasād wa-jamaʿa al-ʿasākir wa-
qarraba kull mufsid wa-mākir wa-aẓhara al-ahwāʾ wa-l-ahwāl wa-safaka al-dimāʾ wa-
nahaba al-amwāl thumma nazala ʿalā al-bilād al-ḥalabiyya fī murūjihā l-dhahabiyya fī
khāmis rabīʿ al-awwal sanat thalāth wa-thamān miʾa fa-nahaba amwālahā wa-qatala rijā-
lahā wa-dawwakha bilādahā wa-ẓalama ʿibādahā wa-sabā ḥarīmahā wa-awlādahā wa-
makkana ʿaskarahu min al-mashāhid wa-l-mazārāt wa-l-jawāmiʿ wa-l-masājid wa-
mawāṭin al-ʿibādāt fa-aṭlaqū fīhā l-nīrān wa-adkhalūhā fī khabar kān wa-ahānū al-maṣāhif
wa-kutub al-ʿilm wa-l-ḥadīth wa-ramawhā fī l-ṭuruq wa-fī kull makān khabīth fa-yā lahu
min khaṭb mā awḍaʿahu wa-balāʾ mā ashnaʿahu wa-muṣība lā tashabbahahā al-maṣāʾib
wa-nāʾibah lam yaqaʿ mithluhā fī l-nawāʾib wa-ʿalā al-jumla fa-allādhi jarā fī Ḥalab wa-
nawāḥīhā wa-ḥawāḍirihā wa-ḍawāḥīhā min suyūf maslūla wa-ḥuyūf maʿlūla wa-ʿasākir
maflūla wa-mafākir makhlūla wa-nisāʾ mankūba maghlūla wa-dimāʾ maskūba maṭlūla mā
lam yusmaʿ bi-mithlihi fī-mā maḍiya min al-aʿṣār fī quṭr min al-aqṭār.”
94 Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 14. The quotation is from Shams al-āfāq, Chester
Beatty MS 5076, fol. 7a.
95 NS, fol. 133a. “Wa-hiya umm al-miʾāt fī l-shadāʾid.”
lettrism and history 259

best known, he says, by “the masters of the malāḥim, the people of divine
alleviations, the adepts of ḥisāb [al-jummal?], and the manifesters of marvels
from among the learned Sufis and lettrist shaykhs.”96 It is to their predictions
that the section is devoted. He begins by avowing that knowledge of all future
events (and indeed all knowledge) is contained in the Qurʾan, citing in support
of this assertion the examples of Ibn Barrajān’s having predicted the date of
the reconquest of Jerusalem from the crusaders on the basis of alif, lām, mīm,
and the incident recorded in the Futūḥāt in which an unnamed companion of
Ibn ʿArabī accurately predicts the date of the Almohad conquest of al-Andalus
through the application of ḥisāb al-jummal to a phrase in Sūrat al-Fatḥ.97 From
this he proceeds to various calculations pertaining to the end of days, which,
as he establishes on the basis of a hadith, must be calculated through the
application of ḥisāb al-jummal to the Qurʾanic muqaṭṭaʿāt. He attributes to “the
scholars of the West” (ʿulamāʾ al-maghrib) the conclusion that the year 903
will mark the abolition of the Qurʾan and the dissolution of the Islamic faith-
community (al-milla al-islāmiyya), to be followed by a period of ninety-three
years in which “there will not remain on the face of the earth anyone who
knows God,” after which will come the final hour.98 He includes here another
bit of ḥisāb, noting that the final two muqaṭṭaʿāt, qāf and nūn,99 total 150, which
is equal to God’s name (al-)ʿAlīm, which is further equal to Jesus (ʿĪsā) and the
word “sword” (sayf ), which is the symbol of the mahdī. This is followed by
various demonstrations that yāʾ-sīn and ḥāʾ-mīm—which together make (al-)
masīḥ, “the messiah”—further gesture toward the appearance of Jesus and the
mahdī. Among the many other predictions that follow is one by the Damascene
seer Ibn Ṭalha (d. 652/1254), to the effect that 990 will be “the end of the days
of the world,” after which no further “worldly events” (ḥawādith al-dunyā) will
occur, bringing about “the extinction of the world of generation and decay”
(inqirāḍ ʿālam al-kawn wa-l-fasād).100 Also given is a prediction attributed to
ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib that, in the year ninety-nine (i.e., 999), not a single Arab will
remain on the face of the earth. Obliteration is also foretold for Rome and “the

96 NS, fol. 133b. “Arbāb al-malāḥim wa-ahl al-taysīrāt wa-aṣḥāb al-ḥisāb wa-muẓhirī al-karā-
māt min al-ʿulamāʾ al-ṣūfiyya wa-mashāyikh al-ḥarfiyya.”
97 NS, fol. 133b. On Ibn Barrajān’s prediction, see Casewit, Mystics of al-Andalus, 294–306;
Jose Bellver, “Ibn Barraǧān and Ibn ʿArabī on the Prediction of the Capture of Jerusalem in
583/1187 by Saladin,” Arabica 61, nos. 3–4 (2014): 252–286. On the prediction of the Almo-
had victory by Ibn ʿArabī’s companion, see Claude Addas, Quest for the Red Sulphur: The
Life of Ibn ʿArabī, trans. Peter Kingsley (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1993), 132–133.
98 NS, fol. 134b, Lā yabqī ʿalā wajh al-arḍ man yaʿrif Allāh.
99 NS. The letters appear at the heads of the 50th and 68th sūras, respectively.
100 NS, fol. 135a.
260 gardiner

regime of the Turks” (dawlat al-atrāk), a term commonly used to refer to the
Mamluk sultans but which here may indicate the Ottomans.101 After a series of
reports on the ways in which the major cities of the region will be destroyed
and which will endure the longest, al-Bisṭāmī ends with a hadith in which the
Prophet states that the final hour will not arrive until after the conquest of Con-
stantinople,102 an event that already had an air of inevitability at the time the
book was written and that would indeed be accomplished the year before al-
Bisṭāmī’s death. Except for the colophon, that is the end of Naẓm al-sulūk fī
musāmarat al-mulūk.

6 Conclusion

We will show them Our signs on the horizons and in themselves until it
becomes clear to them that this is the Truth.
Qurʾan 41:53

This paper is an initial foray into al-Bisṭāmī’s compact but wonderfully complex
contribution to Islamic historiography and lettrist thought in Naẓm al-sulūk
fī musāmarat al-mulūk, and the arguments made here will no doubt require
adjustment as more exploration is done of this text and the rest of his vast,
mostly uninvestigated corpus of erudite and visionary works.103 In conclusion,
I will only offer, in response to Bashir’s challenge, some impressions of what al-
Bisṭāmī has to tell us about modalities of “Islamic time” and how the science of
letters and names inflects notions of temporality and the art of historiography.
One way to approach these questions is via the trope, central to the thought
of Ibn ʿArabī and other Sufi lettrists, of the “three books”: the idea that the
Qurʾan, the human soul, and the world are texts—continuously unfolding
products of the divine speech set down in the Preserved Tablet—that the adept
reads, interprets, and acts upon in light of one another.104 Crucial to this con-

101 NS. fol. 135a.

102 NS, fol. 136a.
103 He claims to have written more than 180 works; see al-Bisṭāmī, Durrat tāj al-rasāʾil,
fols. 21b–37b.
104 This idea pervades Ibn ʿArabī’s works. William Chittick is, as usual, the best guide. The tri-
partite concept largely structures his monumental The Self-Disclosure of God: Principles of
Ibn al-ʿArabi’s Cosmology (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), as he discusses
in the introduction, beginning at p. xxvii. A more concise rendering is found in his “Ibn
ʿArabī on the Ultimate Model of the Ultimate,” in Models of God and Alternative Ultimate
Realities, ed. Jeanine Diller and Asa Kasher (New York: Springer, 2012), 915–930.
lettrism and history 261

ception is that the cosmos, the self, knowledge of the cosmos and self, and
knowledge of God are inextricably entwined in a process of becoming. The cre-
ation, the ongoing consequence of God’s cosmogonic speech, is simultaneously
an act of revelation, and knowledge will not be complete until the world’s time
is completed. Thus, for al-Bisṭāmī, “history itself [is] as significant a form of rev-
elation as scripture,” as Cornell Fleischer puts it.105 The historian, then, is the
world’s exegete, of necessity working in media res, though for our author the
end of the story, the fullness of time and knowledge, glimmers just over the
horizon. Its contours can be deduced through patterns reflected in the greater
and smaller cycles of time that have already come to pass; in the synchronies
of letters, names, and numbers that ring out from the tales of the prophets,
the corpus of apocalyptic hadith, and the visions and utterances of saints long
departed or more recent; and in the horrors that have befallen his beloved
Aleppo at the hands of the proto-Antichrist Tīmūr.
A stubbornly persistent orientalist canard is that of Muslim fatalism, a
passivity supposed to be born from resignation to the inevitable execution of
God’s will, to the future being maktūb, already written. Al-Bisṭāmī’s iteratively
cyclical vision of history, or that of the Ikhwān on which he builds, could con-
ceivably be read as exemplifying this alleged trait, perhaps the more so for being
occult and thus “superstitious.”106 But such a gross misreading could only come
about through mistaking the historian and the exegete for passive intermediar-
ies of the texts, interpretive traditions, and events on which they work. Nothing
could be further from the truth, at least in the case of al-Bisṭāmī and the lettrist
predecessors who so inspired him. The middle term in the notion of the three
books, the book of the soul that mediates between Qurʾan and world, is of
utmost importance in this respect. Ibn ʿArabī is explicit in postulating that the
meanings of the holy text are ineluctably mediated through the soul of the indi-
vidual, different facets of the meanings of the Qurʾan—the speech of God, for
whom “there is no repetition in self-disclosure”107—being revealed uniquely in
each reader and reading. Nothing less could be expected of history in the hands

105 Cornell Fleischer, “Learning and Sovereignty in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries,”
in Treasures of Knowledge: An Inventory of the Ottoman Palace Library (1502/3–1503/4), ed.
Gülru Necipoğlu, Cemal Kafadar, and Cornell H. Fleischer, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 158.
106 On the orientalist tendency to see Muslims as at once slavishly dogmatic and mired
in pagan superstition, see Travis Zadeh, “Magic, Marvel, and Miracle in Early Islamic
Thought,” in The Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West, ed. S.J. Collins
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 235–238.
107 Lā takrār fī al-tajāllī, another major axiom of Ibn ʿArabī’s thought. See Chittick, The Sufi
Path of Knowledge, 103–105.
262 gardiner

of an interpreter like al-Bisṭāmī, in whose elaborately allusive prose and verse

the mysteries of history and history-to-come are revealed.
In Shams al-āfāq, al-Bisṭāmī takes it upon himself to unveil lettrism to the
world in the face of his own age’s miring in ignorance and irreligion. He takes
great pains there to narrate his own initiation into lettrism, detailing his per-
sonal asānīd in lettrist matters through teachers whose lineages stretch back
to the Prophet and ʿAlī, thus establishing his authority to undertake such a
grave task.108 In Naẓm al-sulūk, on the other hand, he is more concerned with
establishing lettrism’s pedigree, not just back to Muḥammad but also through
the millennia preceding the advent of Islam. Indeed, al-Bisṭāmī’s framework of
astral-prophetic cycles is arguably inseparable from his “Platonic orientalist”
project, the knowledge of past ages being essential, in his mind, to the under-
standing of God’s self-disclosure in time. However, despite its universalism and
vast temporal scale, the Naẓm seems to me the more personal of the two works,
most vividly in the penultimate climax that is the sack of Aleppo. It is infused
with an anxiety that reflects the travails of the period in which it was produced,
an age marked not only by the living memory of Tīmūr’s ravages, both in Syria
and the territories of the still young Ottoman sultanate, but also by such things
as the Ottoman civil war that erupted in the wake of his depredations, the stead-
ily worsening economy and internecine fighting of the late Mamluk sultanate,
and the continuing outbreaks of plague (a subject on which al-Bisṭāmī also
wrote109). The whole divinely and astrally-driven history of the world spirals
down onto al-Bisṭāmī’s present moment, weighing on his soul with the prom-
ise of even worse to come before the end. Despite this, the Naẓm also offers
out the promise of a meaningful role in a world where the centers of political
life and piety no longer hold. There is little doubt that al-Bisṭāmī perceived an
important place for himself in the grand eschatological drama he penned, even
though it was impossible that he would live to see the grand finale. The passing
mention in the introduction of his first Sufi master al-Aṭʿānī being a mujaddid
and quṭb may be an important clue, as if his initiation at the hands of that turn-
of-the-century master had obligated him to carry on the sacred task of guiding
history toward its end. This is not to say that the Naẓm is just a monument
to self-aggrandizement. However highly al-Bisṭāmī regarded himself, he was
also plainly motivated by a genuine desire to help place the Ottomans on an
eschatological war footing, to prepare them for their role in at last conquering

108 Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 19–27.

109 Al-Bisṭāmī, Waṣf al-dawāʾ fī kashf afāt al-wabāʾ, Süleymaniye MS Şehid Ali Paşa 2811/44,
fols. 260b–265b; al-Bisṭāmī, al-Adʿiya al-muntakhaba fī al-adwiya al-mujarraba, Süleyman-
iye MS Ayasofya 377/3, fols. 51a–101b.
lettrism and history 263

Constantinople and thereby throwing open the gates to the events of the final
days. For al-Bisṭāmī and his ilk, if history was already written in the primordial
moment when God created and determined the course of things,110 this made
apprehending and participating in its unfolding no less meaningful or agent-
ive. Within the temporal logic of the three books, to “do history” is to witness,
know, write, and enact it in all its dizzying circumambulations.

Acknowledgements

In the paper I delivered at the January 2017 gathering at the Ashmolean

Museum from which this volume stems, I assessed, mostly positively, the his-
torical credibility of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī’s account in Naẓm al-sulūk
of the Mamluk sultan al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s court as a hotbed of occult
thought, particularly with regard to the science of letters and names. I further
proposed that the anti-occult diatribes in the famous Muqaddima of Ibn Khal-
dūn (d. 808/1406)—a Barqūq courtier—should be read as a reaction against
the enthusiasm for such theologically risqué discourses at the court of argu-
ably the most powerful Muslim ruler of his time. I have since expanded many
of those arguments into two pieces, one already published and the other cur-
rently in press. The former is the article “The Occultist Encyclopedism of ʿAbd
al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī,” Mamlūk Studies Review 20 (2017): 3–38. The latter is in
the form of a short monograph, Ibn Khaldūn versus the Occultists at Barqūq’s
Court: The Critique of Lettrism in al-Muqaddimah (Berlin: EB-Verlag, 2020). The
present paper can be considered a companion to them both. Regarding this
paper and all things Bisṭāmī, I thank Cornell Fleischer for his guidance and
insights.

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 chapter 7

Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī: A Late Timurid Manual of

the Occult Sciences and Its Safavid Afterlife

Maria Subtelny

Qāsimī, do not speak openly of these secrets in front of this blind folk;
Where there is no understanding, no questions can be asked.
Qāsim-i Anvār1

∵
The Persian author and renowned preacher Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī Vāʿiẓ-i
Kāshifī (d. 910/1504–1505) and his son Fakhr al-Dīn ʿAlī Ṣafī (d. 939/1532–1533)
played a key role in the popularization of Persian literature on the occult sci-
ences in late Timurid and early Safavid Iran. Kāshifī’s writings covered virtually
all aspects of learning in his time, from Qurʾan commentary and hadith collec-
tions to political ethics and epistolography. Not surprisingly, he also wrote sev-
eral works on the occult sciences, or ʿulūm-i gharība, as these were considered
to be integral to the scientific outlook of medieval Islam and were customarily
included in the classifications of the sciences.2 Among his works in this field
are the Ikhtiyārāt al-nujūm (or Lavāyiḥ al-qamar), a work on elective astrology,
which appears to be the only book of his septet on astrology, Sabʿa-yi kāshifiyya,
to have survived;3 Javāhir al-tafsīr li-tuḥfat al-Amīr, a lettrist commentary on
the Qurʾan in four projected volumes;4 Marṣad al-asnā fī istikhrāj al-asmāʾ al-

1 Qāsim-i Anvār, Kulliyyāt, ed. Saʿīd Nafīsī (Tehran: Kitābkhāna-yi Sanāʾī, 1337sh/1958), 92.
2 Thus, for example, in the Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm of Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210); see Živa Vesel,
Les encyclopédies persanes: Essai de typologie et de classification des sciences (Paris: Éditions
Recherche sur les Civilisations, 1986), 35–37; and Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One:
The Mathematicalization of the Occult Sciences in the High Persianate Tradition,”Intellectual
History of the Islamicate World 5 (2017): 145–147.
3 It was composed in 878/1473–1474 for the Timurid vizier Majd al-Dīn Muḥammad Khvāfī. For
the work, see Sergei Tourkin and Živa Vesel, “The Contribution of Husayn Vaʿiz-i Kashifi to
the Transmission of Astrological Texts,” Iranian Studies 36, no. 4 (2003): 589–599.
4 Apparently commissioned by ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī and begun some time before 888/1483, the year
268 subtelny

ḥusnā, a treatise on the manipulation of the Divine Names;5 Tuḥfa-yi ʿaliyya, a

treatise on lettrism;6 Risāla dar ʿilm-i aʿdād, a treatise on numerology and magic
squares;7 and Asrār-i qāsimī, completed in 907/1501–1502 and the topic of the
present study.
Because he originated in Sabzavar, a well known Shiʿi town in the province
of Bayhaq, and especially on account of his authorship of the ʿAlid martyro-
logy, Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ (“The garden of the martyrs”), which became a quasi-
canonical text used in the commemorative practice of rawḍa-khvānī during
the Safavid period, Kāshifī was regarded by many (mainly Iranian) scholars
as a Twelver Shiʿi.8 The biographical evidence, however, appears to contradict
this categorical assessment, which resulted largely from his being appropriated
by Shiʿi biographers of the late Safavid period. To begin with, Kāshifī was a
member of the Naqshbandiyya Sufi order, famous for its staunch adherence
to Sunnism, especially of the Hanafi variety. In his son’s telling, when he first
came to Herat in 860/1456, after spending time in Sabzavar, Nishapur, and
Mashhad, it was in response to a dream he had of the recently deceased Naqsh-
bandī Sufi master Saʿd al-Dīn Kāshgharī.9 In Herat he came under the influ-
ence of Kāshgharī’s spiritual successor, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī, and was initiated
into the Naqshbandiyya order. Thereafter he served for some time as chief
judge (qāḍī al-quḍāt) in Sabzavar—presumably a Sunni post to which he had

in which the commentary on the first chapter, Sūrat al-Ḥamd, was completed. Two more
chapters and part of the fourth were completed in 890/1485. In 897/1491 Kāshifī abandoned
the project in favor of the four-volume Qurʾan commentary Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya. Edition of the
commentary on the first chapter: Javāhir al-tafsīr: Tafsīrī adabī, ʿirfānī, ḥurūfī, shāmil-i muqad-
dimaʾī dar ʿulūm-i qurʾānī va tafsīr-i sūra-yi Ḥamd, ed. Javād ʿAbbāsī (Tehran: Mīrāth-i Maktūb,
1379sh/2000–2001).
5 Mentioned by Kāshifī’s son, Fakhr al-Dīn ʿAlī Ṣafī, in the list of five of his father’s works on
the occult sciences in his Ḥirz al-amān min fitan al-zamān, MS, Tehran, Kitābkhāna-yi Majlis-
i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 15708, p. 54. See also Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Occult Challenge to
Philosophy and Messianism in Early Timurid Iran: Ibn Turka’s Lettrism as a New Metaphys-
ics,” in Unity in Diversity: Mysticism, Messianism and the Construction of Religious Authority in
Islam, ed. Orkhan Mir-Kasimov (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 269, who points out that these do not
seem to include all his works.
6 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Ḥirz al-amān, MS, Majlis, 15708, p. 54. Presumed lost, but a manuscript copy was
recently discovered in the Āstān-i Quds-i Raḍavī Library in Mashhad; see Muṣṭafā Dirāyatī,
Fihristgān-i nuskhahā-yi khaṭṭī-i Īrān (Fankhā), 34 vols. (Tehran: Sāzmān-i Asnād va Kitāb-
khāna-yi Millī-i Jumhūrī-i Islāmī-i Īrān, 1390sh–/2011–), 7:544, s.v. Tuḥfat al-ʿilliyya.
7 Unpublished. On the development of Islamicate magic squares, see Bink Hallum’s chapter in
this volume.
8 See Kāshifī, Javāhir al-tafsīr, introduction, 88–93.
9 Fakhr al-Dīn ʿAlī Ṣafī b. Ḥusayn Vāʿiẓ-i Kāshifī, Rashaḥāt-i ʿayn al-ḥayāt, ed. ʿAlī Asghar
Muʿīniyān, 2 vols. ([Tehran], 2536 (Shāhinshāh calendar)/1977), 1:252–253.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 269

been appointed by the Timurid ruler Sulṭān-Abū Saʿīd, and he remained there
until 875/1470 when Sulṭān-Abū Saʿīd’s successor, Sulṭān-Ḥusayn-i Bayqara,
who came to power after a brief interregnum, released him from his duties
and allowed him to return to Herat with his disciples.10 The Timurids professed
adherence to Hanafi Sunnism, although they accommodated the Shafiʿi madh-
hab, and despite what appears to have been a brief flirtation with Twelver
Shiʿism on the part of Sulṭān-Ḥusayn, they remained Sunni in their religious
orientation. Kāshifī was an extremely popular preacher (vāʿiẓ) and famous dis-
penser of moral advice (nāṣiḥ), regularly preaching at the most prestigious
venues in Herat and drawing large, presumably Sunni, crowds.11 Given his close
affiliation with the Timurid court and the patronage he enjoyed from such indi-
viduals as Mīr ʿAlīshīr Navā’ī, he could not have been a Shiʿi, at any rate not an
overt one.
At the same time, given his frequent expressions of philo-ʿAlidism Kāsh-
ifī’s confessional orientation has been deemed ambiguous by many scholars.12
The Shiʿi cleric and scholarly editor of the Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, Āyatallāh Ḥājj
Shaykh Abū l-Ḥasan Shaʿrānī, believed, on the basis of his writings, that Kāshifī
was a Sunni; at the same time, however, he kept his options open, so to speak,

10 See M.E. Subtelny, “Kašefi, Kamāl-al-Din Ḥosayn Wāʿeẓ,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica. Also
Gottfried Herrmann, “Biographisches zu Ḥusain Wāʿiẓ Kāšifī,” in Corolla Iranica: Papers in
Honour of Prof. Dr. David Neil MacKenzie on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday on April 8th,
1991, ed. Ronald E. Emmerick and Dieter Weber (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1991), 93–94 and
98–99 [on the basis of a document in a Timurid chancery collection, MS, Bibliothèque
Nationale de France, Supplément Persan 1815; also in Niẓām al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Vāsiʿ Niẓāmī,
Manshaʾ al-inshāʾ, vol. 1, ed. Rukn al-Dīn Humāyūnfarrukh (Tehran: 1357sh/1978), 116–117,
the introduction to which contains many allusions to Kāshifī’s interest in astrology/astro-
nomy; my interpretation of this document differs from Herrmann’s, in that I identify the
issuer as Sulṭān-Ḥusayn, and not Sulṭān-Abū Saʿīd, on the grounds that the latter is referred
to by his posthumous title, Sulṭān-i Shahīd].
11 Ghiyāth al-Dīn b. Humām al-Dīn al-Ḥusaynī Khvāndamīr, Tārīkh-i Ḥabīb al-siyar fī akhbār
afrād-i bashar, ed. Jalāl al-Dīn Humāʾī, 4 vols. (reprint ed., Tehran: Khayyām, 1362sh/1984),
4:345.
12 In his 1999 dissertation, Adam Jacobs analyzed, among other texts, Kāshifī’s Rawḍat al-
shuhadāʾ. He observed that Kāshifī’s views were frequently in concert with mainstream
Twelver Shiʿism but that he was unable to come to a satisfactory conclusion regarding his
confessional orientation and surmised that he was a Shiʿi who had left his Shiʿi majority
homeland in Sabzavar/Bayhaq for a Sunni-majority one and was masquerading as a Sunni
for his Timurid patrons, who were not well enough informed about Sunnism to under-
stand what he was up to; see Adam Jacobs, “Sunnî and Shî’î Perceptions, Boundaries and
Affiliations in Late Timurid and Early Ṣafawid Persia: An Examination of Historical and
Quasi-Historical Narratives” (PhD diss., School of Oriental and African Studies, University
of London, 1999), chap. 2, esp. 78–79.
270 subtelny

when he stated that “If [Kāshifī] was confessionally a Shiʿi (madhhab-i tash-
ayyuʿ), he did justice to the topic [of the martyrdom of the Shiʿi Imams]. And if
he was a Sunni (madhhab-i ahl-i sunnat), he outdid the Shiʿis and taught them
about their own religious tradition.”13
There is no doubt that Kāshifī had sympathies for the Ahl al-Bayt and the
Imams and respect for sayyids (descendants of the Prophet) in general. Sev-
eral of his works were dedicated to or inspired by sayyids, and in his books he
drew frequently on Shiʿi traditions, in addition to Sunni ones. According to an
authorization to transmit (ijāza) that he granted to an unnamed individual in
872/1468 (the location of which is unfortunately not recorded), he transmit-
ted the well known Shiʿi work al-Ṣaḥīfa al-riḍawiyya (also known as Ṣaḥīfat
al-Riḍā, Musnad al-Riḍā, and Ṣaḥīfat ahl al-bayt), a compendium of prophetic
Traditions related by the eighth Shiʿi Imam ʿAlī al-Riḍā.14 Kāshifī describes his
chain of transmission as going through his late father, who transmitted dir-
ectly from the early Timurid-era Hanafi scholar, traditionist, preacher, and Sufi
Jalāl al-Dīn al-Qāyinī (d. 838/1434–1435),15 who was a prominent Sunni figure
in early Timurid Herat. In addition to having composed a book of advice for
the Timurid ruler Shāhrukh, titled Naṣāʾiḥ-i shāhrukhī, which depended heav-

13 Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Kāshifī, Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, ed. Āyatallāh Ḥājj Shaykh Abū l-Ḥasan
Shaʿrānī (reprint ed., Tehran: Intishārāt-i Islāmiyya, 1379sh/2000–2001), 5–6 (introduc-
tion).
14 The ijāza is found in some manuscript copies of the work. It has been reproduced in fac-
simile in the above-mentioned edition of Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, p. 420, from a manuscript
copy of Ṣaḥīfat al-Riḍā, dated 989/1581, in the Kitābkhāna-yi Masjid-i Aʿẓam of Qum,
MS 2677/3 (where it is recorded on the back of the book). For other references and tran-
scriptions of the ijāza, see Ṣaḥīfat al-Imām al-Riḍā, ed. Muḥammad Mahdī Najaf, 2nd ed.
(Beirut: Dār al-Aḍwāʾ, 1406/1986), 37–38, 20–21; and Kāshifī, Javāhir al-tafsīr, introduction,
42–43.
15 For al-Qāyinī, his works, and chains of transmission, see Maria Eva Subtelny and Anas
B. Khalidov, “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in Timurid Iran in the Light of
the Sunni Revival under Shāh-Rukh,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 115, no. 2
(1995): 217–220. His name appears in slightly different forms in the various transcrip-
tions of the ijāza. Crucially, his chain of transmission is the same as that recorded in the
ijāzas he himself granted or that were presented to him, thereby confirming his identity:
al-Qāyinī transmitted from his shaykh, Tāj al-Dīn Ibrāhīm b. ʿUmar al-Qaṣṣāʿ al-Ṭabasī,
who transmitted from Tāj al-Dīn ʿAlī b. ʿUmar al-Turka al-Kirmānī, who transmitted from
Hibatallāh b. Yūsuf b. Ibrāhīm al-Ḥamūya/Ḥamūʾī, who transmitted from Ṣadr al-Din Abū
l-Majāmiʿ Ibrāhīm al-Ḥamūya (d. 722/1322), the famous mystic and theologian of the Ilkh-
anid period, et al. To this should be added the ijāza he granted in Herat in 826/1423,
for which see MS Tashkent, State Public Library of Uzbekistan, no. 3294. My thanks to
Ashirbek Muminov for providing me with a digital copy of the manuscript.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 271

ily on Sunni sources, he also compiled a book of selections (muntakhab) from

Ṣaḥīfat al-Riḍā.16 Moreover, al-Qāyinī’s son, Nūr al-Dīn Aḥmad b. Muḥammad
al-Qāyinī, appears to have been Kāshifī’s master (shaykh) in the chivalric order
of futuvvat, the esoteric practices of which he described in great detail in his
Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, which he dedicated to the servitors of the shrine of
Imam Riḍā at Mashhad.17 While he extolled ʿAlī as the model of the fatā (chiv-
alrous youth) who embodied the ideal of javānmardī (virtuous manliness),
Kāshifī also enumerated the names of the four orthodox caliphs in the intro-
duction to the work.18
Confessionally, Kāshifī acted as a mainstream Sunni, a member of the madh-
hab, or confessional orientation, of the Timurid elite, including his patrons,
Mīr ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī and Sulṭān-Ḥusayn-i Bayqara. But his interest in the occult
sciences transcended conventional notions of confessionalism, and like other
occultists, he used the language of philo-ʿAlidism and even Imamism to legit-
imate his involvement with the occult sciences and to lend authority to his
writings. His Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ is a case in point. What is so striking about
this work is its intense focus on Ḥusayn (d. 61/680), the son of the prophet
Muḥammad’s cousin and son-in-law, ʿAlī, and third Shiʿi imām, despite the fact
that it purports to deal with all the martyred ʿAlids. In fact, the entire work may
be viewed as devoted to him.19 To be sure, Ḥusayn was the hero of the battle
of Karbala, where he was killed, and commemoration of the tragedy served to
galvanize Shiʿi piety, but the figure of Ḥusayn apparently served an altogether
different purpose for Kāshifī and occultists like him. I contend that Kāshifī’s
philo-ʿAlidism and especially Ḥusayn-centered devotion stemmed from the
reputation of ʿAlī as an occultist master and of his line through his son Ḥusayn
as authorizing Ḥusaynī sayyids in particular to practice the occult sciences and
to write works on their various branches, particularly lettrism and letter divin-
ation.

16 In the istijāza, or request for an ijāza, presented to him by a student in 828/1425, it is

referred to as al-Arbaʿūn al-muntakhaba min Ṣaḥīfat al-Riḍā; see Subtelny and Khalidov,
“Curriculum,” 221 and 233, where it is referred to as al-Riḍāwiyyāt.
17 Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Kāshifī, Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, ed. Muḥammad Jaʿfar Maḥjūb
(Tehran: Intishārāt-i Bunyād-i Farhang-i Īrān, 1350sh/1971), 123; for which see Maria E. Sub-
telny, “Ḥusayn Vāʿiẓ Kāshifī,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed. The “sulṭānī” in the title
is an allusion to Imam ʿAlī Riḍāʾs epithet, Sulṭān-i Khurāsān (“the [spiritual] sultan of
Khurasan”). Additionally, in the introduction to the work, Kāshifī refers to him as sulṭān
al-awliyāʾ (“the sultan of the saints”).
18 Kāshifī, Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, 3 n. 4.
19 Three chapters out of ten (plus khātima) are devoted to him; chap. 8 on Muslim b. ʿAqīl,
Ḥusayn’s cousin who was blindly devoted to him, may also be said to be on Ḥusayn.
272 subtelny

Historically, Imamism and the occult sciences went hand in hand. According
to the Tabrizi Kurdish occultist Sayyid Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī (d. 799/1397 in Mamluk
Cairo), teacher of such occultist luminaries of the early Timurid period as Shāh
Niʿmatallāh Valī (d. 834/1431), Ṣāʾin al-Dīn ʿAlī Turka Iṣfahānī (d. 835/1432), and
the historian Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī (d. 858/1454),20 the chief prerequisite for
composing a book on jafr, that is, divination from letters and their numerical
values, was that one had to be a sayyid, that is, a descendant of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
(d. 40/661), the first Shiʿi Imam, preferably through his son Ḥusayn.21 Many
alchemical treatises were attributed to ʿAlī, and well-known authors of alchem-
ical works claimed him as an authority.22 Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (d. 148/765), the sixth
Imam through the line of Ḥusayn, was credited with works on astrology, letter
divination, and especially alchemy,23 and he was regarded as the teacher of the
notorious alchemist Jābir b. Ḥayyān, the purported author of the voluminous
Jabirian corpus.24 In the Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ Kāshifī ascribes to Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq
a work titled Jafr khāfiya, and he records him as stating to his progeny that “our
knowledge (ʿilm) is of great antiquity (ghābir) and recorded in books (mazbūr)
… and to us belong (nazdīk-i māst) [such works as] Jafr-i aḥmar [= al-Jafr al-
aḥmar] and Jafr-i abyaḍ [= al-Jafr al-abyaḍ] and Muṣḥaf-i Fāṭima [“The codex
of Fatima”], and also the Jāmiʿa [“Compendium”], which contains everything

20 Kāshifī cites Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī’s work Ḥulal-i muṭarraz dar fann-i muʿammā va lughaz
on the poetical form of the enigma in his treatise on rhetorics; see Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn
Kāshifī, Badāyiʿ al-afkār fī ṣanāyiʿ al-ashʿār, ed. Mīr Jalāl al-Dīn Kazzāzī (Tehran: Nashr-i
Markaz, 1369sh/1990), 127. Best known for being the author of the Timurid history Ẓafar-
nāma, Yazdī also wrote works on the occult sciences, such as Kunh al-murād fi vafq al-
aʿdād, a treatise on magic squares, and a treatise on finger counting (angusht-shumārī).
For Yazdī, see Ilker Evrim Binbaş, Intellectual Networks in Timurid Iran: Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī
Yazdī and the Islamicate Republic of Letters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016);
for Ibn Turka, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest for a Universal Science: The
Occult Philosophy of Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka Iṣfahānī (1369–1432) and Intellectual Millenarian-
ism in Early Timurid Iran” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2012); and Matthew Melvin-Koushki,
“Ibn Turka,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.
21 Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 152 and 162, where he also cites Ibn Turka’s statement that
“the family of the Prophet (i.e., the Ahl-i Bayt), who are his glorious descendants, were
entrusted with jafr, which included the totality of meanings.”
22 Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 195.
23 For example, his Risālat Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq fī ʿilm al-ṣināʿa wa-l-ḥajar al-mukarram, also known
as Risālat al-waṣāyā wa-l-fuṣūl.
24 Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 195 and 221; Fuat Sezgin, Geschichte des
arabischen Shrifttums, vol. 4, Alchimie, Chemie, Botanik, Agrikultur bis ca. 430H. (Leiden:
Brill, 1971), 128–129 and 224; and Sezgin, Geschichte des arabischen Shrifttums, vol. 7, Astro-
logie, Meteorologie und Verwandtes bis ca. 430 H. (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 323.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 273

people require.”25 These works on letter-number divination and magic, and

other occult sciences were believed to have been dictated or handed down to
ʿAlī by the prophet Muḥammad himself, and from ʿAlī to the Imams through
ʿAlī’s son Ḥusayn.
The ascription of divinatory powers, mastery of the talismanic arts, and spe-
cial healing capabilities to sayyids, including female members of the Ahl al-
Bayt, are yet other widespread features of sayyido-Sharifology (to cite Kazuo
Morimoto’s helpful construct) that deserve to be studied in a systematic man-
ner both synchronically and diachronically. The fact that not all those who bore
the sayyid moniker were genetically related to the Prophet’s family proves the
point made by Morimoto that sayyid pedigree was often used as a rationale to
explain a certain extraordinary quality or saintliness in a particular individual
whose sayyid status was in fact socially constructed.26

1 The Scope of Asrār-i qāsimī

Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī begins with his enumeration of the five “classical”
occult sciences, kīmiyā, līmiyā, hīmiyā, sīmiyā, and rīmiyā, the first letters of
which formed an anagram that spelled out the Arabic phrase kulluhu sirrun (“It
is all a secret”).27 Kāshifī provides definitions of these five occult sciences and
mentions some of the authoritative works associated with each. He calls kīmiyā
(alchemy), “the science of creating an elixir” (ʿilm-i ṣināʿat-i iksīr) and mentions,

25 Kāshifī, Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, Khātima, 412. For the traditions about the divine sources of
the Imams’ knowledge of the occult and their access to these books on the occult sci-
ences, see Andrew J. Newman, The Formative Period of Twelver Shīʿism: Ḥadīth as Discourse
Between Qum and Baghdad (London: Routledge, 2000), 71–76 and 123–124.
26 Kazuo Morimoto, “Toward the Formation of Sayyido-Sharifology: Questioning Accepted
Fact,” Journal of Sophia Asian Studies 22 (2004): 95–96.
27 For the anagram, see Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Tehran, Kitāb-
khāna-yi Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 12559/2, p. 53. In their epistle on magic, the Ikhwān
al-Ṣafā referred to the five divisions of the occult sciences, and, in what has been termed “a
gross simplification,” they ascribed to them a “Greek” origin, particularly in the case of the
science of talismans (ʿulūm al-ṭilismāt), even though the transmission of the talismanic
sciences and the occult sciences in general went back to the Babylonians and ancient
Egyptians through such groups as the Sabians and Harranians. See the Brethren of Purity
(Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ), On Magic I: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle
52a, ed. and trans. Godefroid de Callataÿ and Bruno Halflants (Oxford: Oxford University
Press and Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2011), 41–43 and 95 (the divisions being kīmiyā,
alchemy; aḥkām al-nujūm, astrology; siḥr wa-ṭilismāt, magic and talismans; ṭibb, medicine;
and tajrīd, asceticism) and 143 (for a slightly different list).
274 subtelny

among other works, the treatises of Jābir b. Ḥayyān, al-Jildakī, and Maslama
b. Aḥmad al-Majrīṭī; he calls līmiyā, “the science of talismans” (ʿilm-i ṭilismāt)
and mentions the works of the legendary sages Ṭumṭum-i Hindī and Hermes
Trismegistus;28 he calls hīmiyā (astral magic) “the science of harnessing the
power [of the planets]” (ʿilm-i taskhīrāt)29 and mentions al-Sirr al-maktūm, a
well known grimoire by Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī; he calls sīmiyā “the science of ima-
ginal entities” (ʿilm-i khayālāt), which he says was described in the works of the
ancients—Plato, Galen, and Apollonius;30 and he calls rīmiyā “the science of
conjuring” (ʿilm-i shuʿbadāt).31 However, Kāshifī states that, in his treatise (ris-
āla), he will be treating only the sciences of sīmiyā and rīmiyā in two chapters,
or maqṣads.32 This is confirmed by his son, ʿAlī Ṣafī, in the introduction to his
own work, titled Tuḥfa-yi khānī, which he composed after his father’s death.33
In view of the narrow focus of the Asrār-i qāsimī, it may be that the word asrār
(“secrets”) in the title alluded to the sirr (“secret”) in the Arabic anagram, the
two constituent letters of which represented the occult sciences of sīmiyā and
rīmiyā. More will be said later about the title of the work.
Sīmiyā took on a variety of meanings over time and was sometimes equated
with lettrism (ʿilm al-ḥurūf ).34 In the succinct definition provided by Melvin-

28 See Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 368–374 and 381.

29 Taskhīr, lit., “subjugation” or “control.”
30 For the Arabic Apollonius, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 378–379.
31 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 53; and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Tehran,
Kitābkhāna-yi Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 12568, p. 4. Al-Rāzī’s work is studied in Michael
Noble’s Chapter 5 in this volume.
32 Each maqṣad is subdivided into aṣls, faṣls, vaṣls, and nawʿs, which, later in the treatise,
become confused. Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 55; and Kāshifī, Asrār-i
qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 6. These two manuscripts (with additional references to oth-
ers) form the basis of the current study of Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī proper rather than
the Bombay lith. editions that represent an interpolated version of the text and that I
refer to as “ps.-Kāshifī”—for details see n. 120 below. Majlis 12559/2 is dated 1252/1837;
for a description, see Muṣṭafā Dirāyatī, Fihristvāra-yi dastnivishthā-yi Īrān (DNA), 12 vols.
(Tehran: Kitābkhāna-yi Mūza va Markaz-i Asnād-i Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 1389sh/2010),
1:788, no. 20742; and Majlis 12568 is dated 1283/1866; for a description, see Dirāyatī, Fihrist-
vāra, 1:788, no. 20748. Majlis 12559/2 is the more nearly complete of the two manuscripts;
maqṣad 1 is on pp. 52–109; and maqṣad 2 (incorrectly numbered maqṣad 1) is on pp. 109–
167. These correspond to pp. 2–54 and pp. 54–80 of ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed.,
Bombay: Fatḥ al-Karīm Press, 1302/1885. Majlis 12568 lacks many pages and sections,
including the beginning, and was consulted only for clarification, where possible.
33 Fakhr al-Dīn ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Tehran, Kitābkhāna-yi Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī,
12575/2, p. 273; and Alī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Tehran, Kitābkhāna-yi Majlis-i Shūrā-yi
Islāmī, 1065/5, p. 176.
34 Sīmiyā is perhaps from Greek semeia (the plural of semeion, meaning “sign”) via Syriac—
see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 361–362; Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 275

Koushki, lettrism is “any type of methodology … centered on letters as keys to

deciphering (and manipulating) all levels of physical, imaginal and spiritual
reality; to this end the letters are held to be matrices of numerological, astrolo-
gical, alchemical, magical, and other correspondences.”35 In the Asrār-i qāsimī,
however, as Kāshifī himself states, sīmiyā refers rather to an enhanced type
of illusionism (ʿilm-i khayālāt), that is, magical practices that often involved
the application of letter and number symbolism in talismanic formulas, magic
squares, seals, and the like.36 The chapter on sīmiyā describes such operations
(ʿamal, pl. aʿmāl) as causing various types of meteorological events, affecting
the growth of crops, making people disappear, changing their physical appear-
ance, preventing them from sleeping, making it possible for them to walk on
water, find buried treasure, or travel long distances in a short time.37 Most
of these operations involve the preparation of arcane potions, suffumigations
(dukhna), and tinctures (taʿfīn) that include such ingredients as the dried bones
or blood of birds and animals, ashes, kohl (antimony), and inks, the formulas
for which are written in cipher to keep them from the uninitiated. Some opera-
tions also involve invocations (daʿvāt) and incantations (nīranjāt) and are often
astrologically synchronized.
Rīmiyā (conjuring) included prestidigitation (shuʿbada), various types of
magic writing, and many types of tricks (dukūk), some of which are playful,

ed., s.v. Sīmiyāʾ; and Pierre Lory, La science des lettres en Islam (Paris: Éditions Dervy, 2004),
37. According to the eighth/fourteenth-century North African sociologist of history Ibn
Khaldūn, in his overview of magic: “At the present time, [the science of the secrets of let-
ters] (ʿilm asrār al-ḥurūf ) is called sīmiyā. The word was transferred from talismans to this
science and used in this conventional meaning in the technical terminology of its Sufi
practitioners. Thus, a general term came to be used for a particular aspect (of magic)”; see
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Ibn Khaldūn, al-Muqaddima, ed. ʿAbd al-Salām al-Shaddādī, 5 vols. (Cas-
ablanca: Khizānat Ibn Khaldūn, Bayt al-Funūn wa-l-ʿUlūm wa-l-Ādāb, 1912/2005), 3:119;
and Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, trans. Franz Rosenthal, 3
vols. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1958), 3:171.
35 Melvin-Koushki, “Occult Challenge to Philosophy,” 250.
36 For a corrective view on sīmiyā, see Liana Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif :
Ways of Knowing and Paths of Power in Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New
Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of
Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 335–336. My remarks about sīmiyā in my article “The Works
of Ḥusayn Vā’iẓ Kāshifī as a Source for the Study of Sufism in Late 15th- and Early 16th-
Century Central Asia,” in Sufism in Central Asia: New Perspectives on Sufi Traditions, 15th–
21st Centuries, ed. Devin DeWeese and Jo-Ann Gross (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 110–111, are to be
amended.
37 That is, surʿat-i sayr, which Kāshifī says is described in Kitāb sirr al-asrār; see Kāshifī,
Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 75, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay,
1302/1885), 22. For the Kitāb Sirr al-asrār, see below.
276 subtelny

such as igniting a lantern or candle from afar.38 We would today associate

these with performance magicians and conjuring artists, as in the case of the
trick with a handkerchief (mandīl). Other tricks involve creating the illusion
of buildings being built of precious metals, of torches appearing as animals
when lit, or of angels descending from the ceiling of a room where the king is
seated (useful to overawe courtiers). Some of these tricks are harmless enough
and meant simply for amusement, but others involve potions and tinctures
that cause people to cry, laugh, love, hate, pass out, go insane, or become terri-
fied (e.g., the illusion that a person is sitting on the banks of a sea from which
a whale emerges to devour him). Others are downright devious strategems
(ḥiyal) meant to cause harm, such as one by which an astrologer can trick an
unsuspecting person into believing that his horoscope indicates he has some
physical defect, or one designed to give a scribe writer’s cramp. As if sensing
that he had gone too far, Kāshifī ends the chapter on rīmiyā (and the treatise)
on a cheerful note, with a trick for making the sweetest and tastiest dessert
known as pālūda.39
Thus, sīmiyā and rīmiyā were two closely related occult sciences, and it is no
doubt for this reason that Kāshifī chose to group them together in a single work.
Given the negative associations that some of their operations had acquired
with trickstery and charlatanism, perhaps Kāshifī intended, by focusing on
them, to rehabilitate them in the eyes of his Persian audience. At the end of
the chapter on sīmiyā he reminds its practitioners that the effects of the opera-
tions of this occult science are not the result of human endeavor but rather
the product of God’s will, who acts through a practitioner who has suitably
prepared himself to be the worthy instrument of God’s power. In keeping with
occultist tradition, he also warns that knowledge of this science should be kept
from the uninitiated:

The advice of the great masters [of sīmiyā] (vaṣiyyat-i akābir) is that the
intelligent person (ʿāqil) should know with certainty that God, may He
be praised and exalted, is all-powerful and does whatever He wants. It is

38 The origin of the term rīmiyā is unknown; perhaps it was simply meant to rhyme with
sīmiyā. Ibn Khaldūn describes it as practiced by those who use their imaginative faculties
to plant phantasms in the mind of the observer who believes they really exist, but this
sounds much like sīmiyā; see Ibn Khaldūn, al-Muqaddima, 3:110, and Ibn Khaldūn, The
Muqaddimah, 3:158.
39 “Since it is customary to conclude a meal with sweets, it will not be inappropriate if, at
this point, the table of discourse ends with this sweet (shīrīnī).” Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī,
MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 167, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 80.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 277

necessary that he understand that He is the Creator of causes (musab-

bib)40 and that those [secondary] causes are the means by which He
manifests the effects of His power. [Hence], in every operation [the intel-
ligent person] should contemplate the wonders of divine Creation with
the gaze of instructive example (naẓar-i ʿibrat). [As the Qurʾan says], “Take
it as an instructive example, O you who possess insight.”41 He must not
abandon the path of asceticism (zuhd), scrupulousness (varaʿ), eating
only that which is lawful (ḥalāl), and piety (diyānat), and he must not
use his knowledge as a means of attaining wealth and status, because
wealth is an ephemeral loan, whereas knowledge (ʿilm) is a lasting jewel.42
Under no circumstances should he reveal these secrets to an uniniti-
ated person (nā maḥram) nor should he withhold them from one who is
worthy and deserving. Whoever veils the hidden secret (sirr-i maktūm)43
from strangers (bīgāna), in his acquaintance (āshnāʾī) with the verities
(ḥaqāyiq) his friend (āshnā) [will be] the One who facilitates all mat-
ters (muyassir al-umūr) (i.e., God), “And He knows everything that is in
people’s hearts.”44

Kāshifī’s sīmiyā was thus not the high philosophical lettrism espoused by such
well known Persian occultists of the Timurid period as Ibn Turka Iṣfahānī and
ʿAlī Yazdī, who regarded it as a universal science that provided access to real-
ity through the power inherent in the letters of the Arabic alphabet and their
corresponding numerical values. Ibn Turka and Yazdī had studied lettrism and
letter divination (ḥurūf va jafr) in Cairo with Sayyid Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī, whose
views on the role of lettrism in understanding (and controlling) the cosmos
they shared as members of what some scholars maintain was an informal
network of elite intellectuals who referred to themselves as Ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ
wa-khullān al-wafāʾ (“The brethren of purity and friends of fidelity”), an allu-
sion to the self-designation of the anonymous Neopythagorean Neoplatonists

40 God is usually referred to in Islamic philosophical/theological literature as the “Causer

of causes” (musabbib al-asbāb), i.e., the First Cause, because he acts through “secondary
causes,” i.e., all existent things.
41 Cf. Q 24:44.
42 Here Kāshifī cites an Arabic saying of ʿAlī’s that underscores this idea.
43 An allusion to al-Sirr al-maktūm, a well known work on astrological magic by Fakhr al-Dīn
al-Rāzī (d. 606/1209); it is studied in Michael Noble’s chapter in this volume.
44 Cf. Q 3:119. Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 108–109; lacking (along with
other pages) in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis 12568, and in ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī,
lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885).
278 subtelny

of fourth/tenth-century Iraq.45 Nor was Kāshifī’s the abstruse lettrism of the

fringe Ḥurūfiyya movement and its leader Faḍlallāh Astarābādī (d. 796/1394),
whose messianic activism had been proscribed in the early part of the ninth/fif-
teenth century in the wake of the failed attempt on the life of the Timurid ruler
Shāhrukh by an alleged Ḥurūfī adherent.46 Rather, it was an applied magic that
was more illusionist than lettrist, making use of lettrism without making it the
central preoccupation.

2 Kāshifī’s Sources

Kāshifī’s exposition of sīmiyā and rīmiyā was, by his own admission, based on
two Arabic works that he says dealt with these two “arts” ( fannayn), namely,
ʿUyūn al-haqāʾiq wa-īḍāḥ al-ṭarāʾiq (“The sources of truths and the exposition
of the methods [of attaining them]”) by Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad al-Sīmāwī; and
a work by Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Maghribī titled Siḥr al-ʿuyūn (“The bewitchment
of the eyes”), which Kāshifī says was also known as Kitāb Ibn Ḥallāj (“The
book of Ibn Ḥallāj”).47 Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad al-Sīmāwī, also known as al-ʿIrāqī,
was a well known author of mid seventh/thirteenth-century Mamluk Egypt,
who wrote principally on alchemy.48 Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Maghribī might be iden-
tified with the North African occultist Muḥammad Ibn al-Ḥājj al-Tilimsānī
(d. 737/1336), also known as al-Maghribī, the author of Shumūs al-anwār wa-
kunūz al-asrār, the popular title of which was Kitāb Ibn al-Ḥājj (not Kitāb Ibn
Ḥallāj).49 But he is not known to have composed a work titled Siḥr al-ʿuyūn, and
elsewhere in the text Kāshifī names a certain Yasūf (?) b. Aḥmad Ḥallāj, whom
he calls a master (ṣāḥib) of conjuring and talismans (shaʿābid va ṭilismāt),50

45 For the moniker, see Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 106–107. For Akhlāṭī and his circle, see
Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 114–122; and Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The New Brethren
of Purity: Ibn Turka and the Renaissance of Neopythagoreanism in the Early Modern Per-
sian Cosmopolis,” in Companion to the Reception of Pythagoras and Pythagoreanism, ed.
Aurélien Robert, Irene Caiazzo, and Constantin Macris (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming).
46 For the Ḥurūfiyya, see Shahzad Bashir, Fazlallah Astarabadi and the Hurufis (Oxford: One-
world, 2005), 66–81.
47 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 54 (where the title is given as Lubāb Ibn Ḥal-
lāj), and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 5.
48 For him, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 391–392 and 235–236.
49 For him, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 392. Others give the nisba of
this native of Tlemcen, Algeria, as Talmasānī.
50 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 92–93, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith.
ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 40. For Yāsuf b. Aḥmad, see also n. 62 below.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 279

as the author (ṣāḥib) of Kitāb Siḥr al-ʿuyūn.51 So perhaps this unidentifed indi-
vidual, whose name may be read Yasūf b. Aḥmad-i Ḥallāj (i.e., Ibn Ḥallāj), is
intended by the title Kitāb Ibn Ḥallāj.52
Kāshifī explains that al-Sīmāwī and al-Maghribī, whom he calls “those two
greats” (ān daw buzurgvār), had translated the sciences of sīmiyā and rīmiyā
from Greek into Arabic, in some cases using a talismanic cipher (bi-khaṭṭ-i
ṭilismāt).53 On account of the difficulty of the Arabic text and terminology
that could only be understood under expert guidance, he says the “benefits”
( favāyid) of those sciences reached a limited audience. For this reason, he
translated them into Persian so that “every sincere seeker and confidant of
the secrets of spiritual subtleties might be able to derive benefit therefrom in
accordance with his own aptitude (istiʿdād) and degree of [spiritual] realiza-
tion (istiḥqāq).”54 His Asrār-i qāsimī was thus part of his larger project to make
works on a wide range of topics available to a Persian-speaking audience.55
The relationship of Kāshifī’s Persian translation to these two Arabic works
is not straightforward, as he draws on many other works to which he refers in

51 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 66, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed.
(Bombay, 1302/1885), 14. The title, with its allusion to the Qurʾan verse (Q 7:116) about
Pharaoh’s sorcerers having “bewitched the eyes of the people” (saḥarū aʿyun al-nās), is
an apt one for a book on illusionism and conjuring.
52 Complicating matters further, some manuscripts of Asrār-i qāsimī are referred to by the
title Siḥr al-ʿuyūn and described as a translation by Kāshifī; see Dirāyatī, Fihristvāra, 6:49,
s.v. Siḥr al-ʿuyūn, especially no. 151,144, which corresponds to Asrār-i qāsimī, as it refers to
Amīr Sayyid Qāsim (incorrectly) as the person to whom it was dedicated; and no. 151,146
(which is described as being a tarjuma, or translation, by Kāshifī). One of the manuscripts
under discussion even contains the title Siḥr al-ʿuyūn written in a cipher in the introduc-
tion, with the corresponding Arabic letters provided above each sign; see Kāshifī, Asrār-i
qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 6: “īn risāla ki s-ḥ-r-a-l-ʿ-y-y-w-n musammā gasht” (translation:
“This treatise, which is titled Siḥr al-ʿuyūn”). See also the description of other manuscripts
of Siḥr al-ʿuyūn in C.A. Storey, Persian Literature: A Bio-bibliographical Survey, vol. 2, pt. 3,
Encyclopaedias and Miscellanies; Arts and Crafts; Science; Occult Arts (Leiden: Royal Asi-
atic Society and Brill, 1977), p. 461, no. 807, s.v. Siḥr al-ʿuyūn (where it is described as being
by an anonymous author, although, judging by the description, it is clearly Kāshifī’s Asrār-i
qāsimī).
53 Most authors of works on the occult sciences speak of the necessity of keeping their know-
ledge secret and not divulging it to the general public; writing in a cipher was one way to
protect their contents. For references to various types of ciphers, see below.
54 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 54, and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis,
12568, p. 5. As I have not compared the Asrār-i qāsimī with these two Arabic works, I can-
not say to what degree Kāshifī’s is actually a “translation,” but, given his penchant for lifting
entire passages from the works of others, I would expect some correlations.
55 See my article “A Man of Letters: Hoseyn Va’ez Kashefi and His Persian Project,” in The
Timurid Century, ed. Charles Melville, vol. 9 of The Idea of Iran (London: I.B. Tauris, 2020).
280 subtelny

connection with individual magical operations.56 These include the pseudepi-

graphical “Laws” (Nawāmīs) of Plato,57 a book called Shāmil-i akbar (“The great
comprehensive book”),58 Risāla-yi khavāṣṣ al-ḥurūf (“Treatise on the proper-
ties of letters”) by a certain Baʿalbakī,59 the Maqālāt (“Statements”) of Suhrav-
ardī,60 the Maqālāt-i sīzdahgāna (“The thirteen chapters”) of “Abū Zakariyyāʾ”
al-Rāzī,61 and a translation (tarjuma) of Kitāb Sirr al-asrār,62 along with refer-
ences to many named (albeit often unidentified) practitioners of sīmiyā and
rīmiyā.

3 The Identity of the “Qāsim” Alluded to in the Title

In the introduction to his work, Kāshifī explains that he had been ordered to
undertake his Persian translation by a certain Sayyid Qāsim or Amīr Sayyid

56 See his statement to this effect in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 55, and
Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 6.
57 E.g., Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 67, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith.
ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 15.
58 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 74; and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed.
(Bombay, 1302/1885), 21. Possibly Kitāb al-Shāmil min al-baḥr al-kāmil, a grimoire asso-
ciated with both al-Ṭabasī (d. 482/1089) and al-Sakkākī (d. 626/1229); on the former, see
Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 386.
59 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 104–105, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith.
ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 52. I have not been able to identify him.
60 That is, Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥyā, Shaykh al-ishrāq, who is referred to simply as “one of the
greats of [the town of] Suhravard”; Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 76 (where
the title is given as Muqābil?), and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885),
23. I could not identify the work.
61 That is, Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyāʾ al-Rāzī. “The thirteen chapters” must refer to
his work Kitāb al-Ramādāt (“The book of ashes”), which was written in thirteen chapters;
Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 76, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed.
(Bombay, 1302/1885), 23. For him, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 383.
62 In fact, Kāshifī states that an entire section in the maqṣad on sīmiyā consists of a trans-
lation of the Kitāb Sirr al-asrār—see Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 93
and 94, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 40 and 42. I have not
been able to identify this Kitāb Sirr al-asrār. It does not appear to be al-Rāzī’s alchemical
work, Kitāb Sirr al-asrār, for which see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 213.
Kāshifī states that it was ascribed to the great Sufi Ḥusayn b. Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj (d. 309/922)
but that the author was, in fact, Yasūf b. Aḥmad Ḥallāj; see Kashifi, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS,
Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 92–93, and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrar-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885),
p. 40. This must be the same Yasūf b. Aḥmad Ḥallāj (Ibn Ḥallāj?) identified by Kāshifī as
the author of Siḥr al-ʿuyūn, for which see above. The identity of the translator (mutarjim)
of this Kitāb Sirr al-asrār is unknown—perhaps Kāshifī himself?
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 281

Qāsim,63 whose name is accompanied by a long string of epithets and hon-

orifics that point to the fact that he was not only a great Sufi master but also a
sayyid, that is, a descendant of the prophet Muḥammad traditionally entitled
to certain perquisites and enjoying great social prestige. In the introduction to
his Tuḥfa-yi khānī, ʿAlī Ṣafī corroborates the fact that his late father had writ-
ten the Asrār-i qāsimī at the “request” (iltimās) of a certain eminent sayyid and
marshal of sayyids ( yakī az nujabāʾ-i sādāt va nuqabā-yi ṣāḥib-i saʿādāt) whom,
tellingly, he does not name.64
Asrār-i qāsimī has often been described incorrectly as having been written
for this Sayyid Qāsim or Amīr Sayyid Qāsim, and I myself had, at one point, tent-
atively identified the supposed patron and dedicatee as Amīr Abū l-Qāsim, the
marshal of sayyids of Nishapur during the late Timurid period.65 Others, purely
on the basis of his title amīr, have suggested that he was a Safavid military com-
mander.66 None of these identifications, however, is supported by the evidence
of the text, and closer scrutiny of Kāshifī’s opaquely worded introduction, pre-
served in full only in some manuscript copies, reveals that the Sayyid Qāsim in
question was the charismatic and controversial Sufi master, mystical poet, and
occultist Qāsim-i Anvār (d. 837/1433). In some manuscripts of the Asrār-i qāsimī
he is, in fact, referred to as Sayyid Qāsim-i Anvār67 and Amīr Sayyid Qāsim-i
Anvār.68 Later authors referred to him variously as Amir Sayyid Qāsim Tabrīzī,
Amīr Qāsim-i Anvār, Amīr Sayyid Qāsim-i Anvār, and Shāh Qāsim-i Anvār.69
There is no question that he was a sayyid, the title amīr often being applied

63 Thus in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 54, and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS,
Majlis, 12568, p. 5, respectively.
64 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis, 12575/2, p. 273.
65 See, for example, G̲ h̲ olam Hosein Yousofi, “Kās̲h̲ifī, Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī,” in The
Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.; Pierre Lory, “Kashifi’s Asrār-i Qāsimī and Timurid Magic,”
Iranian Studies 36, no. 4 (2003): 531; and M.E. Subtelny, “Kāšefi, Kamāl-al-Din Ḥosayn
Wāʿeẓ,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica.
66 See Muḥammad Āṣaf Fikrat, Fihrist-i alifbāʾī-i kutub-i khaṭṭī-i Kitābkhāna-yi markazī-i
Āstān-i quds-i raḍavī (Mashhad: Intishārāt-i Āstān-i Quds-i Raḍavī, 1369sh/1990–1991), 47,
s.v. “Asrār-i Qāsimī,” and Kāshifī, Javāhir al-tafsīr, 79 (introduction).
67 Thus in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Tehran, Kitābkhāna-yi Millī, 11920 (unfoliated). My
thanks to Abolfazl Moshiri for securing a digital copy of the manuscript.
68 Thus in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Cambridge, Cambridge University Library, Q.3. (dated
1267/1851), fol. 3a.
69 In the Nafaḥāt al-uns, Jāmī refers to him as Amīr Sayyid Qāsim Tabrīzī; see Nūr al-Dīn
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns min ḥaḍarāt al-quds, ed. Maḥmūd ʿĀbidī (Tehran:
Intishārāt-i Iṭṭilāʿāt, 1370sh/1991–1992), 590. Khvāndamīr calls him Amīr Qāsim-i Anvār
and Amīr Sayyid Qāsim-i Anvār; see Khvāndamīr, Ḥabīb al-siyar, 4:10 and 3:617. Kāshifī
refers to him in his Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī as Shāh Qāsim-i Anvār; see Kāshifī, Futuvvat-
nāma-yi sulṭānī, 56.
282 subtelny

to sayyids, just as the royal title shāh denoted a mystic of the highest spiritual
accomplishments. Qāsim-i Anvār’s full name, which is alluded to in the texts,
was Jalāl al-Din ʿAlī b. Naṣīr, while Qāsim-i Anvār was his sobriquet.70
Following is a full translation of the passage in question, in which Kāshifī
refers to the “order” he received from Qāsim-i Anvār, as it has been subject to
much misinterpretation, if not downright incomprehension:

In view of the universal benefits and advantages ( favāyid, ʿavāyid) of

those two books (i.e., by al-Sīmāwī and al-Maghribī), which are recog-
nized as the quintessence (lubb-i lubāb) by those endowed with percep-
tion, the incomparable order that must be obeyed (mithāl-i bī-mithāl-i
lāzim al-imtithāl) was issued (samt-i ṣudūr yāft) by his Eminence, who is
characterized by the hereditary rank of naqīb (naqābat-intisāb),71 the one
from whom true guidance emanates (hidāyat-niṣāb), who has attained
sanctified power (valāyat-iktisāb), the epitome of naqībs and sayyids (khu-
lāṣat al-nuqabāʾ va al-sādāt), noblest of the great men of the People of
Felicity (i.e., Sufis) (naqāwat al-nujabāʾ min aʿāẓim ahl al-saʿādāt),72 exem-
plar of the exalted, celestial, manifest, and pure Family of the Chosen
One (i.e., the prophet Muḥammad) (qidwat al-usra al-ʿaliyya al-ʿulwiyya
al-jaliyya al-ṣafiyya al-muṣṭafawiyya),73

(Arabic verses)
[He who was] of the lineage (min nasl) of the one who, when he was
asked by the Trusted Spirit (i.e., the angel Gabriel) whether he needed
help, answered, “I have no need of you”74

70 See ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kirmānī, Manāqib-i Ḥaḍrat Shāh Niʿmatullāh Valī, in Jean Aubin, ed.,
Matériaux pour la biographie de Shah Niʿmatullah Wali Kermani (Tehran: Département
d’ Iranologie de l’ Institut Franco-Iranien, 1956), 65. He was sometimes also referred to in
later sources as Muʿīn al-Dīn ʿAlī; see Qāsim-i Anvār, Kulliyyāt (editor’s introduction), xlvi–
xlvii, lvi, lviii–lix, and especially lx.
71 The office of naqīb was charged with checking the genealogies of sayyids; see Hans Robert
Roemer, ed. and trans., Staatsschreiben der Timuridenzeit: Das Šaraf-nāmä des ʿAbdallāh
Marwārīd (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1952), 149. It appears that Qāsim-i Anvār held the
post of naqīb, probably in Herat. For the similar way in which he is addressed by the lettrist
intellectual Ibn Turka in his correspondence with him, see Melvin-Koushki, “Quest for a
Universal Science,” 422 n. 20.
72 For the notion of “felicity” (saʿādat) in Sufi epistemology, see Lloyd V.J. Ridgeon, Azīz
Nasafī (Richmond, UK: Curzon, 1998), 109–114.
73 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 5, shortens the epithets.
74 The Trusted Spirit (al-rūḥ al-amīn) is the epithet of the angel Gabriel. According to
Qurʾanic legend, it was the prophet Abraham who, on account of his love for God, refused
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 283

Who took greater pride in his outstanding virtues (zawāhir iḥsānihi) than
in the loftiness of his descent ( jaww al-ansāb),

Who was renowned for tracing his “pedigree” (al-intisāb) from his good
deeds (aʿmāl) [rather than from] the nobility of his ancestry (karāyim al-
aḥsāb),75

(Persian verses)
He who adorns the throne (sarīr-ārāy) in the portico of Felicity (ayvān-i
saʿādat),

Who brings felicity (saʿādat-bakhsh) to the assembly of sayyidhood (dī-

vān-i siyādat),

Foremost (naqīb) of the sayyids in the world,

In dignity the noblest of the sons of Adam,

Distinguished by everlasting glory (al-ʿizz al-dāyim) and perpetual grace

(al-faḍl al-qāyim),76

Gabriel’s help when he was about to be thrown into the fire by the evil king Nimrod; see [al-
Thaʿlabī], ʿArāʾis al-majālis fī qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ or “Lives of the Prophets” as Recounted by Abū
Isḥāq Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm al-Thaʿlabī, trans. William M. Brinner (Leiden:
Brill, 2002), 132. Of all the prophets, Abraham was, for the Sufis, the greatest model of the
true lover of God, who withstood the many tests to which God subjected him, earning
him the epithet Khalīlallāh, or “Friend of God”; see Hellmut Ritter, Ocean of the Soul: Man,
the World and God in the Stories of Farid al-Din ʿAttar, trans. John O’Kane, ed. Bernd Radtke
(Leiden: Brill, 2003), 535–536. The verse may be interpreted to mean that, as a Sufi, Qāsim-
i Anvār was a spiritual descendant of Abraham who exemplified the Sufi tenet of tavakkul
(i.e., unquestioning trust in God) and refused to acknowledge any intermediary between
himself and God. In Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis 12568, p. 5, only the first part of this
verse is recorded, and all following verses are omitted.
75 I have not been able to identify the source of these verses. They may be interpreted to mean
that Qāsim-i Anvār did not flaunt his sayyid descent but sought validation by emulating
Abraham’s exemplary behavior. This interpretation appears to be supported by references
to the fact that he allegedly played down his sayyid status out of humility; see Kazuo Mor-
imoto, “The Earliest ʿAlid Genealogy for the Safavids: New Evidence for the Pre-Dynastic
Claim to Sayyid Status,” Iranian Studies 43, no. 4 (2010): 459, citing ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn Zar-
rīnkūb, Dunbāla-yi justujū dar taṣavvuf-i Īran (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1362sh/1983–1984), 59
and 355–356 n. 15, where he quotes lines from Qāsim-i Anvār’s poetry to that effect. For the
pre-Islamic Arab concepts of nasab (genealogical descent) and ḥasab (honor acquired by
virtue of birth), see Louise Marlow, “Some Notes on Premodern Islamic Social Descrip-
tion,” Pembroke Papers 1 (1990): 124.
76 I have not been able to identify these verses. If they are by Kāshifī, he is presenting Qāsim-
284 subtelny

the glory of the age, of the [Muslim] nation, of the rank of naqīb, of nobil-
ity, and of [this] world and the [Islamic] religion ( jalāl al-dawla wa-l-milla
wa-l-niqāba wa-l-najābat wa-l-dunyā wa-l-dīn),77 Sayyid Qāsim78—May
he not cease to be aided by God (lā zāla muʾayyadan min ʿinda ilāh) in
his sanctified soul (bi-l-nafs al-qudsiyya) [and] favored (makhṣūṣan) with
the gift of divine intimacy (bi-l-karāma al-unsiyya)79 from the effulgence
of His grace (min fayḍān faḍlihi)80—[the order being] that this miserable
creature, Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī al-Vāʿiẓ al-Kāshifī—May God who is exalted assist
him with His hidden grace (ayyadahu ilāh taʿālā bi-al-luṭf al-khafī)—
should translate into Persian (bi-lughat-i fārsī tarjuma kunad) those two
excellent books,81 each of which is a veritable garden full of fresh roses
and a treasure chest brimming with coins and jewels, and that he should
disseminate [them] in every hidden corner (or: Sufi convent) (zāviya)—
And how many hidden things there are secreted away in corners!82—in
such a way that every sincere seeker (har yak az ṭālibān-i ṣādiq) and con-
fidant of the secrets of spiritual subtleties (maḥramān-i asrār-i daqāyiq)
might be able to derive benefit ( fāyida) from it in accordance with his
own aptitude (istiʿdād) and degree of [spiritual] realization (istiḥqāq) ….
Obeying that imperative (ān amr-i muṭāʿ) to the utmost, I busied my-
self with the translation of the aforementioned two books (kitābayn-i

i Anvār, who has long been dead, as still present in the world, perhaps as the hidden saint
who animates the universe.
77 Perhaps an allusion to Qāsim-i Anvār’s name, Jalāl al-Dīn ʿAlī b. Naṣīr; see ʿAbd al-Razzāq
Kirmānī, Manāqib-i Ḥaḍrat Shāh Niʿmatullāh Valī, in Aubin, Matériaux, 65. See also below,
for another form of his name.
78 Emphasis mine.
79 That is, the charismatic gift (karāma) of intimacy (uns) with the Divine that permits the
saint to perform miracles (karāmāt). For the Sufi technical term uns, see Abū l-Qāsim al-
Qushayrī, al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism: al-Risala al-qushayriyya fi ʿilm al-tasawwuf, trans.
Alexander D. Knysh (Reading, UK: Garnet, 2007), 81–82.
80 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 5, adds the following, which is reminiscent
of the Arabic and Persian verses translated above: “This ʿAlid (murtaḍā) of the lands of
Islam, master (muʾayyil) of the greatest of the great naqībs—the Family of the Prophet
(āl-i Aḥmad) boasted about him and manifested in him the lineage of Ḥaydar (i.e., ʿAlī).
[Verse] On account of his ancestors, Baṭḥā [Mecca] and Yathrib [Medina] were honored;
on account of his forefathers, mihrāb and minbar [i.e., Islam] were made resplendent.” My
thanks to Walid Saleh for his assistance with the translation.
81 Thus also in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 5.
82 Kam (or: Kam min) khabāya fī l-zawāyā, an Arabic proverb. Interestingly enough, it is also
cited in a similar context by Ibn Turka in his lettrist treatise Risāla-yi ḥurūf ; see Melvin-
Koushki, “Quest for a Universal Science,”473 and 487.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 285

madhkūrayn).83 I supplemented the principles of the two sciences (qa-

vāʿid-i ʿilmayn) contained in them with other books I was able to consult
on those two arts (ān daw fann), and I cited them in a precise man-
ner, using clear expressions. Certain technical terms (alfāẓ) that it was
deemed unwise to divulge have been transcribed in a special cipher (bi-
qalam-i khāṣṣa),84 so that those who are not privy (nā maḥram) [to them]
might be kept away from the harem of their [secrets].85

As Qāsim-i Anvār would have been long dead by the time Kāshifī set about
composing his Asrār-i qāsimī, the telepathic “order” he received from him can
only be understood as a trope.86 Similar formulations in other works of his, in
which he cites the inspiration that came to him from the world of the Unseen,
support this contention. By way of example, in the introduction to his Mavāhib-
i ʿaliyya, he states that he had been commissioned to compose the Qurʾan
commentary Javāhir al-tafsīr li-tuḥfat al-Amīr (“The jewels of Qurʾan exegesis
presented as a gift to the Amir”) by ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī, to whom the work was to be
dedicated.87 But seeing that it was going to take too long to complete all four
projected volumes, in Muḥarram 897/November 1491, acting upon “a sign from
an unseen inspirer from the Realm of Indisputability” (īmāʾ-i mulhim-i ghaybī
az ʿālam-i lā-raybī), Kāshifī decided to abandon the project and compose the
much shorter Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya (“Gifts presented to ʿAlī[shīr]”)—the title of
which can also be interpreted to mean “Gifts from the Supernal World”—that

83 Thus also Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 6.

84 Later Kāshifī says that, in his treatise, he is the first to use a cipher called the “Dav-
idian cipher” (qalam-i dāvudī); see Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 61, and
ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 10. The Davidian cipher was
much used in India; see [Ibn Waḥshiyya], Ancient Alphabets and Hieroglyphic Characters
Explained […], trans. Joseph Hammer (London: Bulmer, 1806), 8 and 39 (Arabic text).
85 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, pp. 54–55, and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS,
Majlis, 12568, pp. 5–6.
86 Qāsim-i Anvār was born in 757/1356, came to Herat in 779/1377–1378, was expelled in
830/1427, and died in 837/1433, in Kharjird-i Jam. Kāshifī was born in the 820s/1420s, came
to Herat in 860/1456, and died in 910/1504–1505. Hence, at the time of Qāsim-i Anvār’s
death, Kāshifī would have been only about thirteen years old. The date of completion of
Asrār-i qāsimī is usually given as 907/1501–1502, although this date is by no means certain,
as it is not provided in the text.
87 He refers to ʿAlīshīr by his honorific title, muqarrab al-ḥaḍrat al-sulṭāniyya, that is, member
of the royal household of the Timurid ruler Sulṭān-Ḥusayn; see Maria E. Subtelny, Timur-
ids in Transition: Turko-Persian Politics and Acculturation in Medieval Iran (Leiden: Brill,
2007), 72. For this lettrist Qurʾan commentary, see Melvin-Koushki, “Quest for a Universal
Science,” 263–267.
286 subtelny

he would be able to complete in a more timely fashion.88 Similarly, in the

introduction to his al-Risāla al-ʿaliyya, Kāshifī states that he received “an indis-
putable directive” (ishārat-i lā-raybī) “from an inspirer from the Unseen” (az
mulhim-i ghaybī) to compose this commentary on forty prophetic Traditions.89
Although such claims may strain a modern researcher’s credulity, they would
have been entirely in keeping with the worldview of medieval Sufis and occult-
ists like Kāshifī who purported to be in touch with the world of the Unseen
(ghayb).
A sayyid from the environs of Tabriz, Qāsim-i Anvār had, in his youth, been
a disciple of Shaykh Ṣadr al-Dīn Mūsā Ardabīlī (d. 794/1391–1392), who headed
the Ṣafaviyya order after the death of its eponymous founder, Shaykh Ṣafī al-
Dīn, and who oversaw the expansion of Safavid propaganda from the order’s
centre at Ardabil into eastern Anatolia, Syria, and Iran, including Khurasan.
It was apparently in a dream vision that Qāsim-i Anvār received from Shaykh
Ṣadr al-Dīn his sobriquet, Qāsim-i Anvār (“Distributor of lights”), by which he
became best known.90 He came to Herat in 779/1377–137891 but was forced
to leave in 830/1427 for alleged complicity in the attempt on the life of the
Timurid ruler Shāhrukh, supposedly by an adherent of the Ḥurūfiyya, a messi-
anic movement whose beliefs were largely based on Sufi lettrist speculation.92

88 Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Kāshifī, Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya yā Tafsīr-i Ḥusaynī, ed. Muḥammad Riḍā
Jalālī Nāyinī, 4 vols. (Tehran: Iqbāl, 1317–1329sh/1938–1950), 1: i–ii (author’s introduction).
See also Alisher Navoii, Mazholisun nafois [Chaghatay], ed. Suiima Ghanieva (Tashkent:
Uzbekiston SSR Fanlar Akademiiasi Nashriyoti, 1961), 143; and Mīr Niẓām al-Dīn ʿAlīshīr
Navāʾī, Majālis al-nafāʾis: Dar tadhkira-yi shuʿarāʾ-i qarn-i nuhum-i hijrī, trans. and expan-
ded by Sulṭan-Muḥammad Fakhrī Harātī and Ḥakīm Shāh-Muḥammad Qazvīnī, ed. ʿAlī
Asghar Ḥikmat (Tehran: Chāpkhāna-yi Bānk-i Millī-i Īrān, 1323sh/1945), 93. It was sup-
posedly also in a dream that Kāshifī received the summons from the spirit of the recently
deceased Naqshbandi Sufi master Saʿd al-Dīn Kāshgharī to come to Herat in 860/1456.
89 See Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Kāshifī, al-Risāla al-ʿaliyya fī l-aḥādīth al-nabaviyya, ed. Sayyid
Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥaddith (Tehran: Bungāh-i Tarjuma va Nashr-i Kitāb, 1344sh/1965), 1. Might
this unnamed “inspirer” also be Qāsim-i Anvār?
90 For his biography, see Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 590–593 (although Jāmīs’s account plays down
his attachment to the Safavid order); ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī, Majālis al-nafāʾis, 6; Dawlatshāh b. ʿAāʾ
al-Dawla Bakhtīshāh al-Ghāzī al-Samarqandī, Tadhkirat al-shuʿarāʾ, ed. Edward G. Browne
(reprint ed., Tehran: Intishārāt-i Asāṭīr, 1382sh/2003), 346–352 (although the latter part of
the account is actually devoted to the Timurid prince Bāysunghur Mīrzā); and Khvānd-
amīr, Ḥabīb al-siyar, 4:10–11.
91 For the date Qāsim-i Anvār came to Herat, see Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 592 (who provides it
on the basis of his writings).
92 The more or less standard accounts of the incident are to be found in Roger M. Savory,
“A 15th Century Ṣafavid Propagandist at Harāt,” in American Oriental Society, Middle West
Branch, Semi-Centennial Volume: A Collection of Original Essays, ed. Denis Sinor (Bloom-
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 287

The reasons for his expulsion are still not entirely clear, as the connection with
the Ḥurūfiyya turned out to be only circumstantial, but his charismatic spir-
itual appeal and associations with controversial intellectuals and practitioners
of the occult sciences posed a threat to Shāhrukh’s political authority. This
threat appears to have been that Qāsim-i Anvār, like Ibn Turka, chief ideo-
logue of what Melvin-Koushki has termed an occultist millenarian universal-
ism, espoused the model of a “saint-philosopher-king” that was at odds with
Shāhrukh’s more traditional Sunnizing program.93
Jean Aubin considered Qāsim-i Anvār a crypto-Ismaʿili and noted his lettrist
connections with the circle of Shāh Niʿmatallāh Valī (whose khalīfa he was),
Ibn Turka (who was also persecuted after the failed attempt on Shāhrukh’s life),
and Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī.94 For his part Roger Savory saw Qāsim-i Anvār as
a missionary who came to Herat in order to spread Safavid propaganda from
there to the rest of Khurasan.95 Pace Savory, the impression from reading the
accounts about Qāsim-i Anvār in the hagiographical and historical literature
is that, even if he had belonged to the Safavid network in Ardabil in his early
days, he was not a pro-active missionary and he associated indifferently with
Sufis of all stripes—with members of the Khalvatiyya, with Shāh Niʿmatallāh
Valī, the founder of the Niʿmatallāhiyya, and with Bahāʾ al-Dīn Naqshband, the
founder of the Naqshbandiyya.96 By his own admission, he was an intellectual

ington: Indiana University Press for the International Affairs Center, 1969), 189–190; and
Beatrice Forbes Manz, Power, Politics, and Religion in Timurid Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2007), 241–242. But see now the exhaustive and provocative study of the
incident by Ilker Evrim Binbaş, “Anatomy of a Regicide Attempt: Shāhrukh, the Ḥurūfīs,
and the Timurid Intellectuals in 830/1426–27,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, ser. 3,
23, no. 3 (2013): 402–405.
93 See Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islamicate Empire: New Forms of Religi-
opolitical Legitimacy,” in The Wiley-Blackwell History of Islam, ed. Armando Salvatore,
Roberto Tottoli, and Babak Rahimi (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 2018), 353–375; and
Binbaş, “Anatomy of a Regicide Attempt,” 404–405. For Shāhrukh’s Sunnizing program,
see Subtelny and Khalidov, “Curriculum,” 211–214.
94 Aubin, Matériaux, 15–18 (French text).
95 Savory, “15th Century Ṣafavid Propagandist,” 196–197 (where he calls Jāmī’s account a
“pure fabrication”). Jāmī casts doubt on Qāsim-i Anvār’s connection to Shaykh Ṣadr al-
Din Ardabīlī when he states that the shaykh who initiated him was actually Ṣadr al-Dīn
ʿAlī Yamānī; see Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 590.
96 In Herat, his neighbor in the Khānaqāh-i Jadīdī was Ẓahīr al-Dīn Khalvatī; Jāmī, Nafa-
ḥāt al-uns, 592. For his relations with Shāh Niʿmatallāh Valī, who had been expelled from
Transoxania (where in 761/1360 he had established himsef at Shahr-i Sabz) by Timur, after
which he came to Herat, see Aubin, Matériaux, 11–16 (French text). Shāh Niʿmatallāh Valī
regarded him as his true/spiritual son ( farzand-i ḥaqīqī-i man) on account of his great
piety and prodigious ability to undergo trying spiritual exercises; see ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kir-
288 subtelny

and a loner who sought out like-minded majdhūbān, who were divorced from
worldly concerns.97
Kāshifī and most of his Timurid-era contemporaries regarded Qāsim-i Anvār
as a charismatic Sufi master, inspired mystical poet, esotericist, and occult-
ist.98 The fact that many manuscripts of his Dīvān (in which he used the pen
name Qāsim or Qāsimī) date from the ninth/fifteenth century attests to his
renown.99 Kāshifī cites him in several of his works, and I even venture to suggest
that he adopted his own pen name, Kāshifī (“the Unveiler”), as an allusion to
Kāshif al-asrār (“the Unveiler of Secrets”), the epithet by which Qāsim-i Anvār
was known in the hagiographical literature.100 Dawlatshāh included a separ-

mānī, Manāqib-i Ḥaḍrat Shāh Niʿmatullāh Valī, in Aubin, Matériaux, 65. For his meeting
and association with Bahāʾ al-Dīn Naqshand, see Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 592, who reports
on the authority of Khvāja ʿUbaydallāh Aḥrār that Qāsim-i Anvār said that he followed
the spiritual path of the Naqshbandiyya (az vay fahm mīshud ki khvudrā bar ān ṭarīqa
mīdāsht).
97 Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 592. Jāmī reports this on the authority of ʿUbaydallāh Aḥrār, who also
provides the interesting detail that, when Qāsim-i Anvār was in Rum (Anatolia), he spoke
with just such an individual in Turkish (zabān-i rūmī). Qāsim-i Anvār’s Dīvān contains a
few poems in a language akin to Azeri Turkish, which, had he been a Safavid propagand-
ist, he would have used in proselytizing among the Turkmen nomads of Anatolia. But the
poems, which are written in a standard mystico-erotic register, do not seem to constitute
propaganda. See G.M. Meredith-Owens, “The Turkish Verses of Qāsim al-Anvār,” Bulletin
of the School of Oriental and African Studies 25, pt. 1 (1962): 155–161.
98 According to Jāmī, however, whose account of him in the Nafaḥāt al-uns (pp. 590–591)
has been discussed by several scholars, he was an individual about whom opinions were
sharply divided, chiefly on account of the people who attached themselves to him and
whom Jāmī describes as engaging in licentious and antinomian behavior (dar dāʾira-yi
ibāḥat va tahāvun bi-sharʿ va sunnat dākhil). Nevertheless, Jāmī absolved him of blame on
the grounds that he was too preoccupied with spiritual matters to pay attention to what
they were doing, and because he allowed himself to be taken advantage of on account of
his generous nature (karam-dhātī).
99 See the survey of manuscripts in British libraries by Meredith-Owens, “Turkish Verses
of Qāsim al-Anvār,” 155–156. A beautiful copy of his Dīvān was made in 863/1459 for Pīr-
Budaq Qara Qoyunlu, for which see Thomas W. Lentz and Glenn D. Lowry, Timur and the
Princely Vision: Persian Art and Culture in the Fifteenth Century (Los Angeles: Los Angeles
County Museum of Art; Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery; Smithsonian Insti-
tution, Smithsonian Institution Press, 1989), 248–249, cat. no. 139; and another, appar-
ently copied in 895/1490 by the renowned calligrapher Sulṭān-ʿAlī Mashhadī, must have
belonged to the library of the Timurid ruler Sulṭān-Ḥusayn (Sackler Museum, Harvard
University, no. 26.2015).
100 For this epithet of Qāsim-i Anvār, see Alisher Navoii, Mazholisun nafois, 5; ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī,
Majālis al-nafāʾis, 6; ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kirmānī, Manāqib-i Ḥaḍrat Shāh Niʿmatallāh Valī, in
Aubin, Matériaux, 65; and ʿAbd al-Vāsiʿ Niẓāmī, Mansha’ al-inshāʾ, 167 (where it occurs in a
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 289

ate notice on him in his anthology of poets, Tadhkirat al-shuʿarāʾ, and made
the interesting observation that anyone who met him, even those who might
have been ill-disposed toward him, came to believe in him so fervently that the
grandees and members of the military elite of Timurid Herat became his mur-
īds, or spiritual disciples.101 This is corroborated by Mīr ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī who, in
his Majālis al-nafāʾis, which opens with Qāsim-i Anvār’s biography, states that
all the Chaghatay—that is, the Timurid princes and military commanders—
had been his devotees.102 So great was his respect for him that Mīr ʿAlīshīr had
a building constructed in the garden of the Sufi lodge at Kharjird-i Jām where
his tomb was located.103
There were compelling reasons for Kāshifī to invoke Qāsim-i Anvār’s name
in the writing of his book on the occult sciences of sīmiyā and rīmiyā. First
and foremost Qāsim-i Anvār was a Ḥusaynī sayyid, and the emphasis Kāshifī
placed on his sayyid status is evident from the way he describes him in his
introduction. Because Kāshifī was not a sayyid himself, he must have felt that
he could legitimately compose a book on the subject only if he did so in the
name of someone who was. Qāsim-i Anvār fit the bill perfectly. Not only was he
a Ḥusaynī sayyid but he was well known as an occultist and lettrist.104 He was
also a Sufi, and, according to the famous dictum of Ibn ʿArabī, “The science of
letters is the science of the saints.”105 It is possible that he was regarded as the
quṭb, or axis mundi, whose status as such was hidden from his contemporaries
but who possessed the “divinely sanctioned power” (valāyat) that authorized
the practice of the occult sciences.106 It appears that Kāshifī invoked Qāsim-i

Timurid decree relating to his shrine). For examples of Kāshifī’s poetry, see Alisher Navoii,
Mazholisun nafois, 143, and ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī, Majālis al-nafāʾis, 93 and 268.
101 Dawlatshāh, Tadhkirat al-shuʿarā, 346.
102 ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī, Majālis al-nafāʾis, 6.
103 See Dawlatshāh, Tadhkirat al-shuʿarā, 349.
104 In the Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, for example, Kāshifī cites one of his poems to illustrate the
meaning of the word darvīsh by means of each of the word’s constituent letters; see Kāsh-
ifī, Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, 56–57; and Qāsim-i Anvār, Kulliyyāt, 335–336. He also cites
some verses by Qāsim-i Anvār ( farmūda-yi Qāsim) in the introduction to Asrār-i qāsimī;
see Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 52; and ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith.
ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 2, but without attribution to Qāsim-i Anvār. I have been unable
to find these verses in Qāsim-i Anvār’s Kulliyyāt, except possibly for one hemistich, p. 163,
line 2,713.
105 Denis Gril, “The Science of Letters,” in Ibn ʿArabi, The Meccan Revelations: Selected Texts
of al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiya, vol. 2, ed. Michel Chodkiewicz, trans. Cyrille Chodkiewicz and
Denis Gril (New York: Pir Press, 2004), 123.
106 One early Timurid-era author referred to Qāsim-i Anvār as khalīfa-yi malakūt, that is, the
290 subtelny

Anvār in the introduction to his Asrār-i qāsimī to serve as a kind of proxy for
the composition of a book on magic, illusionism, and lettrism.
I believe that, because Kāshifī went to such great lengths to portray him-
self as having been authorized by Qāsim-i Anvār to compose his book, the title
Asrār-i qāsimī might be interpreted to mean “The secrets endorsed by Qāsim[-
i Anvār].” Noteworthy in this respect is the equivocal Arabic blessing following
Qāsim-i Anvār’s name in the passage translated above—“May he not cease
to be aided (lā zāla muʾayyadan) by God in his sanctified soul [and] favored
with the gift of divine intimacy from the effulgence of His grace”—which, if
vocalized differently yields a secondary, hidden reading: “May he [i.e., Qāsim-i
Anvār] not cease to aid (lā zāla muʾayyidan) him who is with God [i.e., Kāshifī]
by means of his sanctified spirit, and may he [i.e., Kāshifī] be favored with spir-
itual blessings from the effulgence of his [i.e., Qāsim-i Anvār’s] grace,” in which
case Kāshifī is not invoking God’s blessing on Qāsim-i Anvār but rather calling
upon Qāsim-i Anvār to assist him in the writing of his treatise.107
The allusion to Qāsim-i Anvār in the title is reinforced by a curious reference
in Kāshifī’s Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī to a type of garment called qāsimī that was
apparently current among some Sufi groups in his day. Its characteristic feature
was a torn collar. Explaining its origins, Kāshifī says it was the cloak Ḥusayn b.
ʿAlī gave his nephew (and son-in-law) Qāsim b. Ḥasan, after first tearing its col-
lar, when he sent him onto the battlefield at Karbala where he was martyred.108
According to Kāshifī, knowledge of this garment had remained hidden “behind
the veil of the Unseen” until Qāsim-i Anvār, who was looking for a trademark
style of dress, was inspired by the spirit of Qāsim b. Ḥasan to adopt it. For this
reason, Kāshifī says, the name of the garment—qāsimī—refers to both Imam
Qāsim and Qāsim-i Anvār.109 Symbolizing mourning and martyrdom as well as

caliph of the heavenly realm, the counterpart of Shāhrukh, the Timurid ruler, who, as his
contemporary, was the temporal caliph (khalīfa-yi mulk); see Binbaş, Intellectual Networks,
270–271.
107 Compare the introduction to Shams al-maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al-ʿawārif, where al-Būnī states
that, in order to be able to compose the work, he asks God to assist him with His inspiration
and also with the inspiration of the ancients and accomplished masters of the science; see
Pierre Lory, “La magie des lettres dans le Šams al-maʿārif d’al-Būnī,” Bulletin d’études ori-
entales 39–40 (1987–1988): 98.
108 The battle of Karbala, which took place in 61/680, is regarded by Shiʿis as the iconic locus
of the martyrdom of ʿAlī’s son Ḥusayn and his family. For a reference to this episode in his
Shiʿi martyrology, see Kāshifī, Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, 322.
109 Kāshifī, Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī, 176; and Ḥusayn Wāʿiẓ Kāshifī Sabzawārī, The Royal Book
of Spiritual Chivalry (Futūwat nāmah-yi sulṭānī), trans. Jay R. Crook (Chicago: Great Books
of the Islamic World, 2000), 170, with citation of verses by Qāsim-i Anvār.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 291

ecstatic experience, a garment with a torn collar and a mythic imāmī proven-
ance would have been an apt choice for a Sufi sayyid like Qāsim-i Anvār.
Notwithstanding the explanation outlined above, the title Asrār-i qāsimī
might also contain a nod to Abū l-Qāsim al-Sīmāwī, the Arabic author of the
ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq, whom Kāshifī respectfully titles ḥakīm (sage) and whose book
was one of the sources for his Persian translation.110 It is impossible to know for
certain, but it is precisely these kinds of enigmatic allusions, based on puns and
equivoques, that were so beloved of esotericists like Kāshifī, who relished lay-
ering meaning upon hidden meaning.

4 ʿAlī Ṣafī’s Safavid Connection

Kāshifī died in 910/1504–1505, well before the Safavid takeover of Herat in

916/1510. Judging by the relatively few manuscript copies that have survived,
his Asrār-i qāsimī did not enjoy wide circulation. It is possible, though, that it
may have been kept under wraps, so to speak, for reasons of secrecy, as Kāsh-
ifī himself had insisted. However, when Durmish Khān Shāmlū, the Qizilbash
commander who had been appointed governor of Khurasan, came to Herat
at the end of 927/1521,111 Kāshifī’s son, ʿAlī Ṣafī, an occultist in his own right,
introduced him to his father’s work.112 Durmish Khān ordered him to write a
simplified version of the work because, according to ʿAlī Ṣafī himself, it was
too difficult to understand, for two reasons. First, it had been written in a spe-
cial cipher (bi-qalam-i khāṣṣ) to protect its contents from “the ignorant.” In this
connection, ʿAlī Ṣafī offers up an invaluable detail when he says that this special
cipher had been an invention of his father’s (mukhtaraʿ-i īshānast) and known
as “Kāshifī’s cipher” (qalam-i Kāshifī).113 Second, it often mentioned ingredi-

110 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12568, p. 5.

111 Durmish Khān had been sent to Herat at the beginning of 928/the end of 1521 as the Safavid
governor of Khurasan to rule in the name of Shāh Ismāʿīl’s son, Sām Mīrzā, whose guard-
ian he had been appointed. Sām Mīrzā himself did not arrive in Herat until the summer
of 928/1522. For Durmish Khān and his appointment to Khurasan, see Khvāndamīr, Ḥabīb
al-siyar, 4:586–587; and Roger Savory, Iran under the Safavids (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1980), 41 and 48.
112 Although we do not know the details of how ʿAlī Ṣafī came to Durmish Khān’s attention,
he probably offered him his services as a practitioner of the occult sciences that would
stand the Qizilbash commander in good stead in his pursuit of power.
113 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis, 12575/2, p. 273; and ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis,
1065/5, pp. 176–177. For Kāshifī’s reference to the fact that he used a special cipher in his
Asrār-i qāsimī, see above.
292 subtelny

ents and potions (ajzā, adviya) that could not be found in Khurasan or Iraq or
anywhere for that matter, making it impossible to follow the instructions for
completing certain operations.114 ʿAlī Ṣafī says that he composed this simpli-
fied version, which he titled Tuḥfa-yi khānī, in 928/1522 or 929/1522–1523, and
dedicated it to Durmish Khān, to whose name the title “A gift for the Khān”
alludes.115
It is possibly to Durmish Khān Shāmlū’s time in Herat that the growth in
popular interest in the occult sciences during the Safavid period, especially the
talismanic sciences, may be dated, and in this ʿAlī Ṣafī appears to have played
an important role. He also wrote Ḥirz al-amān min fitan al-zamān (“The amu-
let of protection from the vicissitudes of fate”), which Melvin-Koushki believes
must have drawn heavily on Kāshifī’s lost al-Tuḥfa al-ʿaliyya fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf
and which he has characterized as reflecting the “canonization of the broader
lettrist tradition” because it took into account the works of such prominent
lettrists as Sayyid Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī and his disciple Ibn Turka on the talismanic
efficacy of verses of the Qurʾan, the Divine Names, the so-called isolated letters
(muqaṭṭaʿāt), and the properties of letters (khawāṣṣ al-ḥurūf ).116 Like Kāshifī’s
Asrār-i qāsimī, ʿAlī Ṣafī’s Ḥirz al-amān refers to the “benefits” to be derived from
the occult sciences, a claim voiced frequently in works by other occultist prac-
titioners.117 But, unlike his father, who perhaps hoped his work would bene-
fit individuals of a more Sufi persuasion, ʿAlī Ṣafī is explicit about just whom
the occult sciences can benefit the most: the powerful holders of high offices
(arbāb-i jāh va maknat; aṣḥāb-i manṣab va ḥashmat) and members of the royal
households of rulers and deputies at the courts of sovereigns (muqarrabān-i
dargāh-i salāṭīn va nāyibān-i bārgāh-i khavāqīn).118

114 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis, 12575/2, pp. 273–274, and ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS,
Majlis, 1065/5, pp. 179–180. Some of these included the dried blood of such mythical anim-
als as the one called Ṭalamūs by the Greeks, which is described as being one of the basic
ingredients in operations of sīmiyā!
115 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis, 12575/2, pp. 273–274, and ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS,
Majlis, 1065/5, pp. 176–177 and 184. The Bodleian MS of Tuḥfa-yi khānī (MS. Pers. e. 57,
which, like the other two manuscripts used in this study dates from the eleventh/seven-
teenth century), also gives the date 929/1522–1523. For an older description of the work,
which calls it an “abridgment” and gives it a slightly later date of composition, see Storey,
Persian Literature, vol. 2, pt. 3, p. 460.
116 For a survey of the contents, see Melvin-Koushki, “Quest for a Universal Science,” 272–280;
for a description of the work, see Storey, Persian Literature, vol. 2, pt. 3, p. 474.
117 Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 54 (ʿumūm-i favāyid va shumūl-i ʿavāyid); and
ʿAlī Ṣafī, Tuḥfa-yi khānī, MS, Majlis, 12575/2, p. 274.
118 ʿAlī Ṣafī, Ḥirz al-amān, MS, Majlis, 15708, p. 45. On this and similar works, see, e.g., Matthew
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 293

5 The Safavid Interpolation

Despite its limited circulation in Timurid Khurasan during his lifetime, Kāshifī’s
Asrār-i qāsimī enjoyed a long afterlife. There are no extant manuscript cop-
ies dating from the Timurid period and only one copy appears to be from the
tenth/sixteenth century; virtually all surviving manuscript copies date from the
eleventh/seventeenth century and later.119 Asrār-i qāsimī apparently became
very popular during the high Safavid period, but here a problem arises. Some of
these manuscript copies are considerably longer than others. A cursory exam-
ination of their contents reveals that, in some, Kāshifī’s work constitutes only
the first part of a greatly expanded text, which is represented, generally speak-
ing, by the nineteenth-century Bombay lithograph editions.120
Whereas Kāshifī stated in his introduction that he intended to treat only
the sciences of sīmiyā and rīmiyā in two maqṣads (chapters),121 the expan-
ded version comprises five maqṣads, the additional three being devoted to
those occult sciences that Kāshifī’s original did not cover, namely, līmiyā, hīm-
iyā, and kīmiyā. In order to account for the treatment of all five sciences,
the interpolated version states that it was Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥyā Suhravardī

Melvin-Koushki, “How to Rule the World: Occult-Scientific Manuals of the Early Modern
Persian Cosmopolis,” Journal of Persianate Studies 11, no. 2 (2018): 140–154.
119 There are fifty-one copies in Iranian libraries. The earliest dated copy is 1087/1676; see
Dirāyatī, Fihristvāra, 1:787–789.
120 All references to the Safavid interpolation in this article are to the following lith. ed.,
which I have referred to as ps.-Kāshifī: Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed., Bombay: Fatḥ al-Karīm
Press, 1302/1885 (147 pages), with the place of distribution given as Tehran. Kāshifī’s ori-
ginal text is largely preserved (with some omissions) in the lith. ed., ending on page 80,
which corresponds to p. 167 of Majlis MS 12559/2; and p. 68 of Majlis MS 12568. I wish
to thank my research assistant Sepideh Najmzadeh for helping to compare these two
manuscript copies with the Bombay lith. ed. Another printing of the same Bombay lith.
ed. of 1302/1885 is 151 pages long, because it was numbered incorrectly at the beginning.
Other Bombay lith. editions are dated 1889 and 1910. A lith. ed. dated 1867 and titled Kashf
al-kashshāf-i Asrār-i qāsimī (Tehran, Majlis, 09–00371), is shorter and appears incomplete.
A manuscript copy of ps.-Kāshifī in the Cambridge University Library, dating from the
mid-thirteenth/nineteenth century, is 172 folios long; see Edward G. Browne, A Descriptive
Catalogue of the Oriental MSS. Belonging to the Late E.G. Browne, ed. Reynold A. Nicholson
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1932), 200–201 (MS Q. 3). Another manuscript
copy of ps.-Kāshifī in Tashkent, also dating from the nineteenth century, runs to 155 folios;
see A.P. Kaiumov et al., Katalog fonda Instituta rukopisei, 2 vols. (Tashkent: Akademiia
Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR, Institut Rukopisei im. Kh. S. Suleimanova, 1988–1989), vol. 2, no. 869
(MS 2621/I) (although the description is incorrect and even misleading).
121 Thus, in Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS, Majlis, 12559/2, p. 55, and Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, MS,
Majlis, 12568, p. 6.
294 subtelny

(d. 587/1191), the renowned master of Illuminationist philosophy—and not the

two sources Kāshifī himself mentions, al-Sīmāwī and al-Maghribī—who trans-
lated the books on all five occult sciences from Greek into Arabic, which Kāshifī
then supposedly translated into Persian.122 While there is no basis for this state-
ment in Kāshifī’s original introduction, it reflects the reputation that the Neo-
platonizing Suhravardī acquired as a “Hermetic thinker,”123 as well as a magus
who practiced letter magic and even conjuring.124
The third and longest maqṣad on līmiyā, or the science of talismans, consti-
tutes the bulk of the interpolated version.125 It represents a separate treatise,
Ḥall al-mushkilāt (“The resolution of difficulties”), which someone who styles
himself “this humble pretender” (īn dāʿī), says he translated (tarjuma namūda)
(without specifying the language from which he translated it). He describes
the contents of this treatise as “the occult sciences (ʿulūm-i gharība), numero-
logy (aʿdād), letter divination ( jafr), and incantations (nīranjāt),” consisting of
“selections from the masters of this art,” organized into two faṣls, each of which
is divided into four nawʿs, each nawʿ further being divided into four qisms.126

122 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 4.

123 In the introduction to his Ḥikmat al-ishrāq, Suhravardī refers to Hermes as “the father
of the sages” (wālid al-ḥukamāʾ); see Suhrawardī, The Philosophy of Illumination, ed. and
trans. John Walbridge and Hossein Ziai (Provo, UT: Brigham Young University Press, 1999),
2 (Arabic text and English translation). For Suhravardī as a Hermeticist, see Kevin van
Bladel, The Arabic Hermes: From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (Oxford: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2009), 223–226 (according to van Bladel, Suhravardī was probably not really
familiar with actual Hermetica).
124 The majmūʿa (composite manuscript) Majlis, 12575/4, pp. 311ff., contains a translation of
an Arabic treatise on ʿilm-i ḥurūf ascribed to Suhravardī. Jāmī relates an anecdote in the
Nafaḥāt al-uns (pp. 584–588) about Suhravardī performing an act of conjuring whereby
he made his arm appear to become dislocated from his shoulder in order to rid himself of
a Turkmen shepherd who wanted more money for a sheep Suhravardī and his compan-
ions had purchased from him. When the Turkmen, who had grabbed Suhravardī’s arm to
prevent him from leaving, saw the dislocated arm in his hand, he took fright, dropped it
on the ground, and fled. Suhravardī then stooped down to pick up a mandīl, a type of long
white handkerchief, which he had conjured to appear like his severed arm.
125 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 80–134. A discussion of the last
two maqṣads on hīmiyā and kīmiyā, which are short, is beyond the scope of the present
study, but they too deserve closer scrutiny. In the introduction to the fourth maqṣad on
hīmiyā (astral magic), the interpolator warns that, until one becomes an accomplished
master, one should not undertake the operations described therein, as they pose a danger
to one’s life (bīm-i khaṭar-i jānast). For this reason, he states that he will restrict himself to
presenting the science in a summary fashion (ikhtiṣāran) in eight faṣls; ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i
qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 134–135.
126 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 80.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 295

The first faṣl, or subsection, focuses on the main clients or targets, as the
case may be, of various talismanic operations: rulers and members of the power
elite. It contains descriptions of talismans for controlling the hearts and minds
(taskhīr-i qulūb) of rulers, helping them achieve success in various endeavors,
such as the conquest of fortresses, and protecting others from their wrath. The
second faṣl addresses the needs of a wider audience and is devoted to talis-
mans for inciting passionate love, protecting a person from his enemies, and
turning one person against another in favor of oneself (a particularly popular
subsection), and a host of other nefarious and less nefarious purposes.127
The treatise Ḥall al-mushkilāt is described later in the maqṣad as a book
(kitāb) by Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad (d. 1030/1621), the eminent theolo-
gian, jurist, and philosopher of Shāh ʿAbbās’s reign, which consisted mainly of
the talismanic operations attributed to the Indian sage Ṭumṭum-i Hindī.128 In
fact, a Persian text with the title Intikhāb-i Ḥall al-mushkilāt (“Selections from
The resolution of difficulties”) also contains a description of some of the talis-
manic operations (aʿmāl) of Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad.129 It appears
to be identical in part with the third maqṣad.130 Additionally, a treatise also
titled Ḥall al-mushkilāt refers to a translation done, presumably from Arabic
into Persian, of Ṭumṭum-i Hindī’s work on talismans by a certain Abū l-Maḥāsin
Muḥammad b. Saʿd b. Muḥammad al-Nakhjuvānī, known as Ibn Sāvajī, a scribe
and translator of the late Ilkhanid period (fl. c. 730/1330).131 This translation,

127 The final section of faṣl 2 describes the specific properties of individual letters of the
Arabic alphabet, according to “the sage,” that is, Ṭumṭum-i Hindī.
128 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 98.
129 See Dirāyatī, Fihristgān, 13:368. In the introduction, the operations are described as hav-
ing been taken from Shaykh Ṣafī al-Dīn Isḥāq al-Ardabīlī (d. 735/1334), the eponymous
founder of the Safavid Sufi order. My thanks to Abolfazl Moshri for securing a digital copy
of the manuscript (Majlis 1178/2, undated but apparently twelfth/eighteenth century).
130 A certain “Mawlānā Akhvund” (unidentified) is mentioned in the maqṣad as having
copied down some of Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn’s operations in his own book, also titled Ḥall
al-mushkilāt, one of which he apparently recorded entirely in the “Greek cipher” (qalam-
i yūnānī); see ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 93. For the “Greek
cipher,” which was used as late as Qajar times, see C. Edmund Bosworth, “Codes,” in Encyc-
lopaedia Iranica, fig. 78. This Mawlānā Akhvund worked closely with the interpolator and
the interpolator’s teacher and is elsewhere called Akhvund Mullā Ḥusayn; for references
to him, see ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed., (Bombay, 1302/1885), 97 (where he is called
“the late”), 98, and 107.
131 Storey, Persian Literature, vol. 2, pt. 3, pp. 461–462, no. 809 (although Storey incorrectly
dates Ibn Sāvajī to the Safavid period). For Ibn Sāvajī as a translator from Arabic into Per-
sian, with dates of manuscripts he copied, see Dirāyatī, Fihristvāra, 4:1,102 (as translator of
al-Durr al-manthūr on the hadith of ʿAlī); 9:535 (as translator of al-Iṣṭakhrī’s al-Masālik wa-
l-mamālik); and 10:1,076 (as translator of Vaṣiyyat ʿAlī). Ibn Sāvajī was active in Azerbaijan
296 subtelny

which has been published in lithograph editions, also appears to be identical

with the Ḥall al-mushkilāt of the third maqṣad.132 These are rewritings of a
treatise on talismans, with a promising title, ascribed to the legendary Indian
sage known as Ḥakīm Ṭumṭum-i Hindī, whose pseudepigraphical works on
astrology, letter divination, and talismans had circulated widely in the Islamic
world since at least the fourth/tenth century.133 The “humble pretender” (dāʿī)
mentioned at the beginning of the maqṣad, who claims to have translated the
treatise, may well be Ibn Sāvajī who, in the early eighth/fourteenth century,
must have translated a treatise on talismanic operations by Ṭumṭum-i Hindī,
to which others added the operations of later masters, including those of the
aforementioned Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad.
The third maqṣad is the most interesting historically because it contains
numerous references to identifiable Safavid political and religious figures.
These references are not anachronisms that cast doubt on Kāshifī’s author-
ship of the Asrār-i qāsimī, as some scholars have maintained, because they do
not belong to Kāshifī’s original work134 but to the Safavid interpolation. They
include references to the Safavid shahs Ismāʿīl I (r. 907–930/1501–1524), Tah-
māsp I (r. 930–984/1524–1576), and ʿAbbās I (r. 995–1038/1587–1629), as well as
to Safavid military commanders such as Allāh Vīrdī Khān (d. 1022/1613), ʿAlī Qulī
Khān Shāmlū (d. 1034/1624–1625), and Murshid Qulī Khān Ustajlū (d. 1042–
1043/1632), who had talismans fashioned for them for various purposes by
such occultist luminaries as Mīr Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr al-Dashtakī Shīrāzī

during the time of Shaykh Ṣafī al-Dīn al-Ardabīlī, whose operations served as a basis for
Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad’s Ḥall al-mushkilāt (see above).
132 Kitāb Ḥall al-mushkilāt az Ḥakīm-i rabbānī Ṭumṭum-i Hindī dar jafr va ṭilismāt va nīranjāt,
lith. ed., Bombay, 1306/1888 (with an appendix attributed to Suhravardī); and Kitāb Ḥall
al-mushkilāt, lith. ed., [Bombay], 1328/1910. In his introduction, Ibn Sāvajī suggests, rather
confusingly, that his master (ustād-i amjadam) was Ṭumṭum-i Hindī (sic), whose treatise
Ḥall al-mushkilāt was based on the writings of both ancient and contemporary masters,
together with his own experientially verified operations, which others then encouraged
Ibn Sāvajī to translate. I believe the text (which is perhaps garbled) should read to say that
his master—who may have been Shaykh Ṣafī al-Dīn al-Ardabīlī—assembled the writings
of Ṭumṭum-i Hindī, which Ibn Sāvajī then translated into Persian.
133 For Ṭumṭum-i Hindī, whose dates are unknown and who was probably a mythical figure
like Hermes Trismegistus, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 298–299.
134 Thus, for example, Browne, Descriptive Catalogue of the Oriental MSS., 200–201. Although
it may seem trivial, one of the tests of Kāshifī’s authorship of Asrār-i qāsimī is the fact
that, in his introduction to the work, he mentions Rūmī and his son Sulṭān-Valad as poets
who frequently used the metaphor of alchemy (kīmiyā). For Kāshifī’s admiration for Rūmī
and frequent citation from his works, see Lloyd Ridgeon, “Naqshbandī Admirers of Rūmī
in the Late Timurid Period,” Mawlana Rumi Review 3 (2012): 156–163.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 297

(d. 949/1542),135 Maḥmūd Dihdār Shīrāzī (fl. 984/1576),136 Shaykh ʿAlī Minshār
ʿĀmilī (d. 984/1576),137 and Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad (d. 1030/1621),138
among others.139
Interpolations of works on the occult sciences are not without preced-
ent in the Islamicate tradition. Noah Gardiner has demonstrated conclusively
that the influential grimoire (textbook on magic) Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā
by the North African lettrist Aḥmad b. ʿAlī al-Būnī (d. c. 622/1225), is largely
the product of anonymous compilers who, in the early eleventh/seventeenth
century, added to the core of Būnī’s work titled Shams al-maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al-
ʿawārif.140 Just as Asrār-i qāsimī contains references to historical personages
and events from the tenth/sixteenth and eleventh/seventeenth centuries that
could not possibly have been recorded by Kāshifī himself, so too does Shams
al-maʿārif al-kubrā contain numerous anachronisms.
The reasons for such interpolations are not difficult to divine. In a climate of
enhanced interest in the occult sciences, attributing authorship to an acknow-
ledged occult master like al-Būnī lent cachet to the interpolated work. In the

135 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 81, 86, 88, and 93. Philosopher,
astronomer, and occultist active under shahs Ismāʿīl and Tahmāsp and son of the Shirazi
philosopher Sayyid Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Dashtakī. For him see Reza Pourjavady, Philosophy in
Early Safavid Iran: Najm al-Dīn Maḥmūd al-Nayrīzī and His Writings (Leiden: Brill, 2011),
24–32.
136 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 81. Believed to have been the
teacher of Shaykh Bahāʾī in the occult sciences and a prolific author on lettrism (ʿilm-i
ḥurūf ); his pen name was ʿIyānī, and his father Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Khafrī (d. 942/
1535) was an astronomer, mathematician, and occultist. See Matthew Melvin-Koushki,
“Safavid Twelver Lettrism between Sunnism and Shiʿism, Mysticism and Science: Rajab
al-Bursī vs. Maḥmūd Dihdār,” in “Shiʿi Intellectual History: The State of the Art and New
Perspectives,” ed. Ahab Bdaiwi and Sajjad Rizvi, special issue of Global Intellectual History
(forthcoming); and Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Maḥmūd Dehdār Širāzi,” in Encyclopaedia
Iranica.
137 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 83. Shaykh Bahāʾī’s father-in-law
and shaykh al-Islām of Isfahan under Shāh Tahmāsp. For him, see Eskandar Beg Monshi,
History of Shah ʿAbbas the Great (Tārīḵ-e ʿĀlamārā-ye ʿAbbāsī), trans. Roger M. Savory, 2 vols.
(Boulder, CO: Westview, 1978), 1:245; and Rula Jurdi Abisaab, Converting Persia: Religion and
Power in the Safavid Empire (London: I.B. Tauris, 2004), 60.
138 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), e.g., 84–87, 108. For him, see below.
139 Others include Mawlānā ʿAbd al-Laṭīf Gīlānī, Mawlānā Aḥmad Lārī, and Mawlānā Mīrzā
Jān Kāshgharī, for whom see ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 82,
84, 85, 87, and 90.
140 See Noah Gardiner, “Forbidden Knowledge? Notes on the Production, Transmission, and
Reception of the Major Works of Aḥmad al-Būnī,” Journal of Arabic and Islamic Studies 12
(2012): 101–102 and 123–129; and Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif,” 333–334.
For the work, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 390–391.
298 subtelny

case of Asrār-i qāsimī, there was an additional consideration: the interpolated

version capitalized on Kāshifī’s reputation as an occultist who wrote not in
Arabic but in Persian. In the notice on him in the Shiʿi biographical dictionary
Majālis al-muʾminīn, Qāḍī Nūrallāh Shushtarī (d. 1019/1610–1611) characterized
him as being expert in the occult sciences (ʿulūm-i gharība), noting that he was
a veritable repository of knowledge about jafr (letter divination), taksīr (the
construction of magic squares and talismans),141 and sīmiyā (illusionism).142

6 Dating and Authorship of the Safavid Interpolation

As most of the references in the third maqṣad date to the reign of Shāh ʿAbbās
I, the interpolator must have been writing during the last decades of the tenth/
sixteenth century or early decades of the eleventh/seventeenth century. More-
over, Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad, known as Shaykh Bahāʾī, figures prom-
inently among the authorities engaged in talismanic operations.143 A scion
of the famous ʿĀmilī family of Shiʿi clerics, Shaykh Bahāʾī was closely associ-
ated with the court of Shāh ʿAbbās, eventually becoming shaykh al-Islām of
the Safavid capital, Isfahan, in 1008/1600. Besides numerous works on Shiʿi
jurisprudence, Qurʾan exegesis, and Shiʿi ritual, he was a mathematician, astro-
nomer, Sufi, and occultist who wrote on logogriphs, letter magic, and letter
divination.144 There are many examples in the third maqṣad of operations he
authorized or performed himself.

141 Strictly speaking, taksīr al-ḥurūf means adding the numerical values of a letter as it is
spelled out, yielding a higher value; see Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic
Talismans,” in Magic and Divination in Early Islam, ed. Emilie Savage-Smith (Aldershot,
UK: Ashgate/Variorum, 2004), 162. In this case, however, I am citing the definition in
Melvin-Koushki, “Quest for a Universal Science,” 255 n. 308, who translates from Ḥājjī
Khalīfa’s Kashf al-ẓunūn (2:1475): “[The practitioner] unjoins the letters of one of the
divine names and intersperses them with the letters of the word(s) designating his goal in
a single line, then, performing an operation known to initiates, rearranges the order of the
letters on two lines. This is repeated until the first line is in order, and from it is taken the
names of the angels and the supplications used to address them. The practitioner then
continues these supplications until the goal is achieved.”
142 Qāḍī Sayyid Nūrallāh Shūshtarī, Majālis al-muʾminīn, 2 vols. in 1 (Tehran: Kitābfurūshī-i
Islāmiyya, 1375sh/1956), 1:547–548.
143 In his groundbreaking article on the Asrār-i qāsimī, Pierre Lory identified him with Bahāʾ
al-Dīn Naqshband, the eponymous founder of the Naqshbandiyya, but this identification
must be corrected; Lory, “Kashifi’s Asrār-i Qāsimī,” 537. Lory also took Kāshifī to be the
author of the interpolated Safavid version.
144 See the biographical notice on him in Eskandar Beg Monshi, History of Shah ʿAbbas the
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 299

For instance, when Shāh ʿAbbās came to the throne in Qazvin (in 995/1587),
he asked Shaykh Bahāʾī for a talisman to strengthen his rule and protect him
from his enemies. The talismanic operation, called ʿamal-i shams (the talisman
of the sun), was to be performed at the time of the sun’s exaltation. It involved
distributing the sum of the numerical values of the letters of Qurʾan sūra 91,
which begins “Wa-l-shams wa-ḍuḥāhā” (“By the sun and its splendor”), in a 5 × 5
magic square inscribed on a gold tablet (lawḥ) that was then bound to the shah’s
right arm.145 The instructions were for the shah to face the sun at dawn before
the morning prayer, and recite the Qurʾan sūra until the sun rose, at which time
he was to gaze at the tablet. This astrological talisman, which was believed to
harness the power of the sun, was credited with ensuring the success of Shāh
ʿAbbās’s reign and helped other members of the Safavid elite, notably the com-
mander Allāh Vīrdī Khān, achieve and maintain power.146
The interpolator states that Shaykh Bahāʾī had explained certain operations
to him and to his late teacher, whom he mentions frequently in connection
with talismans he fashioned for members of the power elite but whom he
never names.147 Some of these operations were drawn from the “experientially
verified” repertoire of lettrist masters such as al-Būnī, Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī, and
Ṭumṭum-i Hindī.148 Shaykh Bahāʾī valued highly the talismanic operations of
Ṭumṭum-i Hindī, as the following passage, which also involves our interpolator,
indicates:

Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad performed the operations of the seven

planets (aʿmāl-i haft kawkab) himself and would not share them with any-
one.149 One day the shah produced a manuscript written in the shaykh’s

Great, 1:247–249. For the date of his death, see Iskandar Beg Turkmān, Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-yi
ʿabbāsī, ed. Īraj Afshār, 2 vols. (reprint ed., Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1350sh/1971), 2:967.
145 The talisman seal of the sun was usually a 6 × 6 magic square; see Canaan, “Decipherment
of Arabic Talismans,” 165. For talismans worn as armlets (bāzū-band), see Emilie Savage-
Smith, “Amulets and Related Talismanic Objects,” in Science, Tools & Magic, Pt. 1, Body and
Spirit, Mapping the Universe, ed. Francis Maddison and Emilie Savage-Smith (Oxford: Nour
Foundation in association with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1997), 144;
and Živa Vesel, “Talismans from the Iranian World: A Millenary Tradition,” in The Art and
Material Culture of Iranian Shiʿism: Iconography and Religious Devotion in Shiʿi Islam, ed.
Pedram Khosronejad (London: I.B. Tauris in association with the Iran Heritage Founda-
tion, 2012), 262.
146 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 107–108.
147 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), e.g., 84, 86, 93.
148 For example, ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 83, 96, and 98–99.
149 For these types of astrological talismans, see Canaan, “Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,”
165.
300 subtelny

own hand and handed it to this lowly wretch (īn khāksār), asking me to
transcribe (naql) it. I transcribed the operations of the seven planets [for
him] from that manuscript. I heard from the shaykh himself (az zabān-i
shaykh) that, of all the operations of past and current masters, there will
never be (nakhvāhad būd) a better operation in the world than the oper-
ations [of the seven planets] of Ḥakīm-i Ṭumṭum.150

One of the most “beneficial” operations from the point of view of courtiers
and other members of the power elite would undoubtedly have been the talis-
man intended to preserve a person from the king’s wrath, ascribed to Sayyid
Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī. The description of this talismanic operation and the particu-
lar circumstances in which it was applied, highlights the roles of Shaykh Bahāʾī,
the interpolator, and the interpolator’s teacher in saving the lives of people con-
demned to death by the shah. As in the previous passage, it demonstrates the
Safavid shah’s belief in the efficacy of their talismans:

If a king becomes so angry with a person that the person risks being
executed, he should distribute this sum (ʿadad)151 in a gold 4 × 4 [magic
square] (murabbaʿ) at an auspicious hour (sāʿat-i saʿīd) and give some
sweetmeats [to the poor] as charity. At that very same hour, the shah’s
wrath will turn to favor and mercy. My own late master (ustādam magh-
fūr) saved many individuals from execution and imprisonment thanks to
this [talismanic] tablet (lawḥ). The late (ghufrān-panāh) Shaykh Bahāʾ al-
Dīn Muḥammad—may his secret be sanctified—fashioned one for Āqā
ʿInāyat,152 who [as a result] was preserved from the shah’s wrath till the
end of his days.
This powerful seal (īn muhr-i muʿaẓẓam) is one of the divine secrets
(az asrār-i ilāhī). It must be closely guarded because it has been experien-
tially verified (az mujarrabāt) by past masters (ustādan-i mutaqaddimīn).
On many occasions, [I], the most insignificant of God’s slaves (ʿaqall-i

150 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 101–102. The description of these
operations follows.
151 The sum referred to here is described in the previous subsection (maqṣad 3, faṣl 1, nawʿ 2,
qism 1, p. 82). It is the sum of the numerical values of the talismanic formula: “From the
evil of bad fate and from the evil of every creature (min sharr qaḍāʾ al-sū’ wa-min sharr
kull dābba) You (anta) ‘grasp its forelock. Verily my Lord is on a straight path’ (ākhidhun
bi-nāṣiyatihā innā rabbī ʿalā ṣirāṭin mustaqīmin).” Although the text states that the entire
formula is Qurʾanic, in fact only the second part is (= the last part of Q 11:56).
152 Unidentified.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 301

ʿibād Allāh),153 have saved [many of] God’s slaves from the wrath of rulers
and kings.
[By way of example]: In Kashan, when Mawlāna Mīrzā Jān [Kāsh-
gharī]154 was ordered by the shah to be hanged in the town square, the
noose unraveled three times. The mawlānā laughed, saying “Since I know
this [occult] science (ʿilm), no one can kill me.” When the shah learned
what he had said, he relented. He summoned the mawlānā and said, “We
pardon you for your crime. But you must give me the [talismanic] invoc-
ation (duʿā) that you possess.” He gave it to the shah, and, when it was
opened, it turned out to be that very same tablet (lawḥ).
Another [example]: When Muḥammad Beg Māklū155 was ordered by
the shah to be beheaded, my late master (ustād-i maghfūram) had that
talismanic tablet (lawḥ) in his turban. He took it out and gave it to Mu-
ḥammad Beg. Three times the sword struck Muḥammad Beg’s neck with-
out harming a single hair on his head. The shah was amazed and asked
how such a cutting sword could be so ineffective. [Muḥammad Beg] took
out the 4×4 magic square (murabbaʿ) and gave it to the shah. The shah
[then] ordered my late master (ustād-i marḥūm) to fashion one just like
it for him also, so that he could keep it on his person.
This operation (ʿamal) is from Master Sayyid Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī and has
been verified many times. It should be kept hidden from oppressors, the
unworthy, and the ignorant. The possessor should keep it on his person
[especially] during war and in battle. He should gaze at the 4 × 4 magic
square (murabbaʿ) at an auspicious hour (sāʿat-i saʿīd), when the moon is
free of bad omens, because it is one of the most amazing experientially
verified [talismans] (az mujarrabāt-i ʿajāʾibāt).156

The cryptic reference above to “the most insignificant of God’s slaves” is re-
solved in a later passage in the third maqṣad, where the interpolator reveals his
identity: he is none other than Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim Yazdī, Shāh ʿAbbās’s court
astrologer. After referring to himself as “the most insignificant of God’s slaves”

153 For the identification of the interpolator, see below.

154 Unidentified. He is mentioned in ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885),
82, as having fashioned a talisman for Mīrzā Muḥammad, the vizier of Isfahan, which
enabled him to hold on to the post for eighteen years, until the talisman was stolen from
him in the baths, as a result of which he lost his position.
155 The individual could not be identified.
156 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), maqṣad 3, faṣl 1, nawʿ 2 (“On pre-
serving oneself from the wrath of kings”), qism 2, pp. 83–84.
302 subtelny

(ʿaqall-i ʿibād Allāh), he gives his name in the form Jalāl Munajjim Bāshī, mun-
ajjim bāshī being his official title as chief astrologer.157 “The most insignificant
of God’s slaves” is not an epithet that would have been applied to anyone other
than oneself. Safavid historians customarily prefaced his name with loftier-
sounding epithets such as ʿumdat al-munajjimīn (“Pillar of the astrologers”).158
In the same passage he also refers to himself as “this lowly wretch” (īn khāk-
sār).159 Such abject expressions of humility were the customary way authors of
medieval Islamicate works referred to themselves.
Jalāl Munajjim would have been a natural candidate for interpolator. As
a rule, the fashioning of talismans, which involved letter and number magic
and the construction of magic squares, took astrological considerations into
account so that a given operation could be performed when cosmic forces
exerted maximum influence;160 moreover, the construction of magic squares
demanded sophisticated computational skills, such as those possessed by an
astronomer/astrologer.161 Besides his work on astrology, Tuḥfat al-munajjimīn
(“The gift of the astrologers”), he is known to have written a work on the occult
science of geomancy (raml).162 The passage in which he identifies himself
provides instructions for the talismanic operation (ʿamal) known as “binding

157 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 94.

158 For example, Muḥammad Mufīd Mustawfī Bāfqī, Jāmiʿ al-mufīdī, vol. 3, ed. Īraj Afshār
(Tehran: Intishārāt-i Kitābfurūshī-i Asadī, 1340sh/1961), 473; and Iskandar Beg Turkmān,
Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-yi ʿabbāsī, 2:611.
159 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 94–95 (thus also pp. 84 and 101).
Elsewhere (pp. 84, 95, and 101) he refers to himself simply as “this slave” (banda), that is,
“I”.
160 See the comments on this point by Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah, 3:166. For the role of
the astrologer, especially at royal courts, see George Saliba, “The Role of the Astrologer in
Medieval Islamic Society,” in Magic and Divination in Early Islam, ed. Emilie Savage-Smith
(Aldershot, UK: Ashgate/Variorum, 2004), 353 ff. (although with no mention of the use of
astrology in the talismanic arts!).
161 For magic squares, which involved complex mathematical calculations, see Jacques
Sesiano, “Quadratus Mirabilis,” in The Enterprise of Science in Islam: New Perspectives, ed.
Jan P. Hogendijk and Abdelhamid I. Sabra (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003), 199ff.; and
Bink Hallum’s chapter in this volume. The connection between mathematics, astronomy,
and lettrism has been forcefully argued by Melvin-Koushki, who regards it as the key to
understanding early modern Persian intellectual history, perhaps akin to appreciating the
sources of the Renaissance and the scientific revolution in Western intellectual history;
Melvin-Koushki, “Quest for a Universal Science,” 440–450; Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of
One.”
162 See Storey, Persian Literature, vol. 2, pt. 3, p. 481, no. 849; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Per-
sianate Geomancy from Ṭūsī to the Millennium: A Preliminary Survey,” in Occult Sciences
in Pre-Modern Islamic Cultures, ed. Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann (Beirut: Orient-
Institut Beirut, 2018), 171.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 303

the tongue” (ʿaqd al-lisān).163 It called for a person to sit with his back to the
qibla (the direction of prayer to Mecca) and place a small amount of wax in his
mouth. The operation was to be performed during the last two or three days
of the month, known as taḥta al-shuʿāʿ, when the moon had waned, a period
reckoned to be astrologically inauspicious but beneficial for the purposes of
the operation. It is described as having been experientially verified (az mujar-
rabāt) by Sayyid Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī. The passage merits translation in full as, in
addition to revealing his identity, it highlights Jalāl Munajjim’s relationship to
Shaykh Bahāʾī and his circle.

There was a person who was extremely vile and said many evil things to
the shah [Shāh ʿAbbās] about godly people, accusing them of falsehoods
and slandering them. The shah said, “Tomorrow that man must state what
he has said about such-and-such a person in the royal court of justice
in the presence of the plaintiff, after which he will be punished accord-
ingly.” [I], the most insignificant of God’s slaves (ʿaqall-i ʿibād Allāh), Jalāl
Munajjim Bāshī, was sitting in attendance on the late Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn
Muḥammad at the Shrine of the Immaculate One [Imam ʿAlī Riḍā, the
eighth Shiʿi Imam, in Mashhad].164 The person who had been slandered
was a very decent man, and the notables (aʿyān) gathered there all testi-
fied to the late [Shaykh Bahāʾī] that he was innocent of those accusations
and that he was a decent man, upright and God-fearing.165
The servitors (bandagān) of Shaykh [Bahāʾī] said to [me], this lowly
wretch (īn khāksār) [Jalāl Munajjim], “Fetch pen and ink because it is
necessary to ward off [the evil of] that corrupt man from this slave of God
[i.e., the innocent person] in a manner he deserves.” [The shaykh] said:

163 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), maqṣad 3, faṣl 2, nawʿ 2, qism 2,
pp. 94–95.
164 Shāh ʿAbbās’s devotion to ʿAlī Riḍā, the eighth Shiʿi Imam, found expression in thirteen
recorded visits to his shrine at Mashhad; see Charles Melville, “Shah ʿAbbas and the Pil-
grimage to Mashhad,” in Safavid Persia: The History and Politics of an Islamic Society, ed.
Charles Melville (London: I.B. Tauris, 1996), 197. In fact, the shah adopted the sobriquet
“the dog of ʿAlī’s threshold” (kalb-i āstān-i ʿAlī); see, e.g., Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim [Yazdī],
Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī yā Rūz-nāma-yi Mullā Jalāl, ed. Sayfallāh Vaḥīdniyā (Tehran: Intishārāt-i
Vaḥīd, 1366sh/1987), 238. For an explicit statement of the favored status accorded ʿAlī Riḍā
(often referred to as imām-i thāmin-i ḍāmin, “the eighth Imam who acts as a surety”) over
the other “Immaculate Imams,” see Iskandar Beg Turkmān, Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-yi ʿabbāsī,
2:754.
165 Unfortunately, neither the name of the slanderer nor that of the man he slandered is men-
tioned in the text.
304 subtelny

“Write down the ‘quiet letters’ (ḥurūf-i ṣavāmit).166 [Now] write down the
name of that person together with that of his mother.”167 After adding the
numerical values of the quiet letters to the numerical values of that per-
son’s [name] together with that of his mother, [the shaykh] added that
sum to [the number] 2624.168 He drew a 3 × 3 magic square on dark blue
paper and distributed the sum in it.169 They [the shaykh’s servitors] said
to that individual who had been wronged, “Bury this [talisman] in a dark
room and set a heavy stone on top of it.” That person performed the oper-
ation as prescribed.
The next day, the shah held his assembly. When that evil person was
called on to repeat what he had said about this man, no matter how many
times they asked him to speak, it was as if he had been rendered mute, just
like a dumb animal, and he was unable to say anything about that inno-
cent man. The shah ordered that evil person’s tongue to be cut out, while
the individual who had been wronged was delivered [from him].
This operation (ʿamal) has remained for [me] [Jalāl Munajjim], lowly
wretch (khāksār) that I am, as a remembrance of that great man of the
age [Shaykh Bahāʾī].170

Jalāl Munajjim was in the service of Shāh ʿAbbās from 994/1586 to 1028/1619,171
and it is undoubtedly to one of the occasions when Shāh ʿAbbās visited the
shrine of Imām ʿAlī Riḍā in Mashhad that the aforementioned passage relates.
Thanks to Charles Melville’s meticulous study of the chronology of Shāh

166 The ṣāmita (quiet) letters are the ones without dots (as opposed to the nāṭiqa, or speak-
ing, letters, that have dots); they were believed to be efficacious in getting rid of pain and
trouble. See Canaan, “Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” 156. But the meaning of the
Arabic root of the word (to be silent, to hold one’s tongue) must also be intended, as the
goal of the operation was to prevent a person from speaking.
167 This was a talismanic practice of long standing; Canaan, “Decipherment of Arabic Talis-
mans,” 152.
168 This number represents the sum of the numerical values of the letters of an apposite verse
of the Qurʾan. The verse is unfortunately not specified, but in many other instances in this
maqṣad on talismans, both the Qurʾan verse and its sum are given; e.g., ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i
qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), e.g., 85, 89.
169 That is, each of the rows, columns, and two main diagonals in the magic square had to add
up to the same number.
170 Ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 94–95.
171 Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī, 12 (editor’s introduction); and Sholeh A. Quinn,
Historical Writing during the Reign of Shah ʿAbbas: Ideology, Imitation, and Legitimacy in
Safavid Chronicles (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2000), 21–22.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 305

ʿAbbās’s visits to the shrine, it is possible to narrow down the possibilities.172

According to the Safavid sources, most notably Jalāl Munajjim’s own chron-
icle of Shāh ʿAbbās’s reign, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī yā Rūz-nāma-yi Mullā Jalāl, the most
likely occasion was during the shah’s visit to the shrine in Rabīʿ I, 1011/August–
September 1602 (on his return from the failed campaign against the Uzbeks
at Balkh), at which time he stayed at the shrine for approximately two weeks.
Not only was Jalāl Munajjim present, but so too were Shaykh Bahāʾī and the
shah’s courtiers (aʿyān).173 Another possible occasion was the previous year,
1010/1601–1602, when Jalāl Munajjim, who was famously charged with measur-
ing the distance the shah traversed each day from Isfahan, accompanied him
on his pilgrimage.174 Shāh ʿAbbās wintered at the shrine on that occasion, so his
stay was not brief, and his courtiers would have been in attendance. Although
the sources do not mention Shaykh Bahāʾī’s presence, it is likely that, given the
historic significance of the shah’s pilgrimage, which he performed on foot in
order to fulfill a vow, and the length of the shah’s stay, the shaykh, who was a
frequent visitor to the shrine (and was later buried there), may well have been
present.175 There are other possibilities, but again, the shaykh’s presence is not
specifically mentioned.176

172 Melville, “Shah ʿAbbas and the Pilgrimage to Mashhad,” 191–229.

173 Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī, 232; and Melville, “Shah ʿAbbas and the Pilgrimage
to Mashhad,” 197. The description in Faḍlī Beg Khūzānī’s Afḍal al-tavārīkh of the Safavid
campaign against the Uzbeks in 1011 provides a fascinating glimpse of the extraordinary
occult powers that Shaykh Bahāʾī was believed to possess: When an effigy, apparently
fashioned out of paper, appeared on horseback in the Qizilbash camp and was causing
great consternation among the soldiers, the astrologers and Sufi divines who were present
agreed that it was the product of an operation of the occult science of sīmiyā (ʿamal-i
sīmiyā). It is unclear who conjured up this frightening illusion that eluded capture by the
soldiers and kept darting around the camp until it finally disappeared, but Faḍlī Beg states
that had Shaykh Bahāʾī been present (he was probably waiting for Shāh ʿAbbās to arrive
at the Mashhad shrine), he would have dispelled the apparition in an instant simply by
raising his index finger!—see Fazli Beg Khuzani Isfahani, A Chronicle of the Reign of Shah
ʿAbbas, ed. Kioumars Ghereghlou, with an introduction by Charles Melville, 2 vols. ([Cam-
bridge]: Gibb Memorial Trust, 2015), 1:322. My thanks to Charles Melville for drawing my
attention to this telling, albeit cryptic, passage.
174 Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī, 206–208; Iskandar Beg Turkmān, Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-
yi ʿabbāsī, 2:610–612, and Melville, “Shah ʿAbbas and the Pilgrimage to Mashhad,” 197. The
shah’s pilgrimage began in Jumādā I, 1010/November 1601.
175 There is a rare reference in ps.-Kāshifī to the date 1010/1601 in connection with a talismanic
arm band (bāzū-band) that the shaykh fashioned for the shah, which supposedly ensured
his success in various military endeavors, including the conquest of Tabriz several years
later, but there is no mention of this taking place at the Mashhad shrine, so perhaps it took
place earlier that year; ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 85.
176 For example, in 1008/1599–1600, when the shah was on his way to Marv and stayed at the
306 subtelny

The passage translated above is recounted by Jalāl Munajjim in the first per-
son, while Shaykh Bahāʾī is referred to as “the late” (ghufrān-panāh, i.e., he who
has taken refuge in divine forgiveness).177 But the shaykh died in 1030/1621,
whereas Jalāl Munajjim is believed to have died earlier, in 1029/1619–1620.178
The problem of chronology cannot easily be resolved, although the date of
Jalāl Munajjim’s death may serve as a terminus ante quem for the core of the
interpolation. Perhaps the scribe of a manuscript copied after Jalāl Munajjim’s
death added the posthumous title to the shaykh’s name out of respect, while
preserving Jalāl Munajjim’s account in the first person. In other parts of the
maqṣad, Jalāl Munajjim is referred to in the third person (usually as Mullā Jalāl
Munajjim), suggesting that someone else was writing about him.179 Who that
anonymous scribe or interpolator may have been cannot be gleaned from the
text, but the accretion of secret knowledge based on the “experientially veri-
fied” operations of past masters and their contemporary emulators would have
been in keeping with the way occult texts were compiled, rewritten, and trans-
mitted over the centuries in the medieval Islamicate world.

shrine for sixty-five days; see Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī, 194–195; and Melville,
“Shah ʿAbbas and the Pilgrimage to Mashhad,” 197.
177 He is also mentioned as being deceased on an earlier occasion; ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī,
lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 93 (quddisa sirruhu).
178 Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī, 12 (editor’s introduction). In his Zubdat al-tavārīkh,
his son, Kamāl b. Jalāl, gives the date of his death as 1029/1620—my thanks to Charles
Melville for the reference; he cites manuscript Royal Asiatic Society, Codrington 56, fol. 76r.
There is no mention of the date of his death in Quinn, Historical Writing, 21–22; or in
Sholeh Quinn and Charles Melville, “Safavid Historiography,” in Persian Historiography,
ed. Charles Melville (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 251–252. This is perhaps not surprising, as
Iskandar Beg’s Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-yi ʿabbāsī, the main history of Shah ʿAbbās’s reign, which
was completed in 1038/1629, not only does not give the date of his death but also has little
to say about him.
179 For example, ps.-Kāshifī, Asrār-i qāsimī, lith. ed. (Bombay, 1302/1885), 103. This is not,
however, proof that he was not the writer, as, even in his own chronicle, Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī,
Jalāl Munajjim refers to himself in the third person; see Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim, Tārīkh-i
ʿabbāsī, 194. However, if someone else were writing about him after his death, one would
have expected the customary posthumous epithets and benedictions, which is not the
case. Perhaps as court astrologer he did not command the same respect the Sufi Shaykh
Bahāʾī did in the eyes of later practitioners of the talismanic arts.
a late timurid manual of the occult sciences 307

7 Conclusion

Although Kāshifī did not live into the Safavid period—he died before the
advent of the Safavids to Herat in 916/1510—and despite the fact that all indica-
tions point to his not being a Shiʿi, he was adopted wholesale by Safavid culture
that espoused and vigorously promoted Twelver Shiʿism as a religio-political
ideology. His Qurʾan commentary Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya remained enormously pop-
ular, thanks to its esoteric yet accessible and non-confessional bent. Even his
Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ, which became the basis of the Shiʿi rituals commemor-
ating the martyrdom of Ḥusayn, is more ʿAlid in tone than Shiʿi in doctrine.
“Ahl al-Baytism” (veneration of the family of ʿAlī) was not only part of the pre-
Safavid Sunnism of eastern Iran, it was assumed of practitioners of the occult
sciences, and it was the “universalism” of the occult sciences that facilitated
the transmission of Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī into the Safavid period, not any
crypto-Shiʿi aspect of his writings per se. This universalist, non-confessional
perspective renders the problem of Kāshifī’s confessional orientation a non-
issue, as Sunnis and Shiʿis alike viewed the Imams as privileged repositories of
occult knowledge and based their operations on the numerical values of the
letters of Qurʾan verses, the mysterious isolated letters called muqaṭṭaʿāt, and
the Divine Names.
The Safavid interpolation of Kāshifī’s Asrār-i qāsimī, particularly the third
maqṣad, with its descriptions of talismanic operations executed for Safavid
shahs and Qizilbash amirs by eminent Shiʿi religious scholars and Sufi divines,
provides a fascinating behind-the-scenes perspective on the exercise of polit-
ical power in Iran that is rarely, if ever, offered up by the official Safavid chron-
icles. Even Jalāl Munajjim’s own chronicle of Shāh ʿAbbās’s reign says nothing
on the subject. At the same time, many of the political figures and contexts
can be identified in the Safavid historical sources. This “secret history” of the
Safavid period brings into sharp relief the great esteem in which the occult sci-
ences were held during the rule of the Shiʿi Safavid dynasty, thanks in large part
to the original contributions of Timurid-era Sunni occultists like the Kāshifīs,
father and son.

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 part 2
Occult Technologies: From Instruction to Action

∵
 chapter 8

The Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya and Medieval

Islamic Occult Sciences

Jean-Charles Coulon

Sharāsīm (or Ishrāsīm) al-Hindiyya, is, in Arabic occult literature, the putative
author of a treatise on astral magic considered essential reading for anyone
interested in the occult sciences. Little is known about the author or her treat-
ise. Few treatises of astral magic have been the subjects of academic editions,
and the present article is intended as the preamble to a critical edition and
translation of this text. Insofar as Sharāsīm is known only as the author of a text,
and as this text is the main source of information on her, I will first introduce
the manuscripts that have come down to us. They are the basis of the edition of
the text and hence of our knowledge of it. I will then present the author, from
other sources that mention her and from the details scattered throughout her
treatise. Finally, I will present the text itself, its structure, and its issues in rela-
tion to the history of the occult sciences in Arabic texts.

1 Which Manuscripts Survive?

I have so far been able to locate seven manuscripts of the Book of Sharāsīm
the Indian. Two are kept in Istanbul (one each in the Hacı Beşir Ağa and Hami-
diye collections), one in Cambridge, three others at the Bibliothèque Nationale
de France in Paris, and one at the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin. The manu-
scripts Hacı Beşir Ağa 659 and Hamidiye 189 of Istanbul are both large and
complex collections, of which the work of interest here is only one part.

1.1 Istanbul, Hamidiye 189

The manuscript Hamidiye 189 is a composite collection, in naskhī script, a
summary description of which can be found in the catalog of the Hamidiye
collection (Hamidiyee Kütüphanesi, 1882–1883). The text attributed to Sharāsīm
(spelled Isrāsīm) is found in folios 268b to 302a.
A table of contents combining Arabic and Persian is found in fol. 1a–b, whose
first title is illegible. The other titles in this collection are the Mujarrabāt
(Empirica) by Ibn Sīnā (Avicenna, d. 428/1037); Ibn Sīnā’s epistle on medicine
318 coulon

(Risālat ʿAlī b. Sīnā madhkūr fī ʿilm ṭibb); the “Versified Epistle on the Opening of
the Treasures” by al-Ḥākim bi-amr Allāh (Risāla manẓūma Ḥākim bi-amr Allāh
fī fatḥ al-kunūz);1 “The Luminescent Glow” (al-Lumʿa al-nūrāniyya) by al-Būnī2
(d. 622/1225 or 630/1232); an epistle by al-Murtaḍā ʿAlī; the “Majestic Epistle
on the Science of the Letter” (Risāla jalīla tashtamilu ʿalā ʿilm al-ḥarf ); the
“Epistle of Human Joy in Ancient Pearls” (Risālat al-bahja al-insiyya fī l-farāʾid
al-asniyya); the “Majestic Epistle on the Science of the Properties of Herbs”
(Risāla jalīla fī ʿilm khawāṣṣ al-aʿshāb); a text “On the Properties of Animals and
Plants” ( fī khawāṣṣ al-ḥayawānāt wa-l-nabātāt); the Kitāb al-Sirr al-maṣūn wa-
l-jawhar al-maknūn (“Book of the Protected Secret and the Hidden Gem”);3 an
epistle on the 3×3 magic square attributed to al-Ghazālī (khātam muthallath lil-
imām al-Ghazālī);4 an epistle by Turkī (read Turka?) on inheritances (Risālat
Turkī fī l-waṣāyā); an epistle by Sābūr al-Hindī on “the letters and the recipes” ( fī
l-ḥurūf wa-l-fawāʾid); the Risāla ḥāfiyya aflāṭūniyya fī istikhrāj asmāʾ (“The hid-
den Platonic Epistle on the Derivation of Names”); an astrological poem in rajaz
meter entitled Risālat urjūza falakiyya; the “Epistle of the Arranged Necklace on
Letters and Sciences” (Risālat al-ʿiqd al-manẓūm fī l-ḥurūf wa-l-ʿulūm) by Ibn
ʿArabī; the “Epistle of the Keys of Treasures on the Science of Letters” (Risālat
mafātīḥ al-kunūz fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf ); the “The Mystery on the Science of Letters”
by Plato (Khāfiya fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf ); the Khāfiya by Qusṭā b. Lūqā; the “The Epistle
of Isrāsīm [sic] the Wise” (Risālat Isrāsīm al-ḥakīma); and the “Epistle Gather-
ing the Writings of Peoples and their Tested Sciences” (Risāla tashtamilu ʿalā
aqlām al-qawm wa-ʿulūmi-him al-mujarrabāt).
Unfortunately, we have little evidence to provide an accurate dating for this
manuscript. However, an owner’s mark at fol. 302a of Jumādā II 28, 1057/July 31,
1647 makes it the oldest manuscript containing a complete version of the text
that interests us.

1 This text is found on fols. 64b–74a. It is a text identified with an urjūza (a poem composed in
the rajaz meter) in a strip of text and that can be compared to the text of the manuscript Hacı
Beşir Ağa 659.
2 This text is found on fols. 74b–81a. An edition of this text (which does not take into account
this manuscript) can be found in Jean-Charles Coulon, “La magie islamique et le corpus buni-
anum au Moyen Âge” (PhD diss. Université Paris IV–Sorbonne, 2013).
3 This treatise is wrongly attributed to al-Ghazālī, as Ḥājjī Khalīfa says: “The Book of the Pro-
tected Secret and the Hidden Gem (al-Sirr al-maṣūn wa-l-jawhar al-maknūn) is known as The
Seal (al-Khātam) of al-Ghazālī and is called The Well-Arranged Pearls (al-Durr al-naẓīm). He
excerpted it from the jafr. Its incipit is: ‘Praise be to God who shines on the breast of certainty
by the covenant of the covenant, etc.’ Al-Biqāʿī said: ‘It has been subtly slipped into the works
of al-Ghazālī as [certain authors] held that it should be considered as one of his works’” (Ḥājjī
Khalīfa, Kashf, vol. 2, col. 989).
4 See Hallum’s chapter in this volume on magic squares in the works of al-Ghazālī.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 319

From a formal point of view, the manuscript is particularly well executed

and has all the features of a deluxe manuscript: the text begins with a bandeau
surmounted by a multicolored frontispiece (golden, blue, red, green). The text,
executed in black and red ink, is separated from a wide margin by a golden bor-
der. The margins of the text of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya contain few annotations.
In other pages, the texts of the margins are by the hand of the same copyist, and
also surrounded by borders, which indicates that they are not annotations by
owners made after the initial copying but texts added during the copying itself.
They were probably already present in the model that served for the copy.

1.2 Istanbul, Hacı Beşir Ağa 659

The manuscript Hacı Beşir Ağa 659 is a composite compendium in oriental
script (taʿlīq) that can be found in the Beşir Ağa collection catalog.5 The text
attributed to Sharāsīm (spelled Isrāsīm) is found in fols. 104b to 145b.
The contents of the collection have an occult dimension. They include:
– an anonymous “Book Containing Hidden Things and Treasures Collected
from the Books of Past Sages and Contemporary Philosophers” (hādhā kitāb
yaḥtawī ʿalā baʿḍ al-khabāyā wa-l-maṭālib jumiʿat min kutub al-ḥukamāʾ al-
māḍiyyīn wa-l-falāsifa al-mutaʾakhkhirīn; fols. 1b–15a);6
– an anonymous “Chapter of a Conjuration that is ‘The Universal Invocation’”7
(bāb ʿazīma wa-hiya l-qasam al-jāmiʿ; fols. 15b–16a);
– a table compiling “the names of some medicinal herbs in the language of
the ancient sages” (hādhihi asmāʾ baʿḍ al-ʿaqāqīr ʿalā lisān al-ḥukamāʾ al-
mutaqaddimīn; fol. 16b);
– an anonymous astrological poem in rajaz meter (urjūza falakiyya; fols. 16b–
40b);
– an anonymous treatise titled al-Zahr al-fāʾiḥ wa-l-nūr al-lāʾiḥ (“The Fragrant
Flower and the Bright Light”; fols. 41b–61a) on the secrets of letters (asrār al-
ḥurūf ), which is usually attributed to Plato;
– tables on divine letters or names (fols. 61b–62a);

5 Defter-i Kütüphane-i Beşir Ağa (Istanbul: Matbaa-i Amire, 1303/1885–1886), 54.

6 This text is found in MS Hamidiye 189. It is also anonymous, but there is a title in a marginal
annotation: urjūzat al-Ḥākim bi-amr Allāh.
7 The “universal invocation” (al-qasam al-jāmiʿ) is the usual title of a formula frequently used in
magical recipes (Sébastien Moreau and Cécile Bonmariage, Le cercle des lettres de l’alphabet:
un traité pratique de magie des lettres attribué à Hermès [Leiden: Brill, 2017], 30), and whose
content may vary somewhat from one treatise to another. One finds, for example, a version
in the Dāʾirat al-aḥruf alʾabjadiyya (“The circle of the letters of the alphabet”) attributed to
Hermes (Moreau and Bonmariage, Le cerle des lettres, 70–75).
320 coulon

– a list of the fifty-three “sciences of letters” (ʿulūm al-ḥurūf ; fol. 62b);

– an anonymous collection of invocations (sg. duʿāʾ; fols. 63a–65b);
– the Kitāb al-ʿiqd al-manẓūm fī khawāṣṣ al-ḥurūf (“Book of the Arranged
Necklace on the Properties of the Letters”) by Ibn ʿArabī (fols. 66a–78a; the
text and the author are not identified in the text itself),8 with a colophon
dated Jumādā I 21, 1117/September 10, 1705;
– the Kitāb Tashnīf al-asmāʿ fī taʿrīf al-ibdāʿ (“The Book of the Ear Pendants of
the Auditions on the Knowledge of the Creation”) also by Ibn ʿArabī (named
on a title page, fol. 79a, and in the body of the text, fol. 88a; fols. 79b–95b),
this title is actually a variant of the treatise Uṣūl al-ʿuqūd (“The Founda-
tions of Necklaces”), that we find also in the forms Uṣūl al-ʿuqūd fī l-zāʾirja
(“The Foundations of Necklaces on the Zāʾirja”) or Kitāb al-Zāʾirja (Yahia
1964, 2:519, no. 808), with a colophon dated from 25 Jumādā I 1117/14 Septem-
ber 1705, from the hand of a copyist calling himself Muḥammad (fol. 95b);
– the Kitāb Kunūz al-muʿazzimīn fī asrār al-ḥurūf wa-istiʿmāli-hā fī l-umūr wa-
l-ḥājāt (“The Book of Treasures of the Conjurers: The Secrets of Letters and
their Use for Business and Necessities”) attributed to Aristotle (named on
a title page, fol. 96a), with a colophon dated from Sunday 10 Jumādā II
1117/29 September 1705;
– the Kitāb Sarāsīm al-Hindiyya (fols. 104b–145b);
– an anonymous and untitled treatise on alphabets (fols. 146b–158b);9
– a “section” ( faṣl min) from the Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī aḥkām al-riʾāsa (“Book of
Politics Concerning the Rules of the Government”) also attributed to Aris-
totle (fols. 151b–152a; copied in the margin);10
– an anonymous and untitled treatise, whose content is specified in the open-
ing lines: “Here are martial ruses coming from the control of fires and smoke
and others, coming from the time of the sages Bāryūfā, Aristotle, and oth-
ers” (“fa-hādhihi makāyid ḥarbiyya min taslīṭ al-nīrān wa-l-dakhākhīn wa-
ghayrihi min ʿahd al-ḥukamāʾ Bāryūfā wa-Arisṭāṭālīs wa-ghayri-him”; fols.
159b–162b);
– an anonymous collection of recipes ( fawāʾid; fols. 162b–168b).
To the two colophons of the treatises of Ibn ʿArabī of 21 Jumādā I 1117/10 Septem-
ber 1705 and 25 Jumādā I 1117/14 September 1705, must be added a marginal
colophon of 16 Jumādā I 1117/5 September 1705 (fol. 62b). We can therefore
assume that the entire copy dates from the year 1117/1705–1706.

8 I have not found this title in Osman Yahia’s Histoire et classification de l’œuvre d’Ibn ʿArabī.
9 This treatise may be close to that of fols. 296a–301b.
10 This treatise is found also on the margin of fol. 296a of MS Hamidiye 189.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 321

The comparison of manuscripts Hacı Beşir Ağa 659 and Hamidiye 189 leaves
no doubt that the two are linked, either sharing a common model, or one
serving as a model for the other (in which case the elements of dating tend to
indicate that Hamidiye 189 was the model). Indeed, many texts are common to
both manuscripts, and such a compilation, containing otherwise little-known
texts in two manuscripts, cannot be a coincidence.

1.3 Cambridge, University Library, Or. 25

The manuscript of the Cambridge University Library is obviously the latest of
those that survive. It contains only the text attributed to Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya,
which is complete. The title page contains a description: “Book of Ishrāsīm al-
Hindiyya on the science of the properties of the stars, the secrets of nature and
the subjugation of its forces to the one who knows the secret, the [mystical]
power and the wonderful subjugations of sīmiyāʾ” (Kitāb Ishrāsīm al-Hindiyya
fī ʿilm khawāṣṣ al-kawākib wa-asrār al-ṭabīʿa wa-taskhīr quwā-hā li-man yaʿrifu
al-sirr wa-l-taṣarruf wa-l-taskhīrāt al-sīmāwiyya al-ʿajība).
This same title page contains the shelf mark “Or. 25” and the owner’s mark
“Naaman Feb. 5. 1901.” J.J. Naaman (1893–1914) was a London antique dealer spe-
cializing in the Middle East. It has a colophon with a clear date: “This book
was completed in the year one thousand two hundred and eighty-five AH—
the best of prayers and the purest greetings be upon its owner—in the month
of Rajab, the tenth day, year 1285 [October 27, 1868]” (“tamma hādhā l-kitāb fī
sanat al-alf wa-miʾatayn wa-khams wa-thamānīn hijriyya ʿalā ṣāḥibi-hā afḍal al-
ṣalāt wa-azkā l-taḥiyyāt fī shahr rajab yawm al-ʿāshir minhu sanat 1285”; fol. 55b).
The manuscript contains several marginal notes. Some are probably by the
copyist himself, adding either a term omitted in the body of the text or a cor-
rection to the text.11 On the other hand, we also find annotations where an
individual (in another hand than that of the copyist) wanted to bring a few
passages to the fore with an elongated qif (‘stop,’ without diacritic dots) used
as a notabilia12 in the margin.13 Some of these qif s are accompanied by details

11 Fols. 20a, 20b, 27b, 32b, 33a, 46b, 50a, 54b.

12 Qif (stop) is often used in the margins of a manuscript as a notabilia in order to draw
the reader’s attention to a part of the text of the manuscript. See Adam Gacek, Arabic
Manuscripts: A Vademecum for Readers (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2009), 168–169.
13 Fols. 16a, 17b, 18a (twice, once with a note), 18b, 20a, 21a (three times, twice with notes), 21b
(once, with a note), 23a, 23b (three times), 24b, 25a (twice, once with a note), 25b (twice),
27b (twice), 29b, 30a, 31a (twice), 31b (twice, once with a note), 32a (twice, both with notes),
32b (three times), 33a, 33b, 39b, 40b, 41a, 41b (once, with a note elsewhere in the margin),
42a (once, with a note), 42b (twice, both with notes), 43b (once, with a note), 44a (twice,
both with a note), 44b (three times), 45a (twice, both with a note), [49] 45b (five times, all
322 coulon

about the text or content that mattered to this reader. Thus, in a recipe where
the reader is instructed to use the horn of an iyyal, a note specifies that “iyyal is
the ram of the mountains” (iyyal huwa al-kabsh al-jabalī). This annotator left no
fewer than seventy-eight qif s over forty-two pages, of which forty are accom-
panied by a short note providing details about the text.

1.4 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Arabe 2634

The manuscript BnF Arabe 2634 belonged to the old Bibliothèque Royale and
has its old shelf mark, Ar. 1012, written on the title page.
Like many of the manuscripts of the BnF, the first guard-leaf provides in-
formation on the number of folios it contains, and a date: “Volume de 57 Feuil-
lets. 12 Octobre 1875.” On the following folio, a second, older shelf mark is given:
Arab. 1195. Another shelf mark, scratched afterwards, is inscribed: Arab. 1196.
As manuscripts Arabe 2634 and Arabe 2635 contain the same text, it is pos-
sible that they were easily confused, if their older numbering followed the same
order in the collection. The back of this sheet contains, like many manuscripts
of the BnF, a note in Latin by Barthélémi d’Herbelot (1625–1695), one of the
founding figures of Orientalism and author of the Bibliothèque orientale, ou Dic-
tionnaire universel contenant généralement tout ce qui regarde la connaissance
des peuples de l’Orient, a bibliographic collection largely drawn from Ḥājjī Khal-
īfa’s Kashf al-ẓunūn, which d’Herbelot requested a copy for his own use.14 The
note describes the work as follows:

1012
Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya fī ʿilm al-sīmiyāʾ
Indian doctrine on the efficiency and virtue of the names and letters.
A book of magic by the application of which spirits and demons are
invoked to perform wonderful and unusual things by first memorizing
the names of the 23 demons and then learning the preparation for their
invocation.15

with a note), 46a (seven times, five with a note), 46b (five times, all with a note), 47a (three
times, all with notes), 47b (once, with a note), 48a (once, with a note), 49a (once, with a
note), 49b, 50a (twice, both with notes), 53b, 54a (twice).
14 Sylvette Larzul, “Herbelot,” in Dictionnaire des orientalistes de langue française, ed. Fran-
çois Pouillon (Paris: Institut d’ Études de l’ Islam et des Sociétés du Monde Musulman and
Karthala, 2008), 488–489.
15 I would like to thank Jean-Patrice Boudet and Julien Véronèse for their help in the tran-
scription and translation of this leaflet. The transcription of the Latin text is as follows:
1012
Schera Sim al hendiah fi elm al simiah
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 323

The same page contains an owner’s mark by a certain Sulaymān b. ʿAbd al-
Laṭīf (tamallaka hādhā l-kitāb al-ʿabd al-faqīr ilā Llāh taʿālā Sulaymān b. ʿAbd
al-Laṭīf ʿufiya ʿanhu). On this title page are also two recipes (sg. fāʾida) written
by another hand, one against fleas (al-barāghīth), the other against bedbugs
(al-baqq).
The copy is executed in an inconsistent naskhī. No border separates the text
from the margins, which contain some notes on some folios. The last page con-
tains a long invocation in the margins.

1.5 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Arabe 2635

BnF Arabe 2635 has a clear connection to the previous manuscript. In both
cases, the beginning is abrupt: the text begins with a series of magical names
immediately after the basmala, without the usual eulogies (ḥamdala). A com-
parison of the two manuscripts leaves no doubt that the manuscript Arabe 2635
was copied from Arabe 2634. The beginning of the text clearly indicates that the
model of Arabe 2634 was acephalous.
The handwriting is much easier to read, and marginal notes structure the
text and help the reader to understand better the organization of the book. It
dates from 1679, as stated in a colophon: “[this manuscript] was completed on
Thursday, sixteen of July (tammūz) in the city of Paris, the year 1679” (nujiza fī
yawm al-khamīs sādis ʿashr shahr tammūz fī madīnat Pārīs sanat alf wa-sitt-miʾa
wa-tisʿa wa-sabʿīn, p. 170).
The manuscript was copied by Buṭrus b. Diʾb al-Ḥalabī,16 also known as
Pierre Dipy, a Syrian by birth but naturalized as a French subject in 1688,
who was professor of Arabic and Syriac at the Collège Royal and secretary-
interpreter to the king. He was close to the curator of the Bibliothèque Royale,
where he examined the Oriental books and manuscripts, of which he drew up
a catalog in 1677. The manuscript is paginated but not foliated, which corres-
ponds to the modern practice that developed in the early days of printing and
which is mainly observed among Christian copyists of the modern era.17

Indorum doctrina circa litterarum et nominum efficaciam et virtutem.

Liber magicus cuius ope[re] spiritus et demones invocantur ad mira et insolita pat-
randa nomina 23 dæmonum præmittuntur quæ memoriter discenda sunt, deinde præ-
paratio ad illorum invocationem adhibenda docetur.
16 I would like to thank Francis Richard, who, thanks to his extensive experience of the BnF
manuscripts, immediately identified this handwriting during my presentation at the con-
gress of the GIS “Moyen Orient et Mondes Musulmans,” although the name of the copyist
is not mentioned in the manuscript.
17 This is the case, for example, in the manuscripts copied by Jean-Georges Varsi, some of
324 coulon

The title page contains an ex libris: “From the library of Eusèbe Renaudot
which was bequeathed to the monastery of Saint Germain des Prés in the year
of Our Lord 1720” (Ex Bibliotheca V. Cl. Eusebii Renaudot quam Monasterio sancti
Germani a Pratis legavit anno Domini 1720). The library of the Abbey of Saint
Germain des Prés was entrusted to the Bibliothèque Nationale when the prop-
erties of the clergy were nationalized.
Eusèbe Renaudot was a priest who became a member of the French
Academy in 1688 and of the Royal Academy of Inscriptions and Medals in
1691. In addition to Biblical Aramaic, he knew Arabic, Coptic, and Syriac. His
library reflects this diversity, and his Kitāb Sharāsīm was therefore probably
copied from manuscript Arabe 2634 before being preserved in the Bibliothèque
Royale. The same title page has the old siglum “Suppl. ar. No. 1095” and the
stamp of the Bibliothèque Nationale (and not of the Bibliothèque Royale): the
manuscript probably joined the Bibliothèque Nationale during the nationaliz-
ation of clerical property. It is also the reason that, unlike Arabe 2634, it has no
Latin note written by Barthélémi d’Herbelot.
We might ask ourselves why a Christian priest would have been interested
in a text of astral magic attributed to an Indian woman, especially since the
text itself does not seem to have been particularly well known, except among
persons interested in the occult sciences. Eusèbe Renaudot was interested in
the relations between India, China, and the Muslim world, as evidenced by his
collection of Arabic translations entitled Anciennes relations des Indes et de la
Chine de deux voyageurs mahométans. In addition, the “Affair of the Poisons”
happened during this epoch in France, and poisons are a theme developed in
Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya.

1.6 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Arabe 2595

The manuscript of the BnF Arabe 2595 is peculiar compared to the others;
indeed, it does not include the title of Sharāsīm’s work. On the contrary, accord-
ing to the title page and the beginning of the introduction (fol. 2b), the first text
of the manuscript (fols. 1b–58b) should be the Kitāb ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq min/fī18
kull mā yuḥmalu min ʿilm al-ṭarāʾiq (“The Book of True Sources about Every-
thing Known about Pathways”).19 The title page attributes the work to al-Jīlī and
not, as one might expect, to the alchemist Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad b. Muḥammad
al-ʿIrāqī al-Sīmāwī (fl. seventh/thirteenth century). It is thus under this title that

which are currently preserved at BULAC (Bibliothèque Universitaire des Langues et Civil-
isations) in Paris.
18 Min on the title page, fī at fol. 2b.
19 On this text, see Maria Subtelny’s chapter in this volume.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 325

this part of the manuscript is cataloged.20 On the other hand, there is no doubt
that the end of this introduction replicates that of Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya,
whose table of contents is also identical (fol. 2b), such as the rest of the ten
discourses of Sharāsīm.
The manuscript is a collection of 154 leaflets containing a selection of treat-
ises on sīmiyāʾ (for this term, see below). Thus, after the text of Sharāsīm/al-Jīlī,
we will find a Kitāb Ṭumṭum attributed to Ṭumṭum al-Hindī (fol. 59a–b), a Kitāb
Muṣḥaf al-qamar (“The Book of the Codex of the Moon”) attributed to Anūd-
āṭīsh (fol. 89a), an anonymous Kitāb Sīmiyāʾ al-jady (“The Book of the Sīmiyāʾ
of the Kid”) (fol. 104b), a Kitāb Muṣḥaf zuḥal (“The Book of the Codex of Sat-
urn”) also attributed to Anūdāṭīsh (fol. 113b), a Sirr al-ḥikam wa-jawāmiʿ al-kilam
(“The Secret of Judgments and the Compilation of the Sentences”) attributed
to al-Būnī (fols. 117b–118a), a treatise of conjuring and natural magic (fol. 136b)
and, finally, a treatise attributed to Aristotle (fol. 148b).
The manuscript contains a colophon dated 1041/1631–1632. The whole collec-
tion is, in fact dedicated, to sīmiyāʾ, which is probably what guided the choice
of texts copied. We will return to this matter below.

1.7 Dublin, Chester Beatty Library, 4353

The manuscript Chester Beatty Library 4353 is mentioned by Manfred Ull-
mann in his Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam.21 Arthur J. Arberry
cataloged the first part of this collection under the title Kitāb Ashrāsīm fī l-
ṭilasmāt.22 This manuscript therefore includes first the treatise attributed to
Sharāsīm (fols. 1b–18b), followed by a compilation of extracts from the ʿUyūn
al-ḥaqāʾiq wa-īḍāḥ al-ṭarāʾiq by Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad b. Muḥammad al-ʿIrāqī
al-Sīmāwī (fols. 19a–38b), and ends with an erotic treatise by Jalāl al-Dīn Abū
l-Najīb ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Naṣr b. ʿAbdallāh al-Shīrāzī al-Tabrīzī titled al-Īḍāḥ fī
asrār al-nikāḥ (fols. 42b–64a), obviously copied from an acephalous model (the
text starts with Chapter 3, immediately following the basmala). The title page
summarizes these three titles. None of these texts has a dated colophon. On
the other hand, some annotations are dated, providing us with a terminus ante
quem for the copying of the manuscript. On the title page, we find the owner’s
mark of a certain Muḥammad b. Sinān dated 1060/1650. Another mark (appar-

20 William MacGuckin, Baron de Slane, Catalogue des manuscrits arabes (Paris: Imprimerie
nationale, 1883–1895), 469.
21 Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1972),
382.
22 Arthur J. Arberry, The Chester Beatty Library: A Handlist of the Arabic Manuscripts (Dublin:
Hodges, Figis, 1962), 5:110.
326 coulon

ently a reading certificate, given the formula ʿalā ʿayn al-faqīr …), of which the
first verb does not appear, is of a certain Ismaʿīl known as (al-shahīr) Fadāʾī and
is dated Rabīʿ I 1008/September–October 1599. Many other owner’s marks and
reading certificates are found in the last pages of the manuscript but are not
dated.
The manuscript itself does not present the text in its entirety but only a selec-
tion made by the copyist. We may infer this from the introduction: the basmala
formula is followed by the end of the complete introduction found in the Istan-
bul and Cambridge manuscripts introduced above. The agency of the copyist
in the (re)composition of the text for this manuscript is strongly implied when,
in the introduction, just after the sentence in which Sharāsīm indicates that her
work assembles ten discourses, we find the following sentence, peculiar to this
manuscript: “The copyist [of this manuscript] did not intend to transcribe the
book of [Sharāsīm] as a whole and verbatim but limited himself in this book
to all that is well expressed and easy to do from each discourse.”23 Examination
of the text reinforces this assertion: the sections are not always complete, and
some are even radically abridged.
The composition of this collection suggests another line of inquiry: the
second part contains the ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq. As we have seen, it is this title that
wrongly introduces the book of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya in the BnF manuscript
Arabe 2595. The two texts therefore seem to have a particular link.

These seven manuscripts are heterogeneous and reflect a complex textual tra-
dition. Some of these manuscripts (those of the BnF in particular) do not
include the text of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya in its entirety, and one manuscript
even includes an abridged version, which should be edited separately, as the
interventions of the copyist on the text are important.
The full-text versions are nevertheless essential to understand what it is
about. The introduction then presents the mysterious character of Sharāsīm
al-Hindiyya.

23 Arabic text: ‫وليس لكاتبه غرض في نقل كتابها جميعه بحروفه بل اقتصر على كل ما حسن قوله وسهل‬
.‫فعله من كل مقالة او صنعه في هذه الـكراسة‬
(I thank Muriel Roiland and Ismail Warscheid for helping me to read this passage, as
the erasure of the ink on the manuscript had made it difficult to interpret.)
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 327

2 Who was Sharāsīm the Indian?

The Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya is presented as a dialog between Sharāsīm

and her master. The relationship between these characters has two meanings:
on one hand, her master is socially dominant, Sharāsīm being his client and
indebted to him; on the other hand, Sharāsīm tries to save him from the grip of
a Persian who has enchanted him with magic tricks, and she aims to present the
natural laws by which he performs his “miracles.” The presentation of the text
as a dialog between a master and his disciple is common in this kind of treatise:
this is the case, for example, in the Sirr al-asrār (“The Secret of Secrets”), which
is a dialog between Aristotle and Alexander the Great,24 and in the Kitāb al-
Ustūṭās—to which we will return—in which Aristotle conveys the teachings
of Hermes. In these examples, however, we can see that the identity of the
protagonists is important: they are well known characters and major author-
ities. In the case of Sharāsīm, the lack of information about her, in history or
in legend, contrasts with the importance of her book, which is emphasized by
later authors who mention it or quote from it.

2.1 A Mysterious Name

The spellings Ishrāsīm and Sharāsīm are both attested, as are, more rarely,
Sarāsīm and Isrāsīm. We can compare Sharāsīm with the term sarāsīma,
attested in Persian: Francis Joseph Steingass translates it as “astonished,” “con-
founded,” or “insane.”25 This could well be the origin of the name of this charac-
ter. Dozy reports the terms sharsama, shirsām, sarsām, sharsām, and sharāsim
as referring to “frenzy” (with the derivative musharsam, “frenzied”),26 and con-
siders it as the Arabic form of Persian sarsām (with the derivative musarsam).27
Ḥājjī Khalīfa spells the name “Isrāsim al-Hindī” in his Kashf al-ẓunūn and
gives no information but the title of the book.28 The change from feminine to
masculine is observed occasionally, but the feminine is much more common.

24 On this text, see Mario Grignaschi, “Remarques sur la formation et l’interprétation du Sirr
al-asrār,” in Pseudo-Aristotle: The Secret of secrets, Sources and Influences, ed. William Fran-
cis Ryan and Charles Bernard Schmitt (London: Warburg Institute, University of London,
1982), 3–33; Mario Grignaschi, “L’origine et les métamorphoses du Sirr al-ʾasrâr,” Archives
d’ histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen-Âge 43 (1976): 7–112.
25 Francis Joseph Steingass, A Comprehensive Persian-English Dictionary, 5th ed. (London:
Routledge & Kegan Paul Limited, 1963), 668.
26 Reinhart Pieter Anne Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, 3rd ed., 2 vols. (Leiden:
Brill; Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1967), 1:744.
27 Dozy, Supplément, 1:648.
28 Ḥājjī Khalīfa Kashf, 5:40, no. 9823.
328 coulon

The introduction of Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya has another element: “It is

said that her name was Ruqiyā ….” This name does not help us to identify further
Sharāsīm in the chronicles, but is useful in clarifying a passage from Kitāb Shar-
āsīm al-Hindiyya that begins “Ruqiyā said …” (qālat Ruqiyā, fol. 325a)—without
wāw—while the majority of discourses begin with “Sharāsīm said” (qālat Shar-
āsīm): this mysterious Ruqiyā is thus actually Sharāsīm. Here again, this name
must be related to ruqya (prophylactic incantation), corresponding to a prac-
tice directly related to sīmiyāʾ. The stem Rūqiyā can also be found as part of
the name of an angel: one of the seven angels corresponding to the seven days
of the week in the Shams al-maʿārif (“The Sun of Knowledge”) attributed to
al-Būnī (d. 622/1225 or 630/1232) is called Rūqiyāʾīl.29 The latter may also cor-
respond to the Rūfiyāʾīl mentioned in Maslama al-Qurṭubī’s Ghāyat al-ḥakīm
(“The Goal of the Sage”), since qāf and fāʾ are easily confused in manuscripts.30
Rūqyaʾel is attested in treatises of Jewish magic.31 At this stage, we cannot make
a link between Rūqiyā as a surname for Sharāsīm and as a stem for an angelic
theophoric name, but this calls for mention. There are no other mentions of
Sharāsīm as Rūqiyā.

2.2 Hārūn al-Rashīd’s Maidservant?

The identity of Sharāsīm the Indian is a problem. We know almost nothing
about her, and perhaps she never existed. The text of her book begins by
describing Sharāsīm as the “freedwoman (mawlāt) of Abū l-ʿAbbās, a client of
the commander of the believers (mawlā amīr al-muʾminīn),”32 thus suggesting
that Sharāsīm was in the service of a close relative of an unnamed caliph. Man-
fred Ullmann, one of the few European scholars to have written about Shar-
āsīm, claimed that she was “the maidservant (odalisque) of Hārūn al-Rashīd.
Her name, profession and her origins are fiction” (“[Sharāsīm] der Odaliske des
Hārūn ar-Rashīd. Ihr Name, Beruf und ihre Herkunft sind Fiktion”).33
It must be from the alchemist ʿIzz al-Dīn Aydamir al-Jildakī (fl. ninth/four-
teenth century) that Manfred Ullmann took the information associating our

29 Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:862, 889, 908, 910, 917.

30 Al-Qurṭubī, Ghāya, 205.
31 Moïse Schwab, Vocabulaire de l’ angélologie (Paris: Klincksieck, 1897; Milan: Archè, 1989),
358; Hans Alexander Winkler, Siegel und Charaktere in der muhammedanischen Zauberei
(Berlin: De Gruyter, 1930), 109.
32 Mawlā amīr al-muʾminīn was an honorary title bestowed by the caliph on governors, gen-
erals, or dignitaries of non-Arab origin. The qualifier mawlā refers to a freed former slave
and therefore someone of non-Arab origin, who is a client of his former master.
33 Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften, 382.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 329

Indian woman with the caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd (r. 170–193/786–809). In his
Kitāb Durrat al-ghawwāṣ wa-kanz al-ikhtiṣāṣ fī maʿrifat al-khawāṣṣ (“The Book
of the Pearl of the Diver and the Treasure of the Specification of the Know-
ledge of the Properties”), al-Jildakī mentions the book of Sharāsīm the Indian
in a bibliographical section devoted to the most important works on sīmiyāʾ.34
Here Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya is called a servant of Hārūn al-Rashīd ( jāriyat Hārūn
al-Rashīd).
The appearance of the caliph of the Thousand and One Nights in the story
of Sharāsīm is undoubtedly legendary. No historical information supports this
assumption, but the figure of Hārūn al-Rashīd is present in Arabic magical liter-
ature, often as the victim of women’s spells. In this regard, a famous talisman,
called ḥirz Marjāna (“Marjāna’s talisman”) or ḥirz al-ghāsila (“the washerwo-
man’s talisman”), tells how a sultan—often identified as the caliph Hārūn al-
Rashīd—was madly in love with an ugly black maid ( jāriya) called Marjāna.
When she died, the preparation of her corpse was entrusted to a washerwo-
man who discovered in the hair of the deceased maidservant a small talisman.
She picked up the talisman and put it on her own head. When the sovereign
came to say farewell to his beloved, he did not recognize her and found the
corpse monstrously ugly. He then fell madly in love with the servant who was
preparing the body and married her.35
A similar anecdote circulated about a certain Khāliṣa, who, according to
some sources, was a servant ( jāriya) of Hārūn al-Rashīd. She had been insulted
in a verse by the poet Abū Nuwās (d. between 198/813 and 200/815).36 In his
Shumūs al-anwār (“The Suns of Light”), Ibn al-Ḥājj al-Tilimsānī37 (d. 930/1524)
tells the story of this “black and ugly” maid (sawdāʾ qabīḥat al-ṣūra wa-l-man-
ẓar) with whom Hārūn al-Rashīd was desperately in love because of a talis-
man, which was discovered by the maid in charge of the preparation of her
body for her funeral.38 The talisman was therefore known as the ḥijāb al-jāriya

34 Jildakī, Durra, Arabe 2340, fol. 8a, Arabe 6683, fol. 3a–3b. On al-Jildakī, see Nicholas G. Har-
ris, “In Search of ʿIzz al-Dīn Aydamir al-Jildakī, Mamlūk Alchemist,” in “Islamicate Occult-
ism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double
issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 531–556.
35 On the ḥirz Marǧāna, see Jean-Charles Coulon, “La figure de Hārūn al-Rašīd dans la tra-
dition magique islamique,” in Savants, amants, poètes et fous. Séances offertes à Katia
Zakharia, ed. Catherine Pinon. (Beirut and Damascus: Ifpo, 2019), 183–188.
36 Al-Hamadhānī, Maqāmāt, 173; al-Bīrūnī, Jamāhir, 58–59.
37 For this author, not to be confused with the lawyer of the same name, see Jean-Charles
Coulon, La magie en terre d’ islam au Moyen Âge (Paris: CTHS, 2017), 238–241.
38 Al-Tilimsānī, Shumūs, 80–81.
330 coulon

(“the servant’s talisman”).39 The stories about Marjāna and Khāliṣa are obvi-
ously variants of the same story. Is it possible that Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya was
identified by some with Marjāna/Khāliṣa? There is no evidence to support that
assumption, but the hypothesis deserves to be explored, especially because,
as an Indian, Sharāsīm would be identified as a black servant (mawlāt or jār-
iya).40

2.3 The Importance of Sharāsīm in Medieval Arabic Texts

Mysterious as she may be, Sharāsīm was considered as an important source in
the occult sciences. One source of information about Sharāsīm and her teach-
ings is the texts that mention her or quote her book. Although she is known
only from this book, she is mentioned as an authority in several other works,
and we may thus observe what the authors drew from the book.
One of the earliest mentions of this Indian woman is in al-Mukhtār fī kashf
al-asrār (“The Selected Pieces on the Unveiling of Secrets”), written by the
Damascene dervish and alchemist al-Jawbarī between 629/1232 and 646/1248–
1249 at the request of the Arṭuqid ruler al-Malik al-Masʿūd (r. 619–629/1222–
1232). Al-Jawbarī seems also to have written a (lost) treatise on occult sciences,
al-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm fī ʿilm al-rūḥāniyya wa-ṣināʿat al-tanjīm (“The Right Way
in the Science of Spiritual [Forces] and the Art of Astrology”). Al-Mukhtār, on
the other hand, is a treatise aimed at thwarting cheating and scams, but it men-
tions in its introduction al-Jawbarī’s mastery of the occult sciences, listing all
the authors he claims to have read. Sharāsīm is therefore mentioned alongside
several authors whom al-Jawbarī presents as the ancient sages from whom he
drew his knowledge of the occult sciences:

Were it not for the fear of lengthening [our work] and widening the
circle, I would have mentioned all the names of the books, I would have
quoted each book, what it introduces and what is specific to it, but I
have set myself to summarize. Then I read the books of the ancient
sages (al-ḥukamāʾ al-mutaqaddimīn), such as Ṭumṭum the philosopher,
Sharaf, Balīnās (Apollonius of Tyana), Daʿmiyūs, Lādhin,41 Arisṭū, Isṭakhr

39 On the ḥiǧāb al-ǧāriya and the story of Ḫāliṣa, see Coulon, “La figure de Hārūn al-Rašīd
dans la tradition magique islamique,” 188–192.
40 Indians are considered in medieval Arabic historiography as a “black” people (al-sūdān),
the term sūdān encompassing the peoples of both sub-Saharan Africa and India. See, e.g.,
al-Jāḥiẓ, Fakhr.
41 “Lādin” according to Michael Jan de Goeje (“Ǧaubarî’s ‘entdeckte Geheimnisse,’”Zeitschrift
der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 20 (1866): 484–510).
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 331

(Ishtar?),42 Plato (Aflāṭūn), Māriya (Mary the Jewess),43 Sharāsīm, Sīrā,

Kankah, Arāsṭū, Aristotle (Arisṭūṭālīs), Hurmuzān,44 Ṣaṣah,45 Ibn Tamīm,
and others like them among the great scholars (al-ʿulamāʾ al-kibār) and
the guardians of the temples (aṣḥāb al-hayākil) whom I will not name for
fear of lengthening [my work].46

Some of these authors, such as Ṭumṭum, Kankah, and Ṣaṣah, are Indian. On
the other hand, they are presented as ancient sages, connecting Sharāsīm to
authors of the distant past and contradicting the idea that she lived at the
time of the Abbasid caliphs. The “relation name” (nisba) “al-Hindiyya” does
not appear either, leaving her gender ambiguous. In the next century, al-Jildakī
mentions this book among the authorities on sīmiyāʾ.47
The book of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya is also mentioned in the encyclopedia
of occult sciences titled Shams al-āfāq fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq (“Sun of the
Horizons of the Science of Letters and Magic Squares”) by ʿAbd al-Raḥmān
al-Bisṭāmī (d. 858/1454). In the introduction to this work, the author lists the
books that should be consulted on the subject, among which is the book
Kitāb Sharāshim al-Hindī.48 The works mentioned in this list are mostly by
Greek, Indian, or Mesopotamian authors, most of whom are reputed to have
lived in antiquity: ps.-Aristotle’s Kitāb al-Ushūṭās, Kitāb al-Hādīṭūsh, Kitāb al-
Malāṭīs, and Kitāb Iṣṭamākhīs (on these treatises, see below), the works attrib-
uted to such writers as Ṭumṭum al-Hindī, Ṣaṣah al-Hindī, Kankah al-Hindī, and
Tankalūshā (Teucros) al-Bābilī. This is a long list of bibliographic references,

42 Ishtar was a major Mesopotamian deity. She was the deity of love and war, and her name
designated the planet Venus in Akkadian; Tzvi Abusch, “Ishtar,” in Dictionary of Deities
and Demons in the Bible, ed. Bob Becking, Pieter W. van der Horst, and Karel van der Toorn
(Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995), 848–856.
43 In the alchemical writings translated from Greek into Arabic, Mary the Jewess is asso-
ciated with Zosimos. As an interlocutor to Zosimos and given the dialogical role that
Mary plays, she may well figure as a model or archetype for Sharāsīm, another female
occult authority presented as a foreign religious outsider. About Mary the Jewess, see Fuat
Sezgin’s Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, and the Arabic alchemical treatises by Zosi-
mos edited by Theodor Abt and Salwa Fuad in the Corpus alchemicum Arabicum series. I
would like to thank the anonymous reviewer for this information.
44 This is probably al-Hurmuzān b. al-Kurdul mentioned in Ibn al-Nadīm’s Fihrist.
45 Ṣaṣah al-Hindī was an Indian who had written a book of astral magic at the court of one
of the first Abbasids. He would have been the contemporary of an Abū Muḥammad al-
Ahwāzī (GAS, 7:94–95).
46 Al-Jawbarī, Mukhtār, 82.
47 Al-Jildakī, Durra, Arabe 2340, fol. 8a, Arabe 6683, fol. 3a–3b.
48 Al-Bisṭāmī, Shams, Add 7494, fol. 5b; Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism,” 37 n. 223.
332 coulon

but the fact that Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya is mentioned (with a male nisba) among
these references indicates that she was thought to belong to this category of
authors.
One of the major texts which used Sharāsīm’s work as a source is al-ʿIrāqī’s
ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq. We have already seen that some manuscripts linked these
two texts—manuscript BnF Arabe 2595, which contains the Kitāb Sharāsīm al-
Hindiyya (although the title page refers to it as the ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq attributed
to al-Jīlī), and manuscript Chester Beatty Library 4353, which contains both
short texts. In some manuscripts of the ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq Sharāsīm is indeed
mentioned, and it is not yet possible to determine whether this mention was
already in the first manuscripts and was then erased in some others, or if it
was a later addition.49 Careful examination of the two texts shows that they
share several characteristics. The tables of contents have several elements in
common: for example, the third chapter of ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq is, like the second
section of the third speech of Kitāb Sharāsīm, dedicated to fumigations. A com-
parison shows shared recipes: for example, the second recipe in this section of
Kitāb Sharāsīm is identical to the first in this chapter of the ʿUyūn.50 We will
return to this recipe, which draws on a source earlier than our two texts. The
next chapter in both books is on “putrefactions” (taʿfīn). A detailed comparison
of the two works would go well beyond the scope of this preliminary study, but
it seems clear that al-ʿIrāqī knew the Kitāb Sharāsīm or some of its sources.
There is also a mention of Sharāsīm as authority on physiognomony ( fir-
āsa) in the Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī ʿilm al-firāsa (“The Book of Politics of the Science
of Physiognomy”) by Muḥammad b. Abī Ṭālib al-Anṣārī (d. 737/1336–1337):

The signs of the lines of the hand (al-ʿalāmāt bi-l-asārīr fī l-akuff ) that
are [a part] of physiognomy attributed to Ṭumṭum, Tankalūshā, and the
scholars of India such as Sharāshim al-Hindiyya and those who follow
them.51

49 Liana Saif reports this mention (“The Cows and the Bees: Arabic Sources and Parallels for
Pseudo-Plato’s Liber Vaccae [Kitāb al-Nawāmīs],” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld
Institutes 79 [2016]: 18) in the manuscripts Princeton, Garrett 544 H, fol. 31b and Dublin,
Chester Beatty Library, ELS 1723, fol. 19a. In the Princeton manuscript, however, we clearly
find Isrāyil al-Hindī and not Ishrāsīm. It may be a misinterpretation by the copyist and
Ishrāsīm remains the most probable and relevant author, whose name is the closest.
50 Sharāsīm Kitāb, fol. 329b; see ʿIrāqī, ʿUyūn, fol. 22a.
51 Al-Anṣārī, Siyāsa, fol. 38b. We thank Liana Saif for reporting this reference. I translate it
here following manuscript Arabe 2759 of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. The colo-
phon indicates that the copy was completed on 15 Rabīʿ II 1075/5 November 1664 from the
hand of Yūsuf al-Ṣāliḥ b. Umar al-Maqarrī (al-Muqriʾ?). Arabic text:
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 333

Here again, her name is associated with Ṭumṭum al-Hindī. In this text, Shar-
āsīm is also associated with the ancient authorities. In contrast, Tankalūshā
(Teucros) is an ancient Mesopotamian author.
Aḥmad b. ʿIwaḍ al-Maghribī, in his treatise on the medicinal and esoteric
properties of stones titled Qaṭf al-azhār fī khaṣāʾiṣ al-maʿādin wa-l-aḥjār wa-
natāʾij al-maʿārif wa-l-asrār (“The Picking of Flowers on the Properties of Min-
erals and Stones and the Results of Knowledge and Secrets”), repeatedly men-
tions Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya. Thus, he refers to her in his discussion of yellow
amber (ḥajar kahrabā):

Isrāsīm al-Hindiyya said, “He who takes yellow amber as an amulet

(kharaza)52 [using] the name of the one he desires and loves and the
name of [that person’s] mother, then hangs it on his arm and presents
himself to that person, [the latter] will have sympathy for him on the
spot.”53

There is another mention, concerning marcasite (ḥajar al-marqashītā):

Isrāsīm al-Hindiyya recounted a strange secret, which is that, if one takes

marcasite to set in a ring, on which one engraves the figure of the fish
(samaka) that is called “the swallow” (al-khuṭṭāf ) (sic) under the legs of
which is a scorpion, and places in the setting a fish’s eye, a swallow or pea-
cock (ṭāwūs) feather, and a leaf of basil (bādrūj)54 and activates ( yaʿmalu)
a seal, every beast will submit to him who wears [this ring]. God knows
best.55

‫اعلم العلامات بالاسار ير في الاكف وهو من علم الفراسة منسو با الى طمطم وتنكلوشا وعلما الهند‬
.‫مثل شراشم ]كذا[ الهندية ومن يليهم‬

52 The term kharaza refers to precious stones and more generally stones strung on a cord
(Albin de Biberstein Kazimirski, Dictionnaire arabe-français (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1860),
1:557).
53 Al-Maghribī, Qaṭf, fol. 55a. Arabic text:

‫وقالت اسراسيم الهندية من أخذ بحجر الـكهر با خرزة على اسم من ير يد و يحب واسم امه ثم يعلق على‬
.‫عضده و يستقبله به فانه يتعطف عليه من ساعته‬

54 This is a Persian term well known in Arabic pharmacopoeia (Ibn al-Bayṭār, Simples, 1:186–
187, no. 223).
55 Al-Maghribī, Qaṭf, fol. 61b., Arabic text:
334 coulon

This passage is found, with a few minor variations, in the third section of the
third discourse of the Book of Sharāsīm the Indian.

2.4 The Date of the Composition of the Book of Sharāsīm: Some

Hypotheses
The name of Sharāsīm and her status as a servant of Hārūn al-Rashīd belongs
to legend, making it necessary to identify the era in which the book attributed
to her could have been composed. There are a few elements that permit hypo-
theses that limit the possible timespan.
First of all, the earliest mention of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya as an occult author-
ity is that of al-Jawbarī in his work written between 629/1232 and 646/1248–
1249. As Sharāsīm is known only from her book, this implies that the book is
earlier than al-Jawbarī’s work. We have found no earlier manuscript that would
push back the terminus post quem. Several elements in the book itself make
it possible to date the composition within the written production of its time.
Indeed, just after the last section on cryptographic alphabets, Sharāsīm writes,
“Men have used the alphabet of the fifty-one ‘introductions’ known [under
the title] of The Brethren’s Epistles (Rasāʾil al-ikhwān), which appeared at that
time, and with which they wrote a great deal.” These Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
were, in their earliest versions, fifty-one, and not fifty-two as in their present
form. These epistles were composed in the fourth/tenth century. Conceived as
an encyclopedia, the last epistle is devoted to magic. The epistles exercised a
great influence, particularly on Maslama al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964), the author of
Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, a famous treatise on astral magic composed between 343/954
and 348/959.56 However, while Ghāyat al-ḥakīm mentions many of the sources
and authorities from which the author drew his knowledge, he never refers to
Sharāsīm. Likewise, Ibn al-Nadīm (d. 385/995 or 388/998) does not mention
Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya in his bibliographic work al-Fihrist (“The Repertory”),
despite devoting an entire section to magic. Is it possible that the book of Shar-
āsīm al-Hindiyya had not yet been composed, or should we assume that it had
not yet established itself as an essential treatise of magic for the study of occult
sciences?

‫وقالت اشراسيم الهندية سر غر يب وهو ان يوخذ المرقشيتا تعمل فص ينقش عليه صورة سمكة تسمى‬
‫الخطاف وتحت رجليها عقر بة وعمل تحت الفص عين سمكة ور يشة خطاف او طاووس وورقة‬
.‫بادروج و يعمل خاتم من لبسه خصعت لهكل دابة والله اعلم‬

56 On the influence of the Ikhwān on the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, see Saif’s chapter in this volume,
pp. 189–194.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 335

The conclusion of the Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya contains other elements

that enable us to assess the importance of this text. Indeed, responding to
the praise of her master, Sharāsīm answered, “Yes, O my master, the best (al-
fāḍil) is Aristotle (Arisṭū); he composed a book to which he did not give a
name, but after his time it was named Arsūmāmandarūs, whose meaning is
the ‘Medium Ashnūṭās’ (al-Ashnūṭās al-awsaṭ) because he composed a ‘Great
Ashnūṭās’ (Ashnūṭās kabīr) and a ‘Small Ashnūṭās’ (Ashnūṭās ṣaghīr), both of
which are known among his books. This medium[-sized book] is an amazing
thing, in which he describes the twenty-eight mansions of the Moon.” This book
entitled Ashnūṭās is certainly that also known as al-Ustūṭās (only the dots on
the sīn and tāʾ would differentiate these two names). I have been unable to find
the origin of the name Arsūmāmandarūs. This book is preserved in manuscript
BnF Arabe 2577. In fact, the text introduces itself as the transcription by Aris-
totle (al-mutarjim li-hādhā l-kitāb, f. 11a) of the teachings of Hermes. This treat-
ise is also one of the sources of certain passages of the epistle of the Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ on magic, especially the passage on the lunar mansions.57 The Kitāb al-
Ustūṭās also contains a description of the twenty-eight lunar mansions.58 There
is no correspondence between the details of the two texts, but, without a crit-
ical edition of Kitāb al-Ustūṭās, it is difficult to know which version of this text
might have been used as a source by the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ. Both texts, however,
refer to Hermes’ al-Kitāb al-makhzūn (“The Guarded Book”).
The Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya is thus later than the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
the Kitāb al-Usṭūṭās, attributed to Aristotle, and the Kitāb al-Nawāmīs, attrib-
uted to Plato, all of which are mentioned in the text. On the other hand, the
idea that this book had been sought by a particular shaykh to make copies,
as indicated in the conclusion, suggests that the Kitāb al-Usṭūṭās had not yet
been widely disseminated. The mysterious name Arsūmāmandarūs is a title
that does not seem to have been known, contrary to the famous title Kitāb
al-Usṭūṭās. This would thus support the hypothesis that the Kitāb Sharāsīm al-
Hindiyya was composed at a time when the Kitāb al-Usṭūṭās did not yet have
a firmly established reputation. All of these elements suggest that the work
was written at the end of the fourth/tenth century at the earliest and in the
sixth/twelfth century at the latest.

57 Ikhwān Rasāʾil, ed. Dār Ṣādir, 4:428–443; Liana Saif, “Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ’s Religious Reform and
Magic: Beyond the Ismaʿili Hypothesis,” Journal of Islamic Studies 29 (2018): 30.
58 Usṭūṭās, fols. 24a–34a.
336 coulon

3 The Book of Sharāsīm: A Treatise on Sīmiyāʾ

3.1 Sharāsīm’s Sīmiyāʾ

The Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya presents itself as a treatise about sīmiyāʾ, a term
found in the title itself. After the development of the Corpus Bunianum, the
term sīmiyāʾ takes on the meaning of “science of letters and magic squares” (ʿilm
al-ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq), a definition given by Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406). However,
as Coulon demonstrates,59 this late definition is not appropriate for the whole
Middle Ages and does not account for the complex history of this term.60
Thus, at the end of the introduction, Sharāsīm’s treatise devotes a short pas-
sage to the definition of sīmiyāʾ:

Isrāsīm said, “This science is the science of sīmiyāʾ, which is widely known
among people and whose meaning is: ‘secret of Nature’ (sirr al-ṭabīʿa).” It
is said that its meaning is ‘secret of wisdom’ (sirr al-ḥikma). We say [also]:
‘enchantment of reason’ (siḥr al-ʿaql). It is said [on the contrary] that al-
sīmiyāʾ is the name of a woman who lived in the first times and who rose
to the level of all the wisdom of the first sages. She found a book in which
this science [was recorded]. She isolated herself with [this book]. It is said
[again] ‘the science of sīmiyāʾ.’ It is said [on the contrary] that it (sīm-
iyāʾ) was [the name of] a magician (rajul sāḥir) among the magicians of
India.61

The identification of sīmiyāʾ with a historical personnage is unlikely, but it is

interesting that the first of these two interpretations identifies sīmiyāʾ with
a woman. This recalls a story in which Eve had a monstrous daughter called
ʿAnāq, who stole from her mother during her sleep the names that Adam had
entrusted to her to protect herself. She used these names to perform magic.62
This is, of course, not the same character, but these two stories show a cer-
tain willingness to place a woman at the origin of magic, unlike the etiological
accounts inspired by the verse of Hārūt and Mārūt in the Qurʾan (2:102).

59 Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:1048.

60 See also Coulon, La magie; Liana Saif, “From Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif : Ways of
Knowing and Paths of Power in Medieval Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspect-
ives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64,
nos. 3–4 (2017): 297–345, and the chapters by Noah Gardiner, Maria Subtelny, and Matthew
Melvin-Koushki in this volume.
61 See appendix 1.
62 Jean-Charles Coulon, “ʿAnāq bt. Ādam, the Islamic Story of the Very First Witch. Gender
and the Origins of Evil Magic,” Hawwa, 17 (2019), 135–167.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 337

The other definitions, such as “secret of Nature” (sirr al-ṭabīʿa), “secret of wis-
dom” (sirr al-ḥikma), and “enchantment of reason” (siḥr al-ʿaql) echo the defin-
ition of sīmiyāʾ given by Maslama al-Qurṭubī. Indeed, Maslama al-Qurṭubī, in
his Rutbat al-ḥakīm (“The Rank of the Sage”), devoted to alchemy (al-kīmiyāʾ),
and his Ghāyat al-ḥakīm (“The Goal of the Sage”), devoted to magic (siḥr), refers
to sīmiyāʾ as the ultimate science of the sages. He conceived these two treatises
as the final two stages of the training of the sage, containing the two sciences
that complete his formation. Sīmiyāʾ, from the Greek sēmeion (“sign”), was built
on the same pattern as kīmiyāʾ.
In his Rutbat al-ḥakīm, Maslama al-Qurṭubī states that:

There are the natural secrets, which the ancients (al-awāʾil) called secrets.
These are the results of these aforementioned sciences, and these are the
two results. The ancients called the first alchemy (kīmiyāʾ), and the second
sīmiyāʾ. Both are useful sciences of the ancients. He who does not master
them is not a sage until he has mastered them. If he masters only one, then
he is half a sage. Both have in common subtlety (al-laṭāfa), but alchemy is
the knowledge of terrestrial spirits and the deduction of their subtleties
to benefit from them. The second, called sīmiyāʾ, is the repetition [of for-
mulas] (al-tarjīʿ), talismans (al-ṭilasm), seals (al-sijilmūs), the science of
celestial spirits, and the descent of their forces to gain from them bene-
fits.63

This passage shows the parallelism between kīmiyāʾ and sīmiyāʾ. The first deals
with “terrestrial spirits,” the second with “celestial spirits.” According to this pas-
sage, talismans (sg. ṭilasm) proceed from sīmiyāʾ. The link with the definition
of Sharāsīm is obvious: sīmiyāʾ is a “science of wisdom,” in the sense that its
mastery allows one to call oneself a sage. We also see that the two sciences are

63 Al-Qurṭubī, Rutba, fol. 6a–6b; French trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:311–312. Arabic
text:

‫فاعلم ذلك وتبينّ ه ووجد ]كذا[ بالأسرار الطبيعية التي سم ّوها الأوائل أسرار هي نتائج هذه العلوم‬
‫ب[ المذكورة وهي نتيجتان أحدهما ]كذا[ تسميت الأوائل كيمياء والثانية سيمياء وهما علم‬٦‫]ص‬
‫الأوائل المنتفع بها ]كذا[ ومن لم يحكمها فليس بحكيم حت ّى يحكمها فإن أحكم واحد منها فهو نصف‬
‫حكيم وهما يشتركان في اللطافة لـكّن الـكيمياء هي معرفة الأرواح الأرضية وإخراج لطائفها للانتفاع‬
‫بها والثانية المسمّى بسيمياء وهو الترجيع والطلسم والسجلموس علم الأرواح العلو ية واستنزال قواها‬
.‫للانتفاع بها‬
338 coulon

associated with the “ancients” (al-awāʾil), and this is undoubtedly one reason
that Sharāsīm is quoted among ancient writers, even though her book was
obviously composed later, including in the forged narratives concerning her
identity, for example, as a servant of Hārūn al-Rashīd.
Maslama al-Qurṭubī went back further, in the end of his “first discourse,” in
the definition of sīmiyāʾ:

We have presented to you the prolegomena of this art, which will suffice
for you, to the exclusion of other things, even if our goal was to organize
its knowledge (tartīb ʿilmi-hā) for those who ask for it (li-ṭullābi-hā) and
to ignore the second result called sīmiyāʾ. The latter is that which ancients
(al-awāʾil) called secrets of Nature, sciences, results, spiritual and divine
forces, and this confirms that. One of the two outcomes64 is included
entirely in the other, because the one who wants to rise to what is called
alchemy (kīmiyāʾ) cannot do so without the mastery of the second, as we
have already mentioned. It is said that its term is higher than the second
degree (al-rutba), despite what we have mentioned, and is a nobler in sci-
ence. They applied the name “wisdom and highest philosophy” (al-ḥikma
wa-l-falsafa al-aʿlā) only to the one who had the perfect mastery of this art,
which is the secret of Nature in truth because the second [result], called
“talismans” (ṭilasmāt), fully includes it, as the science of alchemy requires
knowledge of the spheres, their modus operandi (kayfiyyati-hi), and the
natures of the stars. It is the foundation and ladder (al-aṣl wa-l-sullam) of
the science of philosophy. If so, the principle of the science of talismans
is one of the instruments of the [alchemical] art, just as the rest is one of
the sciences of which we have previously mentioned the organization. We
dedicate our book exclusively to the discourse of [alchemical] art without
talismans. We have therefore discussed this subject first, although it is
the most sublime of secrets and of results. We have shown you how all
of [that] is organized.65

64 “Outcomes,” natījatayn, is the term used to refer to the two sciences: magic and alchemy.
65 Al-Qurṭubī, Rutba, fols. 9b–10a; French trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:312–313.
Arabic text:

‫أ[ ترتيب علمها‬١٠ ‫وإذ قد قّدمنا لك من مقّدمات هذه الصنعة ما يغنيك عن غيرها وكان غرضنا ]ص‬
‫لطل ّابها والأضراب عن النتيجة الثانية المسمّا ]كذا[ سيمياء فهذه التي سم ّتها الأوائل أسرار الطبيعة‬
‫ن‬
ّ ‫وعلوم ونتائج وروحاني ّة وإلاهي ّة وما يتأكّد ذلك وأحدها بين النتيجتين داخلة في جملة الأخرى لأ‬
‫من أراد ارتقاء الواحدة التي تسمّوا كيمياء لا بّد له من الارتياض في الثانية على ما تقّدم ذكره قالوا‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 339

This second passage also defines sīmiyāʾ as the “secrets of Nature,” which also
corresponds to one of the definitions of Sharāsīm. Talismans are again one of
the means of action of this science. In both cases, kīmiyāʾ and sīmiyāʾ are the
“two results,” one of which is the subject of each treatise.
In the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, the treatise he devotes to the “second result,” Mas-
lama al-Qurṭubī curiously uses the term sīmiyāʾ only once, indicating that sīm-
iyāʾ is the “result” (natīja) with which this work deals.66 However, he provides
another definition of this “result”:

Know that this result is that which is expressed by [the term] “magic”
(bi-l-siḥr). The reality of magic (al-siḥr) in the absolute is all that which
bewitches the intelligences and [all] the words and operations that souls
obey in the sense of wonder, submission, obedience, and approval. It
is [also] that whose apprehension is difficult for reason, whose causes
are veiled to the fool. Thus, it is a divine force (quwwa ilāhiyya) [result-
ing from] antecedent causes, established to apprehend it. It is a science
abstruse to comprehend. In fact, it is also a practical part (ʿamalī) because
its object is a spirit in a spirit: this is the case of nīranj and illusion (al-
takhyīl), as well as the object of the talisman (al-ṭilasm), which is a spirit
in a body, and the object of alchemy, also a body in a body. In short, magic
(al-siḥr) is that whose cause is hidden from the intelligence of the greatest
number and whose discovery (istinbāṭuhu) is difficult.67

We find in this new definition of the second result one of the definitions of
Sharāsīm, namely the “enchantment of reason” (siḥr al-ʿaql).
The definition of sīmiyāʾ in astral-magic treatises, however, varies from text
to text. For example, in the manuscript BnF Arabe 2595, which contains a copy

‫حّده أرفع من الثانية على ما تقّدم ذكره بالرتبة وأشرف في العلم وقد كانوا لا يطلقون اسم الحكمة‬
‫ن الثانية التي تسمّوا طلسمات‬
ّ ‫والفلسفة إلّا على من أحكم هذه الصنعة التي هي سرّ الطبيعة بالحقيقة لأ‬
‫ن علم الـكيمياء مجتاج إلى معرفة الفلك وكيفيتّ ه وطبائع النجوم وهذا هو‬
ّ ‫داخلة في جملة هذه لأ‬
‫الأصل والسل ّم إلى علم الفلاسفة وإذا كان ذلك كذلك فعلم الطلسم أّوله من آلات الصنعةكغيره‬
‫من العلوم الذي ]كذا ّ[ ذكرناها بترتيبها قبل هذا ونحن نفرد كتابنا هذا بالكلام على علم الصنعة دون‬
‫الطلسمات إذ قّدمنا القول على أّنها أعظم الأسرار وأعظم النتائج وقد قّدمنا لك كيف ترتيب ذلك‬
.‫وقد بان فيه الكلام على إثباتها ضرورة ونجعل ذلك آخر المقالة الأولى من الكتاب‬

66 Add to this occurrence the use of a derived term when Maslama al-Qurṭubī elsewhere
refers to “sīmiyāʾ operations” (al-aʿmāl al-sīmiyāʾiyya); see al-Qurṭubī Ghāya, 348.
67 Al-Qurṭubī Ghāya, 6–7; French trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:314–315.
340 coulon

of Kitāb Sharāsīm among a collection of works dealing with sīmiyāʾ, the Muṣḥaf
al-qamar attributed to the Babylonian author Anūdhāṭīs (or Abū Dhāṭīs) indic-
ates that there are two branches of sīmiyāʾ: one is “spiritual” (rūḥānī) and the
other is “terrestrial” (arḍī), but it goes further, stating that the “spiritual” sīm-
iyāʾ is of two kinds, “angelic” (malakī) and “astral” (kawkabī) (fol. 89b). Such
precision indicates that sīmiyāʾ does not represent a particular science in itself
but a set of practices, still poorly delimited. Note that the title page of the text
mentions hīmiyāʾ and not sīmiyāʾ. This is an error, because the text deals only
with sīmiyāʾ (the term hīmiyāʾ is also well attested from the eighth/fourteenth
century; see below).
It is in the seventh/thirteenth century that we begin to observe a shift in
meaning toward that imposed in the ninth/fifteenth century, namely that of
a “science of letters.” Al-Būnī, in his authentic works, does not employ the
term sīmiyāʾ, but the term is used during the development of the Corpus Buni-
anum to designate this knowledge. Already in the seventh/thirteenth century,
for example, al-Jawbarī, gives the following definition:

As for the degree which is below this one, it is the degree of the shaykhs
who are masters in spiritual exercises (aṣḥāb al-riyāḍa), in the science of
sīmiyāʾ, in operations with the sacred names which, when one uses them
to present a request to God, He hears and, when one uses them to invoke
Him, He answers him, as was the case with ʿAbādān, Buhlūl, Ḥajā, Shaykh
Qadīm, Shaykh Abū l-ʿAbbās, Shaykh Yāsīn, and others whom I have not
named for fear of lengthening [my remarks].68

These characters are not identified and may be local shaykhs, with the excep-
tion of Buhlūl, known by the nickname “the madman of Kufa,” who lived in the
time of Hārūn al-Rashīd. In any case, al-Jawbarī knew Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya,
but, according to him, sīmiyāʾ is a science associated with Sufi shaykhs. Al-Būnī
can himself be considered a master in “spiritual exercises” (riyāḍa), as he him-
self wrote a treatise on this subject.
This definition of sīmiyāʾ is found in the works of several of his contemporar-
ies, such as one of al-Būnī’s masters, al-Ḥarālī (d. 638/1240), who, in his exegesis
of the verse of Hārūt and Mārūt (Q 2:102) on the teaching of magic (siḥr), recon-
ciles the idea that sīmiyāʾ is magic (siḥr) with the idea that it is a science related
to the knowledge of the Qurʾān:

68 Al-Jawbarī, Mukhtār, 97–98.

the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 341

Al-Ḥarālī said, “There is in [these terms] the indication of a very high

and noble degree (rutba) of science, coming from the degree that diver-
ted them from the trap of magic (al-siḥr), because this degree leads to
the renunciation of the knowledge of that which is wrong and makes one
desire to obtain that which is good. There is good news for this community
if they accept this science that teaches names. The beneficial effects of the
Qurʾān will be for them an immersion into the science of sīmiyāʾ, which is
a part (bāb) of magic (al-siḥr). It is possible that this is part of that which
was revealed to the two angels. [The Prophet]—God’s prayer and salva-
tion be upon him—said, ‘Whoever learns of astrology learns of a branch
of magic, and every time we immerse ourselves in astrology we are sinking
into magic.’”69

The shift of sīmiyāʾ from its meaning at the time of Ghāyat al-ḥakīm to a new
one as a science of letters, divine names, or magic squares (as a numerolo-
gical expression of Arabic letters) is also to be seen in Ibn ʿArabī’s Futūḥāt
al-makkiyya (“The Meccan Revelations”). For Ibn ʿArabī, on the one hand, “what
characterizes the attributes of ‘the station of symbols’ is the science attached to
the properties of numbers, names—which are the words—and letters: on this
subject, there is the science of sīmiyāʾ,”70 but, on the other hand, it is also the
“science of the properties of plants, stones, names, and letters.”71 The meaning
that Ibn ʿArabī gives to sīmiyāʾ is thus ambiguous. He assimilates the natural
sciences of properties (khawāṣṣ; of plants and stones) to those of the occult
properties of language. According to him, the science of letters (and therefore
sīmiyāʾ) is “the science of the saints” (ʿilm al-awliyāʾ).72
In addition to these definitions of sīmiyāʾ are those that were offered by
lesser-known authors in the eighth/fourteenth century. The qāḍī Azammūr
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Saʿīd al-Ṣanhājī (d. 795/1392), in his Kanz al-asrār wa-lawāqiḥ
al-afkār (“The Treasure of Secrets and Fertile Ideas”), lists nine disciplines that
are unrelated to magic (siḥr) but are often confused with it: sīmiyāʾ, hīmiyāʾ,
[the science of] talismans (al-ṭilasmāt), magic squares (al-awfāq), the prop-
erties of the soul (al-khawāṣṣ al-nafsiyya), realities (al-ḥaqāʾiq), prophylactic
incantations (al-ruqā), conjurations (al-ʿazāʾim), and enslavements [of angels,

69 Al-Ḥarālī, Turāth, 244–245.

70 Ibn ʿArabī, Futūḥāt, 3:144.
71 Ibn ʿArabī, Futūḥāt, 4:233.
72 Ibn ʿArabī, Futūḥāt, 3:204; Denis Gril, “La science des lettres,” in Les Illuminations de La
Mecque, ed. Michel Chodkiewicz (Paris: Sindbad, 1988), 406.
342 coulon

jinn, and demons] (al-istikhdāmāt).73 The term hīmiyāʾ, although rare, is found
in other writers, such as Ḥusayn Wāʿiẓ al-Kāshifī (d. 910/1504–1505) who, in
his Asrār-i qāsimī, evokes, beside kīmiyāʾ and sīmiyāʾ, hīmiyāʾ as the branch of
magic using the influence of the stars, rīmiyāʾ as the equivalent of the science
of properties, and līmiyāʾ, designating the talismanic art.74
Probably at the same time, we find the apocryphal Kanz al-ʿulūm wa-l-durr
al-manẓūm fī ḥaqāʾiq ʿilm al-sharīʿa wa-daqāʾiq ʿilm al-ṭabīʿa (“The Treasure of
Science and the Well Arranged Pearls on the Realities of Science of the Divine
Law and the Subtleties of the Science of Nature”) attributed to Ibn Tūmart
(d. 524/1130). Anachronisms that do not fit the time of Ibn Tūmart75 indicate
that the treatise was probably written instead between the seventh/thirteenth
and eighth/fourteenth centuries.76 It is a scientific treatise, which proposes
another definition of sīmiyāʾ:

Sīmiyāʾ is an expression for the composition of a name, or of two, three,

or four names, from letters that are brought together and in which God
has deposited the secret of His sublime name, the most sublime and con-
tained in the four natures.77

Here, sīmiyāʾ is defined as a science of letters and names, but its definition is
undoubtedly inspired by the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, in that it distinguishes scholarly
and practical aspects:

Sīmiyāʾ has a theoretical part and an operative part. They are only effective
together when they come from a pure heart, free from doubt and unbelief
(shirk), linked to spiritual essences and the use of pure and holy names of
God. This will not work for a perverted heart, O my God! Is it not what

73 Belkacem Daouadi, “Édition, traduction en français et commentaire de “Kanz al-asrâr wa-

lawâqiẖ (sic) al-afkâr” Le trésor des secrets et des idées fécondes du Qâdhî Azmûr al-Shahîr
bi al-S̱anhâjî (m. en 795/1392)” (PhD diss., Université de Lyon 3, 2006), 582, 588; Coulon,
La magie islamique, 1:606–608.
74 Pierre Lory, “Kashifi’s Asrār-i Qāsimī and Timurid Magic,” Iranian Studies 36, no. 4 (2003):
531–541. For a more comprehensive study of Kāshifī’s Persian grimoire, see Maria Sub-
telny’s chapter in this volume.
75 Georges Vajda, “Une synthèse peu connue de la révélation et de la philosophie: Le Kanz
al-ʿulūm de Muḥammad b. ʿAlī Ibn Tūmart al-Andalusī,” Mélanges Louis Massignon (Dam-
ascus, 1956–1957), 3:359–374.
76 Jaime Coullaut Cordero, “La sīmiyāʾ en al-Andalus.” El Futuro del Pasado 1 (2010): 455; on
the treatise, see also a synthesis in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:641–644.
77 Ps.-Ibn Tūmart, Kanz, 173; trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:643.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 343

God wants? He is powerful and majestic!—everything is by His will and

power; He is omnipotent in all things. Know that the theoretical part and
the operative part in this art will sometimes be by the mention [of the
divine names] (bi-l-dhikr), sometimes by the drawing and the observa-
tion [of the stars] (bi-l-rasm wa-l-raṣd).78

The definition of sīmiyāʾ as a “science of magical letters and squares,” which was
merely a reprehensible form of magic practiced by Sufi circles, became import-
ant in the writings of Lisān al-Dīn b. al-Khaṭīb (d. 776/1375) and even more so
his disciple Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406). Ibn al-Khaṭīb thus condemned sīmiyāʾ
as “that which ruined many.”79 According to him,

the master in this path thinks that, performing his dhikr (zikr) and being
in this state, the names of God whose manifestations are [among] the
spiritual representations that are the angels and who are the spirits of
the spheres and the stars, who are the inhabitants of the higher world
and the first inhabitants of heaven, actually are the intermediaries of God
for every action, in all things and all creatures, in all that happens in the
world by His permission and His wisdom. By their descent His wisdom
embraces absolutely all the worlds and reaches that which is beneath the
earth. Their foundations are the letters, and their nature is communicated
in these achievements of [divine] names.80

The “descent” of a spiritual essence (rūḥāniyya, here identified with an angel)

from a planet into a material body is the definition of a talisman in the Ghāyat
al-ḥakīm; Ibn Khaldūn goes further in associating the talismanic art with sīm-
iyāʾ. Indeed, Ibn Khaldūn says:

[This science] is today called sīmiyāʾ, whose subject was transposed [from
the science] of talismans to [its current meaning] in the terminology
(iṣtilāḥ) of the people of power (ahl al-taṣarruf ) among the Sufis. It is a
general [term] used to [designate] the specific. This science came to the
community after the arrival of Islam, when the extremist Sufis (al-ghulāt
min al-mutaṣawwifa) appeared, with their inclination for the lifting of the
veil of the senses, their disruption [of the natural order of things], the

78 Ps.-Ibn Tūmart, Kanz, 174; trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:644.

79 Ibn al-Khaṭīb, Rawḍat, 328.
80 Ibn al-Khaṭīb; French trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:624.
344 coulon

powers of the world of elements, the compilation of books and technical

terms, and their assertions that existence and its hierarchy proceed from
the One.81

Sīmiyāʾ is thus associated with Sufis. In other parts of the Muqaddima, Ibn Khal-
dūn makes sīmiyāʾ a synonym for the “science of letters and magic squares.”
This is the definition that seems to have been predominant in the eighth/four-
teenth-ninth/fifteenth centuries.
Even though the definition of sīmiyāʾ as the “science of letters” seems to be
the most widespread from the eighth-ninth/fourteenth-fifteenth centuries, we
continue to find broader definitions. For example, in the supplement to the
Tadhkirat ūlī l-albāb (“Memorandum for Men of Intelligence”) of Dāwūd al-
Anṭākī (d. 1008/1599), the anonymous editor explores the “spiritual medicine”
(ṭibb rūḥānī), a term which, from the time al-Būnī, referred to medicine based
on the occult properties of such things as letters, names, and numbers. In this
chapter, he refers to sīmiyāʾ:

Sīmiyāʾ: this is a propaedeutic science (bāḥith) comprising many sciences,

which contains thirty divisions (bāb), the most famous of which is the sci-
ence of laws (ʿilm al-nawāmīs) and the method of its operations, then sac-
rifices (al-maḥārīq), then fumigations (al-tadkhīnāt), putrefactions (al-
taʿāfīn), soporifics (al-marāqīd), disappearances (al-ikhfāʾāt) and other
things that have been introduced into this science. Does it require medi-
cine or not? It appears that it is necessary, because the basis of its [vari-
ous] parts comes from simples and compounds of medicine. There is no
problem in mentioning here a little benefit so that this part is not without
some profit. This is mentioned in the Kitāb al-Ishārāt wa-l-maqālāt fī ʿilm
al-sīmiyāʾ (“The Book of Clues and Speeches in the Science of Sīmiyāʾ”),
because no one can fully understand it or interpret it correctly except the
one whom the truth has chosen, and who desires to be among the practi-
tioners of sīmiyāʾ and operations.82

The next sections of the supplement of the Tadhkira continue to discuss the
various disciplines mentioned. A comparison shows that the inspiration for the
anonymous disciple of Dāwūd al-Anṭākī is clearly al-ʿIrāqī’s ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq.
This later definition shows that the term sīmiyāʾ still retained this fluidity and

81 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, 3:137–138; trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:637.

82 Al-Anṭākī, Tadhkira, 3:84; trans. in Coulon, La magie islamique, 1:599.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 345

imprecision in its definition. This last definition of sīmiyāʾ and the disciplines
it encompasses is similar to the program of the Book of Sharāsīm. The treatise
of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya consists of ten “discourses” (maqāla), whose table of
contents, as outlined in the introduction, can be summarized as follows:
1) the spiritual essence (rūḥāniyya) of the seven planets and their enslave-
ment (istikhdāmi-hā);
2) the properties of the figures (al-ashkāl) and Indian and Arabic letters;
3) fumigations (al-dakhan) and compound mixtures (al-akhlāṭ al-murak-
kaba);
4) putrefactions (taʿfīnāt);
5) balms (adhān);
6) stones (aḥjār), the drugs (ʿaqāqīr), and the body parts of animals (aʿḍāʾ
ḥayawānāt);
7) color change (taghayyur al-alwān) and transmutation (qalb al-ʿiyān);
8) threats (al-tarhībāt), the submission [of spirits] (al-taslīṭāt), and various
other operations;
9) narcotics (mukhaddirāt83), soporifics (munawwimāt), and rendering
them ineffective (ḥalli-hā);
10) the cryptographic alphabets of the ancients.
Sharāsīm’s sīmiyāʾ is thus in the tradition of astral magic, talismanic arts, and
the science of properties. It is now necessary to understand the place of this
treatise by comparing it to other similar productions of the time in order to try
to identify some of its sources.

3.2 Sharāsīm’s Sources

The Book of Sharāsīm is presented as a summary of the knowledge of ancient
sages, as clearly expressed at the beginning of the fourth discourse:

Ishrāsīm said, “I did not add anything about which the scholars did not
agree, and which they did not mention in transmitting their books. To
whatever they did not repeat in their books, I did not devote a single
sentence. Thus, I restricted myself to that which [they themselves] had
[already] been restricted. He who looks at my book, may he keep it in his
hand and preserve it. It is an inexhaustible treasure, a sublime science,
and the secret of the sages. May he preserve my legacy (waṣiyyatī) for
himself. It is the legacy of the sincere and solicitous counselor (al-nāṣiḥ

83 The term mukhaddir in the sense of “narcotic” seems rare but is attested in Ellious
Bocthor’s Dictionnaire français-arabe; see Dozy, Supplément, 1:353.
346 coulon

al-shafūq). If it were not [for] the purpose I mentioned, I would not have
said a word about what I have described. Understand [this]!”84

The book is thus the culmination of a long tradition. That Sharāsīm retained
only what the sages had repeated means that the knowledge gathered in this
book is supposed to have been confirmed and tested by the various sages
and therefore is not knowledge coming from a single work whose reliability
is doubtful. The book presents itself as a legacy that Sharāsīm leaves to pos-
terity as a counselor (nāṣiḥ), the latter term referring to the idea that she was
close to an influential person, the “master” with whom she engages in dialog
throughout the book. The Kitāb Sharāsīm mentions many of its sources, and
other sources of inspiration can be guessed at.
One of the first sources is mentioned in the second discourse, devoted to the
properties of letters and numbers (called “Indian letters”):

The second discourse is about the properties of Indian and Arabic figures
and letters and the strange things (al-gharāʾib) that they make appear by
their effects (taʾthīr). Isrāsīm [sic] said, “The sages have said that all Arabic
letters have a nature (ṭabʿ) and a property (khāṣṣiyya). Thus, their set is
composed of the four natures. They are twenty-eight letters: seven hot,
seven cold, seven wet, and seven dry. Alif is hot, bāʾ is cold, jīm is wet, dāl
is dry, hāʾ is hot, wāw is cold, zāy is wet, ḥāʾ is dry, ṭāʾ is hot, yāʾ is cold, kāf is
wet, lām is dry, mīm is hot, nūn is cold, sīn is wet, ʿayn is dry, fāʾ is hot, ṣād is
cold, qāf is wet, rāʾ is dry, shīn is hot, tāʾ is cold, thāʾ is wet, khāʾ is dry, dhāl
is hot, ḍād is cold, ẓāʾ is wet, ghayn is dry. This is the opinion of one group
(qawm) [of interpreters]. Certain others say, “On the contrary, [the letters]
correspond to the natures of the twenty-eight mansions of the Moon.”
An[other] group says: “On the contrary, the first seven [letters] are hot,
the second [heptad] is cold, the third is wet, and the fourth is dry.” The first
[speech] is the most appropriate (al-alyaq), the second is similar, [but] I
do not know the reality of the third. When [someone] knows the natures

84 Sharāsīm, Kitāb, fol. 332b., Arabic text:

‫ لم أدع شيئ ًا مماّ ات ّفق عليه العلماء وتداولتهكتبهم إلّا ذكرته وما لم يتكر ّر في كتبهم لم أذكره‬:‫قالت إشراسيم‬
‫ وكذلك اقتصرت على ما اقتصروا عليه فمن وقع لهكتابي فليمسكه بيده و يحفظه فهو كنز‬.‫جملة واحدة‬
‫لا ينفد وعلم عظيم وسرّ الحكماء وليحفظ وصيتي له فهي وصي ّة الناصح الشفوق ولولا الغرض الذي‬
.‫ذكرته لم أفصح بكلمة واحدة مماّ ذكرته فافهم‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 347

of the letters and the natures of the [lunar] mansions, let him know that
the aromatic plants (al-ʿaqāqīr) and the fumigations (al-bakhūr) also have
natures, among which is the hot, cold, wet, and dry.”85

This chapter, which claims to be the teaching of the sages, no doubt owes much
to the “balance theory” of the corpus attributed to Jābir b. Ḥayyān (second/
eighth century). This corpus was written in three successive phases: first by a
school of alchemists close to Jabir b. Ḥayyān in the second half of the second/
eighth century, whose corpus was later enriched during the period of redis-
covery and translation of ancient works in Baghdad in the third/ninth century,
before undergoing significant development in the fourth/tenth century.86 In
the texts of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya and the Kitāb al-Mawāzīn al-ṣaghīr (“The
Small Book of Balances”) of the Jābirian corpus,87 there is a correspondence
in the distribution of letters according to their nature, with the exception of
that the dry and wet letters must be interchanged. The second system men-
tioned by Sharāsīm, associating letters with lunar mansions, is found in al-
Būnī’s (d. 622/1225 or 630/1232) Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt in a passage88 taken up in

85 Sharāsīm, Kitāb, fols. 322b–323a. Arabic text:

.‫ص الأشكال والحروف الهندية والعر بية وما يظهر من تأثير ذلك من الغرائب‬ّ ‫المقالة الثانية في خوا‬
‫ن كل ّا من الأحرف العر بية له طبع وخاصية إذ جميعها مركب من‬
ّ ‫ قالت الحكماء إ‬:‫قالت اسراسيم‬
.‫ سبعة حارة وسبعة باردة وسبعة رطبة وسبعة يابسة‬:‫الطبائع الأر بع وهي ثمانية وعشرون حرفا‬

‫فالألف حارة والباء باردة والجيم رطبة والدال يابسة والهاء حارة والواو باردة والزاي رطبة والحاء‬
‫يابسة والطاء حارة والياء باردة والكاف رطبة واللام يابسة والميم حارة والنون باردة والنون باردة‬
‫والسين رطبة والعين يابسة والفاء حارة والصاد باردة والقاف رطبة والراء يابسة والشين حارة والتاء‬
.‫ هذا قول قوم‬.‫باردة والثاء رطبة والخاء يابسة والذال حارة والضاد بادرة والظاء رطبة والغين يابس‬

‫ بل السبعة الأولى حارة‬:‫ وقال قوم‬.‫ بل هم على طباع منازل القمر الثمانية والعشرون‬:‫وقال آخرون‬
‫ والقول الأّول هو الأليق والثاني أشبه ولم أقف في القول‬.‫والثانية باردة والثالثة رطبة والرابعة يابسة‬
‫ن للعقاقير والبخور‬
ّ ‫ فإذا علم طبائع الحروف وطبائع المنازل فليعلم أ‬.‫أ[ على حقيقته‬٣٢٣ ‫الثالث ]ص‬
.‫طبائع أيضا منه الحار والبارد ومنه الرطب ومنه اليابس‬

86 Pierre Lory, Alchimie et mystique en terre d’ Islam (Paris: Gallimard, 2003), 22.
87 Marcellin Berthelot, La chimie au Moyen Âge, vol. 3, L’alchimie arabe (Paris: Imprimerie
Nationale, 1893), 126 (Arabic text), 158 (translation).
88 Al-Būnī, Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt, MS Paris, BnF, Arabe 2657, fol. 17b–19a; Coulon, La magie islam-
ique, 4:86–88.
348 coulon

the later Shams al-maʿārif attributed to him.89 Such correspondences are not
found in the passages on the lunar mansions of the Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ or the
Ghāyat al-ḥakīm by Maslama al-Qurṭubī, so it is difficult to identify the source
to which the author of the Kitāb Sharāsīm refers.
After the description of the Arabic letters, the Book of Sharāsīm deals with
the use of “Indian letters,” that is to say numbers. Among the properties of num-
bers, a paragraph explains a use of the 3×3 magic square:

Among the properties [of Indian letters], there is the figure whose num-
ber is fifteen no matter in which direction it is read. When it is engraved
on the ceiling of a house, childbirth will not be difficult. Likewise, if you
write it on the four pillars of the house and write it on a ram’s parchment
and hang it on the woman’s right thigh, it makes all [childbirth] easier.
The one who engraves it on the setting of a ring while the ascendant is
in Cancer and the Moon in Cancer in conjunction with Venus, calamities
will not reach him who carries [this seal]. Here is this figure.90

This description and use of the 3×3 magic square corresponds exactly to the
occurrences found in the same era.91 An early occurrence of the use of the 3 × 3
magic square in an Arabic source is found in the medical treatise Kitāb Firdaws
al-ḥikma (“Book of the Paradise of Wisdom”) composed around 235/850 by ʿAlī
b. Sahl al-Ṭabarī (fl. third/ninth century):

My father wrote about a wonderful thing that facilitates delivery: take

two pieces of a jug or a new jar and draw a form like the one [that I will
describe], and write numbers in such a way that, if you count in length,
in width, or [diagonally] from one corner to another, [the sum] will be
fifteen. Write around it two verses of the Psalms, and bring them to the
woman so that she may see what is written on it. Then place them under

89 Coulon, La magie islamique, 2:33–42.

90 Sharāsīm, Kitāb, fol. 323b. Arabic text:

‫ي موضع قرئ فإن ّه إذا نقش في سقف‬

ّ ‫ومن خاصيتها الشكل الذي يكون عدده خمسة عشر من أ‬
‫بيت لم يتعس ّر الولادة على مطلقة وكذلك إن كتبت في أر بعة أركان البيت الأر بع وإن كتبت في جلد‬
‫ص خاتم والطالع‬ّ ‫ ومن نقشه في ف‬.‫ل عسير‬
ّ ‫أ[ الأيمن لتيسير ك‬٣٢٤ ‫كبش وعل ّق على فخذ المرآة ]ص‬
.‫السرطان والقمر في السرطان مت ّصل بالزهرة ومن لبسه هانت عليه الشدائد وهذه صورته‬

91 On the history of magic squares in the Islamicate world and beyond, see Hallum’s chapter
in this volume.
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 349

her feet. It is prescribed that you take a little clay from a swallow’s nest and
[crush] it into a grape-based ointment (duhn rāziqī) and anoint her pubis
and lumbar spine. [It is necessary] to cut a root of coriander by tearing it
up, to take sweat [of the woman in labor], and to attach it to the thigh of
[this] woman. Here is the figure: two, seven, four, then seven, five, three,
then six, one, eight. As for the two verses of the Psalms of David, they
are written around it, in Syriac, and their interpretation is: “I go out of
prison by myself—no dike, no height [will prevent me]—may Your will
give me hope, certainly You are sufficient.” It has many other [proper-
ties].92

The magic square is written as a figure (shakl), the sum of whose numbers
equals fifteen diagonally, horizontally, and vertically, which corresponds to the
description in the Book of Sharāsīm. It is likewise used for a woman in labor, and
one must attach a root of coriander to the woman’s thigh, just as it is necessary
to suspend the magic square to the thigh of the pregnant woman in the Book of
Sharāsīm.
This magic square also appears in the above-mentioned Kitāb al-Mawāzīn
al-ṣaghīr attributed to Jābir b. Ḥayyān:

Here is a figure divided into three compartments, lengthwise and breadth-

wise. [figure] Each row of boxes equals the number 15 in all directions.
Apollonius assures us that it is a magic array of nine squares. If you draw
this figure on two cloths that have never been touched by water and you
place them under the feet of a woman who has difficulty giving birth, the
birth will take place immediately.93

This description is unlikely to have inspired Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya, but

the use is likewise intended to facilitate childbirth, just as in the Rasāʾil Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ, edited by al-Bustānī:

A similar approach is adopted by the makers of talismans in preparing

[naṣab] them on the basis of their knowledge of the nature and proper-
ties of things, their correspondences, how they are structured, and the
relationships underlying their composition. An example of this is the
[magic] nine-slot square which eases childbirth when the nine numbers

92 Al-Ṭabarī, Firdaws, 280–281.

93 Berthelot, La chimie 118 (Arabic text), 150–151 (translation).
350 coulon

are entered in the ninth month of pregnancy at the ninth hour of labour.
The lord of the ascendant will be in the ninth [house], or the lord of the
ninth [house] will be in the ascendant, or the moon will be in the ninth
[house], or applying to [muttaṣil] a heavenly body in the ninth [house]
from it, and similarly with other ninefold things.94

This usage is found in the fifth epistle, devoted to music. The magic square is
designated by the expression al-shakl al-mutassaʿ, not al-muthallath, as a res-
ult of the development of the vocabulary for magic squares, with reference not
to the number of digits distributed in the table but to the number of boxes on
each side. This use, again to facilitate childbirth, has a more pronounced astro-
logical dimension. Note the brief mention of this magic square in the Ghāyat
al-ḥakīm: “The number fifteen in the three boxes of the magic square is [bene-
ficial] for difficulty in childbirth” (wa-l-khamsat ʿashr min al-ʿadad fī thalāthat
buyūt al-wafq li-ʿusr al-wilāda).95 In this last mention, the term “magic square”
(wafq) appears rather than “figure” (shakl), but it is still the number fifteen that
defines it.96
We may deduce that the Book of Sharāsīm the Indian should be assigned to
this period when the 3×3 magic square was used in magic but whose more
complex numerological speculations found especially in the Corpus Bunianum
were not yet developed and widespread.
After some considerations on numbers, the treatise of Sharāsīm quotes an
authority:

Isrāsīm said, “The properties of Indian letters are numerous. Kanakana

al-Hindī has long disputed them in his book that he composed on the
properties of Indian letters and the secret of the purpose of this art. Who-
ever devotes himself to it will see wonders.”97

94 Owen Wright’s translation. Ikhwān, Music, 161–162 (Arabic text) and 159 (trans.); trans.
based on al-Bustānī’s edition in Coulon, La magie, 138.
95 Al-Qurṭubī, Ghāya, 400.
96 On the same magic square and its properties, see Bink Hallum’s chapter in this vol-
ume.
97 Sharāsīm Kitāb, fol. 324a. Arabic text:

‫ وخواص الحروف الهنديةكثيرة وقد أطنب فيها كنكنة الهندي في كتابه الذي وضعه‬:‫قالت اسراسيم‬
.‫ص الحروف الهندية وهو غاية في فنه فمن وقع له رأى العجب‬ّ ‫في خوا‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 351

“Kanakana al-Hindī” is probably a distortion of the name Kankah al-Hindī,

the name of an Indian scholar famous yet about him little is known.98 Accord-
ing to David Pingree, Kankah was “[the] favorite symbol used by intellectuals
of the Islamic tradition to indicate the partial dependence of some of their
sciences upon Sanskrit sources,”99 adding that “most of the legends concern-
ing Kankah … can be explained as confusions between Kankah and the sev-
eral manifestations of Hermes in this convoluted story of Abū Maʿshar and,
of course, confusion between the role given to him by Abū Maʿshar in the
remote origination of al-Zīj al-Sindhind and the more sober story preserved
by the astrologer Ibn al-Ādamī [at the turn of the third/ninth-fourth/tenth
centuries] concerning the Indian delegation from Sind to the court of al-
Manṣūr.”100 The historical existence of this character remains questionable.
Kankah’s works are best known through citations in other authors, whether
bibliographic lists or reproductions of excerpts in other treatises. In his Fihrist,
Ibn al-Nadīm lists his known works, all dealing with astrology: Kitāb al-Namū-
dār fī l-aʿmār (“The Book of the Namūdār101 for the Ages”), Kitāb Asrār al-
mawālīd (“The Book of the Secrets of Nativities”), Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-kabīr
(“The Great Book of Conjunctions”) and Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-ṣaghīr (“The Small
Book of Conjunctions”).102 These are also the titles introduced later by Ibn
Abī Uṣaybiʿa (d. 668/1270) in his ʿUyūn al-anbāʾ fī ṭabaqāt al-aṭibbāʾ (“The
Sources of Information about the Generations of Physicians”), to which he
adds a “Book on Medicine” (Kitāb fī l-ṭibb)103 and Ibn al-Qifṭī (d. 646/1248)
in his Kitāb Ikhbār al-ʿulamāʾ bi-akhbār al-ḥukamāʾ (“The Storybook on Schol-
ars with the Anecdotes of the Sages”).104 These well known works do not deal
with numerology. On the other hand, in the domain of magic, some know-
ledge of numbers was attributed also to Kankah. Notably, the astrologer Abū
Maʿshar al-Balkhī, in his Maqāla fī l-aʿdād al-mutaḥābba (“Discourse on Amic-
able Numbers”), attributes to Kankah the discovery of “amicable numbers” (al-
aʿdād al-mutaḥābba), that is to say, numbers the sum of whose aliquot parts
is equal.105 The most famous pair is 220 and 284. However, this attribution

98 For a synthesis, see Coulon, La magie, 106–108.

99 David Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology from Babylon to Bīkāner (Rome: Instituto
Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente, 1997), 51.
100 David Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology, 54.
101 Namūdār is a technique for finding the position of the planets to establish the nativity of
a person whose date of birth is unknown.
102 Ibn al-Nadīm, Fihrist, 330; The Fihrist, 2:644.
103 Ibn Abī Uṣaybiʿa, ʿUyūn, 32.
104 Ibn al-Qifṭī, Ikhbār, 265–267.
105 Oliver Kahl and Zeina Matar, “A Treatise on the Amicable Numbers 220 and 284 Attributed
352 coulon

to Kankah is found also in the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm of Maslama al-Qurṭubī,106 in

which Kankah al-Hindī is portrayed as an ancient Egyptian king. We can thus
see why this Indian astrologer is presented in Kitāb Sharāsīm as an authority
on the use of numbers.
Another important cited work is the Kitāb al-Nawāmīs (“The Book of Laws”),
attributed to Plato, mentioned at the beginning of the third discourse:

The third discourse, on the wonders of fumigations and compound mix-

tures and the wonders that appear through the effects of these. This is
the purpose of the one who has no real will (man lā himma lahu) nor
excitement for the hidden secret, as I described in the first discourse and
showed in the second. This is called “the laws” (al-nawāmīs), and Ḥunayn
b. Isḥāq translated it (tarjama) from the books of Plato and others. [This is
the book] on which most people of this age rely because of its lack of diffi-
culty and its ease. It is reliable, unless one is led astray by ignorance of the
names of the drugs, as each [may] have many similar ones and because of
those who oppose the commentators and make them obscure by glossing
each thing as being what it is not. I describe what is possible to describe by
selection and choice. In this discourse, there are three wonderful sections
and strange talismans:
– the first section is about strange operations and wonderful talismans;
– the second section is on the description of wicks and fumigations;
– the third section is about the other operations whose description will
come if God—let him be exalted!—wills it.107

to Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī,” Journal of Semitic Studies 35, no. 2 (1990): 235. Thābit b. Qurra,
on the contrary, attributes to Nicomachus the description of the method of their determ-
ination without having demonstrated it, and to Euclid the demonstration of this method
in his Elements (Christian Houzel and Roshdi Rashed, “Théorie des nombres amiables,”
in Thābit ibn Qurra: Science and Philosophy in Ninth-Century Baghdad, ed. Roshdi Rashed
[Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009], 90–91).
106 Al-Qurṭubī, Ghāya, 278.
107 Sharāsīm, Kitāb, fol. 325b. Arabic text:

‫كبة وما يظهر من تأثير ذلك من العجائب هذا القول هو‬

ّ ‫المقالة الثالثة في عجائب الدخن والأخلاط المر‬
‫مقصود من لا هم ّة له والانتهاض إلى السرّ الخفّي وهو الذي ذكرته في المقالة الأولى وأشرت إليه في المقالة‬
‫ وقد سموا ذلك النواميس وترجم ذلك حنين بن إسحق من كتب افلاطون وغيره وهو معتد أكثر‬.‫الثانية‬
‫الناس في هذا الزمان لقلةّ توغره وسهولته وهو صحيح غير أن خطأ من يجطئ فيه للجهل بأسماء العقاقير‬
‫الواحد له أشباهكثير ]كذا[ وأيضا من عسر المفس ّر ين و يكبسهم لـكونهم يفس ّرون الشيء غيرما هو به‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 353

The Kitāb al-Nawāmīs attributed to Plato, not to be confused with the philo-
sophical work of the same title, is a treatise of apocryphal magic known in the
Latin tradition as Liber vaccae (“The Book of the Cow”) because of a recipe for
the artificial generation from a cow.108 The term nawāmīs thus ended up desig-
nating natural magic recipes attributed to Plato or claiming continuity with his
works. Here, therefore, are talismans (sg. ṭilasm), wicks (sg. fatīla) and fumiga-
tions (sg. dukhna) that are mainly associated with these nawāmīs, and not the
“putrefactions” (sg. taʿfīn) of the fourth discourse, which are often associated
with Plato in other texts.
The influence of the Kitāb al-Nawāmīs of ps.-Plato on the Kitāb Sharāsīm
is observable in this section on fumigations. The manuscript BnF Arabe 2577
includes a few leaves of a text that appears to be an excerpt from the Kitāb al-
Nawāmīs, in which we find several recipes for fumigations. The first two recipes
(fols. 104a–105a) are found in the second section of the Kitāb Sharāsīm’s third
discourse, devoted to fumigations (fol. 329b). This comparison is limited: there
are only three recipes in the manuscript BnF Arabe 2577 and twenty-four in
the Kitāb Sharāsīm, so a critical edition of Kitāb al-Nawāmīs would be needed
to make a more substantial assessment of the contribution of this major book
of the Arabic occult tradition. The manuscript Arabe BnF 2577 is a collection
that also contains the Kitāb al-Usṭūṭās, which is associated with the Book of
Sharāsīm in the introduction, as we have seen, highlighting the possible link
between these texts.
Finally, the last discourse, on cryptographic alphabets, must be compared to
the well known Shawq al-mustahām fī maʿrifat rumūz al-aqlām (“The Desire of
the Distraught: The Knowledge of the Symbols of the Alphabets”) attributed
to Ibn Waḥshiyya.109 This apocryphal treatise lists cryptographic alphabets
allegedly used by the ancient sages to pass on their knowledge. It is probably
an Egyptian text wrongly attributed to Ibn Waḥshiyya.110 The tenth discourse

‫وأنا أذكر من ذلك ما يحسن ذكره على التحري والاختيار وهذه المقالة فيها ثلاثة فصول عجيبة وطلسمات‬
:‫غر يبة‬

،‫– الفصل الأّول في أعمال غر يبة وطلسمات عجيبة‬

،‫– الفصل الثاني في ذكر الفتل والدخن‬
.‫– الفصل الثالث في أعمال آخر يأتي ذكرها إن شاء الله تعالى‬
108 On this treatise, see the edition ps.-Plato Aneguemis, and Saif, “The cows,” and for the Latin
tradition, Maaike Van der Lugt, “ ‘Abominable Mixtures’: The Liber vaccae in the Medieval
West, or the Dangers and Attractions of Natural Magic,” Traditio 64 (2009): 229–277.
109 Ibn Waḥshiyya, Ancient Alphabets; Ibn Waḥshiyya, Shawq.
110 Toufic Fahd, “Sur une collection d’ alphabets antiques réunis par Ibn Waḥshiyya,” Col-
354 coulon

of Sharāsīm deals with this same subject. Fewer alphabets are presented, but
there are similarities. Not all of the alphabets are identical from one manuscript
to another, but some are clearly identifiable with those of Shawq al-mustahām,
such as the alphabet of the barābī (that is, ancient Egyptian temples), the rīḥ-
ānī alphabet, and the Qalfaṭīr alphabet (also known as the Filaqṭīr).

4 Conclusion

The Book of Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya has been almost totally ignored in research,
but the manuscripts that survive, as well as the mentions of this text in the
writings of medieval Arabic occult science, indicate that it had a special place
and authority in the Arabic magical tradition. The enigmatic figure of the prob-
ably legendary Sharāsīm shows how difficult it was for this tradition to present
itself as an ancient and legitimate science: she is either presented as one of the
great sages of antiquity or as a slave of Hārūn al-Rashīd, like the slaves of whose
charms he was a victim. The text itself makes her the freedwoman of an Arab
shaykh fascinated by her knowledge of the natural sciences who saves him from
the influence of a magician. She remains a benevolent figure. The text claims to
be a summary of the knowledge of the ancients, but it refers primarily to texts
and authorities from the third/ninth century, such as the Nawāmīs attributed
to Plato, or to the work of Kankah al-Hindī. Sharāsīm’s work also corresponds
to a stage of Arabic occult thought in which the term sīmiyāʾ was used but for
which it is difficult to offer a precise definition. Too few texts of this period
and of this tradition have received scholarly editions on the basis of a corpus
of satisfactory manuscripts. The work of editing and translating these texts is
necessary to deepen our knowledge and understanding of the Islamic occult
sciences of this time.

loque du XXIXe congrès international des orientalistes: Le déchiffrement des écritures et des
langues, ed. Jean Leclant, 105–119 (Paris: l’ Asiathèque, 1975); Coulon, La magie, 127–133;
Isabel Toral-Niehoff and Annette Sundermeyer, “Going Egyptian in Medieval Arabic Cul-
ture: The Long-Desired Fulfilled Knowledge of Occult Alphabets by ps.-Ibn Waḥshiyya,” in
The Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic Cultures, ed. Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orthmann
(Beirut: Orient-Institut Beirut, 2018), 249–264.
‫‪356‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫‪Appendix 1: Introduction of Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya‬‬

‫)‪Base manuscript: Istanbul, Hamidiye 189 (A‬‬

‫‪Compared to Istanbul, Ḥāčī Beşir Āġā 659 (B) and Cambridge, University Lib-‬‬
‫)‪rary, Or. 25 (C‬‬

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم • وصل ّى‪ a‬الله على سي ّدنا محم ّد وآله‪ b‬وسل ّم‪.‬‬
‫نبتدي بعون الله تعالى بنسخ كتاب اسراسيم‪ c‬الهندي ّة مولاة أبي العباّ س مولى أمير‪ d‬المؤمنين‪.‬‬
‫وكانت اسراسيم‪ e‬هذه فاضلة أهل زمانها في علم الفلك وأسرار الطبيعة والط ّ‬
‫ب والهندسة وسائر‬
‫العلوم القديمة وأوتيت على أهل عصرها ما لم يبلغه أحد من أهل الحكمة‪ .‬وقيل كان اسمها روقيا‪،‬‬
‫وكانت باحثة عن كتب الحكمة طالبة لها‪ .‬فظفرت بمصحف من مصاحف الأوائل منسوب إلى‬
‫خبلها‪ ،f‬وهو لابن شيث بن آدم—⟩عليه السلام⟨‪—g‬كما ذكر راو فيه غرائب علم الفلك‪.‬‬
‫وكان السبب في وضع‪ h‬هذا الكتاب رجل من أبناء فارس حضر إلى مولاها وصنع‪ i‬له عجائب ًا أفتنه‬
‫ن الذي صنعه هو الحّق‪ .‬فلماّ رأت اسراسيم‪ j‬اهتمام‬
‫بها وأخذ بمجامع قلبه ومال إليه بكليتّ ه وظّن أ ّ‬
‫ي‪ ،‬فأشار إليها‬
‫مولاها به وانصبابه إليه‪ ،‬حضرت إليه مسل ّمة عليه‪ ،‬وأخذت في حديث الرجل الفارس ّ‬
‫أن ّه فاضل وقته وأن ّه لا يقدر على ما لم يقدر عليه أحد وذكر لها‪ k‬من أمره ما رآه منه‪ .‬فقالت له يا‬
‫ن هذا علم موضوع وتدبير مصنوع‪ ،‬واستنبطه الأوائل من روحاني ّة الـكواكب ومن أسرار‬
‫مولاي إ ّ‬
‫ص الجواهر‪ .‬وليس هذا علم نبو ّة ولا وحي‪ ،‬ولـكّن به يتبي ّن الحّق من الباطل و يص ّ‬
‫ح‬ ‫الطبيعة ومن خوا ّ‬
‫صدق الصادق من مخرقة المخروق والناموس الإلهّي أمر لا يقفه‪ l‬أحد على سرّه وليس هذا بحيلة ولا‬
‫صه الله—سبحانه وتعالى‪—m‬من اختاره وأراده في أهله والنبو ّة‬
‫تدبير‪ ،‬ولا يتقّدمه علم بل هو علم يخت ّ‬

‫تعالى ‪aC: add.‬‬ ‫وصحبه ‪b B: add.‬‬ ‫اشراسيم ‪c C:‬‬ ‫الأمير ]كذا[ ‪d C:‬‬ ‫اشراسيم ‪eC:‬‬ ‫حنبلما ‪fC:‬‬ ‫‪gC:‬‬
‫‪om.‬‬ ‫له عجائب ًا ‪h C: add.‬‬ ‫وضع ‪i C:‬‬ ‫اشراسيم ‪j C:‬‬ ‫وذكر لها ‪٢] add.‬أ[ ‪k C:‬‬ ‫يقف ‪lB:‬‬ ‫]ص ‪mB: add.‬‬
‫‪١٠٥‬أ[ وتعالى ]كذا[‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 357

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful—may God bless our
Lord Muḥammad, his family, and his Companions.
We begin with God’s help—may He be exalted!—the copy of the book of
Isrāsīm al-Hindiyya, freedwoman (mawlāt) of Abū l-ʿAbbās, client of the com-
mander of the faithful (mawlā amīr al-muʾminīn). This Isrāsīm was the most
learned person of her time in astrology (ʿilm al-falak), the secrets of Nature
(asrār al-ṭabīʿa), medicine (al-ṭibb), geometry (al-handasa), and the rest of
ancient sciences. She brought to the people of her day what no one among the
sages (ahl al-ḥikma) had attained. It is said that her name was Rūqiyā and that
she searched for the books of wisdom (bāḥitha ʿan kutub al-ḥikma) and investig-
ated them (ṭāliba la-hā). She obtained one of the ancient codices (min maṣāḥif
al-awāʾil) related to her mind/madness (mansūb ilā khabali-hā?), which was [a
book] from Shīth b. Ādam—peace be upon him—as an informant mentioned,
it contains astrological prodigies (ghārāʾib ʿilm al-falak).
The cause of the composition of this book was a man from among the Per-
sians (rajul min abnāʾ Fāris) who was present with the master [of Isrāsīm]. He
showed him wonders (ʿajāʾib) by which he confounded him (aftanahu bi-hā),
he took hold of his whole heart (akhadha bi-majāmiʿ qalbi-hi), and [the mas-
ter] totally loved him (māla ilayhi bi-kulliyyati-hi) and thought that he who had
done it was the Truth (al-ḥaqq, i.e., God). When Isrāsīm saw his master’s interest
and affection for him, she presented herself to him, saluting him. She began to
discuss the case of the Persian, and he showed her that he was the best of his
time but that he could not do what no other could do. [The master] described
to [Isrāsīm] what he had seen of [him].
She said to him, “O my master, it is an established science and a manufac-
tured power (tadbīr maṣnūʿ). The ancients drew it from the spiritual essence of
planets, the secrets of nature and the properties of precious stones. This sci-
ence is not a prophecy (nubuwwa) nor a divine inspiration (waḥy), but it is
by [this science] that the truth (al-ḥaqq) is distinguished from the false (al-
bāṭil) and that the belief of the truth is authenticated [with respect to] trickery
(makhraqat al-makhrūq). The Divine Law (al-nāmūs al-ilāhī) is something that
no one can hold secret. [This] is not cunning (bi-ḥīla) or discernment (tadbīr).
No science has preceded it. On the contrary, it is a science that God—glory to
‫‪358‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫هي الز بدة التي تمخضها الأكوار والأدوار فتخرج إلى الوجود في الوقت التي توجبه حكمة البارئ—‬
‫سبحانه وتعالى—لحاجة العالم إلى ذلك‪ a‬وهذا ]‪٣١٩‬أ[ الذي رأيت‪ b‬منشاه من روحاني ّة الـكواكب‬
‫وتأثير‪ c‬أحكام الفلك وليس هذا زمان‪ d‬نبّي صادق وأين القرآن الدا ّ‬
‫ل على هذا وقد يظهر في العالم من‬
‫وقف على هذه الأسرار واقتضته فيظهر أعمال ًا عجيبة جًّدا ⟩لـكن ليس بنبو ّة ولا وحي ًا ولا أمر عالم‬
‫وظهور هذا الرجل بعد⟨‪ e‬انقضاء دور عطارد وهو بعد انقضاء ‪ ٧٠٠‬من الدور المحمّد ّ‬
‫ي على المنسوب‬
‫إليه أفضل الصلوة والسلام ولا يقدح هذا الرجل في الملةّ ولا تعم دعوته بل الملةّ باقية والدولة‪ f‬لبني‬
‫العباّ س عّم النبي—عليه السلام—ولا يقدح هذا الرجل في الملةّ مستقرة ثابتة ولبني آل مروان—‬
‫صة‪ g‬من الأرض يوم ذلك بعد أمور وهذا الظاهر من بلاد السند خروجه إلى‬
‫عليهما السلام—ح ّ‬
‫بلاد خراسان دعوته يجتمع‪ h‬إليه غير ذوي‪ i‬التحصيل من الفرس والديلم وأجلاف العرب ليس‬
‫بأمر‪ j‬ر ب ّانيّ ولـكن‪ k‬تلبيس وناموس ومخرقة ولقد قلت لك ذلك يا مولاي لتكو ّن على طمانينة‪ l‬ولا‬
‫تركن إلى مثل هذا المخارق فقال لها‪ m‬مولاها يا سراسيم‪ n‬لقد فرجت عني هما وأزلت عني غم ًا لما أثق‬
‫به من رائك وحسن بصيرتك ودينك ومعرفتك وأين أجد‪ o‬علم ذلك قالت أدل دليل قول الله—‬
‫ل⟨‪—p‬أخبار ًا عن سحرة فرعون سحروا أعين‪ q‬الناس فأخبر أن ّه سحر للأعين‪ .‬فقال صدقت ثم ّ‬
‫⟩عّز وج ّ‬
‫ذكرت له أصول ًا فلسفي ّة وأسرار ًا طبيعي ّة وأخبرته خبر المصحف الذي وقع لها فركن لقولها واطمأنت‬
‫ن اسراسيم‪ r‬مالت إلى خزانة كتبها التي جمعتها من أرض الصين‬
‫ي ثم ّ إ ّ‬
‫به نفسه ورفض أمر الفارس ّ‬
‫صلت هذا الكتاب من عّدة مصاحف‪ s‬رومي ّة و يوناني ّة وهندي ّة ومن‬
‫والهند وأرض مصر إلى أن ح ّ‬

‫دلك ]كذا[ ‪aC:‬‬ ‫سرايت ]كذا[ ‪b C:‬‬ ‫وتأثيرات ‪c C:‬‬ ‫رمان ‪d C:‬‬ ‫‪eC: in the margin, followed by‬‬
‫‪ kC:‬أمر ‪ jC:‬ذوا ‪ iC:‬ىجتمع ‪ hA:‬حضة ‪٢] g C:‬ب[ ‪ in the body of page f C:‬بعد ‪, with‬صح‬
‫مكتوب في الهامش ]ص ‪ pB:‬علمك ‪ o C: add.‬شراسيم ‪ n C:‬يا ‪ m C: add.‬طمانية ‪ l C:‬وليس‬
‫مصاحف ‪٣] add.‬أ[ ‪ s C:‬اشراسيم ‪ r C:‬عين ‪١٠٥ q C:‬ب[‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 359

Him, may He be exalted!—reserve for the one whom He chooses and whom
He wants among his own, and whose prophecy is the cream that the cycles
and the circles churn, and that comes out at the moment that makes neces-
sary the Wisdom of the Creator (ḥikmat al-Bāriʾ)—glory to Him, may He be
exalted!—for the need that the world has. This is what I saw produced (mun-
shāʾuhu) from the spiritual essence of the stars and the influence of judicial
astrology (taʾthīr aḥkām al-falak). This is not the time of a sincere prophet, and
where is the Qurʾān that shows this? Certainly, in the world there is one who
knows these secrets. They make it necessary. [Then, this individual] brings forth
very wonderful operations, but it is not by prophecy, [divine] inspiration, or
cosmic command (amr ʿālam). The appearance of this man [takes place] after
the end of the cycle of Mercury (baʿda inqiḍāʾ dawr ʿUṭārid), and it takes place
after the end of 700 [years] of the Muḥammadian cycle (wa-huwa baʿda inqiḍāʾ
700 min al-dawr al-muḥammadī)—the best of prayers and salvation be upon
the one from which his name is drawn [i.e., Muḥammad]. This man does not
say evil of religion (al-milla), and his preaching (daʿwatuhu) is not universal;
on the contrary, religion is eternal (bāqiya) and power (al-dawla) is in Banū l-
ʿAbbās, [descendants of] the uncle of the Prophet, peace be upon him. This
man does not speak evil of religion [that is] stable and sure. The Marwānids
(Banū Āl Marwān)—peace be upon them—have a portion of the earth that day
after [certain] events. This [man] who appears comes from Sindh, his appear-
ance (khurūjuhu) is in Khurasan, his preaching (daʿwatuhu) attracts to him
those who do not have knowledge (ghayr dhawī l-taḥṣīl) among the Persians
and the Daylamites and the fools of the Arabs. It is not by the command of
the Lord (bi-amr rabbānī) but by illusion (talbīs), [natural] law (nāmūs) and
trickery (makhraqa). I have just told you that, O my master, so that you are at
peace and do not depend on things like these trickery.” Her master said to her,
“O Isrāsīm, you have dispelled my preoccupation and put an end to the sad-
ness I had when I have trusted him [i.e., the Persian], thanks to your opinion,
your good clairvoyance, your religion and your knowledge. Where can I find the
knowledge of [all] that?” She said, “The argument of the word of God—He is
mighty and majestic!—shows anecdotes (akhbār) about Pharaoh’s magicians
who bewitched the eyes of men. He informs us that it is a spell (siḥr) for the
eyes.” He said, “You speak truly.” Then she described the philosophical found-
ations and natural secrets. She informed him about the history of the codex
(al-muṣḥaf ) that had come to her. He trusted her words, his soul calmed down
and he refuted the Persian affair.
She looked through the library (khizāna) of the books she had collected
[from] the land of China, India, and the land of Egypt until she found [what she
needed to compose] this book from a multitude of Byzantine (rūmiyya), Greek
‫‪360‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫ل ملةّ وما استخرجه المفس ّرون للـكتب القديمة إلى أن كمل‬

‫كتب أصحاب الحيل والنواميس من ك ّ‬
‫لها على ما اختارت وأتت على‪ a‬مقالاته السبع‪ .‬قالت اسراسيم‪ :‬فلماّ أتممت هذا الكتاب وأحضرته إلى‬
‫ل عقل‬
‫ل القوم المخرقّ ين على ك ّ‬
‫بين يدي مولاي فأطلعته عليه فأعجب إعجاباً كثير ًا وعلم كيف قد أض ّ‬
‫فاسد‪ .‬وقال من لا علم له لا دين له والجهل يوقع صاحبه في المهالك‪ .‬قالت اسراسيم‪ b:‬ولقد كشفت‬
‫في هذا الكتاب أسرار الحكماء التي رمزوها وستروها وفرقوا في كتبهم وهو علم خطير ]‪٣١٩‬ب[ عظيم‬
‫الخطر فمن وقع له فليعرف موقعه و يتحّقق خطره ولا يعزه‪ c‬أمر دنياه فإن الدنيا كالظ ّ‬
‫ل الزائل المنتقل‬
‫والآخرة هي الحزا‪ d‬الباقي وليعلم أن ّه إن صان علمه صان نفسه وأن تعرض به الأمور المهلـكة هلك ولا‬
‫يغني عنه علمه شيء وإي ّاه والتمو يه على الخلق والقدح في الشر يعة واتهام نفسه أغتنا عاجل الدنيا وليعلم‬
‫إن ّما وضعوا العلماء هذا العلم لذوي العقول والمعرفة ليفرقوا به بين الحّق والباطل‪ e‬وجعلوه للتلاميذ‪f‬‬
‫ذر يع‪ g‬لمعرفة الحّق كما وضعوا علوم ًا آخر‪ h‬يعرف بها الحّق من الباطل وهذا الكتاب يحتوي على عشرة‬
‫ل مقالة قائمة بنفسها‪.‬‬
‫مقالات ك ّ‬
‫المقالة الأولى في ذكر روحاني ّة الـكواكب السبعة واستخدامها ⟩إلى أن⟨‪ i‬يتحد بمن أراد ذلك و يمتزج‬
‫صيتّ ها‪.‬‬
‫بطباعه أن يفعل بخا ّ‬
‫ص الأشكال والحروف الهندي ّة والعر بي ّة وما يظهر من ذلك من الغرائب‪.‬‬‫المقالة الثانية في خوا ّ‬
‫كبة وما يظهر من ذلك من الغرائب‪.‬‬
‫المقالة الثالثة في عجائب الدخن والأخلاط المر ّ‬
‫المقالة الرابعة في ذكر تعفينات عجيبة وما يظهر من التأثير‪ j‬البليغ‪.‬‬

‫ما ‪aC: add.‬‬ ‫اشراسيم ‪b C:‬‬ ‫يغره ‪c C:‬‬ ‫الجز ‪; C:‬الجزا ‪d B:‬‬ ‫]ص ‪١٠٦‬أ[ والباطل ]كذا[ ‪e B: add.‬‬ ‫‪fC:‬‬
‫]‪٣‬ب[‬ ‫ذر يعة ‪g C:‬‬ ‫‪h C: om.‬‬ ‫المان ‪i C:‬‬ ‫الىأثير ‪j A:‬‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 361

( yūnāniyya), and Indian (hindiyya) codices, from the books of the masters of
[magic] tricks and laws (aṣḥāb al-ḥiyal wa-l-nawāmīs) of each religion, and
from that which the commentators (al-mufassirūn) had drawn from ancient
books until she had completed what she had set herself to do, and she made
seven discourses.
Isrāsīm said, “When I finished this book and presented it to my master, I read
it to him, and he marveled greatly and he knew how the robbers (al-qawm al-
mukharriqīn [sic]) mislead any [individual through] corrupt reason (kull ʿaql
fāsid). He said: ‘He who has no knowledge has no religion, ignorance places
the ignorant in the [places of] perdition.’”
Isrāsīm said: “I revealed in this book the secrets of the sages which they
encrypted (ramazū), veiled (satarū) and showed in their books. It is a major sci-
ence (khaṭīr), with sublime thought (ʿaẓīm al-khaṭr). He to whom [this science]
is necessary, he must know his place and be sure of his thought, and his affairs
here below must not be important. [The world] here below is like a transient
shadow; the Hereafter is the remaining part [i.e., eternal]. Let him know that,
if he protects his knowledge, he protects his soul; and [know that] it happens
that with [this science] perishable things perish and that knowledge [of this
science] will not serve him [against death]. Let him beware of the deception
(al-tamwīh) against creation (ʿalā l-khalq), slander (al-qadḥ) in the divine law
and the accusation of his soul. Here below, we are destroyed. Let it be known
that scholars recorded this knowledge for the intelligent and the learned so
that, thanks to it, they may distinguish between the true and the false (al-ḥaqq
wa-l-bāṭil) and put it into practice. For the discipline is a means of arriving at
the knowledge of the true (maʿrifat al-ḥaqq), as [the scholars] made the sci-
ences as another [means to] distinguish between the true and the false.” This
book contains ten discourses, each of which can stand independently (qāʾima
bi-nafsi-hi).
The first discourse is on the description of the spiritual essences (rūḥāniyya)
of the seven planets and their enslavement (istikhdāmi-hā), so that they are
united with the one who desires it and mingle with his nature in order to act
with the property [of the planet].
The second discourse is on the properties of figures (al-ashkāl) and Indian
and Arabic letters and the wonders that appear from them.
The third discourse is about the wonders of fumigations (al-dakhan) and
compound mixtures (al-akhlāṭ al-murakkaba) and the wonders that emerge
from them.
The fourth discourse is about describing the wonderful putrefactions (taʿfī-
nāt) and the immense influence that appears from them.
‫‪362‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫المقالة الخامسة في ذكر أدهان مستخرجة لها أفعال عجيبة وتأثيرات غر يبة‪.‬‬
‫المقالة السادسة في ذكر أحجار وعقاقير وأعضاء حيوانات تفعل‪ a‬العجب العجيب‪.‬‬
‫المقالة السابعة في ذكر تغي ّر الألوان والأشياء وقلب العيان‪.‬‬
‫المقالة الثامنة في ذكر تدهينات وتسليطات وأعمال عجيبة جّدا ً‪.‬‬
‫المقالة التاسعة في ذكر مخدرات ومنومات وحل ّها‪.‬‬
‫المقالة العاشرة في ذكر‪ b‬أقلام رموزها عظيمة رمزوا بها كتبهم وستروها بها حتى يحصل لمن علمها‪c‬‬
‫الاّطلاع على ما يقع له من ذلك‪.‬‬
‫قالت اسراسيم‪⟩ :‬هذا العلم⟨‪ d‬هو علم السيمياء الذي سار ذكره بين الناس‪ ،‬ومعناه‪ e‬سرّ الطبيعة‪.‬‬
‫وقيل‪ :‬معناه سرّ الحكمة‪ .‬وقيل‪ :‬سحر العقل‪ .‬وقيل‪ :‬بل السيمياء اسم امرأة كانت في الزمن الأّول‪،‬‬
‫طلعة على جميع حكم الأّولين‪ ،‬وإّنها وجدت كتاباً فيه هذا العلم فانفردت به وسار عنها‪ .‬فقيل‪:‬‬
‫وكانت م ّ‬
‫علم السيمياء‪ .‬وقيل‪ :‬بل هو رجل ساحر من سحرة الهند‪ .‬وعلى ك ّ‬
‫ل حال فعليك أّيها الناظر بصون نفسك‬
‫قبل صون عملك وصون علمك‪ f‬قبل صون نفسك وأقبل النصح‪ .‬و بالله التوفيق‪.‬‬

‫نفعل ‪aB:‬‬ ‫في ذكر ‪٤] add.‬أ[ ‪b C:‬‬ ‫عملها ‪c C:‬‬ ‫‪d C: om.‬‬ ‫]ص ‪١٠٦‬أ[ ‪e B:‬‬ ‫عملك ‪fC:‬‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 363

The fifth discourse is about the description of the balms (adhān) from which
one extracts marvelous actions and strange effects.
The sixth discourse is about the description of the stones (aḥjār), drugs
(ʿaqāqīr), and body parts of animals (aʿḍāʾ ḥayawānāt) that do wonders.
The seventh discourse is about describing the changes of color and objects
(taghayyur al-alwān wa-l-ashyāʾ) and transmutation (qalb al-ʿiyān).
The eighth discourse is about the description of threats (al-tarhībāt), the
submission [of spirits] (al-taslīṭāt), and [other] very wonderful operations.
The ninth discourse is about the description of narcotics (mukhaddirāt111),
sleeping pills (munawwimāt), and rendering them ineffective (ḥalli-hā).
The tenth discourse is about the description of alphabets with sublime sym-
bols with which [sages] encrypt their books and veil them so that the reading
(al-ittilāʿ) of what is there is possible only for him who knows [these symbols].
Isrāsīm said: “This science is the science of sīmiyāʾ, which is widely known
among people and whose meaning is: ‘the secret of Nature’ (sirr al-ṭabīʿa). It is
said [also] that its meaning is ‘thee secret of wisdom’ (sirr al-ḥikma). It is said
[also]: ‘the bewitchment of reason’ (siḥr al-ʿaql). It is said [on the contrary] that
al-sīmiyāʾ is the name of a woman who lived at the first times and who was
raised to all the wisdoms of the first [sages]. She found a book in which [was
recorded] this science. She isolated herself with [this book]. It is said [again]
‘the science of sīmiyāʾ.’ It is said [on the contrary] that it is a magician (rajul
sāḥir) among the magicians of India.” In any case, take care, O reader, to pro-
tect your soul before protecting your operation and protect your science before
protecting your soul. Accept this counselor! In God alone does success abide.

111 On the term mukhaddir, see n. 81 above.

‫‪364‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫‪Appendix 2: Conclusion of Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya‬‬

‫)‪Base manuscript: Istanbul, Hamidiye 189 (A‬‬

‫)‪Compared to Istanbul, Ḥāčī Beşir Āġā 659 (B) and Paris, BnF, Arabe 2595 (D‬‬
‫‪The conclusion in manuscript Arabe 2595 contains an important paragraph‬‬
‫‪that is not found in the two manuscripts of Istanbul, here it is reproduced‬‬
‫)‪in double brackets ⟦…⟧. Manuscript Cambridge, University Library, Or. 25 (C‬‬
‫‪does not contain this conclusion.‬‬

‫قالت إشراشيم‪] a‬كذا[‪ :‬والأقاليم‪ b‬والأقلام‪⟩ c‬كثيرة أكثر من أن تحصي‪ d‬وقد ذكرت الأقلام⟨‪ e‬التي‪f‬‬
‫⟩رمزوا بها⟨‪ g‬أهل هذه العلوم كتبهم‪ h‬وقد استعمل‪ i‬الناس قلم الأحد‪ j‬وخمسين مدخل‪ k‬المعروفة‬
‫برسائل الإخوان‪ l‬التي‪ m‬ظهرت في هذا الزمان ⟩وكتبوا ]ص ‪٢٩٣‬أ[ بهكثير ًا⟨‪n.‬‬
‫قالت إشراشيم‪] o‬كذا[‪ :‬فلماّ أتممت هذا الكتاب على الغرض الذي ⟩ات ّفق لي والفضل⟨‪ p‬تحر ّكت‬
‫إليه‪ .‬قال لي مولاي‪ q‬أحسنت يا إشراسيم‪ r‬فيما ⟩بينّ ت وقصدت⟨‪ s‬فهل ⟩فيما ذكرت ِه من رواية⟨‪ t‬من‬
‫ن الفاضل أرسطوا‪ x‬وضع‬
‫ت‪ w‬نعم يا سي ّدي إ ّ‬
‫علم لهذا‪ u‬الشأن غير هذا من غير الطرق التي‪ v‬ذكرتِها‪ .‬قل ُ‬
‫كتاباً ولم يسمه وأسماه‪ y‬من بعده أرسومامندروس‪ z‬ومعناه الاشنوطاس‪ aa‬الأوسط لأن ّهكان وضع‬
‫اشتوطاس‪ bb‬أكبر واشتوطاس‪ cc‬أصغر وهما مشهوران في كتبه‪ .‬وهذا الأوسط هو‪ dd‬شيء عجيب‬
‫ل منزلة‪ hh‬وفعلها وحروفها‪ ii‬و بخورها ⟩وصفة‬
‫ذكر‪ ee‬فيها‪ ff‬منازل القمر الثمانية وعشر ين‪ gg‬وذكر طبع ك ّ‬
‫روحانيتها والوقوف لها⟨‪ jj‬والعمل ⟩الذي لها⟨‪ kk‬حت ّى يّتحد بالطبع حت ّى انتهى إلى الثمانية وعشر ين منزلة‬
‫ثم ّ ذكر دعوة جامعة لروحانيتّ ه‪ ll‬جميعها‪ mm‬وعمل مخصوص وقانون مذكور‪ .‬إذا عمُ ِل على الوجه الذي‬
‫ذكره‪ nn‬استدعى العامل جميع ما يحتاج إليه‪ oo‬وقطع المسافة البعيدة ⟩واستجلب الشيء البعيد⟨‪pp‬‬

‫اشراسيم ‪aB, D:‬‬ ‫‪ hD:‬رمزتها ‪ gD:‬الذي ‪ fD:‬في الهامش ‪ e D:‬تحصا ‪ d D:‬الأقلام ‪b D: om. c D:‬‬
‫‪ nD: om. oD:‬الذي ‪ mD:‬إخوان الصفا ‪ l D:‬فدخل ‪ k D:‬أحد ‪ j D:‬استعملوا ‪ i D:‬في كتبهم‬
‫‪ sD:‬شراسيم ‪; D:‬اشراشيم ‪ rB:‬سيدي ومولاي ‪]; D:‬ص ‪١٤٤‬أ[ ‪ q B:‬ات ّفقت والقصد الذي ‪ p D:‬شراسيم‬
‫‪; D:‬ارسطو ‪ xB:‬قالت شراسيم ‪ wD:‬الذي ‪ v D:‬هذا ‪ u D:‬من رأى ما ذكرتيه ‪ t D:‬قصدت وأتيت به‬
‫‪ ccD:‬اسبوطاس ‪ bbD:‬الاسبوطاس ‪ aa D:‬ارسوماميدروس ‪ z D:‬وسماه ‪ y D:‬ارسطوطاليس‬
‫واسبوطاس‬ ‫‪dd D: om.‬‬ ‫]ص ‪٥٥‬ب[ ‪ee D:‬‬ ‫فيه ‪ff D:‬‬ ‫منزلة ‪ggD: add.‬‬ ‫واحدة من ‪hhD:‬‬
‫وروحانيتها وما لها من البخورات وما لها من الأرض والجواهر والمعادن ‪ jj D:‬وما تعمل ‪ ii D:‬المنازل‬
‫‪ ooD: add.‬ذكر ‪ nnD:‬جميعا ‪ mmD:‬لروحانياتها ‪ kk D: om. ll D:‬والحيوان وكيف الوقوف لروحانيتها‬
‫‪ pp D: om.‬وعمل ما ير يد واّطلع على ما ير يد‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 365

Ishrāsīm said, “Climates and alphabets are numerous, more numerous than
you can count. I mentioned the alphabets with which the proponents of these
sciences have encrypted their books. Men have used the alphabet of the fifty-
one known ‘introductions’ [under the title] of The Brothers’ Epistles (Rasāʾil
al-Ikhwān) which appeared at that time and with which they wrote a great
deal.”
Ishrāsīm said, “When I finished this book according to the agreed purpose
and the quality to which I aspired, my master said to me: ‘You excel, O Ishrāsīm,
in what you explain and in your purpose. Are there, in that which you described
of the tradition of this science for this thing other things from other paths
that you have mentioned?’ I answered, ‘Yes, O my master, the best (al-fāḍil)
is Aristotle (Arisṭū), he composed a book to which he did not give a name but
that was known after him as Arsūmāmandarūs, whose meaning is medium-
sized Ashnūṭās (al-Ashnūṭās al-awsaṭ) because he had composed a large Ash-
nūṭās (Ashnūṭās kabīr) and a small Ashnūṭās (Ashnūṭās ṣaghīr), both known
among his books. This medium[-sized] [book] is an amazing thing in which
he described the twenty-eight mansions of the moon and the nature of each
mansion, its action, its letters, its fumigations, the description of its spiritual
essence, its position, its operation to unite with his nature, until he had finished
the twenty-eight mansions. Then he mentioned an invocation (daʿwa) encom-
passing all of the spiritual essence, the specific operation, and the mentioned
law (qānūn). When one operates in the way he has described, the one who does
the operation (al-ʿāmil) asks for everything he needs, cuts the distance, draws
‫‪366‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫ونقل الأثقال وقلب‪ a‬العيان وغير الأشخاص وأظهر الأعاجيب بسبع كلمات يتكل ّم بها في نفسه ⟩لـكّن‬
‫بعد لزوم شرطه وات ّباع القوانين⟨‪ b.‬وهو علم يتم ّ لطالبه في عامّ واحد‪ .‬فقال لي‪ c‬سي ّدي وهل يوجد‬
‫ذلك‪ d.‬قلت‪ e‬نعم يا سي ّدي‪ .‬وأخرجته له من خزانةكتبي مكتو باً ‪ f‬بقلم مولد بين ⟩السر يانيّ والعبرانيّ⟨‪g‬‬
‫ل القلم فوقف عليه وعجب به‪ h‬ثم ّ إن ّه أودعه‪ i‬خزانته‪:‬‬
‫ي وعلمتهكيف ح ّ‬
‫والهند ّ‬
‫]] فكان أغبط بهما فبلغ أمرهما أمير المؤمنين فأرسل رسل عدة إليه وكتبهما وسيرهما إليه فلما‬
‫وقف عليهما وعرف ما فيهما أعدهما من أنفس الدخائر وأعز الهدايا وكتب إليه أن أحفظ بهما ولا‬
‫تبدلهما وهذا ما كان من أمر هذا الكتاب وتم ّت المقالة العاشرة من كتاب شراسيم الهندية و بتمامها تم ّ‬
‫الكتاب‪.‬‬
‫قال أبو الوليد بن عمر بن ماكيس القيلاري‪ :‬كنت كثير ًا مما أطلب هذا العلم وأبعث عنه بقرطبة‬
‫في بعض أسفاري إذ رأيت رجل ًا من العجم وعليه سيمة الفضيلة فتقر ّبت إليه وتعرفّ ت به إلى أن‬
‫حصلت بيننا صلة وصداقة ومؤانسة فخلوت به يوم الأي ّام وتحّدثنا وتؤانسنا وجر ينا في العلوم مجري‬
‫ذكر الصنعة فرأيته أعلم الناس بأحوالها ثم ّ الطب‪ j‬ثم ّ النجوم ثم ّ علوم الأوائل كل ّها وانتهى السؤال إلى‬
‫هذا العلم فحدث فيه بأنواع الأعاجيب واطلعني على بعض الأشياء من علمه وذلك أن ّه أظهر فاكهة‬
‫حسنة في غير أوانها ثم ّ أن ّه أظهر لي ثلاثة من الحيوان لم تكن بأرض المغرب ثم ّ قال لي من حال ما‬
‫ن الرجل المطلوب فلزمته مّدة من الزمان وأنا أرى منه العجب وكان يسعي‬
‫أعلمه وأتحّققه فعلمت أ ّ‬
‫في التجارة فلماّ كان بعض الأي ّام قال لي إن ّي عازم على السفر في هذه المر ّة ولولا إ يمان أخذت على‬
‫فيما أنا فيه لا أفدتك ما تر يد ولـكن إن كان لك هم ّة فتوجّه إلى أرض مصر[[‬

‫وتغير ‪aD:‬‬ ‫ولـكن لها شروط تلزمها وقوانين يستعملها ‪b D:‬‬ ‫‪c D: om.‬‬ ‫‪dD: om.‬‬ ‫فقلت ‪eD:‬‬ ‫‪fD:‬‬
‫‪om.‬‬ ‫العبراني والسر ياني ]ص ‪٥٦‬أ[ والعر بي ‪g D:‬‬ ‫منه ‪h D:‬‬ ‫أودعها ‪i D:‬‬ ‫]ص ‪٥٦‬ب[ ‪jD:‬‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 367

in that which is distant, moves that which is heavy, transmutes, changes people,
makes wonders appear by seven words that he pronounces to himself, but after
observing the conditions [related to it] and having followed the law (ittibāʿ al-
qawānīn). It is a science that can be mastered in one year by the one who asks
for it.’ My master said to me, ‘Does [this book] exist?’ I answered, ‘Yes, O my
master!’ And I took it out for him from the library of my books, written in an
alphabet which drew upon Syriac, Hebrew, and Indian. I taught him how to
decipher this alphabet. He studied it and was seized with admiration. Then he
put it in his library.
⟦He had ardently desired them. The story of these two [books] reached the
emir of the believers. [The latter] sent him many emissaries, so he copied both
[books] and sent them to him. When he became acquainted with them and
learned what they contained, he considered them to be the most precious of
treasures and the most important of gifts. He wrote to him to preserve them
and not to exchange them. So that is what happened to this book.” The tenth
discourse of the Book of Sharāsīm the Indian is completely finished. The book
is finished.
Abū l-Walīd b. ʿUmar b. Mākīs al-Qīlārī said, “I was very much seeking this sci-
ence while I was in Córdoba, looking for some of my books ( fī baʿḍ asfārī). Then
I saw a stranger (rajulan min al-ʿajam) who had the mark of virtue (ʿalayhi sīmat
al-faḍīla). I approached him and sought to know him until there developed
between us a bond (ṣila), a friendship (ṣadāqa), and a familiarity (muʾānasa).
I withdrew with him one day, and we spoke and discussed, talking about the
sciences, we came to talking about the [alchemical] art (al-ṣanʿa). I saw that he
was the most learned of men on the requirements [of the art], then of medicine
(al-ṭibb), then of astrology (al-nujūm), then of all the sciences of the ancients
(ʿulūm al-awāʾil). The interrogation ended with this science. He spoke about
[this science and its] categories of wonders. He read me something [about] his
knowledge (min ʿilmi-hi). Thus, he brought forth a delicious fruit ( fākiha ḥas-
ana) outside its season, then he made three animals that are not found in the
west (bi-arḍ al-maghrib) appear to me. Then he told me spontaneously what
I knew and what I knew for certain. So I knew it was the man I was looking
for. I accompanied him everywhere for a while, seeing wonders. He worked in
trade. One day, he told me to take a trip at that time, and that ‘if you do not have
faith in me in what I practice, I will not give you what you want. If you have the
ambition, go to Egypt.’⟧
‫‪368‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫⟩وقال لرجل اقصد مصر⟨‪ a.‬فإذا وصلت ⟩إليها فاطلب بلدة⟨‪ b‬بلدة ]كذا[ يقال لها أسيوط وامض‪c‬‬
‫إليها ⟩واسأل عن⟨‪ d‬صالح بن رشيد التميمي‪ .‬فإذا لقيته‪ e‬فاقره ⟩عني السلام⟨‪ f‬وقل له احفظ الوصايا‬
‫السبع واطلب منهكتاب إشراسيم‪ g‬الهندي ّة وكتاب ارسومامندروس‪ h‬فانقلهما منه‪ i‬وقابلهما عليه واعمل‬
‫بما فيهما تصل إلى ما تر يد‪.‬‬
‫قال أبو الوليد فأقمت معه أي ّام ًا وودعته‪ j‬وسافرت ووصلت إلى‪ k‬أرض مصر وأتيت‪ l‬أسيوط‬
‫ت عن الرجل فدلوني‪⟩ m‬عليه في مسجد⟨‪ n‬في جبلها فمضيت‪ o‬إليه ⟩وسل ّمت عليه فردّ على‬
‫وسأل ُ‬
‫حب بي‪ .‬وقال لي كيف فلان وكيف حاله يعني صاحبي الذي أرسلني إليه فأخبرته‬
‫السلام⟨‪ p‬ور ّ‬
‫]ص ‪٢٩٣‬ب[ بخـبره وسفره‪ q.‬فقال إن ّه‪ r‬لقي ⟩عّدة من سفن⟨‪ s‬الروم في ⟩طر يق قونيا⟨‪ t‬ودخل إلى‬
‫ت منه ما سمعت‪ v‬ما أمكنني‪ w‬أتكل ّم فسكت‪ x.‬فقال ⟩لي قل⟨‪ y‬الأمارة التي‪z‬‬
‫بلاده‪ u‬سالم ًا‪ .‬فلماّ سمع ُ‬
‫ت له الأمارة‪⟩ .‬قال لي تطلب⟨‪ aa‬الكتابين‪ .‬قلت‪ bb‬نعم‪ .‬فقال‪ cc‬إن ّه وثق بعقلك‪ dd‬ولـكّن‬
‫قالها لك فقل ُ‬
‫ل كتاب منهما‪ ff‬قد ستروه بسبعة أقلام ⟩صيانة وشفقة عليهم⟨‪ gg‬وأنا قد‬
‫كيف ⟩لك سبيل⟨‪ ee‬وك ّ‬
‫ألزمت نفسي ⟩من مّدة⟨‪ hh‬ثلاثة أعوامّ لا أتكل ّم في هذا الباب‪ ii‬بكلمة واحدة‪ .‬فقلت يا سي ّدي أر يد‪jj‬‬
‫الكتابين ⟩أنقشهما حكاية⟨‪ kk‬واجتهد‪ ll‬في تفسيرهما أن قدرت فأخرج لي خر يطة من آدم وأخرج منها‬
‫كتابين مجلدين مكتو بين في جلد‪ mm‬ظبي مفصلات‪⟩ nn‬بالذهب واللازورد والزنجفر⟨‪ oo‬بأحسن‪pp‬‬
‫ل مكان فيها‪ qq‬مقصود‪ rr‬مكتوب بقلم ففعلت‪ ss‬الكتابين‪ tt‬وقابلتهما‪ uu‬عليه‬
‫ما يكون من الخطوط وك ّ‬
‫ت‪ ww‬لا‪ .‬فقال‪ xx‬لو‪ yy‬أخذ عليك عهدًا ⟩أخذته عليك ولـكن⟨‪zz‬‬
‫ثم ّ قال لي‪ vv‬أخذ عليك عهدًا‪ .‬قل ُ‬
‫ن الله ⟩سبحانه وتعالى⟨‪ aaa‬معك كيف ما كنت‪ bbb‬فإن ّك‪⟩ ccc‬موجود بجمع الأنفاس‬
‫امض واعلم أ ّ‬

‫‪aD: om.‬‬ ‫‪b D: om.‬‬ ‫فامض ‪c D:‬‬ ‫وأرسل إلى ‪d D:‬‬ ‫أتيته ‪eD:‬‬ ‫السلام عني ‪fD:‬‬ ‫‪gD:‬‬
‫ثم ّ ودعته ‪] jD:‬ص ‪٥٧‬أ[ ‪ iD:‬ارسوماميدروس ‪; D:‬ارسوما ]ص ‪١٤٤‬ب[ مندروس ‪ h B:‬شراسيم‬
‫‪ pD:‬فوصلت ‪ oD:‬على مسجد ‪ nD:‬فدلني ‪ m D:‬ووصلت إلى ‪ k D: om. l D:‬وسافر ثم ّ ظهرت‬
‫‪ uD:‬طر يقه قو يه وسلمه الله تعالى ‪ tD:‬شّدة من سفر ‪ s D:‬لي ‪ r D:‬ومتى كان سفره ‪ q D:‬وسلم علي‬
‫‪ bbD:‬فقال قد طلب ‪ aaD:‬الذي ‪ zD:‬قل لي ‪ x D: om. y D:‬أن ‪ w D: add.‬سألت ‪ v D: add.‬بلده‬
‫‪ iiD:‬منه ‪ ffD: om. ggD: om. hhD:‬السبيل إلى ذلك ‪ ee D:‬ورأيك ‪ ddD: add.‬قال ‪ cc D:‬فقلت‬
‫‪ ooD:‬مفصلة ‪ nnD:‬رّق ‪ mmD:‬واجتهدت ‪ ll D: add.‬أنقلهما ‪] kk D:‬ص ‪٥٧‬ب[ ‪ jj D:‬الكتاب‬
‫‪ uuD:‬منه ‪ ttD: add.‬فنقلت ‪ rr D: om. ssD:‬فيه الفصل ‪ qq D:‬أحسن ‪ pp D:‬بذهب ولازورد‬
‫‪ aaaD:‬إلا أخذته ثم قال لي ‪ zzD:‬كان ‪ yy D: add.‬قال ‪ xx D:‬فقلت ‪ vv D: om. ww D:‬وقابلت‬
‫وإن ّك ‪ ccc D:‬توجهت ‪om. bbb D:‬‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 369

[…]112 When you get there, ask [the way to] a land called Assiut (Asyūṭ) and
go there. Ask [to see] Ṣāliḥ b. Rashīd al-Tamīmī. When you meet him, greet him
on my behalf. Say to him, ‘Preserve the seven wills (al-waṣāyā l-sabʿ)’ and ask
for the Book of Isrāsīm the Indian and the Book of Arsūmāmandarūs, copy them
( fa-nqul-huma), collate them (qābil-humā) and perform operations with their
contents: you’ll get what you want.’”
Abū l-Walīd said: “I stayed with him for some days, then I left him, I went
on a journey and I arrived in the land of Egypt and went to Asyūṭ. I questioned
[the inhabitants] about the man [in question] and they took me to him in the
mosque on the mountain. I came to him and greeted him. He returned my
greeting and invited me to put myself at ease. He said to me, ‘How is so-and-so?’
That is, my master (ṣāḥibī) who sent me to him. I informed him of the news and
his trip. He said he had encountered many Byzantine ships on the Konia route
and entered his country safe and sound. When I heard what he said, I could not
speak and I fell silent. He said to me, ‘Tell me the token (al-imāra) that he gave
you.’ I told him the token. He [then] said, ‘You are asking for the two books.’ I
answered, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘He trusts your intelligence, but how can you have a
way [to read them]? Both books were veiled with seven alphabets to protect
and preserve them. I have undertaken for three years not to say a single word
about it.’ I said, ‘O master, I want both books. I will transcribe the story and make
the effort to produce a commentary if I am able.’ He took out a leather bag,
from which he took two volumes written on gazelle skin, made of gold, lapis
lazuli, and minium in the most beautiful possible script. In every part of [these
books] was a (different) objective written in a (different) alphabet. I copied
both books and collated them. Then he said to me, ‘He has made a covenant
(ʿahd) with you.’ I replied, ‘No.’ He [then] said: ‘If he had made a covenant with
you, then I would have [made a contract with] him too. However, continue and
know that God—glory to Him and may He be exalted!—is with you as you are,

112 The Istanbul manuscripts have here, “He said to a man: ‘Go to Egypt’” But the sentence
here is less clear than that of the more complete text of the BnF.
‫‪370‬‬ ‫‪coulon‬‬

‫والخطرات وإن ّك ميت⟨‪ a‬ثم ّ أن ّه‪ b‬ودعني فلم أزل أبحث وأطوف وأسأل‪ c‬أهل الخـبرة مّدة ⟩ثمان‬
‫سنين⟨‪ d‬إلى أن كشفت المستور‪ e‬منهما‪ f‬وحصل لي ما حصل‪.‬‬
‫⟩⟩وهذا ما انتهى إلينا من كتاب شراسيم الهندية على التمام والـكمال‪.‬‬
‫ل حال وصل ّى الله على سي ّدنا ⟩محم ّد النبي الأم ّي وعلى آله وصحبه وسل ّم تسليم ًا‬
‫والحمد لله على ك ّ‬
‫كبير ًا⟨‪h.⟨⟨g‬‬

‫مؤاخذ بالأنفاس واللحظات والخطوات ‪aD:‬‬ ‫‪b D: om.‬‬ ‫وأفتش على ‪c D:‬‬ ‫ثمانين سنة ‪dD:‬‬ ‫‪eD:‬‬
‫وكانت العاقبة إلى خير وسلامة‪ .‬تم ّ الكتاب بأسره بعون ‪ gB: illegible (cut off) h D:‬منها ‪ f D:‬السطور‬
‫الله تعالى و يسره واسأل الله تعالى صلاحا بذلك وتوفيفا للقول والعمل بمنه وكرمه إنه على ما يشاء قدير والصلاة‬
‫]ص ‪٥٨‬أ[ والسلام على أشرف المرسلين محم ّد وآله وصحبه وسل ّم‪ .‬تم ّ الكتاب والله أعلم بالصواب‪.‬‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya 371

certainly, you shall exist by the gathering of breaths and thoughts and [then]
you are dead.’ Then he left me alone. I continued to search, to investigate
[the subject], to interrogate the scholars (ahl al-khibra) [for] an eight-year
period, until I [managed to] uncover what was hidden (al-mastūr) in these two
[works]. This is what happened to me.” This is what came to us from the Book
of Sharāsīm the Indian complete and in full.
Praise be to God in every situation, and may the blessing and the great sal-
vation of God be upon our lord Muḥammad the prophet of the Gentiles, on his
people and his Companions.
 372

Appendix 3: Manuscripts’ Tables of Contents

Istanbul, Istanbul, Cambridge, Paris, Biblio- Paris, Biblio- Paris, Biblio- Chester
Hamidiye Hacı Beşir University thèque Nationale thèque Nationale thèque Nationale Beatty
189 Ağa 659 Library, Or. 25 de France, Arabe de France, Arabe de France, Arabe Library,
2634 2635 2595 4353

Introduction fol. 318b fol. 104b fol. 1b – – fol. 1b fol. 1b

(partial)
‫المقالة الأولى في ذكر روحاني ّة‬ fol. 319b fol. 106b fol. 4a fol. 1b p. 1 fol. 3a fol. 2a
(acephalous) (acephalous)
‫الـكواكب السبعة واستخدامها‬
‫ص الأشكال‬ّ ‫المقالة الثانية في خوا‬ fol. 322b fol. 110b fol. 10b fol. 6b p. 17 fol. 8a fol. 2a
‫والحروف الهندي ّة والعر بي ّة‬
‫المقالة الثالثة في عجائب الدخن‬ fol. 325b fol. 115a fol. 17a fol. 13b p. 38 fol. 14a fol. 6b
‫كبة‬
ّ ‫والأخلاط المر‬
‫المقالة الرابعة في ذكر تعفينات‬ fol. 332b fol. 126a fol. 33b fol. 27b p. 84 fol. 27a fol. 12a
(non-rubricated)
‫عجيبة‬
‫المقالة الخامسة في ذكر أدهان‬ fol. 335a fol. 130a f. 39a [?] [?] fol. 33b fol. 12b
(non-rubricated)
‫المقالة السادسة في ذكر أحجار‬ fol. 337a fol. 133a fol. 43b [?] [?] fol. 36b fol. 14a
‫وعقاقير وأعضاء حيوانات‬
coulon
(cont.)

Istanbul, Istanbul, Cambridge, Paris, Biblio- Paris, Biblio- Paris, Biblio- Chester
Hamidiye Hacı Beşir University thèque Nationale thèque Nationale thèque Nationale Beatty
189 Ağa 659 Library, Or. 25 de France, Arabe de France, Arabe de France, Arabe Library,
2634 2635 2595 4353

‫المقالة السابعة في ذكر تغي ّر الألوان‬ fol. 338b fol. 135b fol. 47a [?] [?] fol. 40a fol. 15a
‫والأشياء وقلب العيان‬
‫المقالة الثامنة في ذكر تدهينات‬ fol. 340b fol. 139a fol. 51b fol. 40a p. 119 fol. 41a [?]
‫وتسليطات‬
the kitāb sharāsīm al-hindiyya

‫المقالة التاسعة في ذكر مخدرات‬ fol. 342a fol. 140b fol. 54a fol. 45a p. 134 fol. 43a f. 15b
‫ومنومات وحل ّها‬
‫المقالة العاشرة في ذكر أقلام‬ fol. 342a fol. 141a fol. 54a [fol. 49a ?] [p. 146 ?] fol. 46b fol. 16b
‫رموزها عظيمة رمزوا بها كتبهم‬
‫وستروها بها‬
373
374 coulon

Acknowledgements

The study of this text was the subject of several presentations: July 9, 2015, at the
workshop “La magie et les sciences occultes dans le monde islamique” of the
congress of the GIS “Moyen Orient et Mondes Musulmans” held in Paris; Janu-
ary 7, 2016 at the symposium “Islamic Occultism in Theory and Practice” organ-
ized by Liana Saif, Francesca Leoni, Matthew Melvin-Koushki, and Farouk
Yahya at the University of Oxford and the Ashmolean Museum; March 11, 2016
at the seminar “Recherches en histoire des textes scientifiques et magiques au
Moyen Âge” organized by Jean-Patrice Boudet within the “Sciences du Quad-
rivium” Center at the IRHT (Orléans); and on March 21, 2017 in the cycle of
workshops “La magie dans l’Orient juif, chrétien et musulman: recherches en
cours et études de cas” held in Paris. At each of these presentations, I had access
to new manuscripts that allowed me to refine my knowledge of this text and
to update this ongoing research whose ultimate goal will be the publication
of the critical edition and the translation of this text. Thus, a version of this
study, entitled “Le mystérieux Livre de Šarāsīm l’ Indienne (Kitāb Šarāsīm al-
Hindiyya) sur la sīmiyāʾ” will appear in my forthcoming edited volume Magie
et sciences occultes dans le monde islamique (Marseille, Diacritiques Éditions,
2020). I thank Teymour Morel and Liana Saif for their invaluable help in gath-
ering and discovering manuscripts. It was also Liana Saif who discovered that
the contents of the BnF manuscript Arabe 2595, cataloged under the title of
ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq, contained, in reality, the Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya which
concerns us here. I am also particularly grateful to Korshi Dosoo for reading
this paper and polishing its style and for his comments and remarks. All errors
are my own.

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 chapter 9

Toward a Neopythagorean Historiography:

Kemālpaşazāde’s (d. 1534) Lettrist Call for the
Conquest of Cairo and the Development of
Ottoman Occult-Scientific Imperialism

Matthew Melvin-Koushki

The occult sciences, recent research has shown, were central to the construc-
tion of Ottoman imperial ideology and political-military strategy from the late
ninth/fifteenth century until the mid-tenth/sixteenth, and their prestige per-
sisted long thereafter.1 Bāyezīd II (r. 886–918/1481–1512) initiated this turn with
his devotion to astrology; he institutionalized the science at the Ottoman court
to an extent unprecedented and perhaps unparalleled elsewhere in the early
modern West.2 But it is only with the astonishing conquests of his son Yavuz
Selīm (r. 918–926/1512–1520)—seemingly magical in their rapidity—that we

1 See, in particular, Cornell Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom and New Sciences: Prophecies at the
Ottoman Court in the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in Falnama: Book of Omens,
ed. Massoumeh Farhad and Serpil Bağcı (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009): 232–243; Cornell
Fleischer, “Shadow of Shadows: Prophecy in Politics in 1530s Istanbul,” in Identity and Iden-
tity Formation in the Ottoman World: A Volume of Essays in Honor of Norman Itzkowitz, ed. Baki
Tezcan and Karl K. Barbir (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), 51–62. On the per-
sistence of a prototypically Timurid (and, by extension, Ottoman) mode of imperial occultism
in the Persianate world even through the turn of the twentieth century, see Matthew Melvin-
Koushki and James Pickett, “Mobilizing Magic: Occultism in Central Asia and the Continuity
of High Persianate Culture under Russian Rule,” Studia Islamica 111, no. 2 (2016): 231–284.
2 See Ahmet Tunç Şen, “Astrology in the Service of the Empire: Knowledge, Prognostication,
and Politics at the Ottoman Court” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2016); Ahmet Tunç Şen,
“Reading the Stars at the Ottoman Court: Bāyezīd II (r. 886/1481–918/1512) and His Celes-
tial Interests,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and
Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 557–608. For intellectual-
and cultural-historical purposes, I define “the West” as the half of Afro-Eurasia west of South
India, incorporating the Arabic, Persian, and Latin cosmopolises, that vast realm where the
Hellenic-Abrahamic synthesis reigned supreme and philosophy was pursued in simultan-
eously mathematical and linguistic terms (Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Taḥqīq vs. Taqlīd in the
Renaissances of Western Early Modernity,”Philological Encounters 3, no. 1 (2018): 193–249). To
the extent other regions were later incorporated into these cosmopolises, moreover, they too
may be considered Western.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 381

can begin to speak of an Ottoman Empire, and the beginnings of Ottoman

imperial universalism. Like his father Bāyezīd and more glorious son Ḳānūnī
Süleymān (r. 926–974/1520–1566), Selīm would seem to have been an import-
ant patron of the occult sciences to this end. Yet he has been little studied as
such. Nevertheless, surviving archival evidence suggests that Selīm too relied
on court occultists (astrologers, lettrists, geomancers) for political and milit-
ary intelligence during his career of conquest and took seriously their ideolo-
gical formulations in panegyric; this includes in the first place his campaigns
against the Safavids at the Battle of Chaldiran in 920/1514 and against the Mam-
luk Sultanate in 922/1516–1517. With his conclusive, epochal triumphs, which
vaulted the Ottoman state to the status of an Islamicate and Mediterranean
superpower, Ottoman imperial ideology became increasingly aggressively mil-
lenarian and apocalyptic in tenor—as well as occult-scientific.
Due to endemic scholarly occultophobia, however, this basic feature of early
Ottoman imperialism has long been elided in the historiography, apart from the
work of a few specialists in the last two decades; as a consequence, most of the
great mass of relevant occult-scientific texts produced by Ottoman court elites
have yet to be studied, much less published in modern editions. This is a prob-
lem that continues to cripple the study of Islamicate and especially Persianate
early modernity as a whole: the intellectual and social history of Arabo-Persian
occult sciences like astrology, alchemy, lettrism, and geomancy—utterly main-
stream in the elite scholarly discourses of the post-Mongol Persian cosmopolis,
including the Ottoman sphere—remains almost entirely unwritten. Not one
monograph on any of these major components and drivers of Western early
modernity has been published to date.3 This, of course, is in extreme contrast
to scholarship on the early modern Far West, which is to say Latinate Europe,
where the same sciences, particularly astrology and kabbalah, have been taken
incomparably more seriously by historians of science and historians of empire

3 While several such studies are forthcoming, at the time of writing they remain primarily in the
form of unpublished dissertations produced in the last seven years. See, e.g., Şen, “Astrology
in the Service”; Tuna Artun, “Hearts of Gold and Silver: Production of Alchemical Knowledge
in the Early Modern Ottoman World” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2013); Nicholas G. Har-
ris, “Better Religion through Chemistry: Aydemir al-Jildakī and Alchemy under the Mamluks”
(PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2020); Noah D. Gardiner, “Esotericism in a Manuscript
Culture: Aḥmad al-Būnī and His Readers through the Mamlūk Period” (PhD diss., University
of Michigan, 2014); Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest for a Universal Science: The Occult
Philosophy of Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka Iṣfahānī (1369–1432) and Intellectual Millenarianism in Early
Timurid Iran” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2012); Fien De Block, “(Re)drawing the Lines: The
Science of the Stars in the Late Fifteenth Century Sultanate of Cairo” (PhD diss., Ghent Uni-
versity, 2020).
382 melvin-koushki

alike—for occult science becomes a reasonable pursuit worthy of chronic-

ling only when done by Latin Christians. Multiple studies apiece have thus
been devoted to or frequently treat of early modern Christian sovereigns, like
Rudolf II (r. 1576–1612), Holy Roman Emperor, and Peter the Great (r. 1682–1725),
Europeanizer of Russia, precisely in their status as occult philosopher-kings,4
but none to Selīm’s equally openly occult-scientific construction of the Otto-
man Empire as New Byzantium. Indeed, the first scholarly monograph on Selīm
in a West European language was published only in 2017, and it nowhere notes
the Ottoman conqueror’s personal reliance on occult scientists for both ideo-
logical and military-strategic purposes.5
Such a blatant double standard, purely Enlightened colonialist-orientalist in
origin, is designed to mystify, to Otherize, to de-Westernize the Mediterranean
empire that is the Ottoman, to say nothing of its competitor Persianate imper-
ial polities to the east.6 That our picture of Ottoman occult-scientific imperial
culture is necessarily still hazy and impressionistic as a result further reinforces
in turn the historiographically perverting impression, entirely illusory, of a strict
early modern East-West, Islamdom-Christendom divide. While this impression
is being ably combated on many fronts, particularly by historians committed to
Sanjay Subrahmanyam’s connected histories approach to the study of the mil-
lenarian imperialism common to the early modern Afro-Eurasian ecumene as
a whole,7 the occult science front remains firmly in the control of hostile histori-
ographical forces dedicated to the mystification and orientalization of Islam.
But the remedy is a simple one, if strenuous: let us to the Arabo-Perso-
Turkish sources.8 This article is a modest offering in this philological vein.

4 See, e.g., Peter Marshall, The Magic Circle of Rudolf II: Alchemy and Astrology in Renaissance
Prague (New York: Walker, 2009); Robert Collis, The Petrine Instauration: Religion, Esotericism
and Science at the Court of Peter the Great, 1689–1725 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). This spate of schol-
arship was initiated by Frances Yates (d. 1981), particularly in her Astraea: The Imperial Theme
in the Sixteenth Century (London: Pimlico, 1975).
5 H. Erdem Çipa, The Making of Selim: Succession, Legitimacy, and Memory in the Early Mod-
ern Ottoman World (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2017). This otherwise excellent
study, which rightly presents Selīm as quintessential early modern Eurasian ruler, touches in
passing on only a few of the occult-scientific aspects (astrological, lettrist, oneiromantic) of
the various ideological (re)constructions of Selīm’s royal persona after his death.
6 On this problem, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “(De)colonizing Early Modern Occult Philo-
sophy,” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 98–112.
7 An approach first announced in Subrahmanyam, “Connected Histories: Notes towards a
Reconfiguration of Early Modern Eurasia,” Modern Asian Studies 31, no. 3 (1997): 735–762; see
also Cornell Fleischer, “A Mediterranean Apocalypse: Prophecies of Empire in the Fifteenth
and Sixteenth Centuries,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 61 (2018):
18–90.
8 See my call for a return to radical cosmic philology in Melvin-Koushki, “Taḥqīq vs. Taqlīd.”
toward a neopythagorean historiography 383

Given how thickly occult-scientific texts populate the surviving Ottoman

archive, however, we are fairly spoiled for choice. I therefore invoke as repres-
entative example a short Turkish treatise ostensibly penned by Kemālpaşazāde
Aḥmed (d. 940/1534) in late 1516 or early 1517, wherein the famed Ottoman
scholar and soon-to-be imperial Chief Jurisconsult (shaykh al-islām) urges
Selīm to conquer Cairo—a feat his dread patron promptly achieved (in Febru-
ary 1517), with major ramifications for early modern Western history. Indeed,
later sources suggest that it was precisely his ideological support for Selīm
during the Ottoman invasion of the Mamluk Sultanate, in which he particip-
ated, that earned our scholar his exalted imperial appointment in Istanbul
several years later.9 Significantly, however, Kemālpaşazāde’s argument therein
is exclusively lettrist: he analyzes Q 21:105—For We have written in the Psalms,
after the Remembrance: My righteous servants shall inherit the land—to scien-
tifically prove the Ottoman sovereign’s conquest of the Mamluk capital to be
cosmically inevitable.
Despite the fame of its author, this curious yet likely authentic little work,
titled simply Fetḥ-i Mıṣır ḥaḳḳında īmā ve işārāt (“Allusions as to the Conquest
of Egypt”) and preserved in at least two late manuscripts,10 has been ignored
in the scholarship to date. The sole exception is a brief 1990 study with mod-
ern Latin transcription by Mustafa Kılıç, which first brought it to light; but
that study, symptomatically, wholly abstracts the treatise from its intellectual
and ideological context.11 (Cornell Fleischer’s brief citation of the same treatise
provides a corrective.12) True, it is easily disappeared into Kemālpaşazāde’s vast

9 Kemālpaşazāde likewise provided crucial legal support for Selīm’s offensive against the
Safavids at the Battle of Chaldiran, penning to this end a treatise, Risāla fī Takfīr al-rawāfiḍ
(“On declaring the rejectionists [i.e., Shiʿis] unbelievers”), that rules war against Shah
Ismāʿīl to be not a collective but an individual legal obligation ( farḍ ʿayn) (V.L. Ménage,
“Kemāl Pas̲h̲a-Zāde,”Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.; see Nihal Atsız, “Kemalpaşaoğlu’nun
Eserleri I,” Şarkiyat Mecmuası 6 (1966): 71–112, esp. 109–110, no. 84). In recognition of his
ideological support for this and the Syria campaign, Selīm had already promoted him to
the prestigious post of chief military judge (ḳāḍīʿasker) of Anadolu in late 1516. It should be
noted, however, that Kemālpaşazāde was not elevated to the position of şeyḫülislam until
1524, and demoted from his military judgeship in the meantime (my thanks to Ahmet Tunç
Şen for this observation).
10 Istanbul, Süleymaniye MS Esad Efendi 3729/2, fols. 136a–137b; Konya, MS Mevlana Müzesi
2315/2, fols. 71b–72b. In the latter majmūʿa, Kemālpaşazāde’s treatise occurs between the
poet Fażlī’s (d. 1563) Gül u bülbül (“Rose and nightingale”) (fols. 2b–70a) and a collection
of his own fatwas (fols. 73a–99b).
11 Mustafa Kılıç, “İbn-i Kemal’in Mısır Fethine Dair Bir Risale-i Acibesi,” Diyanet Dergisi 26
(1990): 111–120.
12 Fleischer, “Seer to the Sultan: Haydar-i Remmal and Sultan Süleyman,” in Cultural Hori-
384 melvin-koushki

oeuvre, the majority of which is not occult-scientific in tenor; yet it offers a win-
dow onto not just one Ottoman scholar’s individual occultist “dabblings” but
rather the development of Ottoman, and by extension early modern Islamicate,
universalist imperial ideology as a whole, and that at a critical, transformative
juncture in Western history.
I do not here propose to situate Kemālpaşazāde’s treatise in the broader his-
tory of lettrism (ʿilm al-ḥurūf ), a science I have treated of elsewhere at length in
relation to post-Mongol history of science and history of empire;13 I will merely
adumbrate, as a prompt to specialists, the immediate textual and theoretical
context in which it may most productively be read. Suffice it to say that in the
early modern Persianate context lettrism emerged as the primary expression
of Islamic Neopythagoreanism—precisely as kabbalah, the Arabic science’s
coeval Hebrew twin, was being embraced as the same by Jewish and Chris-
tian scholars in the Renaissance Latinate: world as (Arabic/Hebrew) text.14
This study thus but provides further philological corroboration of the frame-
work for the study of early modern Ottoman occult-scientific, millenarian, and
apocalyptic imperialism constructed by Cornell Fleischer and İhsan Fazlıoğlu
and their students.15 More specifically, it serves to complement Ahmet Tunç
Şen’s work on Ottoman astrology in general and Kemālpaşazāde in particu-
lar, to whom was also attributed, probably correctly, a treatise on talismans
and astral magic, likewise calculated to serve Ottoman imperial ends,16 and our

zons: A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman, ed. Jayne L. Warner, 2 vols. (Istanbul and
Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2001), 1:290–299, esp. 295.
13 See, e.g., Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One: The Mathematicalization of the
Occult Sciences in the High Persianate Tradition,” Intellectual History of the Islamicate
World 5, no. 1 (2017): 127–199; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Imperial Talismanic Love: Ibn
Turka’s Debate of Feast and Fight (1426) as Philosophical Romance and Lettrist Mirror for
Timurid Princes,” Der Islam 96, no. 1 (2019): 42–86; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Early Mod-
ern Islamicate Empire: New Forms of Religiopolitical Legitimacy,” in The Wiley-Blackwell
History of Islam, ed. Armando Salvatore, Roberto Tottoli, and Babak Rahimi (Hoboken, NJ:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2017), 353–375.
14 See, e.g., Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The New Brethren of Purity: Ibn Turka and the
Renaissance of Neopythagoreanism in Early Modern Iran,” in Companion to the Reception
of Pythagoras and Pythagoreanism, ed. Aurélien Robert, Irene Caiazzo, and Constantin
Macris, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming); Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “World as (Arabic)
Text: Mīr Dāmād and the Neopythagoreanization of Philosophy in Safavid Iran,” Studia
Islamica 114, no. 3 (2019): 378–431.
15 See, e.g., Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom”; Fazlıoğlu, “İlk Dönem Osmanlı İlim ve Kültür Hay-
atında İhvanu’s-Safâ ve Abdurrahman Bistâmî,”Dîvân: İlmî Araştırmalar 1 (1996): 229–240.
16 This treatise is studied and contextualized in A. Tunç Şen, “Practicing Astral Magic in
Sixteenth-Century Ottoman Istanbul: A Treatise on Talismans Attributed to Ibn Kemāl
(d. 1534),” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 66–88.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 385

study of Selīm’s reliance on astrology, lettrism, and geomancy in the runup to

the Battle of Chaldiran and its immediate aftermath.17 It also extends Noah
Gardiner’s equally pivotal studies of thirteenth- to fifteenth-century Mam-
luk Cairo as emergent occult-scientific capital of the Islamicate world.18 To
their findings I add my own on intellectual-ideological developments between
Mamluk, Timurid, and Aqquyunlu spheres during the transformative ninth/fif-
teenth century—precisely the source, I argue, of Ottoman lettrist imperialism,
first developed in the early tenth/sixteenth century in the immediate wake of
Selīm’s victory at Chaldiran and conquest of Syria and Egypt, of which Kemāl-
paşazāde is among the earliest exponents.19 More broadly, this study stands as
counterpoint and control for the study of those cognate—if less successful—
early modern forms of Christian kabbalist scientific imperialism developed
slightly to the west, emblematized by the ardent Welsh Neopythagoreanizer
John Dee’s (d. 1609) status as occultist-cartographer to Queen Elizabeth I (r.
1558–1603) and coiner of the term “Brytish Impire.”20

1 Kemālpaşazāde’s Lettrist Argument

The lettrist argument advanced by our Ottoman scholar-ideologue in this short

treatise is admirably pellucid and straightforward, and easily summarized. For
the text itself, I refer the reader to Kılıç’s (highly idiosyncratic) transcription of
that preserved in MS Mevlana Müzesi 2315, the work of a later copyist, who
opens, in encomium: “That sultan of scholars and lord of worthies, the late
Kemālpaşazāde, produced the following remarkable (ʿacīb) treatise on the con-
quest of Egypt.”

17 Şen and Melvin-Koushki, “Divining Chaldiran: Ottoman Deployments of Astrology,

Lettrism and Geomancy in the Ottoman-Safavid Conflict,” forthcoming.
18 See, e.g., Gardiner, “Esotericism”; Gardiner, “The Occultist Encyclopedism of ʿAbd al-
Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī,” Mamlūk Studies Review 20 (2017): 3–38, and his forthcoming mono-
graph Occult Cairo.
19 I summarize my findings to date in two forthcoming monographs: Occult Philosophers and
Philosopher Kings in Early Modern Iran: The Life and Legacy of Ibn Turka, Timurid Lettrist,
and The Occult Science of Empire in Aqquyunlu-Safavid Iran: Two Shirazi Lettrists and Their
Manuals of Magic.
20 See, e.g., John Dee, The Limits of the British Empire, ed. Ken MacMillan (Westport, CT: Prae-
ger, 2004); Håkan Håkansson, Seeing the Word: John Dee and Renaissance Occultism (Lund:
Lunds Universitet, 2001); Yates, Astraea. For a comparative study of early modern West-
ern (Islamo-Christianate) occult-scientific imperialisms, see Melvin-Koushki, The Occult
Science of Empire.
386 melvin-koushki

Again, the treatise consists wholly of an analysis of Q 21:105: For We have writ-
ten in the Psalms, after the Remembrance: My righteous servants shall inherit the
land. Even on the face of it, this quranic promise has a clear imperialist thrust
and had long been interpreted and invoked as such, but it is entirely vague as
to historical timing: any self-identified Muslim sovereign was free to lay claim
to it, and many did over the centuries. How best, then, to make one’s imperial
claim to a quranic promise exclusive, in the teeth of rival claimants?
By means of lettrist analysis, whereby the Quran itself may be mathemat-
icized, and hence rehistoricized. It is a basic principle of letter divination ( jafr),
from the Comprehensive Prognosticon (al-Jafr wa-l-jāmiʿa) of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
(d. 40/661) onward, that the quranic muqaṭṭaʿāt21 are the richest possible source
of data about past, present, and future events, especially political events, to the
end of time; but this principle could be and was easily extended to the Quran
as a whole, and indeed to any word or name of relevance, such as those of
the political actors involved.22 As with the famous Sūrat al-Rūm prophecy, on
which more below, temporally vague quranic statements may thus be revealed
to encode the precise dates on and places in which, and by precisely whose
agency, they may be expected to historically manifest. A basic facility with
lettrist operations, such as ḥisāb al-jummal and taksīr (cf. Hebrew gematria and
temurah), could therefore be an especially attractive skill in a scholar in search
of royal patronage. In penning this short treatise, then, Kemālpaşazāde showed
himself to be one such scholar; and Selīm rewarded him more than amply for
his mastery of this mathematical-quranic science.
Our soon-to-be Ottoman şeyḫülislam boldly opens with a summary of his
lettrist findings:

The cited holy verse constitutes a sublime and subtle allusion to the fact
that the lands of Egypt will, in the wintertime of two years past 9[20],
easily pass from the hands of the slave faction controlling the aforemen-
tioned region into the control of the governors of free men, who will erad-
icate them. That victorious army’s leader will be of the house of ʿOs̱mān
and they hence are called Ottomans; and the glorious sultan who will lead
them in the conquest of the aforesaid region will be called Selīm.

21 That is, the mysterious separated letters that open 29 quranic suras; the second, Sūrat al-
Baqara, for instance, opens with ALM. They have no parallel in the other Abrahamic scrip-
tures and immediately lend themselves to—even require, according to some exegetes—
lettrist analysis.
22 See Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest,” 171–172, 285–290.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 387

The balance of the treatise consists of a series of ten points in which the
following operative elements of the verse are identified and analyzed (here bol-
ded):

﴾َ‫حون‬ ّٰ َ ‫ى ٱل‬
ُ ِ ‫صل‬ َ ِ‫ض يرَ ِثُه َا عِب َاد‬ ّ َ ‫كت َب ْن َا ف ِى ٱل َز ّبوُ رِ م ِۢن بـَـعْدِ ٱلذ ِّك ْر ِ َأ‬
َ ‫ن ٱْلَأْر‬ َ ‫﴿و َلقَ َْد‬

wa-la-qad = 140 = Salīm dhikr = 920

al-zabūr = zamharīr al-arḍ = miṣr
B=2 ʿibādī = ʿ[Uthmān] bādī

1) That this event will take place sometime after the Hijrī year 920 [1514–
1515CE] is indicated by the phrase after the Remembrance (min baʿd al-
dhikr)—for dhikr equals 920.
2) That this event will take place two years after the Hijrī year 920, that is, in
922 [1516–1517CE], is indicated by the preposition baʿd, here broken into
its elements, B (= 2) and ʿad[d], together meaning “the count of two,” that
is added to the 920 of dhikr.
3) That this event will take place in winter is indicated by the phrase in the
Psalms ( fī l-zabūr), for fī is likewise a temporal particle, while al-zabūr
comprises seven letters (with the L doubled), the same value as its initial
letter Z—which therefore governs the timing of this event. In this case, it
refers to the term zamharīr, the bitter cold of winter, which is referred to
in common usage as the “forty days” (eyyām-ı ʿerbaʿīn). It is thus apparent
that the battle in question will occur toward the end of the forty days of
winter.
4) That the site of this event will be Egypt is indicated by the fact that in
the holy, uncreated Quran (kelām-ı ḳadīm) the term the land (al-arḍ),
when used with the definite particle, usually refers to Egypt, as the fol-
lowing ten verses show, all treating of the Israelites under Pharaoh and
their exodus: And We bequeathed upon the people that were abased in all
the east and the west of the land We had blessed (Q 7:137); Yet We desired to
be gracious to those that were abased in the land, and to make them leaders,
and to make them the inheritors (Q 28:5); And to establish them in the land,
and to show Pharaoh and Haman, and their hosts, what they were dread-
ing from them (Q 28:6); O my people, enter the Holy Land which God has
prescribed for you, and turn not back in your traces, to turn about losers
(Q 5:21); ‘Wilt thou leave Moses and his people to work corruption in the
land …?’ (Q 7:127); ‘Set me over the land’s storehouses …’ (Q 12:55); So We
established Joseph in the land (Q 12:56); Now Pharaoh had exalted himself
388 melvin-koushki

in the land and had divided its inhabitants into sects (Q 28:4); ‘Never will I
quit this land …’ (Q 12:80); ‘Thou only desirest to be a tyrant in the land …’
(Q 28:19).23
5) The fifth indication as to the invasion (khurūj) will only become evident
through an explanation of the eighth below.
6) That the conquest will happen easily and quickly is indicated by the verb
shall inherit ( yarithu), implying a lack of struggle and great wealth as
spoils.
7) The verse likewise concerns the removal of the aforementioned realm
from the control of the slaves (i.e., mamlūks), indicating that that fac-
tion and their heirs will be subjugated and perish where they stand, and
this at the hand of free men, their natural masters—for God’s servants (as
denoted by the pronoun My) are no slaves.24
8) This has already been explained.25
9) That the victorious army will be led by a scion of ʿOs̱mān is indicated by
the word My servants (ʿibādī), which is parsable as ʿ + BADY, with the ini-
tial ʿ referring to ʿOs̱mān and the BADY here reading bādī, which is to say
manifest (ẓāhir).
10) That the scion of ʿOs̱mān who will manifest to lead the victorious army
in question must be Selīm is indicated by the intensifying particle cluster
opening the verse, wa-la-qad (WLQD), equivalent to 140—the same value
as the name Selīm (SLYM).

Thus analyzed, the verse is now revealed to read:

Selīm—We have decreed that two [years] after 920 [1514–1515], in the winter,
this [son of ] ʿOs̱mān shall manifest leading an army of righteous, free men
and easily take Egypt.

And so it came to pass: In the winter of 922 (January–February 1517), upon

Kemālpaşazāde’s lettrist prompting, Selīm did indeed manifest with his army
and easily take Egypt. (As it happened, the decisive Battle of Raydāniyya was

23 Trans. Arberry. As Kılıç notes (“İbn-i Kemal’in,” 115 n. 3, 118–119), Kemālpaşazāde rather
identifies this term with Syria in his tafsir.
24 On a similar Aqquyunlu critique of Mamluk slave origins see Matthew Melvin-Koushki,
“The Delicate Art of Aggression: Uzun Hasan’s Fathnama to Qaytbay of 1469,”Iranian Stud-
ies 44, no. 2 (2011): 193–214, esp. 196.
25 Point eight was not, in fact, explained in point five as promised, suggesting an error on the
part of the copyist, or perhaps Kılıç, whose transcription is rather unreliable.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 389

fought on 29 Dhū l-Ḥijja 922/23 January 1517, the last day of the Islamic lunar
year—one day later, and Kemālpaşazāde’s calculation as given in the treatise
would have been invalidated.) Selīm’s quranic claim, unlike his Muslim oppon-
ents’, is therefore encoded mathematically in the very structure of the cosmos
and hence historically ineluctable.26
To be sure, the document recording Kemālpaşazāde’s coup is brief and pre-
served, to my knowledge, in only two later copies and thus of questionable
authenticity. Yet it accords with the scholar’s known occult-scientific procliv-
ities,27 and the episode it records soon gained fame in scholarly circles as
a classic instance of quranic prognostication in the support of empire; such
factors suggest it to be at base authentic. But even if originally inauthentic, it
is indicative of an early-tenth/sixteenth-century Ottoman ethos: within a cen-
tury the same episode was circulating under his name even in Ottoman Arabia.
It is cited, most notably, by the Maghribi Sufi-scholar and traveler Abū Sālim
ʿAbd Allāh al-ʿAyyāshī (d. 1090/1679) in his celebrated Riḥla (“Travelogue”), an
exceptionally rich account of his sojourn in Cairo, Mecca, Medina, and Jerus-
alem between the years 1661–1663, whence it became a standard component
of Kemālpaşazāde’s biography.28 Two centuries later, Shihāb al-Dīn Maḥmūd
al-Alūsī (d. 1270/1854), Hanafi mufti of Baghdad, notes in his tafsīr on this
verse Kemālpaşazāde’s amazingly (gharīb) accurate prognostication for Selīm
as being a well-known story (qiṣṣa shahīra), though he personally dismisses it
as mere chance;29 another century on, our Ottoman scholar’s entry as a his-
torically preeminent Hanafi jurist in the legal history al-Fikr al-sāmī fī taʾrīkh
al-fiqh al-islāmī (“High Intellection: On the History of Islamic Jurisprudence”)
of Muḥammad al-Ḥajwī al-Thaʿālibī al-Fāsī (d. 1376/1956), reformist minister
of justice in French-protectorate Morocco, consists solely of this episode in
al-ʿAyyāshī’s telling.30 Significantly for our purposes here, moreover, the latter
occurs in the context of the traveling scholar’s unusually long discussion of his
interactions with one Shaykh Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad Ibn al-Tāj, chief timekeeper

26 And yet, had Selīm not been persuaded with legal and lettrist arguments, would he actu-
ally have invaded Egypt? On a similar instance of the tension between free will and predes-
tination in Ottoman lettrist historiography, see Noah Gardiner’s Chapter 6 in this volume.
27 See below.
28 Al-ʿAyyāshī, al-Riḥla al-ʿAyyāshiyya, ed. Saʿīd al-Fāḍilī and Sulaymān al-Qurashī, 2 vols.
(Abu Dhabi: Dār al-Suwaydī, 2006), 2:30–32.
29 Al-Alūsī, Rūḥ al-maʿānī fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-ʿaẓīm wa-l-sabʿ al-mathānī, 30 vols. (Beirut: Dār
Iḥyāʾ al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, 1970?), 17:104.
30 Al-Ḥajwī, Kitāb al-Fikr al-sāmī fī taʾrīkh al-fiqh al-islāmī, 4 vols. (Rabat: Maṭbaʿat Idārat al-
Maʿārif, 1345–1349/1927–31), 4:23–24, no. 550. This and the previous two sources are cited
by Kılıç.
390 melvin-koushki

(muwaqqit) at the sanctuary in Medina; like many of his profession, Ibn al-
Tāj was renowned for his skill in the mathematical sciences, including in the
first place astrology, lettrism and various other methods of prognostication—
sciences evidently still esteemed by Ottoman political elites of the later elev-
enth/seventeenth century no less than by those of the early tenth/sixteenth.31
I translate it in full:

Another example of the same principle, to wit, that the holy Quran com-
prises within it information about everything [that has been, is or will
ever be], including disasters and other major events, was related to me by
my current subject, Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad Ibn al-Tāj, as follows:
The king of Anatolia (malik bilād al-Rūm), Sultan Salīm, one of the
[great] kings of the day, was the first among them to invade Egypt and
wrest it from the hand of Sultan al-Ghawrī, this in the year 923 [1517].
His motivation in so doing was the fact that, having just conquered Syria,
he desired to extend his conquests to Iraq, for it was the homeland and
residence of his Turkmen forebears. [Salīm] accordingly decamped from
Istanbul, his capital, but when he arrived with his forces to Syria, he was
unable to provision them adequately due to the great rise in prices in that
region; he therefore required provisioning from Egypt and wrote to al-
Ghawrī to that effect, requesting to be provisioned from his realm. But
when Shah [Ismāʿīl], the king of Persian Iraq at that time, heard of Sul-
tan Salīm’s mobilization, he wrote to al-Ghawrī, his ally, asking that he
deflect and impede [Salīm] to the extent possible. This request found
al-Ghawrī already furious at Sultan Salīm for taking Syria and fearing
that he intended to extend his domain to Egypt. (At the time, Egypt was
the center of the Islamic world, ruled by its most poweful kings, for the
Abbasid caliphate had been transferred there in the wake of the Mon-

31 Al-ʿAyyāshī, al-Riḥla, 2:11: tamahhara fī ʿilm al-ḥisāb wa-l-tawqīt wa-l-tanjīm wa-nfarada

fī tilka l-aqṭār bi-maʿrifat ʿilm al-sīmiyāʾ wa-l-zayārij wa-l-ḥidthān bi-ṭuruq mutaʿaddida,
fa-nāla bi-dhālika wajāhatan ʿind al-umarāʾ wa-arbāb al-manāṣib. As al-ʿAyyāshī relates,
however, he was frustrated in his attempts to learn the science of jafr at Ibn al-Tāj’s
hand, and expresses his frustration with a critique of lettrism more generally. That this
Maghribi scholar-Sufi references Ibn Khaldūn’s own critique to this end, drawing on both
the Muqaddima and Shifāʾ al-sāʾil, while also allowing for the legitimacy of the science
when done by saints, is significant in this context. But despite his reservations, he attempts
to present evidence in its support impartially, drawing on Ibn ʿArabī and al-Būnī in par-
ticular, as the science’s two greatest authorities, and including the anecdote about Kemāl-
paşazāde translated below. For this long section on Ibn al-Tāj, featuring primarily lettrist
material, see al-ʿAyyāshī, 2:11–61.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 391

gol catastrophe.) Thus, when Sultan Salīm requested provisioning of al-

Ghawrī, the latter thought it but a pretext [for invasion], given the timing,
and not due to inflation [in Syria]; he therefore declined, offering weak
excuses. Salīm accordingly divined his intent to prevent him from passing
through to Iraq—and now set his sights on the conquest not of Iraq but
of Egypt.
To this end, he sought the counsel of the scholars in his retinue,
explaining to them his grounds [for attack]: al-Ghawrī had refused him
provisioning from Egypt despite his need for it. But they were unanim-
ous: “It is not licit for you to attack him, for he is sovereign in his own
realm, has been fully cooperative with your demands [in the past], and
has made no declaration of war; how then could it be licit to attack him
in his own realm without cause?”
Among those scholars assembled, however, was the penetrating (al-
muḥaqqiq) Ibn Kamāl Bāshā, the most junior of them. He addressed [the
sultan]: “Commander, it is indeed licit for you to attack him, for it is in the
Book of God that you shall enter Egypt this very year.” [The sultan] replied,
“How could that be so?” Said [Ibn Kamāl], “I will not [now] issue a fatwa
in the presence of these most esteemed leading scholars of Islam but ask
that you delay the matter for a week, until they have had time to contem-
plate it further. For God Most High has said: We have neglected nothing in
the Book (Q 6:38)—how then could such a notable event as this not be in
the Book of God Most High, which contains the exposition of all things?”
Salīm therefore declared to the assembled: “I am delaying the mat-
ter for a week, that you might search out the meaning of what he said.”
But they remonstrated: “Commander, our answer in a week will be the
same as our answer now!” Ibn Kamāl, however, insisted that the delay
was necessary. (His purpose in this—though God only knows—was to
demonstrate to the king his [scholarly] superiority, his ability to grasp
immediately what other [scholars] were unable to even upon reflection;
for had he explained himself immediately, they might have claimed that
anyone could grasp the matter if given time to reflect.)
Having delayed the matter for a week, Salīm reassembled them once it
had passed and again asked them [their legal opinion], and [as promised]
they replied, “Our verdict then is our verdict now.” But said Ibn Kamāl:
“Commander, they have most certainly read in the glorious Book of God
that you shall enter Egypt with your army this very year, although they
have not understood this fact.” [The assembled scholars] replied, “And
where is that?” He answered, “In the Most High’s statement For We have
written in the Psalms, after the Remembrance: My righteous servants shall
392 melvin-koushki

inherit the land.” They laughed at this, saying, “What does this have to do
with the matter?”
[Ibn Kamāl proceeded to expound]: “The Most High’s statement for
(wa-la-qad) is equivalent to [the name] Salīm by way of gematria (ḥisāb
al-jummal)—both equal 140. Thus the statement [as a whole] means
Salīm—We have written in the Psalms that after [the year] 920 he shall
inherit the land. For the Psalms (al-dhikr) equals, minus the definite art-
icle, that number. And the land here refers, according to many exegetes,
to Egypt, while the righteous servants of this era are your troops, inasmuch
as there are none more upright among the armies of the Muslims in all the
regions of the world, this due to their upholding the sunna of jihad and
their conquest of the larger part of the Christian domains. They are com-
mitted to the way of the sunna and jamāʿa more than any other [Muslim]
army, whether those of Iraq, whose creed is corrupt, as is that of most of
Yemen and India, or those of the Maghrib, whose resolve to uphold the
standards of Islam has become weak, or those of Egypt, whom worldly
concerns have overmastered.”
[Ibn Kamāl] continued in this vein at length, and Sultan Salīm was
greatly pleased with his exposition. The other jurists, however, while
granting the ingenuity and subtlety of his interpretation, nevertheless
rejoined: “This still does not suffice to permit an attack on [a ruler] who
has not rebelled or declared war against any Muslims. Even if the quranic
allusion does suggest that this will take place, there must still be a proper
basis on which to issue a legal opinion.” Said Ibn Kamāl, “Commander, this
too may be readily found. Simply send a message to Sultan al-Ghawrī as
follows: ‘When I arrived in this region I was unable to accomplish what I
had here intended, so I have purposed rather to make for the Hijaz to per-
form the rite of pilgrimage. But I have no route nor means of provisioning
except through your realm; I therefore desire that you grant me permis-
sion to pass through your realm and provision therein.’ There is no doubt
but that he will forbid and debar you from passing through his realm—
and if he debars you from performing the pilgrimage, it becomes licit for
you to attack him and declare war.”
Thereupon the [assembled] jurists expressed their support (istaḥsana)
for his [ingenious] opinion on the matter (for their legal school is replete
with such casuistry, and the embrace of such [dubious] methods is for
them a universal law).32 Sultan Salīm therefore wrote to al-Ghawrī in this

32 I.e., the Hanafi. This snide aside reflects al-ʿAyyāshī’s Malikism.

toward a neopythagorean historiography 393

wise, who replied in hostile fashion [as predicted]: he strongly declared

his refusal, promising that [Salīm] shall not drink even a cupful from the
Nile unless it be over the backs of his slain, and other such threats. This
but strengthened Sultan Salīm’s resolve to attack Egypt, and he began the
necessary preparations.
Thus did [Salīm’s] conquest of that realm take place, whereby he
erased the claim of al-Ghawrī to Egypt, and slaughtered most of her schol-
ars and worthies and many of her officials, including even the Abbasid
caliph himself. But God’s command is doom decreed (Q 33:38). Ibn Kamāl’s
standing [with the sultan] rose greatly as a consequence, who thereupon
offered him his choice of imperial appointments (al-wilāya); he chose the
muftiship (al-fatwā) [of Istanbul], which he was granted, and excelled
therein, greatly promoting scholarship and elevating scholars. (May God
accept his [labors], amen.)33

A curious and memorable anecdote indeed—like the thousand similar such

scattered throughout early modern Arabo-Perso-Turkish chronicles, biograph-
ical dictionaries and other works, and similarly substantiated by uncounted
surviving lettrist treatises by scholars famed, like Kemālpaşazāde, or forgot-
ten. Regardless of the authenticity of this particular treatise, it thus accur-
ately reflects an ethos in which the strategic application of occult science
was considered an excellent means of securing patronage and climbing the
imperial hierarchy. But how precisely does it testify to an Ottoman intellectual-
ideological seachange in the early sixteenth century, to the inception of an
Ottoman lettrist imperialism?

2 The New Brethren in Cairo, Occult-Scientific Capital of the Persian

Cosmopolis

Due to the persistent eurocentrism and arabocentrism of Islamic history as a

field, the Ottoman Empire has been far better studied than its rival Persianate
empires to the east, Safavid, Uzbek and Mughal (this despite the fact that the
last far outstripped it in population and wealth), and the profound depend-

33 Note the rather confused timeline portrayed in al-ʿAyyāshī’s telling: Qānṣūh al-Ghawrī (r.
1501–1516) died of stroke during the Battle of Marj Dābiq in August 1516, and so was hardly
on hand in Cairo to angrily refuse Selīm’s request for passage through Egypt to the Hijaz
later that year. The details of Kemālpaşazāde’s explication are likewise dropped, including
his analysis of the words baʿd, al-zabūr, yarithu and ʿibādī.
394 melvin-koushki

ence of early Ottoman imperialism and intellectual culture alike on specifically

Timurid-Aqquyunlu models is still all too rarely acknowledged. Considerably
more attention has been paid to its Sunnizing self-definition in opposition to
Safavid messianic Shiʿi ideology on the one hand and its absorption of Mamluk
Arabic high literary culture—with Selīm’s conquest of the Sultanate—on the
other; Ottoman elite culture, while remaining heavily Persianate, was indeed
thenceforth gradually arabicized to a certain extent, and increasingly mediter-
raneanized, as it were, the state’s expansionist martial vigor trained more on
West Europe after Chaldiran. In particular, it inherited Mamluk encyclopedism,
as well as a book culture that for sheer volume and variety dwarfed its Renais-
sance Latin cognate to the northwest.34
What is routinely forgotten, however, is that the Mamluk Cairo and Dam-
ascus Selīm conquered in the early sixteenth century had themselves been
crucial nodes of the Persianate world since the thirteenth: these cities were the
vectors by which peculiarly Maghribi intellectual-ideological developments—
including in the first place lettrism itself—became hegemonic throughout the
post-Mongol persophone east. This basic point, little noted by Mamlukists and
hence Ottomanists, has long been appreciated by historians of Sufism, who
have tracked the epochal eastward transmission of the (heavily lettrist) thought
of Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) in particular.35 But the still dominant religionist,
Corbinian tendency in that field to a) disappear occultism into Sufism and b)
depoliticize both, has meant that such a remarkable and robust phenomenon
as Persianate occult-scientific imperialism, including its Ottoman subset, must
magically vanish from historiographical purview. Yet it is precisely that cultural
construct, I argue, that serves most strikingly to distinguish post-Mongol Islam-
icate political theory and practice from pre-Mongol precedent, that helps mark
the advent of a Western early modernity.36
We postmodern historians of early modern Islamdom must therefore calm
our colonialist mania for drawing borders, for rupture, by focusing rather on

34 For references see Melvin-Koushki, “Taḥqīq vs. Taqlīd”; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Of
Islamic Grammatology: Ibn Turka’s Lettrist Metaphysics of Light,” al-ʿUṣūr al-Wusṭā 24
(2016): 42–113.
35 Hailed Doctor Maximus (al-shaykh al-akbar) by his admirers and Doctor infidelissimus
(al-shaykh al-akfar) by his detractors, Ibn ʿArabī’s strictly monist, Neoplatonic-quranic
mystical philosophy pervades post-Mongol Islamicate intellectual history; it constitutes
the primary counterweight to mainstream Peripatetic-Illuminationist philosophy and was
definitively synthesized with the same in the ninth/fifteenth century by thinkers like Ibn
Turka, the preeminent Ibn ʿArabian lettrist (on whom see below).
36 Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Taḥqīq vs. Taqlīd”; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Imperial Talis-
manic Love”; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islamicate Empire.”
toward a neopythagorean historiography 395

the astonishing continuities—cosmological, cultural, intellectual, imperial, oc-

cultist—that made the vast Persianate world, and indeed the early modern
Islamo-Christianate world more broadly, an organic civilizational whole.37 And
these continuities were sustained, naturally, by the free circulation of scholars
and texts between politically competitive polities, especially via magnetic cos-
mopolises like Cairo—where the peculiarly western Arabic science of letters
was first sanctified, de-esotericized, adabized, Neopythagoreanized, and imperi-
alized.38
These processes culminated in the Mamluk capital in the late eighth/four-
teenth century, and specifically with a circle of Neopythagoreanizing scholar-
occultists—the self-styled New Brethren of Purity—attached to al-Malik al-
Ẓāhir Barqūq’s (r. 784–791, 792–801/1382–1389, 1390–1399) court.39 As new
research is showing, this “Manifest King” would seem to have been among
the first to actively experiment with the occult-scientific modes of sovereignty
that would thenceforth be such a distinctive feature of political theory and

37 See Richard Bulliet, The Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization (New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 2004); Garth Fowden, Before and after Muḥammad: The First Millennium
Refocused (Princeton, 2014). On ambiguity, contradiction and continuity as ruling prin-
ciples in Islamicate societies see Shahab Ahmed, What Is Islam? The Importance of Being
Islamic (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015); Thomas Bauer, Die Kultur der Ambi-
guität (Berlin: Verlag der Weltreligionen, 2011).
38 For an explanation of these terms, see Melvin-Koushki and Pickett, “Mobilizing Magic,”
248–253. On the sanctification of the occult sciences generally, see Liana Saif, “From
Ġāyat al-ḥakīm to Šams al-maʿārif : Ways of Knowing and Paths of Power in Medieval
Islam,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and
Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 297–345; on the de-
esotericization of lettrism in particular, see Gardiner, “Esotericism”; on the Neopythagore-
anization of the same see Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One”; Melvin-Koushki, “The New
Brethren of Purity.”; Melvin-Koushki, “World as (Arabic) Text.” On the free circulation
of scholars and texts throughout the early modern Persian cosmopolis, see, e.g., Chris-
topher Markiewicz, The Crisis of Kingship in Late Medieval Islam: Persian Emigres and the
Making of Ottoman Sovereignty (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019); Mana Kia,
Persianate Selves: Memories of Place and Origin Before Nationalism (Stanford: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 2020).
39 This handle is in reference to the original Brethren of Purity (Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ) of fourth/
tenth-century Iraq, a shadowy group of scholar-bureaucrats whose encyclopedic Epistles
represent the definitive expression of Islamic occultist Neopythagoreanism in the medi-
eval period. On their decidedly nonshadowy ninth/fifteenth-century heirs, similarly
ardent Neopythagoreanizing occultists but unlike them famed scholars and ideologues of
empire, see Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom”; Fazlıoğlu, “İlk Dönem Osmanlı İlim”; İlker Evrim
Binbaş, Intellectual Networks in Timurid Iran: Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī and the Islamicate
Republic of Letters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 3–15; Melvin-Koushki,
“The Quest,” 16–19; Melvin-Koushki, “The New Brethren of Purity.”
396 melvin-koushki

practice in the post-Mongol Persianate world, although no coherent platform

was achieved before his death; Barqūq’s reign, like those of certain Ilkhanid
rivals several decades before, may thus be seen as a trial run for the much
bolder occultist imperial platforms developed for Timurid, Aqquyunlu, Safavid,
Mughal, and Ottoman dynasts over the next three centuries.40 Barqūq’s per-
sonal collection of occult-scientific books and evidently eager patronage of the
Brethren aside, perhaps the most telling index of this watershed ideological
shift is Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) himself: that the puritanical and reactionary
jurist-historian devoted a full eleven percent of his now-celebrated Muqaddima
(“Prolegomena”) to anti-occultist polemic—declaring (in the final recension
prepared for Barqūq) even lettrism to be mere sorcery and hence illegal, merit-
ing capital punishment—testifies precisely to the ascendancy of occultism at
his Mamluk patron’s court.41
The Brethren were not, however, themselves Mamluk scholars but Timurid
and Ottoman, drawn to Cairo as the intellectual—and especially occult-scien-
tific—capital of Islamdom of that era. The pivot of this highly mobile net-
work of scholar-occultists, the original “Lettrist International,”42 was one Sayyid
Ḥusayn Akhlāṭī (d. 799/1397); this Tabrizi Kurdish lettrist-alchemist became
personal physician to Barqūq and teacher in Cairo to the most influential
imperial occultists of the early ninth/fifteenth century, who were, in turn,
responsible for the new models of lettrist imperialism here in view. Most not-
ably, Akhlāṭī combined in himself the two primary strains of Western sanctified

40 On Ilkhanid ideological experimentation see, e.g., Jonathan Z. Brack, “Mediating Sacred

Kingship: Conversion and Sovereignty in Mongol Iran” (PhD diss., University of Michigan,
2016); on the more explicitly occult-scientific platforms of their Persianate successors, see
Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islamicate Empire.”
41 Noah Gardiner, Ibn Khaldūn versus the Occultists at Barqūq’s Court: The Critique of Lettrism
in al-Muqaddimah (Berlin: EB Verlag, 2020); Gardiner, “Occultist Encyclopedism”; Gar-
diner; “Esotericism,” 317–319; Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy: Šaraf
al-Dīn Yazdī Rebuts Ibn Ḫaldūn’s Critique of the Occult Sciences,” in “Islamicate Occult-
ism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double
issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 346–403.
42 In current Europeanist scholarship, the term “lettrism” (unlike its sister science kabba-
lah) is associated almost exclusively with the modern French surrealist movement of the
same name, founded in Paris in the mid-1940s by Isidore Isou (d. 2007), a schismatic
branch of which termed itself the Lettrist International. While an important aspect of
fourteenth/twentieth-century French avant-garde culture, lettrism as a mainstream West-
ern (Islamo-Judeo-Christianate) phenomenon, like its sister science kabbalah, is of far
greater historical significance and influence than is implied by its modern, very limited
reception in France. Terminologically, moreover, “lettrist” translates precisely the frequent
self-designation of the practitioners of this science as ḥarfīs or ahl al-ḥarf and is thus both
a first-order and a second-order term.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 397

lettrism as consolidated in Egypt by the fourteenth century: lettrist theory, asso-

ciated with Ibn ʿArabī, Andalusi Doctor Maximus, and lettrist praxis, associated
with the Ifriqiyan Sufi-mage Aḥmad al-Būnī (d. btw. 622–630/1225–1233).
Akhlāṭī’s own surviving works, however, are exclusively in a practical, Būnian
vein and feature no explicit imperialist agenda. It would be left to his greatest
Timurid student and deputy (khalīfa) in the east, Ibn Turka of Isfahan (d. 835/
1432), to systematize fully Ibn ʿArabian lettrism, unprecedentedly in service to
a series of Timurid sovereigns.43 Similarly, Būnian lettrism would be exhaust-
ively consolidated for the benefit of their Ottoman rivals by ʿAbd al-Raḥmān
al-Bisṭāmī (d. 858/1454), Antiochene associate of Akhlāṭī’s student and Otto-
man khalīfa Shaykh Badr al-Dīn (Bedreddīn) of Simavna (executed 823/1420),
himself the infamous Ibn ʿArabianizing ideologue behind what came to be
known as the most successful rebellion in early Ottoman history.44 Where Ibn
Turka’s lettrist oeuvre is philosophically rigorously systematizing and presents
its science as a new millenarian physics-metaphysics trumping Peripatetic-

43 On Ibn Turka as occult philosopher and metaphysical revolutionary, see Melvin-Koushki,

“The Quest”; Melvin-Koushki, “Ibn Turka,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.
44 On the development of Būnian lettrism and its afterlives, see Gardiner, “Esotericism.”
While Shaykh Badr al-Dīn has attracted a measure of scholarly attention in recent dec-
ades (see most recently Ahmet Y. Ocak, Osmanlı Toplumunda Zındıklar ve Mülhıdler (15.–17.
Yüzyıllar), 4th ed. (Istanbul: Türkiye Ekonomik ve Toplumsal Tarih Vakfı, 2013), 159–235)—
certainly far more than any other member of the New Brethren of Purity—the strongly
Ibn ʿArabian tenor of the millenarian-utopian project put forward in his famed Wāridāt
(“Inspirations”) has yet to be adequately appreciated or read in tandem with the writings
of his close colleague Ibn Turka in a similar vein. But the latter—and, following him, Sharaf
al-Dīn Yazdī—expressly imperializes Ibn ʿArabī’s tawḥīd for the benefit of their Timurid
patrons; Badr al-Dīn rather wielded it to subvert or challenge still tenuous Ottoman imper-
ial claims. A representative passage, here commenting on Q 20:105–107 (They will question
you concerning the mountains. Say: “My Lord will scatter them as ashes; then He will leave
them a level hollow wherein you shall see no crookedness nor any curving”) (MS Izmir 304,
fol. 24a; MS Haci Mahmud Efendi 2574, fol. 15a; cf. Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 122–132—
this passage is translated entirely incorrectly at 129):
This may be taken as referring to the manifestation of Essence (al-dhāt) and the
propagation of Oneness (al-tawḥīd) at the end of time; then shall rule belong [solely]
to the One Essence (al-dhāt al-wāḥid) wherein is no crookedness (ʿiwaj), and its domin-
ion will remove the mountains that are the Attributes ( jibāl al-ṣifāt). The master of this
age (ṣāḥib hādhā l-zamān = Mahdi) will be a site of manifestation of absolute Oneness
and will call all humanity thereto; he shall not be inclined to hide it, thereby deviating
(iʿwijāj) [from perfect balance] but shall rather prepare hearts and [all] sites of mani-
festation for the Attributes to receive the rulings of the Essence, called God (Allāh) and
the All-Merciful (al-Raḥmān). He shall manifest the rulings of the Essence and shall
occult those of the Attributes, and no longer shall [the latter’s] effects be besought as
once they were.
398 melvin-koushki

Illuminationist philosophy and Sufi theory both, al-Bisṭāmī’s is traditionist,

apocalypticist, Sufi-friendly and encyclopedic, which is to say quintessentially
Mamluk.
Ibn ʿArabian-Būnian lettrism thus diverged in the city that first imperi-
ally fostered it, Cairo, with Ibn Turkian lettrist theory becoming dominant in
scholarly-courtly discourse to the east and Bisṭāmian lettrist praxis to the north
during the course of the fifteenth century; but with Selīm’s conquest of that
city in 1517—and Kemālpaşazāde’s lettrist urging to that end—the two currents
reconverged.
Famously, in taking Damascus a few months prior, Selīm had declared Ibn
ʿArabī the patron saint of the Ottoman Empire, pointedly fulfilling the Greatest
Master’s putative prophecy: “When the S (i.e., Selīm) enters the Sh (i.e., Shām,
Damascus) shall the tomb of Muḥyī l-Dīn be found.”45 This prophecy was
enshrined in the pseudepigraphal al-Shajara al-nuʿmāniyya fī l-dawla al-ʿUth-
māniyya (“The Crimson Tree: On Ottoman Glory”), a cryptic jafrī text probably
produced by a member of al-Bisṭāmī’s circle in the mid- to late ninth/fifteenth
century, together with commentary ascribed to Ibn ʿArabī’s protégé Ṣadr al-
Dīn Qūnavī (d. 673/1274), which accurately predicted Selīm’s conquest of the
Mamluk sultanate in the early tenth/sixteenth. On this basis, it proclaims the
Ottoman Empire midwife of the eschaton, the last world empire in history.46
The Crimson Tree accordingly became a crucial prop to the Ottoman occult-
scientific, universalist imperialism developed under Süleymān. Similarly, as
Fleischer has shown, al-Bisṭāmī’s Miftāḥ al-jafr al-jāmiʿ (“Key to the Compre-
hensive Prognosticon”) came to function as urtext for the fashioning of the
Ottoman Lawgiver as last world emperor during the expansive first decades
of his rule and was even adopted as a dynastic handbook, with portable copies
proliferating at court.47
Early modern Ottoman universalist imperialism is, in short, largely illegible
absent an intellectual-historical understanding of Ibn ʿArabian-Būnian lettrism
as developed between the Mamluk, Timurid, and Ottoman realms during the

45 Ps.-Ibn ʿArabī, al-Shajara al-nuʿmāniyya fī l-dawla al-ʿUthmāniyya, ed. ʿĀṣim Ibrāhīm al-
Kayyālī (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 2011), 30.
46 See Denis Gril, “L’énigme de la Šaǧara al-nuʿmāniyya fī l-dawla al-ʿuthmāniyya, attribuée
à Ibn ʿArabī,” in Les traditions apocalyptiques au tournant de la chute de Constantiople, ed.
Benjamin Lellouch and Stéphane Yerasimos (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2000), 133–152; Fleischer,
“Ancient Wisdom,” 239. That this is an Ikhwānī text, or was meant to be perceived as such,
would seem to be confirmed by its opening address: iʿlam ayyuhā l-akh al-ṣafī wa-l-khill
al-wafī (“Know, pure brother and faithful friend …”).
47 Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom,” 238–239; Fleischer, “A Mediterranean Apocalypse,” 24, 44–47.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 399

eighth/fourteenth and ninth/fifteenth centuries. History of empire requires his-

tory of science.
That Ibn ʿArabī in particular has been studied almost exclusively within
a history of Sufism—that is, history of religion—framework thus constitutes
a major historiographical stumblingblock; this epochal imperialization of Ibn
ʿArabian science is thereby obscured. Historians of Sufism, to be sure, have
shown Ibn ʿArabī’s Neoplatonic doctrine of spiritual governance—a cosmic-
ally hierarchical system culminating in a single Pole (quṭb), one per genera-
tion, the supreme human being and axis mundi—to have had major implica-
tions for the development of post-Mongol Islamicate political theory, includ-
ing its Ottoman subset; early modern Muslim sovereigns accordingly jockeyed
for the specifically Ibn ʿArabian titles quṭb al-aqṭāb (“Pole of Poles”) and al-
insān al-kāmil (“the Perfect Man”) as a primary expression of their univer-
salist ambitions.48 But specialists have not yet appreciated the full extent to
which the Greatest Master was transformed into the ultimate ideologue of
early modern universalist imperialism—precisely in his reception, from Ibn
Turka forward, as chiefest authority on lettrism in Islamic history (with al-
Būnī and after Imams ʿAlī and Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq). For universal empire requires a
universal science to back it: Ibn ʿArabian tawḥīd, the “science of making One,”
recast by the New Brethren in strictly lettrist-imperialist and Neopythagorean-
mathematizing terms.49
Here Kemālpaşazāde’s status as a major interpreter, defender, and routin-
izer of Ibn ʿArabī takes on a new salience: this is the immediate sociopolit-
ical and epistemological context in which his lettrist treatise—calling, like the
The Crimson Tree and al-Bisṭāmī’s Key, for the conquest precisely of Cairo—
must be understood.50 Pithy, assured, and punchy, it signals Ibn ʿArabī’s

48 See, e.g., Michel Chodkiewicz, “The Esoteric Foundations of Political Legitimacy in Ibn
ʿArabi,” in Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi: A Commemorative Volume, ed. Stephen Hirtenstein and
Michael Tiernan (Shaftesbury: Element, 1993), 190–198; Adam Sabra, “The Cosmic State:
Ibn al-ʿArabī’s Political Theology,” unpublished paper (2015); Aziz Al-Azmeh, Muslim King-
ship: Power and the Sacred in Muslim, Christian and Pagan Polities (London: I.B. Tauris,
2001), 198–200; cf. Vincent J. Cornell, Realm of the Saint: Power and Authority in Moroccan
Sufism (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998). Cf. Melvin-Koushki, “Early Modern Islam-
icate Empire”; Gregory A. Lipton, Rethinking Ibn ‘Arabi (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2018).
49 The term tawḥīd (absolute monotheism) is often broadly equated with Islam as such. On
lettrism’s new early modern status as universal science, see Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest”;
for comparison with Latin European developments, particularly the quest to realize the
millenarian Catholic religio-imperial dictum unum ovile et unus pastor (“one sheepfold
and one shepherd”), see Melvin-Koushki, The Occult Science of Empire.
50 On Kemālpaşazāde as key defender of Ibn ʿArabī, see Ahmed Zildzic, “Friend and Foe:
400 melvin-koushki

imperialization in an Ottoman mode, made possible by Selīm’s conquest of

Damascus in fulfillment of a ninth/fifteenth-century Bisṭāmian lettrist proph-
ecy.

3 Mamluk-Timurid-Aqquyunlu Neopythagorean Historiography

Ottomanized

The problem our treatise presents the modern materialist researcher is thus
less a philological than a cosmological one: it testifies to a worldview in which
occult science demonstrably and experimentally works, to a theory of history
that is explicitly Neopythagorean, wherein letter-number figures as key to the
control—especially imperial—of time and space. Can we speak, then, of the
rise of a Neopythagorean historiography?
I believe we must: this text, and much of early modern Persianate imperial-
scholarly culture by extension, otherwise remains illegible. For the same Neo-
pythagorean-occultist cosmology that underlies Kemālpaşazāde’s brief lettrist
treatise for Selīm animates precisely some of the most admired and influen-
tial Perso-Turkish imperial histories of the ninth/fifteenth and tenth/sixteenth
centuries. This includes our scholar-ideologue’s own landmark Tevārīḫ-i āl-i
ʿOs̱mān (“Annals of the Ottoman House”), the first Turkish history of the Otto-
man dynasty to accord with the contemporary high Persian model, both stylist-
ically pellucid and thoroughly comfortable with Ibn ʿArabian philosophy and
occult science alike.51
This new tradition of Persian Neopythagorean-occultist historiography was
inaugurated, not surprisingly, by another member of the New Brethren, Sharaf
al-Dīn Yazdī (d. 858/1454), Ibn Turka’s student and friend, and fellow disciple

The Early Ottoman Reception of Ibn ʿArabī” (PhD diss., University of California, Berke-
ley, 2012); Tim Winter, “Ibn Kemāl (d. 940/1534) on Ibn ʿArabī’s Hagiology,” in Sufism and
Theology, ed. Ayman Shihadeh (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007), 137–157.
More generally, see Alexander D. Knysh, Ibn ʿArabi in the Later Islamic Tradition: The Mak-
ing of a Polemical Image in Medieval Islam (Albany: State University of New York Press,
1999); Knysh notes (p. 4) that Kemālpaşazāda, in his role as imperial chief jurisconsult,
was responsible for issuing the first ban on the public defamation of Ibn ʿArabī in the
Ottoman domains.
51 Markiewicz, The Crisis, 92–93; Şen, “Practicing Astral Magic,” 85–86. On the New Brethren
as the leading Arabic and Persian prose stylists of the early ninth/fifteenth century, and
lettrism as natural theoretical basis for the ornate literary and visual cultures peculiar
to Persianate early modernity, see Melvin-Koushki, “Of Islamic Grammatology,” 76, 78–
80.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 401

of Akhlāṭī in Cairo. Lettrist, litterateur, and mathematician, Yazdī achieved

his greatest fame as dynastic historian to the Timurids; his Ẓafarnāma, an
ornate Persian history of Temür (r. 771–807/1370–1405) completed in 839/1436,
was much imitated for centuries thereafter throughout the Persianate world.52
What has not yet been noted by specialists, however, is the fact that Yazdī’s
Book of Conquest is predicated on a new, expressly occult-philosophical theory
of history, wherein lettrism and conjunction astrology serve not as sources for
mere rhetorical embellishment but rather as macrohistorical analytical frame-
work, indispensable tools for penetrating the phenomenal surface of historical
events to get at their cosmic meaning, for cracking the code of cyclical time.53
In other words: Yazdī here makes history an (occult) science.
Utterly without Islamicate and broader Western precedent, such a daring
move should be seen as part of a larger Arabo-Persian scholarly trend during
the ninth/fifteenth and tenth/sixteenth centuries toward reformulating his-
tory as a proper and rigorous science, even as supreme among the literary
sciences, as Christopher Markiewicz has now shown.54 It is no accident that
this new impetus to theorize imperial historiography coincided with the great
burgeoning of occultism and Neopythagoreanism at the hands of the New
Brethren, three of whom—al-Bisṭāmī, Ibn Turka, and Yazdī—stand as some of
the most influential imperial ideologues, Ottoman and Timurid respectively,
of the ninth/fifteenth century; and Yazdī and al-Bisṭāmī were the first to apply
Ikhwānī doctrine to the science of history.55
This Yazdī did, I have elsewhere argued, in direct rebuttal of Ibn Khaldūn’s
‘science of civilization’ (ʿilm al-ʿumrān), predicated on a simplistic theory of
dynastic cycling, which superficially resembles Yazdī’s own cyclical theory of

52 Yazdī also began four other chronicles, including a Muqaddima, Fatḥ-nāma-yi ṣāḥib-
qirānī, Fatḥ-nāma-yi humāyūn, and the Second Maqāla, none of which he finished and
whose shifting ideological strategies reflect the displacement of Temür’s dispensation
with that of his son Shāhrukh (Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 199–250).
53 Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy” and “Imperial Talismanic Love.”
54 Markiewicz, “History as Science: The Fifteenth-Century Debate in Arabic and Persian,”
Journal of Early Modern History 21 (2017): 216–240. Cf. Giambattista Vico’s (d. 1744) histori-
ographical marriage of philology and philosophy in his New Science.
55 The original Brethren of Purity of fourth/tenth-century Iraq similarly formulated a Neopy-
thagorean, cyclical theory of history heavily astrological in tenor; but, unlike their ninth/
fifteenth-century heirs, they left lettrism to the Sufis and operated in strict anonymity—
that is to say, they certainly did not serve as imperial lettrist historians in the manner
of Yazdī and al-Bisṭāmī. On the latter’s even more thoroughgoingly lettrist world his-
tory, Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk (“Regulation of Conduct: On the Edification
of Kings”), which is as anti-Timurid as Yazdī’s is pro-, see Noah Gardiner’s Chapter 6 in the
present volume.
402 melvin-koushki

history. (It must again be emphasized that both historians were members of
Barqūq’s court in Cairo.) But where the latter deploys lettrism and astrology
within a monist-Ibn ʿArabian framework to trace the deeper patterns of cos-
mic time, robustly theorizing imperial transcendence as a necessary histor-
ical expression of the One, the strictly dualist leveling theory proposed by his
Tunisian colleague and rival, a rabid anti-occultist, rather condemns dynasts
to be forever ground under by the cycling of history between two sociological
poles. Ibn Khaldūn simply moralizes, imprisoning political actors in the bin-
aries of time and the strictures of Shariʿa; he offers in return only the humble
rewards that accrue through the strict enforcement of piety on an always erring
society. But Yazdī promises to historically empower and spiritually perfect—to
divinize—its royal patrons by means of Ibn ʿArabian occult science. Not only
can the future be read by the aspiring (occult) philosopher-king: it can also be
rewritten.56
The latter prospect could not but be far more attractive than the former to
the ambitious millennial sovereigns of the post-Mongol era.57 Ibn Khaldūn’s
depressing, stridently anti-millenarian, anti-Ibn ʿArabian, and anti-occultist
“science of civilization’” was thus roundly ignored by scholars until the middle
of the more sedate eleventh/seventeenth century, when Ottoman historians
first began to cite it in support of their own theories of dynastic cycling.58 Even
the Mamluk historian Taqī l-Dīn al-Maqrīzī (d. 845/1442), Ibn Khaldūn’s stu-
dent and sole defender and an enthusiastic occultist nevertheless, sought to
combine his mentor’s model with the Yazdian.59

56 Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy.” Cf. Ibn Turka’s Munāẓara-yi bazm u razm
(“Debate of Feast and Fight”), written in 1426 for the Timurid prince and calligrapher
Bāysunghur b. Shāhrukh (d. 1434), which similarly argues for Timurid imperial transcend-
ence in explicitly lettrist terms; it is studied and translated in Melvin-Koushki, “Imperial
Talismanic Love.”
57 On the category of millennial sovereignty in the Timurid-Mughal context, see A. Azfar
Moin, The Millennial Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and Sainthood in Islam (New York: Colum-
bia University Press, 2012).
58 Cornell Fleischer, “Royal Authority, Dynastic Cyclism, and ‘Ibn Khaldûnism’ in Ottoman
Letters,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 18, nos. 3–4 (1983): 198–220, esp. 199. On Ibn
Khaldūn’s opposition to Ibn ʿArabī as a primary cause for his irrelevance to early mod-
ern Islamicate and especially Persianate scholarly culture, see James Winston Morris, “An
Arab Machiavelli? Rhetoric, Philosophy and Politics in Ibn Khaldun’s Critique of Sufism,”
Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review 8 (2009): 242–291.
59 As Robert Irwin summarizes al-Maqrīzī’s historiographical project (“Al-Maqrīzī and Ibn
Khaldūn, Historians of the Unseen,” Mamlūk Studies Review 7, no. 2 (2003): 217–230,
esp. 230): “History was at the core of his oeuvre, but occult and eschatological concerns
were at the core of his history.” See also Nasser Rabbat, “Was al-Maqrīzī’s Khiṭaṭ a Khal-
dūnian History?” Der Islam 89, no. 2 (2012): 118–140.
toward a neopythagorean historiography 403

But the precedent Yazdī set was irreducibly Timurid. Most notably, he is
responsible for the definitive Timuridization of the astrological title Lord of
Conjunction (ṣāḥib-qirān)—by means of lettrist argument.60 That is to say,
Yazdī is the first historian in the Arabo-Persian tradition to construct a dual
astrological-lettrist platform in support of his patrons’ imperial legitimacy,
whereby the analysis of a dynast’s horoscope must be paired with the lettrist
analysis of names and events, especially as they relate to quranic passages, and
particularly the sura-initial muqaṭṭaʿāt. (Ibn Turka, demonstrating the imperial
utility of his science in Suʾl al-mulūk (“Query of Kings”), prognosticated, accur-
ately as it happened, that the Timurid state would endure for the entirety of the
ninth Islamic century on the basis of Shāhrukh b. Temür’s (r. 811–850/1409–
1447) name alone.61) Thus Temür, in Yazdī’s deep reading of history, is not
only supreme Muslim Lord of Conjunction, preordained world conqueror, and
second Alexander; he is also an epoch-making historical manifestation of both
the coincidentia oppositorum (majmaʿ al-aḍdād)—primary principle of Ibn
Turka’s lettrist metaphysics—and the quranic ALM.62
Any effective challenge to this new, scientific Timurid vocabulary of sov-
ereignty would therefore require the counterdeployment of astrological and
lettrist arguments; and that challenge was first raised—albeit more eclec-
tically—by scholar-ideologues serving the rival Aqquyunlu Empire. These
include, in the first place, Jalāl al-Dīn Davānī (d. 908/1502), famed Shirazi philo-
sopher and Ibn Turkian lettrist,63 and two of his students, court secretary-
historians in the Aqquyunlu chancery: Fażl Allāh Khunjī Iṣfahānī (d. 927/1521)
and Idrīs Bidlīsī (d. 926/1520). (Both men, significantly, had sojourned in Cairo.)
As an opening salvo, Davānī sought to sidestep and undercut Yazdī’s lettrist
arguments in the Ẓafarnāma by seizing upon the opening verses of Sūrat al-
Rūm (“The Byzantines,” Q 30:1–5),64 the only explicit political prediction in
the Quran, to prove Uzun Ḥasan’s (r. 861–882/1457–1478) cosmic superiority to

60 Binbaş, Intellectual Networks, 255; Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy.”

61 Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest,” 254, 527.
62 Yazdī, Ẓafarnāma, ed. Saʿīd Mīr-Muḥammad Ṣādiq and ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn Navāʾī, 2 vols.
(Tehran: Mīrās̱-i Maktūb, 1387sh/2008), 1:236–238, 404–405, 2:1295; these passages are
translated in Melvin-Koushki, “In Defense of Geomancy,” 388–391. On the ALM see n. 21
above.
63 On Davānī as lettrist, see Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest,” 247–261; Melvin-Koushki, The
Occult Science of Empire.
64 ALM. The Byzantines (al-Rūm) have been vanquished in the nearer part of the land, and, after
their vanquishing, they shall vanquish in a few years. God’s is the Command before and after,
and on that day the believers shall rejoice in God’s help. God helps whomsoever He will; He is
the Almighty, the All-compassionate.
404 melvin-koushki

Temür, and hence the historical inevitability of Aqquyunlu imperial suprem-

acy within Islamdom; this became the linchpin of Aqquyunlu ideology as
expressed in diplomatic correspondence and historiography thenceforward.
In particular, Khunjī’s Tārīkh-i ʿālam-ārā-yi amīnī (“Aminian World-Adorning
History”), an ornate Persian history of the dynasty expressly on the model of
Yazdī’s, adds to Davānī’s lettrist counterargument others of a similarly occult-
scientific tenor, as well as innovative legal arguments in support of the Aqquy-
unlu dynasts’ status as messianic centenary Renewers (sg. mujaddid), a vener-
able title Yazdī had likewise helped politicize and Timuridize.65
Historical circumstance, however, soon disqualified these arguments,
occult-scientific or otherwise; the Aqquyunlu empire self-destructed during
the last decade of the late ninth-early tenth/fifteenth century through civil war,
and with the Safavid conquest in 1501–1502 of Tabriz, the Aqquyunlu imper-
ial capital, Khunjī and Bidlīsī chose self-exile rather than serve the new and
unpredictable Qizilbāsh regime.66 As consummate court scholar-ideologues
and exponents of High Persianate culture, they readily found royal patronage
elsewhere—Khunjī to the northeast, at the Uzbek court, Bidlīsī to the northw-
est, at the Ottoman. Khunjī became the leading light first of Shïbani Khan’s
(r. 906–918/1500–1512) and then ʿUbayd Allāh Khan’s (r. 940–946/1534–1539)
retinue, from which vantage point he passionately pleaded with all Sunni pat-
rons within reach of his eloquent pen—pinning his final, frustrated hopes
on Selīm—to cleanse his beloved Iran of the Safavid Shiʿi plague; Bidlīsī was
commissioned by Bāyezīd II himself, that great institutionalizer of astrology,
to write the first comprehensive Persian history of the Ottoman dynasty, the
Hasht bihisht (“Eight Paradises”).
Like Yazdī’s Book of Conquest and Khunjī’s Aminian World-Adorner before
it, Bidlīsī’s Eight Paradises, completed in 912/1506, is a gorgeous and highly
complex work of historiography that focuses on the “cosmically ordained and
universally applicable signs of Ottoman superiority,” drawing upon “a wide
array of astrological, mystical, philosophical, and occult doctrines and [freely
mixing] ideas from these varied traditions to create a compelling and univer-
salizing conception of kingship.”67 To this end, for example, it ontologically

65 John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu: Clan, Confederation, Empire, rev. ed. (Salt Lake City: Uni-
versity of Utah Press, 1999), 102–106, 145; Melvin-Koushki, “The Delicate Art.”
66 See Woods, The Aqquyunlu, ch. 6. As Markiewicz notes, however, Bidlīsī was less doctrin-
aire and more pragmatic than his fervently anti-Safavid colleague Khunjī, and, even as
late as 1511, still “entertained the possibility of a full reconciliation with Shah Ismāʿīl” (The
Crisis, 73).
67 Markiewicz, The Crisis, 234, 240. The latter quotation refers in Markiewicz’s study rather
toward a neopythagorean historiography 405

equates—in unmistakably Neopythagorean fashion—Bāyezīd with the eighth

and highest celestial sphere, where the totality of existents first take shape.
And that Ottoman sovereign, not Temür, is the greatest Lord of Conjunction
of the last age—a point easily proved by an analysis of Bāyezīd’s horoscope.68
Bidlīsī also pointedly retools Davānī’s and Khunjī’s lettrist argument for Otto-
man purposes: the Sūrat al-Rūm prophecy, he shows at length, cannot refer
to Uzun Ḥasan’s defeat of the Timurid Abū Saʿīd (r. 855–873/1451–1469) at the
Battle of Muş in 1467 but rather to Fātiḥ Meḥmed’s (r. 848–850, 855–886/1444–
1446, 1451–1481) victory over Uzun Ḥasan at Otlukbeli in 877/1473.69 In this,
significantly, he would appear to be following the precedent of Mollā Lüṭfī
(d. 900/1494), Kemālpaşazāde’s teacher, who did the same in his Arabic encyc-
lopedia of the linguistic sciences, al-Maṭālib al-ilāhiyya fī mawḍūʿāt al-ʿulūm
al-lughawiyya.70

to the unprecedented eclecticness of the Timurid model, here exemplified by Yazdī and
emulated by Khunjī and Bidlīsī.
68 Bidlīsī, Hasht bihisht, Süleymaniye MS Nuruosmaniye 3209, fols. 497b, 498b; Markiewicz,
The Crisis, 267; Şen, “Reading the Stars.”
69 Bidlīsī, Hasht bihisht, Süleymaniye MS Nuruosmaniye 3209, fol. 470b; Melvin-Koushki,
“The Delicate Art”; 211–212; Markiewicz, The Crisis, 183–184.
70 On whom see Taşköprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq, 248–251, no. 214; Winter, “Ibn Kemāl,” 142. Mollā
Lüṭfī’s encyclopedia has been published as Dil Bilimlerinin Sınıflandırılması, ed. Şükran
Fazlıoğlu (Istanbul: Kitabevi, 2012); my thanks to Tunç Şen for this reference. I translate
the relevant passage for its salience here as the earliest known Ottoman lettrist interpret-
ation of the Sūrat al-Rūm prophecy (edition 101–104):
As for the statement “its benefit is beholding the secrets of the Quran”: Among the
secrets of His Speech that God Most High gave me to know is the following. When al-
Ḥasan the Tall advanced on Tokat, my hometown, I was at that time librarian to the
supreme sultan and conquerer of Constantinople, Sultan Meḥmed Ghāzī (God rest
him in peace at his sublime threshold), and it grieved me sorely. But in the face of this
attack God inspired me to reassure [the sultan with His promise] God shall help you
mightily (Q 48:3). He further inspired me to calculate the gematrical value of the let-
ters of this verse in the abjad system, and, when I did so, I found it to be the same as the
coming year [i.e., 878 (1473–1474CE)]. I accordingly informed the supreme sultan that
he should attack that tyrant next year, and all happened as I predicted. I composed a
couplet in Persian [to mark the event], as follows:
Routed is the army of Uzun Ḥasan
at the indomitable hand of our shah.
I predicted the date of this by saying, “O Shah,
God shall help you with a mighty help!”
I presented myself to his eminence during the days of conquest, and he honored me
with favors beyond counting. For also among [the verse’s] rare properties is the fact
that it was addressed to Muḥammad (peace be upon him)—and our sultan’s name is
that of the Prophet, as though he too were the addressee of this declaration.
Likewise, I was inspired to interpret His saying ALM. The Byzantines have been
406 melvin-koushki

The Hasht bihisht, in short, represents a masterful and polemical Ottoman-

ization of the Timurid-Aqquyunlu tradition of Neopythagorean-occultist his-
toriography for the benefit of his rival patron.71 By way of his teacher Davānī,
Bidlīsī was doubtlessly well acquainted with the monist, lettrist-astrological
theory of history developed in Cairo a century prior by the New Brethren of
Purity and aggressively and effectively utilized in support first of Timurid uni-
versalist claims and then of Aqquyunlu counterclaims. That this bold Persian
masterwork became, in turn, the model for the new, more ornate mode of Otto-
man historiography in Turkish that became standard thereafter is therefore of
the highest salience in the present context: for Kemālpaşazāde’s Tevārīḫ-i āl-i
ʿOs̱mān, first presented at court in 916/1510 and completed by 932/1526, is the
first Turkish history of the Ottoman dynasty to be patterned on Bidlīsī’s Persian
offering of 912/1506 (explicitly and concurrently commissioned by Bāyezīd as
such)—and so inherited the latter’s cosmic and occult-scientific orientation, if
only in part.72
There is a further smoking Ikhwānī gun, one of more immediate Ottoman
manufacture. In his autobiographical Durrat tāj al-rasāʾil (“Pearl in the Dia-
dem of Tractates”), al-Bisṭāmī himself, preeminent source of Ottoman imperial
lettrism, proposes a startlingly new classification for the discipline of history
(ʿilm al-akhbār wa-l-siyar): he moves it from the traditional (naqlī) sciences—

vanquished in the nearer part of the land; and after their vanquishing they shall van-
quish in a few years (Q 30:1–4) [as follows]: the nearer part of the land (adnā l-arḍ)
means the last of the phrase’s letters according to logogriph methodology (ṭarīqat al-
taʿmiya) [i.e., ḍ], and by that letter is meant its name, that is, ḍād, whose value is 805
[1402 CE]—precisely the year [New] Byzantium (Rūm) was vanquished by Tamerlane,
who attacked Sultan Yıldırım Khān Bāyezīd at the beginning of Muḥarram of ’05. I
then calculated the word a few (biḍʿ), adding the name of b (bā = 3) to that of ḍ (= 805)
and its [final letter] ʿ (= 70), also equivalent to the year of the vanquishing of that tyr-
ant. Thereupon I informed [the sultan] of this glad tiding before its realization, and he
pledged me the most munificent of favors, and fulfilled his pledge when matters turned
out [as I had said]. A further subtle indication of this verse is the fact that this tyrant
attacked a contingent of our victorious army in the nearer part of the land, according
to its literal sense [i.e., the Jazira], a week before his total rout; the verse thus refers to
that [related] event as well.
71 Unsurprisingly, the same strategy was likewise Safavidized: witness Siyāqī Niẓām’s
(d. 1603) Futūḥāt-i humāyūn (“Imperial conquests”), a Persian history whose introduc-
tion mounts precisely a lettrist defense of Shah ʿAbbās the Great’s (r. 1587–1629) imperial
legitimacy (Sholeh A. Quinn, Historical Writing during the Reign of Shah ‘Abbas: Ideology,
Imitation, and Legitimacy in Safavid Chronicles (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press,
2000), 46–53).
72 Markiewicz, The Crisis, 232–234; Şen, “Practicing Astral Magic,” 85–86; Şen, “Reading the
Stars.”
toward a neopythagorean historiography 407

where every other Arabic and Persian encyclopedist had classed it to date—to
the rational (ʿaqlī) sciences, and specifically the applied mathematical sciences.
Equally tellingly, he there allies history with the occult sciences of bibliomancy
(ʿilm al-faʾl), magic and amuletry (ʿilm al-siḥr wa-l-ʿazāʾim), and alchemy and
engineering (ʿilm al-kīmiyāʾ wa-l-ḥiyal), on the one hand, and the linguistic sci-
ences of prosody (ʿilm al-ʿarūḍ), lexicography (ʿilm al-lugha), grammar (ʿilm
al-naḥw), and writing (ʿilm al-kitāba), on the other, as well as economics (ʿilm
al-bayʿ wa-l-shirā).73 To thus “mathematicalize” history, to suggest its object
as linguistic construct in high lettrist fashion, is to argue for the discipline’s
status as applied Neopythagorean-occult science.74 Kemālpaşazāde, following
Yazdī, Khunjī, and Bidlīsī, was among those persuaded by this revolutionary
Bisṭāmian-Ibn Turkian argument; he too pursued history as science.
And here we have come full circle: any intellectual history of Turko-
Persianate imperial lettrist historiography must always come back to Cairo, its
birthplace—a fact of which Kemālpaşazāde and his patron Selīm were clearly
aware. Having witnessed and strongly encouraged Selīm’s seizing upon Ibn
ʿArabī as Ottoman patron saint with the conquest of Damascus, moreover, it is
not suprising that our ambitious scholar-ideologue thought it most appropri-
ate to push too for the conquest of Cairo in purely Ibn ʿArabian—that is to say
lettrist—terms.75 The short treatise he may have produced to this end, substan-
tiating an episode that still lives on in popular and scholarly memory, is thus
an ephemeral offering whose significance far outstrips its lack of readership:
for it fostered in Selīm the lettrist consciousness that was to pervade Ottoman
imperial ideology for some four decades thereafter.
Nor was Kemālpaşazāde, following Bidlīsī, the only Ottoman scholar-
ideologue to adopt this strategy in a bid to win Selīm’s patronage. A similarly
ephemeral offering was made to the Ottoman conqueror by Kemālpaşazāde’s

73 MS Nuruosmaniye 4905, fol. 20b; my thanks to Cornell Fleischer for this reference. Sug-
gestively, Taşköprīzāde (d. 1561) too classes the various historiographical sciences with the
linguistic sciences, though not with any occult sciences and certainly not under the rubric
of applied mathematics, despite his clear reliance on Ibn Turka and al-Bisṭāmī both; see
n. 86 below.
74 Al-Bisṭāmī’s startling move epitomizes a longer process peculiar to Persian scholarly
culture, whereby encyclopedists, from Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 1209) onward, increas-
ingly shifted various occult sciences (particularly astrology, lettrism, and geomancy) from
the natural to the mathematical sciences in classifications of the sciences (sg. taṣnīf al-
ʿulūm)—the surest index of the renaissance of Neopythagoreanism here in view. This
process is traced and its implications for history of science explored in Melvin-Koushki,
“Powers of One.”
75 As noted, Kemālpaşazāde is responsible for issuing the first Ottoman fatwa, on Selīm’s
orders, in defense of Ibn ʿArabī (Zildzic, “Friend and Foe,” 116–119, 133–142).
408 melvin-koushki

colleague Aḥmed Paşa b. Ḫıżır Beğ (d. 927/1521), mufti of Bursa,76 only a year or
two prior, in the form of a letter of congratulation (tehniyetnāme) celebrating
Selīm’s crushing of the Safavids at Chaldiran. Preserved as MS Topkapı Sarayı
Müzesi Arşivi E. 4796 and also written in a heavily Persianizing Turkish, this
letter develops an image of the Ottoman conqueror as messianic Alexandrian-
Solomonic-Jamshidian sovereign and ultimate Lord of Conjunction—indeed
“a magic-ringed Solomon upholding the world” (cihānbān-ı Süleymān-negīn)—
likewise on a strictly occult-scientific (lettrist and oneiromantic) basis.77 Cru-
cially, Müfti Aḥmed Paşa too takes a page from Bidlīsī and Mollā Lüṭfī, reana-
lyzing the Sūrat al-Rūm prophecy to show it to refer rather to Chaldiran—the
genesis of Ottoman claims to universal empire. As he exclaims in closing:

This manifest conquest (bu fetḥ-i mübīn) … shall abide until the Day of
Judgment as proof of [the possibility of] achieving universal conquests
( fütūḥāt-ı külliyye) and realizing ambitions that are total (mürādāt-ı cüm-
liyye)!78

4 Kemālpaşazāde, Imperialist Neopythagorean Historian

Such, then, is the intellectual-ideological context in which Kemālpaşazāde’s

lettrist episode is to be read; it is not odd or aberrant with respect to his lar-
ger scholarly project, a mental lapse, or mere act of mercenary bootlicking, but
speaks to its prolific and influential author’s subscription to a Neopythagorean
cosmology wherein occult science is simply that—science.79 Thus his deploy-

76 See Taşköprīzāde Aḥmed, al-Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawla al-ʿUthmāniyya,

ed. Sayyid Muḥammad Ṭabāṭabāʾī Bihbahānī (Tehran: Kitābkhāna, Mūza u Markaz-i
Asnād, Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 1389sh/2010): 161–162, no. 137. Cf. Kemālpaşazāde’s entry
in this work at 331–333, no. 307.
77 Cf. ʿAlī b. Muḥammad al-Lakhmī al-Ishbīlī al-Maghribī al-Dimashqī’s (d. after 1517) pan-
egyrical introduction to his al-Durr al-muṣān fī sīrat al-muẓaffar Salīm Khān (“The Pre-
served Pearl: On the Career of the Victorious King Selīm”), wherein the Sevillan Maliki jur-
ist, in a bid for Ottoman patronage, similarly deploys lettrist and oneiromantic arguments
to valorize Selīm’s conquest of Egypt (Stephen Conermann, “Ibn Ṭūlūn (d. 955/1548), Life
and Works,” in Conermann, Mamlukica: Studies on the History and Society of the Mamluk
Period (Bonn: Bonn University Press, 2013), 213–236: 225–228).
78 This letter is studied and translated in Şen and Melvin-Koushki, “Divining Chaldiran.”
79 On the standard Arabo-Persian classification of the occult sciences as natural and math-
ematical sciences—and their progressive mathematicalization in post-Mongol Persianate
scholarship in tandem with the Neopythagorean renaissance here in view—see Melvin-
Koushki, “Powers of One.”
toward a neopythagorean historiography 409

ment of the same in his seminal Annals of the Ottoman House; thus the pro-
astrology stance evinced by his collected fatwas;80 thus his authorship of an
important plague treatise featuring letter-magical defenses and remedies,81 as
well as a short tract on the divine names;82 thus his (probable) authorship of a
work on talismans and astral-lettrist magic;83 and thus his commitment to Ibn
ʿArabī, father of early modern lettrist theory, both philosophically and imperi-
ally.
This is not to suggest that Kemālpaşazāde be approached as primarily an
occultist: the bulk of his scholarly production was in fields unrelated or adja-
cent, particularly jurisprudence, theology, and Arabic linguistics (for all that
the last also suggests a lettrist sensibility). The same principle applies to those
of his colleagues who too made forays into one or more of the occult sciences
as a matter of course, such as Müfti Aḥmed Paşa or Kemālpaşazāde’s own
teacher Mollā Lüṭfī—a student of famed Timurid-Ottoman astronomer ʿAlī
Qūshchī (d. 879/1474) in the mathematical sciences—who wrote two treatises
on Neopythagorean geometry and the letters of the Arabic alphabet, respect-
ively, and who, as noted, was responsible for first applying the Sūrat al-Rūm
prophecy to the 1473 Ottoman-Aqquyunlu battle at Otlukbeli.84 (Significantly,

80 Şen, “Practicing Astral Magic,” 86.

81 Nükhet Varlık, Plague and Empire in the Early Modern Mediterranean World: The Ottoman
Experience, 1347–1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 233. Specifically,
Kemālpaşazāde’s Risāla fī l-Ṭāʿūn has two chapters, the first on using quranic verses and
divine names to ward off plague, the second on using animals, plants, and minerals for
the same purpose (Süleymaniye, MS Aşir Efendi 430/36, fols. 159b–160a).
82 Risāla fī Taḥqīq tawqīfiyyāt asmāʾ Allāh taʿālā; see Nihal Atsız, “Kemalpaşaoğlu’nun Eser-
leri II,” Şarkiyat Mecmuası 7 (1972): 83–135, esp. 89–90, no. 108; Brockelmann, GALS, 2:670,
no. 2.76.
83 Şen, “Practicing Astral Magic.”
84 See n. 69 above. An edition and French translation of the first work, Risālat Taḍʿīf al-
madhbaḥ (“On the Doubling of the Altar/Cube”), was published as La duplication de l’autel
(Platon et le problème de Delos), ed. Şerefettin Yaltkaya, trans. and introduced Abdulhak
Adnan and Henry Corbin (Paris: de Boccard, 1940). As the latter note (6, 25), this treatise
indique un moment de la longue carrière parcourue par les motifs platoniciens, ou
plutôt des tous les motifs dont Platon était considéré comme le prophète, combinés
avec l’ arithmologie néo-pythagoricienne, dans le monde culturel de langue arabe,
lequel recueillit l’ héritage des savants grecs …. [O]n notera essentiellement le rôle
central reconnu à Pythagore …, condisciple des élèves de Salomon et à qui est attribuée
finalement la dignité de prophète.
That Bāyezīd II’s library included a copy of this Neopythagorean-occultist treatise is thus
telling indeed; for the list of titles in ʿAṭūfī’s (d. 1541) 1502 Ottoman palace-library cata-
log (Hungarian National Library, MS Török fol. 59), recording some 7,200 titles in 5,700
volumes, see Treasures of Knowledge: An Inventory of the Ottoman Palace Library (1502/3–
1503/4), ed. Gülru Necipoğlu, Cemal Kafadar, and Cornell H. Fleischer, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill,
410 melvin-koushki

the first treatise, relying on al-Bisṭāmī and al-Būnī, presents talismanic magic
squares and divine names magic as having indispensable medical, architec-
tural, and imperial applications.85) This pattern is common to early modern
Persianate—and early modern Western—scholarly culture as a whole; while
only a minority (some two to fifteen percent) of scholars achieved fame as
professional occultists, few indeed were the luminaries who did not write at
least a few tracts in the field of occultism or pepper their more vaunted works
with occult-scientific references.86 But to ignore such works and passages as
peripheral to their authors’ “true” concerns is to retroject modern materialist-
scientistic cosmology onto the decidedly nonmaterialist, panpsychist cosmo-
logy of our early modern actors—and hence to wreak vivisecting colonialist
violence on and obliterate precisely such categories as Neopythagorean histori-
ography, without which post-Mongol Islamicate imperialism in general and
early Ottoman imperialism in particular cannot be fully understood.87

2019). As for Mollā Lüṭfī’s short treatise on the letters, a copy is preserved as MS Leiden 235
(Brockelmann, GAL, 2/235, no. 5.9). On Qūshchī as a member of Ibn Turka’s scholarly net-
work and fellow Neopythagoreanizer, see Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One.”
85 Mollā Lüṭfī, La duplication, 16–23.
86 Melvin-Koushki and Pickett, “Mobilizing Magic,” 263–264. The mainstream status of
occultism in early tenth/sixteenth-century Ottoman scholarly circles in particular is
exemplified by Taşköprīzāde’s Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-miṣbāḥ al-siyāda (“Key to Felicity and
Lamp to Mastery”), completed in 1541, a culmination of the Mamluk-Ottoman Arabic
encyclopedic tradition and primary model for subsequent Ottoman encyclopedias,
including most prominently the Kashf al-ẓunūn ʿan asāmī l-kutub wa-l-funūn (“Removing
Uncertainty as to the Titles of Books and Disciplines”) of Ḥājjī Khalīfa (d. 1657); it mounts
an especially robust defense of the occult sciences as a subset of the natural sciences on
the one hand and the quranic sciences on the other. Crucially, Taşköprüzāde here imports
Ibn Turka’s signature tashkīk al-ḥarf scheme to epistemologically structure his encyclope-
dia as a whole. Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One,” 173–179, and “Of Islamic Grammatology,”
89–91. The same lettrist commitment is on full display in his seminal plague treatise, on
which see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Taşköprīzāde on the (Occult) Science of Plague Pre-
vention and Cure,” Nazariyat 16, no. 2 (2020), forthcoming.
87 The eclecticism with which such occultist-Neopythagorean content is often deployed by
scholars of the period must, however, be acknowledged (my thanks to Cornell Fleischer
and Christopher Markiewicz for this observation). This is, nevertheless, evidence precisely
for the routinization and naturalization of Neopythagorean cosmology in the early mod-
ern period—a process similarly enshrined in the Arabo-Persianate burgeoning of what
may be called “muʿammā (riddle) culture,” itself a form of naturalized lettrist Neopy-
thagoreanism, which testifies to a broader social consciousness that the world is de- and
reconstructably semantic (Melvin-Koushki, “Of Islamic Grammatology,” 78–79). Equally
importantly, the scholarly architects of this consciousness (and indeed the built environ-
ment by extension: cf. the Taj Mahal) were often explicit about their panpsychism; the
same cosmology, from Pythagoras to the present, has historically driven Western occult-
toward a neopythagorean historiography 411

Let us therefore cease feting the narrowly materialist-dualist sociology of

Ibn Khaldūn, that patron saint of European colonialism: for it was expressly
developed to destroy his Timurid rival Yazdī’s new occult-monist science of
history, in which aim it failed utterly for four centuries. If our historiography
of Western early modernity is not similarly to fail, we must take more seriously
the Neopythagorean-occultist cosmology that, radiating from Cairo, swept the
Persianate world during the ninth/fifteenth century and provided theoretical
justification for and materially furthered the greatest empires and scientific-
scholarly endeavors of the tenth/sixteenth and eleventh/seventeenth. This
includes, in the first place, the watershed mathematical turn in Arabic astro-
nomy, as pursued by the members of the Timurid sultan-scientist Ulugh Beg’s
(r. 811–853/1409–1449) Samarkand Observatory in the early ninth/fifteenth cen-
tury, celebrated by historians of science as possible precedent for the Coper-
nican revolution in Latinate Europe (and hence the equally explicitly Neo-
pythagorean-occultist cosmologizing of Kepler and Newton), as well as the flor-
escence of Safavid antiquarian-perennialist philosophy in the tenth/sixteenth
and eleventh/seventeenth.88 (Again, that Kemālpaşazāde was the student of
Qūshchī’s student Mollā Lüṭfī is highly suggestive.) For ideas and ideologies
have material consequences: they possess the ability to reshape landscapes just
as surely as military technologies or tax regimes, as plague or climate change.
Far from being embarrassingly irrational but minor gushings that may be safely
ignored by the modern historian, then, it is precisely ephemeral documents like
Kemālpaşazāde’s lettrist call for the conquest of Cairo that provide us directest
access to the realtime, material effects of that cosmology at a crucial moment
in Ottoman, Islamicate, and Western history; we must begin to prize them as
such.

5 Conclusion

Both militarily and magically, Selīm’s short but watershed reign, quintessen-
tially early modern in its expansionism and experimentalism, was a period of
creative flux; it represents a pivotal moment in the development of Ottoman
millenarian, apocalyptic, and especially occult-scientific imperialist discourse,
already incipient under his father, Bāyezīd, and fully articulated by his son

scientific theory and practice. It should therefore not need saying, but shockingly does,
that the occult sciences cannot be read through a strictly materialist or monocultural lens
without doing them considerable epistemic violence.
88 See Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One”; Melvin-Koushki, “World as (Arabic) Text.”
412 melvin-koushki

Süleymān. It is then, moreover, that a productive political-scientific tension

between astrology and lettrism first emerged. Where Bāyezīd had institution-
alized astrology to a degree unprecedented and unparalleled in the Islamo-
Christianate West, the Ottoman court under Selīm and Süleymān would appear
to have somewhat de-emphasized the science of the stars in favor of the science
of the letters, whereby even astronomical-astrological data were increasingly
analyzed in lettrist terms, and Ottoman imperialism definitively Ibn ʿArabian-
ized in a Bisṭāmian mode.89 Such texts as Idrīs Bidlīsī’s chronicle, Müfti Aḥmed
Paşa’s tehniyetnāme, and Kemālpaşazāde’s lettrist treatise thus record, I sug-
gest, the genesis of this signal Ottoman ideological shift. And that shift was
precipitated by Selīm’s conquest of Cairo—the urban alembic where, just over
a century prior, Ibn ʿArabian-Būnian lettrism had been reformulated as a uni-
versal, imperial science by peripatetic Timurid-Ottoman scholars in service to
an ambitiously experimental Mamluk sovereign, Barqūq, then carried by the
same scholars back east and north and there considerably elaborated, only to
return with Selīm to its birthplace fully weaponized.
That Kemālpaşazāde seems to have chosen an exclusively lettrist argument
to urge his royal patron to take Cairo is thus of no little significance. For the
ideological and legal stakes were high: in order to sidestep the blatant illeg-
ality of invading a fellow Islamic state, our learned Ottoman jurist-historian
clearly felt it strategic at this critical juncture to both emulate and challenge
the Neopythagorean-occultist historiography developed by his scholarly pre-
decessors or contemporaries al-Bisṭāmī, Ibn Turka, Yazdī, Davānī, Khunjī, and
Bidlīsī, and to expressly honor its Mamluk-Cairene stemming. In other words,
the Ottoman lettrist imperialism that is such a distinctive feature of the expans-
ive and transformative Süleymānic era is a product of inner-Persianate schol-
arly circulation and competition between Egypt, Iran, and Anatolia, that golden
intellectual-imperial triangle, over the course of the equally transformative
ninth/fifteenth century; at the beginning of the tenth/sixteenth, it was con-
sciously developed on a Mamluk-Timurid-Aqquyunlu model and Ottomanized
by Bidlīsī, turncoat Aqquyunlu historian, then strategically reprised by influen-

89 Şen, “Astrology in the Service,” 207–210. While astrologers continued as salaried court offi-
cials down to the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire in the early fourteenth/twentieth
century, their number and salaries decreased under Bāyezīd’s successors. On a similar
fusing of astronomy/astrology with lettrism for Mughal imperial purposes—in explicit
invocation of the Timurid dual astrological-lettrist platform established by Ibn Turka
and Yazdī—see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Timurid-Mughal Philosopher-Kings as Sultan-
Scientists,” in Rulers as Authors in the Islamic World: Knowledge, Authority and Legitimacy,
ed. Maribel Fierro, Sonja Brentjes, and Tilman Seidensticker (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming).
toward a neopythagorean historiography 413

tial Ottoman imperial scholar-ideologues like Kemālpaşazāde.90 At the same

time, the Ottoman prophet al-Bisṭāmī’s equally explicit mathematicalization of
the science of history within a lettrist framework could not but have provided
further impetus.
Nor was that impetus quick to dissipate. The same lettrist framework per-
sisted as a particularly meaty bone of historiographical contention between
rival Persianate imperial cultures through at least the early eleventh/seven-
teenth century, as proved by its adaptation by none other than the great Safavid
philosopher Mīr Dāmād (d. 1041/1631), an avowed Ibn Turkian lettrist, who con-
structed the first specifically Twelver Shiʿi philosophy and science of history—
thereby occult-scientifically disproving the Ottoman-Bisṭāmian eschatological
claims of the previous century.91 Unsurprisingly, Mughal imperial ideology too
appears to have remained no less lettrist during the same period.92
Kemālpaşazāde’s brief, putative lettrist treatise for Selīm thus performs, with
impressive efficiency, its author’s mastery of this emergent Mamluk-Timurid-
Aqquyunlu-Ottoman (and then Safavid-Mughal) common scholarly and histo-
riographical culture. At the same time, it is no less representative of intellectual
and cultural developments peculiar to the Mediterranean zone as an integral
unit, and especially Iberia and the Maghrib: for it is there that lettrism-kabbalah
was first sanctified during the sixth/twelfth and seventh/thirteenth centuries,93
whence it swept east along both shores and helped drive both the renaissance
of occult-scientific Neopythagoreanism and the millenarian scientific-imperial
expansionism that define mathematizing and globalizing Western early mod-
ernity.
In this hybridized Persianate-Mediterranean context, in sum, Selīm the Grim
too must therefore be read as an early modern Western imperial experimental-
ist pursuing—wildly successfully, as it turned out—a new brand of millennial,
monist-univeralist sovereignty predicated on an occult-scientific understand-
ing, a deep reading, of history and the cosmos.

90 Cf. Kemālpaşazāde’s championing of Persian as preeminent language of scholarship and

spirituality, second only to Arabic, in his Risāla fī Faḍīlat al-lisān al-fārisī ʿalā l-alsina siwā l-
lisān al-ʿarabī (in Rasāʾil Ibn Kamāl, 2 vols. (Istanbul: Dār al-Khilāfa al-ʿIlmiyya, 1316/1898),
2:210–216).
91 Melvin-Koushki, “World as (Arabic) Text.”
92 Melvin-Koushki, “Timurid-Mughal Philosopher-Kings.”
93 The “age of esotericism and its disclosure,” as Moshe Halbertal has termed this pivotal
moment in Western history (Concealment and Revelation: Esotericism in Jewish Thought
and Its Philosophical Implications, trans. Jackie Feldman (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 2007), 5); on the pan-Mediterranean relevance of this periodization, see Noah
Gardiner, “Stars and Saints: The Esotericist Astrology of the Sufi Occultist Aḥmad al-Būnī,”
Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 39–65, esp. 63–65.
414 melvin-koushki

Acknowledgements

My thanks to Cornell Fleischer, Ahmet Tunç Şen, Nükhet Varlık, and Chris-
topher Markiewicz for their helpful feedback on a draft of this article and for
inspiring its very theme; any errors are my own.

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 chapter 10

Power and Piety: Islamic Talismans on the

Battlefield

Maryam Ekhtiar and Rachel Parikh

The Islamic world is steeped in a rich history of material culture, which includes
a long tradition of superbly crafted arms and armor with elaborate surface dec-
oration. “Arms and armor” is a collective term for objects falling into three main
categories: body armor, such as helmets and shields; edged weapons, such as
swords and daggers; and archery and firearms.1 Edged weapons consisted of
blades made of steel, watered steel (also known as Damascus steel), a com-
bination of steel and iron, or iron. The hilts or grips were produced from a
variety of materials, such as ivory, steel, iron, wood, horn, jade, and rock crystal.
Armor consisted of the same materials as Islamic edged weapons and included
wood, leather, and textile.2 Arms and armor were used on the battlefield as
well as for ceremonial purposes, such as religious, royal, and ceremonial pro-
cessions.
A close examination of the materials, inscriptions, and symbols on surviv-
ing examples of Islamic arms and armor reveals that many of them are talis-
manic in nature. The 2016–2017 exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of
Art, New York, Power and Piety: Islamic Talismans on the Battlefield, explored
the content and meaning of materials, texts, and images on an array of arms
and armor, from Iran and Turkey, to India and Southeast Asia and between
the tenth/sixteenth and the thirteenth/nineteenth centuries. The research con-
ducted for the exhibition brought to light recurring themes that can be found
on Islamic arms and armor decorated with talismanic materials and formu-
las, which will be discussed in this essay, particularly through the examin-
ation of Iranian, Indian, and Turkish examples produced between the elev-
enth/seventeenth and thirteenth/nineteenth centuries. It is the materials and

1 David Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2015).
2 For more on the materials of Islamic arms and armor, see James W. Allan and Brian Gilmour,
Persian Steel: The Tanavoli Collection (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000); Manouchehr
Moshtagh Khorasani, Arms and Armor from Iran: The Bronze Age to the End of the Qajar Period
(Tübingen: Legat 2006), 99–123; and Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 421

motifs that are talismanic and that together endow the arms and armor
with magical properties.
The essay is divided into two parts. The first, consisting of two sections,
will address various aspects of the physicality of arms and armor, followed
by a discussion of the importance of orientation and placement of talismanic
inscriptions and motifs in activating their protective properties. We begin by
calling attention to the use of specific materials, such as gemstones, in the cre-
ation of these objects and how they too can imbue these objects with protective
and magical properties. We will then examine a selection of talismanic motifs
and symbols that decorate the objects, notably those that refer to the prophet
Solomon and the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf (“People of the Cave”), popularly known as the
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, as well as imagery of Dhū l-Fiqār (ʿAlī’s bifurcated
sword) and Ahl al-Bayt (“People of the House”), with an emphasis on the Sunni-
Shiʿi divide and their visual manifestation on Islamic arms and armor.
The use of weapons that were thought to embody magical qualities in war-
fare can be traced back to the prophet Muḥammad himself and his cousin and
son-in-law ʿAlī.3 According to legend, during the Battle of Uḥud against the
Meccans in 3/625, Muḥammad presented a bifurcated sword to ʿAlī and pro-
claimed, “There is no hero but ʿAlī; there is no sword but Dhū l-Fiqār.”4 This
declaration affirmed the preternatural powers of the sword, and is believed to
have demonstrated them in ʿAlī’s subsequent victories, notably the Battle of the
Trench in 5/627. Over time, the myth developed, resulting not only in Dhū l-
Fiqār’s association with invincibility and victory but also its incorporation into
the repertoire of Islamic talismanic vocabulary.
While weapons emblazoned with verbal and visual talismanic motifs span
centuries and geographic regions, most surviving examples date from between
the eleventh/seventeenth and the thirteenth/nineteenth centuries and origin-
ated predominantly in Iran and Turkey. These verbal and visual motifs include,
among others, the word “God” (Allāh), verses from the Qurʾan, prayers, reli-
gious phrases and symbols, and references to Muslim holy figures, such as the
prophet Muḥammad and ʿAlī. As talismans are often constructed to empower
and protect an individual, avert danger, and bring blessings in uncertain and
perilous circumstances, it is no surprise that magical formulas and symbols are

3 Shiʿi Muslims regard him as the rightful successor to the Prophet; to Sunnis, he is the fourth
Rightly Guided Caliph.
4 ‫( لا فتى الاعلی ولا سيف الا ذو الفقار‬Lā fatā illā ʿAlī wa-lā sayf illā dhū l-fiqār). For more on Dhū
l-Fiqār, see David Alexander, “Dhu l-Faḳār” (PhD diss., New York University, 1984); Khorasani,
Arms and Armor from Iran, 195–198; and Zeynep Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” in
People of the Prophet’s House, ed. Fahmida Suleman (London: Azimuth, 2015), 163–172.
422 ekhtiar and parikh

found etched, carved, engraved, embroidered, and painted on objects used in,
or associated with, war. As a result, these objects are charged with the double
function of both physical and metaphysical protection.

1 Part I: Talismanic Materials and the Orientation of Protective

Motifs

1.1 The Materials

Before examining the talismanic motifs that adorn Islamic arms and armor, the
materials that are used to embellish these objects deserve a brief mention, as
they too are deemed to possess magical properties. Materials play an import-
ant part in the production of Islamic amulets, and of the way stone is used
to create them is just as significant as the content engraved upon its surface.5
The symbolic connotations of precious and semi-precious stones in the Islamic
world has been discussed in many sources, such as al-Bīrūnī’s (d. c. 440/1048)
Kitāb al-jamāhir fī maʿrifat al-jawāhir (“Book of collections on the knowledge
of precious stones”)6 and al-Tīfāshī’s (d. 651/1253) Azhār al-afkār fī jawāhir al-
aḥjār (“The blooms of thoughts on precious stones”).7 Both texts discuss the
magical and medicinal properties of a variety of precious and semi-precious
stones. Al-Bīrūnī also includes minerals and metals. The texts also indicate that
these various materials all have specific uses, from poison antidote to antihem-
orrhagic. Some stones, as al-Bīrūnī writes, were favored by the Prophet or other
holy figures. Carnelian (ʿaqīq), for example, was considered Muḥammad’s pre-

5 For amulets, see Alexander Fodor, Amulets from the Islamic World (Budapest: Eotvos Lor-
and University, 1990); Francis Maddison and Emilie Savage-Smith, Science, Tools and Magic:
Part One: Body and Spirit, Mapping the Universe (London: Nour Foundation in association
with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1997), 132–147; Venetia Porter, “Amu-
lets Inscribed with the Name of the ‘Seven Sleepers’ of Ephesus in the British Museum,”
in Word of God, Art of Man: The Qurʾan and its Creative Expressions, ed. Fahmida Suleman
(Oxford: Oxford University Press 2007), 123–134; Christiane Gruber, “From Prayer to Protec-
tion: Amulets in the Islamic World,” in Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural,
ed. Francesca Leoni (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2016), 33–51; Venetia Porter, Liana Saif, and
Emilie Savage-Smith, “Medieval Islamic Amulets, Talismans, and Magic,” in A Companion to
Islamic Art and Architecture, ed. Finbarr Barry Flood and Gülru Necipoğlu (Hoboken: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2017), 1:521–527.
6 Abū Rayḥān Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Bīrūnī, Kitāb al-jamāhir fī maʿrifat al-jawāhir, trans.
Hakim Muḥammad Said (Islamabad: Pakistan Hijra Council, 1989).
7 Aḥmad ibn Yūsuf al-Tīfāshī, Arab Roots of Gemology: Ahmad ibn Yusuf Al-Tifaschi’s Best
Thoughts on the Best of Stones, trans. Samar Najm Abul Huda (New York: Scarecrow Press,
1998).
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 423

ferred stone.8 Both al-Bīrūnī and al-Tīfāshī discuss how the “flesh red” variety
was thought to stop bleeding from any part of the body, while the red or yellow-
red versions of carnelian, known as rutabī, were believed capable of controlling
fear and anger in battle.9 Other stones were highly regarded for their protect-
ive properties in war, such as jade and jasper, both of which were thought to
secure victory in combat.10 These precious and semi-precious materials made
appearances on and off the battlefield. On the battlefield, these valuable mater-
ials took the form of smaller objects, such as amulets, rings, and Qurʾan cases.
Off the battlefield, they could be found decorating swords and daggers carried
and kept by royalty and high-ranking military officers at their encampments
or used during courtly and/or religious ceremonial processions, to insure good
fortune.
Presentation swords and daggers adorned with these materials were com-
monly used, when not at war, in courtly events and processions, as demon-
strated in historic paintings and manuscripts.11 The apotropaic properties of
the stones in such circumstances protected the owner from other forms of
danger, such as poisoning and attempted assassination. In circumstances that
involved affairs of the court, on a larger scale, they were meant to protect the
lofty status of an individual, especially the emperor and his reign, as well as the
stability and power of the empire. A fine example of the use of stones that are

8 Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection,” 38. See also Francesca Leoni, ed., Power and Protec-
tion: Islamic Art and the Supernatural (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2016), 90; Živa Vesel,
“Talismans from the Iranian World: A Millenary Tradition,” in The Art and Material Culture
of Iranian Shiʿism: Iconography and Religious Devotion in Shiʿi Islam, ed. Pedram Khosrone-
jad (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 265; and Sheila S. Blair, “An Amulet from Afsharid Iran,” The
Journal of the Walters Art Museum 59 (2001): 85–102.
9 Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection,” 35, and al-Tīfāshī, Arab Roots of Gemology, 222.
10 Manuel Keene, “Jade i. Introduction,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, and Assadullah Souren
Melikian-Chirvani, “Precious and Semi-Precious Stones in Iranian Culture, Chapter I.
Early Iranian Jade,” Bulletin of the Asia Institute 11 (1997): 123–173.
11 For examples, see Lucien de Guise and Susan Stronge, Jewels without Crowns: Mughal
Gems in Miniatures (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, 2010); Maryam Ekh-
tiar, Priscilla Soucek, Sheila Canby, and Navina Haidar, Masterpieces from the Department
of Islamic Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art,
2011); J.M. Rogers, Empire of the Sultans: Ottoman Art from the Khalili Collection, (Geneva:
Musée d’ Art et d’ Histoire 2011); Jack Ogden, Judy Rudoe, Katherine Prior, and Vivienne
Becker, Beyond Extravagance: A Royal Collection of Gems and Jewels, ed. Amin Jaffer (New
York: Assouline, 2013); Sheila Canby, The Shahnama of Shah Tahmasp: The Persian Book of
Kings (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2014); Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor,
and Salam Kaoujki, Precious Indian Weapons and Other Princely Accoutrements (New York:
Thames & Hudson, 2017). For discussion of arms and armor in religious processions in
Iran, see Khorasani, Arms and Armor from Iran, 357–359.
424 ekhtiar and parikh

figure 10.1 Saber with scabbard and grip: Grip: India, twelfth/eighteenth century; guard
and scabbard: Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century; blade: Iran, dated
1099/1688; decoration on blade: Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century. Steel,
gold, copper alloy, jade, diamond, emerald, pearl. 101.0cm (overall length).
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Giulia P. Morosini, in memory
of her father, Giovanni P. Morosini 1923, 23.232.2a, b
Image in the Public Domain

believed to have magical properties in the production of arms and armor is an

Ottoman sword in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s collection (Figure 10.1).12
It has been claimed that the sword was made in 1293/1876 for the investiture
of Sultan Murād V, even though no evidence exists to support this claim.13
Unfortunately, Murād V’s reign was short-lived (r. 1293/1876), and he suffered
a nervous breakdown before the sword-girding ceremony, for which the court
would have commissioned this type of saber.14
Like many late-Ottoman edged weapons, this sword is a composite: it has a
twelfth/eighteenth-century Mughal jade hilt, an eleventh/seventeenth-century
Persian watered steel blade, and a thirteenth/nineteenth-century Ottoman
guard and scabbard. While the inscriptions on both the blade and the scabbard
are protective, including invocations to God and ʿAlī, their efficacy is enhanced
by the incorporation of specific and previous materials.15 Encircling the hilt is a
string of small pearls (durr) which ends in a tassel of pearls formed of thirteen
strands. The Qurʾan’s Sūrat al-Raḥmān (“The Merciful”) focuses on the gifts that
God bestowed upon mankind, and pearls are listed as one of them and as a sign
of His presence on earth.16 The inclusion of pearls on this object can thus be
seen as a reference to God. Pearls are also believed to strengthen one’s heart,

12 Acc. no. 23.232.2a, b.

13 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 176.
14 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 176.
15 For a full list of the inscriptions and their translations, see Alexander, Islamic Arms and
Armor, 175–176.
16 Q 55:21–22: “So which favors of your Lord would you deny? From both of them emerge
pearl and coral.”
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 425

banish fear and anguish, and stop bleeding.17 The diamonds (almās) that adorn
the hilt and blade and the front of the scabbard have otherworldly significance
as well. Al-Bīrūnī recounts how, according to legend, the conqueror Alexander
the Great braved a valley infested by vipers to gather all the world’s diamonds,
which were dropped there by eagles.18 The “stone of the eagle,” then, could be
interpreted as symbolizing courage, making it an appropriate embellishment
for a weapon. The sword also features emeralds (zumurrud) on the hilt and on
the front of the scabbard. The green stone is widely acknowledged to have both
protective and mystical properties and is considered to guard against poison
and promise good luck.19 Due to its color, it is associated with life itself and with
the Prophet, whose favorite color was green.20 Additionally, occultists, natural
philosophers, and religious scholars all venerated the emerald as a “revealer
of mysteries.” The Shiʿi theologian Muḥammad Bāqir al-Majlisī (d. 1110/1699)
purported that God gave Moses emerald tablets bearing secret, otherworldly
knowledge that was later passed to the Prophet and then to ʿAlī.21 The sixth Shiʿi
imam, Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (d. 148/765), who also wrote several treatises on talismans
and divination, attested that these tablets were inscribed with “all science, first
and last.”22 This can be interpreted as meaning that the emerald was seen as a
container significant and valuable enough to hold such profound knowledge.
The emerald as the “revealer of mysteries” has a double meaning for this
sword. At the top of the front of the scabbard is a large cabochon emerald on a
hinged setting that, when lifted, reveals the reverse side of a gold coin of Otto-
man ruler Süleymān the Magnificent (r. 926–974/1520–1566). The coin states,
“Sultan Süleymān Khan, the son of Selim Shah, may his victory be glorious,
minted in Miṣr, year ….”23 Coins and coin-shaped amulets were popular under
the Ottomans, especially between the twelfth/eighteenth and thirteenth/nine

17 Al-Tīfāshī, Arab Roots of Gemology, 180.

18 Al-Bīrūnī, Kitāb al-jamāhir fī maʿrifat al-jawāhir, 81.
19 Al-Tīfāshī, Arab Roots of Gemology, 195.
20 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 177; Henry Corbin, Cyclical Time and Ismaili Gnosis
(London: Kegan Paul International, 1983), 87–88.
21 Muḥammad Bāqir Al-Majlisī, The Life and Religion of Muḥammad. Vol. 2: Hiyat al-Qulub,
trans. James L. Merrick (San Antonio: Zahara Trust, 1982), 105.
22 See Al-Majlisi, The Life and Religion of Muḥammad, 105, and Alexander, Islamic Arms and
Armor, 177. For al-Ṣādiq’s treatises on divination, see Rachel Parikh, “Persian Pomp, Indian
Circumstance: The Khalili Falnama” (PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 2014), 15, and
Massumeh Farhad with Serpil Bağcı, Falnama: The Book of Omens (Washington DC: Arthur
M. Sackler Gallery, 2008), 21, 31.
23 … ‫سلطان سليمان بن سليم خان عز نصره ضرب في مصر سنة‬. Miṣr can mean either Egypt or
Cairo. The date is hidden by the mounting.
426 ekhtiar and parikh

figure 10.2 Detail of the underside of the hinged emerald on

the scabbard in Figure 10.1
Image in the Public Domain

teenth centuries.24 It was common to invoke great rulers and military leaders
by engraving their names on arms and armor or by incorporating referential
tokens, like coins, to call upon their protection, military prowess, and power.
This act of veneration transforms important historical figures into metaphys-
ical guides and symbols of good fortune for the owner of the armor or weapon,
so that he may also achieve success in his military duty.
The underside of the emerald is also engraved with an inscription: “God has
willed” (Figure 10.2).25 Emeralds are brittle, and their many fissures can make

24 Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection,” 35, and Venetia Porter, Robert G. Hoyland, and Alex-
ander Morton, Arabic and Persian Seals and Amulets in the British Museum (London: The
British Museum Press, 2011), 13, 158–163.
25 ‫ماشاء الله‬.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 427

cutting the stone difficult; the fact that the artisan was able to carve a calli-
graphic inscription into the small gem testifies to great skill.26
The incorporation of materials with occult properties (khawāṣṣ) is an
important aspect of the objects examined in this essay, but some of these
materials were far too valuable to adorn arms and armor intended for battle.
Visual and verbal motifs are far more versatile, and, as such, were widely used
as apotropaic resources on arms and armor. These formulas are predominantly
religious in nature and include Qurʾanic chapters and/or verses; pious phrases;
invocations dedicated to the prophet Muḥammad, ʿAlī, and members of the
Prophet’s family (Ahl al-Bayt); references to other prophets; and symbols such
as Dhū l-Fiqār.

1.2 The Orientation of Motifs

Perhaps as important as these talismanic motifs is their placement on an
object. In the Islamic world, it is generally believed that an object adorned with
talismanic verbal and/or visual motifs will offer protection by direct interac-
tion, through reading, seeing, and touching.27 Talismans that invoke religious
figures, such as the Prophet, ʿAlī, and other pious figures are also intended
to foster a connection between the object’s owner and the divine. The place-
ment of talismanic motifs on arms and armor is critical to facilitating such an
interaction and thus affects the construction, function, and decoration of the
material.
Edged weapons, such as daggers and swords, often carry such talismanic
motifs. Islamic swords are traditionally long, curved sabers used on foot or on
horseback. Surviving examples that bear talismanic ornamentation are pre-
dominantly Iranian and Turkish and date between the tenth/sixteenth and
thirteenth/nineteenth centuries. Apotropaic inscriptions and motifs are usu-
ally found on the front of the blade, facing the outer edge.28 Such orientation is
logical, considering how the sword is held and used. The weapon’s owner can

26 For methods of engraving stones, particularly on amulets and talismans, see Margaret Sax
and Nigel Meeks, “Methods of Engraving,” in Arabic and Persian Seals and Amulets in the
British Museum, by Venetia Porter with Robert G. Hoyland and Alexander Morton (Lon-
don: British Museum Press, 2011), 185–188.
27 Yasmine Al-Saleh, “Amulets and Talismans from the Islamic World,” in Heilbrunn Timeline
of Art History, last modified November 2000, https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/tali/
hd_tali.htm.
28 This observation is based on data gathered from a personal examination of approximately
sixty swords in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Wallace Col-
lection (London), which hold many of these objects. There are exceptions to the general
formula expressed here that can be found throughout the Islamic world.
428 ekhtiar and parikh

maintain a continuous connection with the talismanic inscription because it

can be seen and read as the sword moves away from the body in a sweeping
motion toward an opponent. It can also be read when held in an upright pos-
ition, from the base of the blade to the point. In some instances, both sides of
the blade feature verbal or visual decoration. If the back bears an inscription,
it commonly faces the cutting edge. This is so viewers can simultaneously read
inscriptions on the front and back when the sword is held upright and turned
to the back. Blades can also bear medallions that contain Qurʾanic verses as
well as the names of God (Allāh), the prophet Muḥammad and/or his family,
ʿAlī, and the Rightly Guided Caliphs. Typically, these are found toward the base
of the blade, facing the hilt, so that they remain easily visible and legible to the
weapon-bearer, regardless of the sword’s orientation. Thus, no matter in what
position the weapon is held by the owner, the talismanic program is constantly
within sight and is readable, allowing for a sensory interaction that is essential
to the efficacy of the talisman. Talismans for Islamic daggers typically have by
the same configuration.
With regard to armor—including arm and leg defenses, cuirasses, mail
shirts, helmets, and shields—the orientation of apotropaic ornamentation is
based on the proximity to the body and then, if possible, by its visibility to
the user, as they interact with and protect the wearer through their close
contact with the body. Surviving examples that are believed to be charged
with talismanic properties are predominantly from Iran, Turkey, and India
and date between the tenth/sixteenth and thirteenth/nineteenth centuries.29
The motifs cloak the body in divine protection, metaphysically reinforcing the
physical barrier of iron and steel and promising safety and success. Inscrip-
tions and motifs are commonly found in strategic places to protect vulnerable
parts of the body, such as the vital organs and the face. A thirteenth/nineteenth-
century Deccan Indian helmet in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s collection
features a distinct, eleventh/seventeenth-century face guard that is pierced
with two large holes for the eyes and a triangular opening for the nose.30 In
the center of the latter opening is the phrase, yā ʿAlī (“O ʿAlī”), and surrounding
the edges it states, “There is no hero but ʿAlī; there is no sword but Dhū l-Fiqār.
Help from God and a speedy victory.”

29 Christiane Gruber writes that these objects “speak clearly of an individual’s urge for
physical contact with such protective objects—a corporeal intimacy that symbolically
provides a secondary, armoured skin” (“From Prayer to Protection,” 35).
30 Acc. no. 36.25.63a. See Maryam Ekhtiar and Rachel Parikh, Power and Piety: Islamic Talis-
mans on the Battlefield (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2016).
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 429

figure 10.3 Shirt of mail and plate, India, dated 1042/1632–1633. Steel, iron, gold, and
leather. 81.3 × 78.8 × 101.5 cm (mounted). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New
York, Purchase, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Gift, 2008, 2008.245
Image in the Public Domain
430 ekhtiar and parikh

Arguably the most striking example of armor with apotropaic formulas is

the mail shirt, consisting of small, interlocking rings of steel and/or iron.31 The
concept and intention behind the mail shirt parallels that of its fabric counter-
parts, which were, in some cases, even worn underneath the armor.32 Surviving
examples of mail shirts with apotropaic decoration are mostly from Iran and
date between the tenth/sixteenth and twelfth/eighteenth centuries.33 The rings
used for the shirt are stamped with invocations, above all Allāh, and pious
names, such as those of the prophet Muḥammad, ʿAlī, or all members of the
Ahl al-Bayt. The number of stamped rings varies from example to example.
Although the tight, interlocking construction of the mail would have been dif-
ficult to penetrate, the inclusion of pious inscriptions was clearly intended to
reinforce its protective potential through divine appeal. An example in the Met-
ropolitan Museum of Art’s collection is especially representative because of the
relationship between the talismanic program, its orientation, and construction
(Figure 10.3). The shirt was created during the reign of the Mughal emperor
Shāh Jahān (r. 1037–1068/1628–58) and kept in the imperial armory.34 It is made
of thick, double-riveted steel rings. Attached to the shirt are protective plates:
two breast plates, two side plates, and two back plates, all of which are made
of dark iron and burnished with gold leaf in two different shades. The outer
surfaces of all the plates are inscribed with verses from the Qurʾan. In the cen-
ter of the left side plate is the Sūrat al-Ikhlāṣ (“Sincerity”): “He is God, [who
is] One, God, the Eternal Refuge. He neither begets nor is born, nor is there to
Him any equivalent.”35 Around the edge of this plate is Sūrat al-Kāfirūn (“The

31 For other forms of armor, see Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, and Bashir Mohammed,
The Arts of the Muslim Knight: The Furusiyya Art Foundation Collection (Milan: Skira 2008).
32 See Esin Atil, The Age of Süleyman the Magnificent (Washington, DC: National Gallery of
Art, 1987), 196; and Maddison and Savage-Smith, Science, Tools and Magic, 117. For fabric
talismanic shirts, see Leoni, Power and Protection, cat. 48; Rose Muravchik, “God is the Best
Guardian: Islamic Talismanic Shirts from the Gunpowder Empires” (PhD diss., University
of Pennsylvania, 2014); Heather Coffey, “Between Amulet and Devotion: Islamic Miniature
Books in the Lily Library,” in The Islamic Manuscript Tradition: Ten Centuries of Book Arts
in Indiana University Collections, ed. Christiane Gruber (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 2010), 89–91; Maddison and Savage-Smith, Science, Tools and Magic, 117–123.
33 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 24–29, and David Alexander and Howard Ricketts,
“Arms and Armour,” in Treasures of Islam, ed. Toby Falk (Bristol: Airline Editions, 1985),
306–307.
34 Acc. no. 2008.245. See Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 44. One of the three inscrip-
tions on the inner surfaces of the breast plates states, in a decorative cartouche, that
the armor was a gift of Sayf Khān in 1042/1632–1633 and that it cost 200 rupees (Khān
was a high-ranking Mughal officer who served under emperors Jahāngīr and Shāh Jahān):
(‫ بار )؟‬۲۶ ‫( رو پيه‬۲۰۰) ‫ قيمت‬/۱۰۴۲ ‫پيشکش سيف خان سنة‬.
35 Q 112:1–4.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 431

Disbelievers”): “O disbelievers, I do not worship what you worship. Nor are you
worshippers of what I worship.”36 It is followed by a series of invocations dir-
ected to God: “O Protector! O Victor! O Helper!”37 In the center of the right side
plate is written: “O Compassionate One of this world and the afterlife, and Mer-
ciful One of them both.”38 Around the edge of this plate are the last three verses
from the Sūrat al-Nās (“Mankind”): “From the evil of the retreating whisperer—
who whispers [evil] into the breasts of mankind—from among the jinn and
mankind.”39 Around the border of the left back plate is Sūrat al-Naṣr (“The Con-
quest”): “When the victory of God has come and the conquest, and you see
the people entering the religion of God in multitudes, then exalt [Him] with
praise of your Lord and ask forgiveness of Him. Indeed, He is ever-accepting of
repentance.”40 The center contains the thirteenth verse of Sūrat al-Ṣaff (“The
Battle Array”): “Help from God and a victory near at hand.”41 On the right back
plate, beginning on the border and continuing to the center is the Sūrat al-Falaq
(“Daybreak”): “I seek refuge with the Lord of Dawn, from the evil of He created;
from the evil of Darkness when it settles; from the evil of the blowers in knots;
and from the evil of an envier when he envies.”42 The outer surface of the breast
plates bears, entwined in foliage, the āyat al-kursī (“Throne Verse”) and verses
from Sūrat al-Baqara (“The Cow”).
While the inclusion of these particular verses may seem random, they are all
significant. It is widely believed that verses from the Qurʾan provide protection
and that certain ones carry beneficial occult properties (khawāṣṣ).43 The āyat

36 Q 109:1–3.
37 ‫ ( يا حافظ يا ناصر يا معين‬yā Ḥāfiẓ yā Nāṣir yā Muʿīn).
38 ‫ ( يا رحمن الدنيا والاخرة ورحيمهما‬yā Raḥmān al-dunyā wa-l-ākhira wa-Raḥīmahumā).
39 Q 114:3–6.
40 Q 110:1–3.
41 Q 61:13.
42 Q 113:1–5.
43 Christiane Gruber, “A Pious Cure-All: The Ottoman Illustrated Prayer Manual in the Lilly
Library,” in The Islamic Manuscript Tradition: Ten Centuries of Book Arts in Indiana Uni-
versity Collections, ed. Christiane Gruber (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2010),
24. These special abilities became the focus of a genre of texts known as the faḍāʾil
al-Qurʾān (“The Virtues of the Qurʾan”). See Asma Asfaruddin, “The Excellencies of the
Qurʾan: Textual Sacrility and the Organization of Early Islamic Society,” Journal of the
American Oriental Society 122, no. 1 (2002): 1–24, and Asma Asfrauddin, “In Praise of the
Word of God: Reflections of Early Religious and Social Concerns in the Fada’il al-Qurʾan
Genre.” Journal of Qurʾanic Studies 4, no. 1 (2002): 27–48. Guides and manuals that high-
lighted the potency and magical efficacy of certain verses included, for example, Persian
author ʿAbdallāh b. Muḥammad b. Ḥusayn’s Khavāṣṣ-i āyāt (1234/1818–1819). See Arthur
Christensen, Xavass-i-ayat: Notices et extraits d’un manuscript persan traitant la magie des
versets du Coran (Copenhagen: Høst & Søn, 1920); and Gruber, “A Pious Cure-All,” 125.
432 ekhtiar and parikh

al-kursī celebrates God’s omnipotence and omnipresence, justifying its broad

adoption across media, including arms and armor.44 Unsurprisingly, verses
from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff and Sūrat al-Naṣr are found primarily on arms and armor,
as well as on other equipment of war, such as military standards, as they invoke
success and victory, particularly through God’s help.45 The Sūrat al-Kāfirūn and
the Sūrat al-Ikhlāṣ both speak to an allegiance to God and his singularity. The
latter can also be found on a variety of objects, particularly amulets.46 Sūrat al-
Nās and Sūrat al-Falaq are collectively known as al-muʿawwidhatayn (“The two
verses of taking refuge”), as they both discuss seeking refuge in God. According
to a hadith, the muʿawwidhatayn were recited by the prophet Muḥammad to
break a curse that was put on him.47 Like the Sūrat al-Kāfirūn and the Sūrat
al-Ikhlāṣ, the muʿawwidhatayn emphasize God as the absolute and the ulti-
mate, powerful source for help. Of the entire Qurʾan, these chapters offer the
strongest protective capacity, and they therefore appear together on objects
associated with battle.48
The rings that comprise the sleeves and those that go around the shirt from
the neckline to the midsection (in the front this will be the bottom of the
breast plates) are stamped with the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā (“the most beautiful Names
of God”) (Figure 10.4). That expression appears four times in the Qurʾan and
invites devotees to use them when invoking or appealing to God.49 Although
the Qurʾan presents numerous names for God, which includes adjectives and
attributes, it does not identify or number the ones that are “the most beauti-
ful.” The identification and number came from the Prophet’s Companion, Abū
Hurayra (d. c. 61/680), who reported that the Prophet said, “God has ninety-nine
names, a hundred less one, whosoever recounts them will enter Paradise.”50

44 For a discussion on the āyat al-kursī’s talismanic properties, see E.A. Wallis Budge, Amulets
and Superstitions (London: Milford, 1930), 54–55, and Leoni, Power and Protection, 57.
45 For more on the martial context of the Qurʾan, see Coffey, “Between Amulet and Devotion.”
46 Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection,” 43. The Sūrat al-Ikhlāṣ is also one of the chapters that
is recited before consulting the Fāl-nāma (“Book of omens”), a Persian divinatory text;
Farhad with Bağcı, Falnama, 30, 296.
47 Leoni, Power and Protection, 53. Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans.”
Berythus 4 (1937): 75; Michael W. Dols, “The Theory of Magic in Healing,” in Majnun: The
Madman in Medieval Islamic Society, ed. Diana E. Immisch (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1992), 269, and Porter, Hoyland, and Morton, Arabic and Persian Seals and Amulets,
132.
48 For a prime example, see Leoni, Power and Protection, 57, fig. 31.
49 Al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā appears in Sūrat al-Aʿrāf (“The Heights”), 7:180; Sūrat al-Isrāʾ (“The Night
Journey”), 17:110; Sūrat Ṭā-Hā, 20:8; and Sūrat al-Ḥashr (“The Exile”), 59:24; Samer Akkach,
“Beautiful Names of God,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.
50 Akkach, “Beautiful Names of God.”
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 433

figure 10.4 Detail of stamped rings of shirt of mail and plate in Figure 10.3
Image in the Public Domain

While the number of names has been established, the actual names vary in
different hadiths and narrations.51 Those that appear on the mail shirt seem to
follow the list created by the celebrated hadith scholar al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892),
which became accepted by Sunnis, including the Mughals, as the authoritat-
ive list.52 Each ring has been meticulously stamped with approximately five
to six of God’s names. The same set of names is repeated for each column
of rings from the neckline to the bottom of the breastplates. Starting in the
middle of the chest area, strategically and symbolically next to the heart, is the
column with the first group of names, inscribed in order and read counter-
clockwise: al-Raḥmān (“The Merciful”), al-Raḥīm (“The Compassionate”), al-
Mālik (“The King”), al-Quddūs (“The Holy”), and al-Salām (“The Peace”). In
the next column, on the proper left, is the next set of names: al-Muʾmīn (“The
Believer”), al-Muhaymin (“The Dominant”), al-ʿAzīz (“The Powerful”), al-Jabbār

51 Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī, al-Maqṣad al-asnā fī sharḥ asmāʾ Allāh al-ḥusnā, ed. Fadlou
Shehadi (Faḍla Shaḥāda) (Beirut: Dar el-Machreq, 1982), 181–183.
52 For the entire list, see Akkach, “Beautiful Names of God.”
434 ekhtiar and parikh

(“The Almighty”), al-Mutakabbir (“The Haughty”), and al-Khāliq (“The Cre-

ator”). The list of names continues around the shirt until it concludes with
the final group of names: al-Badīʿ (“The Inventor”), al-Bāqī (“The Eternal”), al-
Wārith (“The Inheritor”), al-Rashīd (“The Leader”), and al-Ṣabr (“The Patient”).
This final group of names appears right next to the first group. The organization
is significant, for it symbolically demonstrates how recalling God encompasses
one’s heart, representing a true commitment to, and belief in, the Islamic faith.
The stamped rings can be found only on the top half of the shirt, perhaps so
that the owner’s vital parts, such as heart, stomach, kidneys, are under the
protection of God’s name. Cloaking the body in divine protection recalls a sig-
nificant parallel with the Prophet’s own actions. According to a hadith, every
evening the Prophet would lie in his bed, recite the opening verses of the last
three chapters of the Qurʾan (Sūrat al-Ikhlāṣ, Sūrat al-Falaq, and Sūrat al-Nās),
and blow air onto his hands to transfer their blessings. He would then mas-
sage his body, from his head to his feet, to spread the blessings and cover his
body in God’s protective influence.53 Notably, the verses that Muḥammad used
to imbue his body with apotropaic blessings also appear on this mail shirt.
The intricacies of the decoration of this mail shirt are signified by the specific
talismanic verses, symbols, and references, and how they are presented. The
ornamentation and the construction work together, interlocking physical and
divine protection in a singular unit.
With an understanding of talismanic materials and the positioning of
motifs, we now turn to a detailed discussion of these talismanic motifs and
symbols found on Islamic arms and armor, specifically those that refer to
the prophet Solomon, the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf, and ʿAlī’s bifurcated sword, Dhū l-
Fiqār.

2 Part II: Talismanic Motifs and Symbols

2.1 Solomon, the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf and Dhū l-Fiqār

The Qurʾan refers to Solomon as a king (malik), a prophet (nabī), and a just
and wise ruler elected by God. Solomon is also known for his practical wisdom
and connection with supernatural forces: he is able to command the wind and
communicate with birds and demons.54 Solomon was also an armorer who pos-

53 Leoni, Power and Protection, 53. See Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl al-Bukhārī, Sahih al-Bukhari:
The Translation of the Meanings of Sahih al-Bukhari, Arabic-English, ed. Muḥammad
Muḥsin Khān, 9 vols. (Beirut: Dār al-ʿArabiyya, 1985), 6:490, nos. 535–536, 7:430, no. 644.
54 Q 27:18–19.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 435

sessed the wisdom to adjudicate disputes and was fond of horses.55 According
to legend, God gave Solomon a seal in the shape of a hexagram and in the form
of a signet ring, to protect him and endow him with magical powers.56
Although the date of creation of the seal is unknown, the legend of a magic
ring was reportedly developed by medieval Arabic writers.57 The “seal of Solo-
mon” quickly became revered as an emblem of sovereignty and a symbol of
God’s protective powers; it was one of the most popular symbols in the Otto-
man lands.58 The Seyāḥat-nāme (“Book of travels”) of Ottoman explorer Evliyā
Çelebi (d. after 1096/1685) mentions that, in eleventh/seventeenth-century
Istanbul, the making and selling of amulet seals was a lucrative trade and that
the “seal of Solomon” was among the many verbal and visual emblems avail-
able.59 Evliyā states that the symbol was even carved onto the walls of Ottoman
fortresses, reinforcing the large bricks and stones that comprised those struc-
tures.60 The “seal of Solomon” also appears on portable coin-seals and talis-
manic shirts.
Solomonic symbols and inscriptions on arms and armor consist of Qurʾanic
passages that refer to him and his seal. For example, an Ottoman saber with a
pistol-shaped hilt, a straight guard, and a long, curved, steel blade in the Met-
ropolitan Museum of Art’s collection (Figure 10.5) bears neither a date nor the
name of the weapon’s owner or maker. Instead, the blade is decorated with a
gilded epigraphic program in thuluth script, which includes eleven verses from
the Sūrat al-Fatḥ (“The Victory”),61 a verse from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff,62 and the pop-
ular āyat al-kursī from the Sūrat al-Baqara.63 The last long cartouche, located
near the point on one side, contains a verse from the Sūrat al-Naml (“The Ant”)
in thuluth script that continues on the reverse side of the blade in fine naskh
script, and directly mentions Solomon:

55 Priscilla Soucek, “Solomon’s Throne/Solomon’s Bath: Model or Metaphor?” Ars Orientalis

23 (1993): 109–134.
56 M. Seligsohn and Joseph Jacobs, “Seal of Solomon,” Jewish Encyclopedia (New York, 1905),
11:448.
57 J. Walker and P. Fenton, “Sulaymān b. Dāwūd,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
58 Christiane Gruber, “Power and Protection: Late Ottoman Seal Designs,” Hadeeth al-Dar 38
(2012): 6. According to Gruber, it also acted as a graphic channel for securing divine dis-
pensation.
59 Gruber, “Power and Protection: Late Ottoman Seal Designs,” 2–6.
60 Gruber, “Power and Protection: Late Ottoman Seal Designs,” 2–6.
61 Acc. no. 36.25.1297. 48:7–11.
62 Q 61:13.
63 Q 2:255.
436 ekhtiar and parikh

figure 10.5
Saber kilij, Turkey, mid-tenth/sixteenth century.
Steel, gold, iron, wood, and fish skin. 96.2cm
(overall length). Metropolitan Museum of Art,
New York, Bequest of George C. Stone 1935,
36.25.1297
Image in the Public Domain
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 437

And there were gathered together unto Solomon his armies of the jinn
and humankind, and of the birds, and they were set in battle order. Allāh
has spoken truly. Till, when they reached the Valley of the Ants, an ant
exclaimed: O ants! Enter your dwellings lest Solomon and his armies will
crush you, unperceiving. And (Solomon) smiled, laughing at her speech,
and said: My Lord, arouse me to be thankful for Thy favor wherewith Thou
hast favored me and my parents, and to do good that shall be pleasing
unto Thee, and include me (the number of) Thy righteous slaves.64

References to Solomon continue in three additional verses from the same sura,
and concern the story of the prophet and Bilqīs (Queen of Sheba):

(The Queen of Sheba) said (when she received the letter): “O chieftains!
Lo! There hath been thrown unto me a noble letter. Lo! It is from Solomon,
and lo! It is: In the name of Allāh, the Beneficent and the Merciful. Exalt
not yourself against me, but come unto me as those who surrender.”65

The profusion of inscriptions on this saber affirm God’s omnipotence and

assurance of victory and salvation to believers, Solomon’s submission to God
and his wisdom and power over the forces of nature and his ability to convince
Sheba to surrender to his powers and submit to the belief in one God.66
Verses from Sūrat al-Naml occur rarely on Islamic arms and armor. In this
case, it may have been included as a clever metaphor aligning the ruling
emperor, Sultan Süleymān I, with his namesake, the great king and prophet
Solomon known for his knowledge and extraordinary powers. There is a tradi-
tion of using such iconography among Muslim monarchs. Safavid, Mughal, and
Deccani rulers such as Shāh Sulaymān I (r. 1077–1105/1666–1694), Akbar (r. 963–
1014/1556–1605), Jahāngīr (r. 1014–1037/1605–27), and Ibrāhīm ʿĀdilshāh II (r.
987–1038/1579–1629) used similar metaphors to lay claim to Solomon’s divinely
sanctioned reign.67

64 Q 27:18–19.
65 Q 27:29–31.
66 Anthony Welch, Calligraphy and the Arts of the Muslim World (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 1979), 94–95, and Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 155–157. See also Noah Gar-
diner, “Stars and Saints: The Esotericist Astrology of the Sufi Occultist Aḥmad al-Būnī,”
Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 12, no. 1 (2017): 39–65.
67 For example, both Sultan Süleymān and Shah Sulaymān referred to Solomon by includ-
ing the phrase “It is from Solomon” before the bismillāh in their personal slogans. In fact,
Sultan Süleymān used it in many contexts, including in the introduction to the historical
manuscript the Süleymān-nāme; Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 157. References to
438 ekhtiar and parikh

Sultan Süleymān’s rule is considered the height of the Ottoman Empire’s

economic, military, and political power, earning him the name “Süleymān the
Magnificent.” Therefore, according to David G. Alexander, “a saber fitted with
one of the most exquisitely-crafted blades produced in the Islamic lands with
Qurʾanic inscriptions referencing Solomon may very well be alluding to the all-
powerful Ottoman Sultan who commissioned it.”68 Here, the equivalence of the
names Solomon and Süleymān infuses this extraordinary saber with magical
and powerful talismanic properties.
The “seal of Solomon” appears widely on weapons, armor, and other objects
used on and off the battlefield. These include, for example, the green ban-
ner dating to the rule of Süleymān the Magnificent, several swords, talismanic
shirts, and a thirteenth/nineteenth-century patch box from the Ottoman Bal-
kans. Although many of these works date to a few centuries after the rule of
the great sultan, they demonstrate the enduring power of this talismanic sym-
bol. A thirteenth/nineteenth-century sword,69 with a steel blade and a black
jade hilt, in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s collection, bears inscriptions in
square kufic script stating the profession of faith along with the āyat al-kursī,
all damascened in gold on the front of the blade and with the “seal of Solomon”
on the reverse side, as well as invocations to God and Sultan Süleymān on its
gold guard.70 The blades of two other Ottoman thirteenth/nineteenth-century
swords in the Wallace Collection, London, feature the “seal of Solomon”; the
upper part of the edges of the blades of both weapons are inscribed with the
names of the Seven Sleepers and their dog, Qiṭmīr.71 One of the swords also
bears the statement, “There is no hero but ʿAlī; there is no sword but Dhū l-
Fiqār” (Figure 10.6). These weapons combine three potent protective symbols.
Here, the names of the Seven Sleepers refer to the sura from the Qurʾan devoted
to the story of “the People of the Cave,” which has resonance and talismanic

Solomon are also found in the tomb of the Mughal emperor Akbar; see Laura E. Parodi,
“Solomon, the Messenger and the Throne: Themes from a Mughal Tomb,”East and West 51,
nos. 1–2 (2001): 127–142. An inscription alluding to Solomon’s throne also appears on the
turban of the Deccani ruler, Ibrāhīm ʿĀdilshāh II, as seen in a painting in the David Col-
lection, Copenhagen. For a reproduction, see Navina Haidar and Marika Sardar, Sultans
of Deccan India 1500–1700: Opulence and Fantasy (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art,
2015), 93.
68 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 157.
69 This is a composite: the blade is possibly Iranian, the guard and the decoration on the
blade are Turkish, and the jade grip is attributed to twelfth/eighteenth-century Mughal
India; Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 172–173.
70 Acc. no. 36.25.1293.
71 Acc. nos. OA 1779 and OA 1994.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 439

significance for both Christians and Muslims.72 The story parallels its Christian
counterpart, recounting how a group of young believers and their dog were pro-
tected by God from religious persecution, took refuge in a cave, and fell asleep
for three hundred solar years (309 lunar years). When they awoke, the danger
had passed and they thought they had been asleep for only a day. They died
shortly after being discovered and were buried in the cave, which became a site
of worship. The Qurʾan reveals neither the names of the youths nor their exact
number, emphasizing that the latter is only known to God and a few people.73
For Muslims, reciting the sura is thought to bring peace and protection from
harm. The sura, or parts of it, is found on objects and architectural surfaces
from Spain to India from the thirteenth century onward.74
The “seal of Solomon” was also a popular motif in the Ottoman-occupied
Balkans. A late-thirteenth/nineteenth-century patch box in the Metropolitan
Museum of Art’s collection, features a large hexagram embellished with semi-
precious stones that occupies almost the entire surface.75 Patch boxes were
worn on a belt and used to carry accessories required by a gunman, such
as patches, spare flints, and cleaning cloths. Such patch boxes were probably
produced in the same guilds that created metal amulets, charms, and seals,
which would also have been emblazoned with Solomonic and other talismanic
motifs.

2.2 Dhū l-Fiqār and Ahl al-Bayt Imagery

Textual and visual references to the bifurcated sword Dhū l-Fiqār appear on a
wide variety of objects and media, such as silk banners, tombstones, talismanic
shirts and other objects, prayer books, dervish drawings, paintings, ceramics,
and arms and armor in the Islamic world from the eighth/fourteenth century
onward. Considered the pre-eminent Islamic sword, Dhū l-Fiqār first belonged
to the prophet Muḥammad, who presented it to ʿAlī, his cousin, son-in-law and,
according to Shiʿi believers, his legitimate successor, at the Battle of Uḥud in
3/625. Sunnis venerate ʿAlī as the last of the four Rightly Guided Caliphs and a
key member of the house of the Prophet. The phrase dhū l-fiqār (literally “one
having a spine”) is probably an allusion to the appearance of the blade of the
Prophet’s sword, which is thought to have had grooves and scallops along its
length and a notch at the tip that gives it a forked appearance.

72 Q 18:9–26.
73 Porter, “Amulets,” 123–134.
74 Porter, “Amulets,” 125.
75 Acc. no. 36.25.2474.
440 ekhtiar and parikh

figure 10.6 Saber (kilij), Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth cen-

tury. Walrus ivory, silver, gold, steel, wood, leather,
cord, tassel. 86.1 cm (overall length). Wallace Col-
lection, London, OA 1779
Photography by Cassandra Parsons ©
The Wallace Collection

The sword’s association with ʿAlī has remained consistent from an early date,
and the extensive mythology surrounding it centers on ʿAlī’s possession of it.
Both Sunnis and Shiʿis regard it as a magical emblem of victory. It also has talis-
manic value, as it is thought to possess extraordinary properties to empower
and protect warriors on and off the battlefield, as well as naval forces at sea.
Furthermore, in traditions and religious epics ʿAlī is represented as a larger-
than-life, invincible hero who, with the aid of his miraculous sword, was cap-
able of defeating the deadliest of enemies. The slogan uttered by the Prophet
after observing ʿAlī’s deft handling of the sword, “There is no hero but ʿAlī, there
is no sword but Dhū l-Fiqār,” epitomizes both ʿAlī’s unmatched valor and the
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 441

power of this sword.76 Furthermore, ʿAlī’s role as an intercessor in attaining

blessings and salvation cannot be overstated. He is perceived by his followers
as a nearly omnipotent force with the ability to protect and to dispense order,
security, and justice in the face of turmoil, strife, and danger.77 Twelver Shiʿis
believe that, after ʿAlī’s death, Dhū l-Fiqār was passed down to his sons, Ḥasan
and Ḥusayn, and remained in the family until the occultation of the twelfth
Imam, Muḥammad al-Mahdī, in 260/874.78
Imagery evoking Dhū l-Fiqār appears more frequently, however, on objects
from areas dominated by Sunni Islam, such as Turkey and parts of Southeast
Asia, including the Philippines and Indonesia, rather than in predominantly
Shiʿi regions such as Iran and Deccan India. Several Ottoman silk banners (san-
çaks) dating from the late tenth/sixteenth to the early thirteenth/nineteenth
century feature an image of Dhū l-Fiqār at the center, which is usually sur-
rounded by a constellation of medallions that contain the names Allāh and
Muḥammad and those of the four Rightly Guided Caliphs.
This layout is seen on an early green silk banner in the Maritime Museum in
Istanbul dated to the tenth/sixteenth century and associated with Khayreddīn
Barbarossa (d. 952/1546), admiral of the Ottoman navy under Sultan Süley-
mān.79 It bears not only an image of the Dhū l-Fiqār but also the “seal of
Solomon” and the “hand of Fāṭima,” the latter known in the Ottoman world
as pençe-i āl-i abā (“Palm of the family of the mantle”), referring to the Ahl
al-Bayt.80 Two fine red banners in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s col-
lection featuring Dhū l-Fiqār, an early example from circa 1094/1683, and a
later example (Figure 10.7), dated 1225/1810–1811, include Qurʾanic verses and
Allāh, Muḥammad and the names of the Rightly Guided Caliphs.81 The later
example also includes the name of a Companion of the Prophet, Abū Ayyūb
al-Anṣārī, who died in an unsuccessful siege of Constantinople in 54/674. In
the later examples, the hilt of the Dhū l-Fiqār consists of a guard in the form
of a star-shaped calligram and quillons that terminate in dragon heads, the
dragon being a reference to ʿAlī.82 The bifurcated blade is covered with calli-

76 Jane Hathaway, “The Sword Zulfiqar in Its Ottoman Incarnation,” The Turkish Studies Asso-
ciation Journal 27, nos. 1–2 (2003): 4 n. 10.
77 Kathryn Babayan, “The Cosmological Order of Things in Early Modern Iran,” in Falnama:
Book of Omens, ed. Massumeh Farhad with Serpil Bağcı (Washington DC: Arthur M. Sackler
Gallery, 2008), 246–255.
78 Hathaway, “The Sword Zulfiqar in Its Ottoman Incarnation,” 4.
79 Acc. no. 2964.
80 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 163–170.
81 Acc. nos. 11.181.1 and 1976.312.
82 Alexander, Islamic Arms and Armor, 150–151.
442 ekhtiar and parikh

figure 10.7 Sançak banner, Turkey, probably Istanbul, dated 1235/1819–

1820. Silk metal-wrapped thread, lampas, brocaded.
294 × 217.2 cm. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York,
Fletcher Fund, 1976, 1976.312
Image in the Public Domain

graphic inscriptions, some in mirror image (muthannā). Here, the Ottomans

have “Sunnified” Dhū l-Fiqār by surrounding it with medallions bearing the
names of the four orthodox caliphs. A painting from the Dīvān of Maḥmūd ʿAbd
al-Bāqī (932–1008/1526–1600) in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of
Art, depicting the entry of the Safavid prince Ḥaydar Mīrzā (d. 1004/1595) into
Istanbul as a hostage, shows the Ottoman troops carrying a banner with a Dhū
l-Fiqār at the center, as they march into the city (Figure 10.8).83

83 Acc. no. 45.174.5.

power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 443

figure 10.8 “Ottoman Army Entering a City.” Folio from a Dīvān of Maḥmūd
ʿAbd al-Bāqī (detail), Turkey, last quarter of tenth/sixteenth cen-
tury. Ink, opaque watercolor, and gold on paper. Page 26×16cm.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of George
D. Pratt, 45.174.5
Image in the Public Domain
444 ekhtiar and parikh

The image of Dhū l-Fiqār also appears along with the references to Allāh
and Muḥammad on the backs of a number of Ottoman talismanic shirts.84
Such shirts were worn by warriors under mail shirts and other armor. The
entire surface was covered with Qurʾanic verses, prayers, talismanic charts and
other signs and symbols, producing talismanic shirts intended to provide an
additional layer of protection during battle. They could also be worn by ailing
individuals seeking relief from illness or injury. In an example in the collec-
tion of the Topkapı Palace Museum, the names Allāh, Muḥammad, and ʿAlī are
inscribed, with the tail of the last letter in ʿAlī forming the bifurcated blades of
Dhū l-Fiqār.85 An Ottoman double-bladed sword in the shape of Dhū l-Fiqār
in the Topkapı Palace Museum further demonstrates the extensive use of this
symbol in the Ottoman context.86
Recent studies by Zeynep Yürekli and Vefa Erginbaş have explored the phe-
nomenon of the reverence of ʿAlī and the Ahl al-Bayt in the Ottoman territories,
which is represented visually through talismanic inscriptions and symbols such
as Dhū l-Fiqār, the “hand of Fāṭima,” and textual references to ʿAlī’s sons, Ḥasan
and Ḥusayn, on arms and armor and other militaria.87 After the creation of the
Shiʿi Safavid state in 907/1501 on the eastern borders of the Ottoman Empire,
a long period of militant Shiʿi-Sunni rivalry ensued, but this conflict did not
result in a marked dichotomy between Ottoman Sunnism and Safavid Shiʿism,
and, despite state-enforced “Sunnification,” not all segments of Ottoman soci-
ety were equally affected.88 A strong attachment to the family of the prophet
Muḥammad and other Shiʿi Imams persisted, particularly among members of
army and the Bektāshī Sufi order, thus blurring sectarian lines. In fact, elements
of the Janissary corps, the elite corps of the Ottoman infantry, had a particular
devotion to ʿAlī and the Ahl al-Bayt which, as Erginbaş states, was connected
to the concept of tashayyuʿ ḥasan (favorable or moderate inclination toward
Shiʿism). These tendencies were also pronounced among pockets of the popu-
lation who extolled the virtues of ʿAlī and the Imams without denigrating the
first three caliphs, demonstrating that Ottoman Sunnism was not, in fact, as
monolithic as previously thought.89

84 See, e.g., Hülye Tezcan, Topkapi Sarayi Műzesi: Koleksiyonundan Tilsimli Gőmlikler (Istan-
bul: Timas Yayinlari, 2011), cat. 21, 112–113; and cat. 17, 98–103.
85 TSM 13/1146. For image, see Tezcan, Topkapi Sarayi Műzesi, cat. 21, 112–113.
86 TSM 1/610.
87 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 163–170; Vefa Erginbaş, “Problematizing Ottoman
Sunnism: Appropriation of Islamic History and Ahl al-Baytism in Ottoman Literary and
Historical Writing in the Sixteenth Century,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of
the Orient 60 (2017): 616–646.
88 Erginbaş, “Problematizing Ottoman Sunnism,” 615.
89 Erginbaş, “Problematizing Ottoman Sunnism,” 615.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 445

According to Yürekli, after signing the Treaty of Amasya in 962/1555, the

Safavid ruler Shah Tahmāsp I (r. 930–984/1524–1576) officially forbade the curs-
ing of the caliphs in Iran, signaling a new practice of representing ʿAlīd and Ahl
al-Bayt imagery on Ottoman militaria. For example, the banner of Ḫayreddīn
Barbarossa features Dhū l-Fiqār and an iconographic reference to Fāṭima (ʿAlī’s
wife) but accompanies it with the names of the other three Rightly Guided
Caliphs.90 A blue and white Iznik ceramic vessel in the shape of a mosque lamp
from the mid-tenth/sixteenth century bearing the slogan “There is no hero but
ʿAlī and no sword but Dhū l-Fiqār” in the Metropolitan Museum also illustrates
this tendency.91 Yürekli argues that the inclusion of these motifs reflects the
ambiguous position of Ottoman religious policy-makers, who, while support-
ing Sunni doctrine, deemed it necessary to display symbols of the Prophet’s
family in public in order to prevent a Safavid monopoly over them.92 The pub-
lic display and dissemination of such imagery in the Ottoman context was
perhaps also a political tactic to appease the Shiʿi Sufi factions within the
empire particularly among the Janissary corps and the ghāzīs (warriors for
the Muslim faith) by placing them under the protection of ʿAlī and the Ahl al-
Bayt. The famous Codex Vindobonensis, a tenth/sixteenth-century compilation
of Viennese paintings of Ottoman officials, depicts Janissary troops march-
ing in procession carrying large wooden replicas of Dhū l-Fiqār.93 The sword
also appeared on amulets to protect warriors from disaster, as related by the
Serbian soldier and author Konstantin Mihailović (d. c. 1501), who, in his mem-
oirs, mentions that they carried them under their arms, especially at war, and
regarded them as helpful talismans on the battlefield.94 Janissary and Bek-
tāshī tombstones bear carved images of the magical sword and related Shiʿi
imagery.95
The same attitude may have led to the practice of decorating the interior
of Ottoman imperial mosques with medallions bearing the names of Ḥasan
and Ḥusayn, in addition to those of the Rightly Guided Caliphs. This can be
seen in the inscriptions of the Süleymaniye complex in Istanbul, the Selimiye
mosque in Edirne, and later mosques built by the chief imperial architect Sinān
(d. 996/1588).96 Aware of its favorable political implications, Sultan Süleymān

90 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 165.

91 Acc. No. 59.69.3.
92 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 171.
93 Hathaway, “The Sword Zulfiqar in Its Ottoman Incarnation,” 7.
94 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 167.
95 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 167, n. 28.
96 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 167.
446 ekhtiar and parikh

also reportedly visited the tomb of ʿAlī and Ḥusayn at Karbala and bestowed
gifts on the shrines during one of his journeys to the region after Ottoman forces
in 940/1534 conquered Iraq, including the cities of Baghdad, Najaf, and Karbala,
all of which hold Shiʿi holy sites. In later centuries, Dhū l-Fiqār developed into a
hallmark of Ottoman protection, armed might, and military hegemony at home
and in distant lands, particularly in predominantly Sunni regions in Southeast
Asia, such as the Philippines and Indonesia.
Images of Dhū l-Fiqār appear on two works from Southeast Asia. In the Met-
ropolitan Museum of Art’s collection is a thirteenth/nineteenth-century ba-
rong, a sword with an elliptical, flat, heavy, single-edged blade and an intricately
carved pommel, from Southern Philippines.97 The barong bears an engraved
image of Dhū l-Fiqār with Allāh engraved within its contours. It is surrounded
by Arabic letters and numbers, which are associated with ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-
asmāʾ (“science of letters and names”), a cosmic language regarded as a key to
the mysteries of creation that relies on divination by letters thought to heal,
protect, and facilitate control over objects and events.98
A large image of Dhū l-Fiqār with Arabic magical letters between the blades,
as well as a calligram in the shape of a lion, is featured on a twelfth/eighteenth-
century batik banner from Cirebon, currently in the Textile Museum, Jakarta.99
The border of the banner bears the Qurʾanic slogan “Help from God and a vic-
tory near at hand,”100 and includes a smaller image of a lion and a star, possibly
the “seal of Solomon,” and magic squares. The banner (or rather, an earlier itera-
tion of it) was reportedly used by Sunan Gunung Jati (born Syarif Hidayatullah;
d. c. 978/1570), one of nine revered Sufi saints in Indonesia.101 The configuration
of Dhū l-Fiqār and the magical letters is reminiscent of the one engraved on
the blade of the barong from Southern Philippines discussed above. Although
we are not certain about the context in which such banners were used, the
later examples were carried in religious ceremonial processions or in battle,
such as during the Indonesian resistance to Dutch occupation, particularly in
the Aceh-Dutch War (1290–1332/1873–1914), which led to significant casualties

97 Acc. no. 36.25.888a.

98 Porter, Saif, and Savage-Smith, “Medieval Islamic Amulets, Talismans, and Magic,” 537–541.
On other deployments of lettrism, see the chapters by Noah Gardiner, Maria Subtelny, and
Matthew Melvin-Koushki in this volume.
99 Acc. no. 017; see James Bennett, Crescent Moon: Islamic Art and Civilization in Southeast
Asia (Adelaide: Art Gallery of South Australia, 2005), 41, 285, cat. 90; and Farouk Yahya’s
chapter in this volume.
100 Q 61:13: Naṣr min Allāh wa-fatḥ qarīb.
101 Mohd. Zahamri Nizar, “Ikonografi Zulfikar dalam Sejarah Hubungan Turki dan Nusantara,”
Suhuf 4, no. 1 (2011): 125–126.
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 447

on both sides.102 The talismanic motifs on such textiles were drawn largely
from Ottoman sources and demonstrate a long history of artistic intercon-
nections between Indonesia and the Ottoman Empire, which stemmed from
the Ottoman-Portuguese rivalry in the Indian Ocean in the tenth/sixteenth
century. In the last quarter of the thirteenth/nineteenth century, diplomatic
relations between the two powers intensified with increasing Ottoman milit-
ary involvement in the region during the Dutch Occupation.103 The motifs and
inscriptions on these banners not only signal the faith and identity of the war-
rior who carried it but illustrate the filtering of talismanic symbols representing
ʿAlī, such as Dhū l-Fiqār and the lion, into largely Sunni areas under Ottoman
influence (and Persianate influences more generally) across Muslim Southeast
Asia from the tenth/sixteenth century onward.
As seen in these Ottoman and Southeast Asian examples, and as Jane Hath-
away argues, Dhū l-Fiqār functioned as a sort of iconographic Rorschach test;
that is, the image of the sword as a talismanic and spiritual symbol resonated
with whatever religious or ideological tradition from which the viewer/owner
came. In Ottoman domains, it spoke to recruits to military and administrative
culture who were from various cultures and religious affiliations.104 By exten-
sion, in Southeast Asia Dhū l-Fiqār became a symbol of solidarity, empower-
ment, and Ottoman protection in times of strife and turmoil, especially during
the Dutch Occupation of Indonesia. In both cases, while sometimes serving
practical motives, it was perceived as a potent unifying emblem and a meta-
phorical shield.

3 Conclusion

The talismanic vocabulary used on Islamic arms and armor was part of a delib-
erate and carefully planned program designed to protect and empower the
owner. Certain pious phrases, verses from the Qurʾan, and invocations and
motifs that evoked religious figures were considered more efficacious than oth-
ers in providing metaphysical support. The distribution and arrangement of
such formulas was as crucial as the verbal or visual motifs themselves because,

102 Mohd. Zahamri, “Ikonografi Zulfikar,” 123. See also Farouk Yahya’s chapter in this vol-
ume.
103 Fiona Kerlogue, “Islamic Talismans: The Calligraphy Batiks,” in Batik Drawn in Wax, ed.
Itie van Hout (Amsterdam: Royal Tropical Institute, 2001), 125; Mohd. Zahamri, “Ikono-
grafi Zulfikar,” 113–126.
104 Hathaway, “The Sword Zulfiqar in Its Ottoman Incarnation,” 12.
448 ekhtiar and parikh

in order to be effective, they had to be in positions where the owner could main-
tain contact with them, through touch and/or sight. The way a piece of armor
was worn or the way in which a weapon was held and used thus affected the
layout.
As the verbal and visual apotropaic motifs on arms and armor parallel those
on charms, amulets, and other objects, they also share the types of materials.
The precious and semi-precious stones set into amulets were also used to cre-
ate and embellish weapons, armor, and other militaria, as it was believed that
they all possessed their own set of magical properties, such as protecting the
bearer from poison or ensuring victory. While precious stones, such as emer-
alds, were too valuable to be used on the battlefield, they adorned ceremonial
swords and other objects that were kept in encampments or used in royal and
religious processions, protecting the owner from other threats, such as assas-
sination attempts.
A closer examination of Islamic arms and armor from the Metropolitan
Museum of Art has provided important insights into the talismanic motifs and
their socio-political and religious contexts in which they were used. Although
certain Qurʾanic suras and prayers were universally represented on arms and
armor throughout the Islamic world, the same is not true of specific symbols
and visual references, which seem to have been favored in some regions more
than in others. For example, the “seal of Solomon” has a rich history of talis-
manic use and is frequently seen on many swords and other battle-related
objects from regions under Ottoman control and influence well into the thir-
teenth/nineteenth century, and verbal and visual references to the Seven Sleep-
ers occur exclusively on Ottoman arms.
The examination of the relationship between talismans and regions of the
Islamic world has also challenged our understanding of Sunni and Shiʿi icono-
graphy, revealing that motifs were much more fluid between the two branches
of Islam and did not display a rigid dichotomy. It also reflects the complex
nature of the deep devotion to the Prophet’s family in both denominations.
As seen in the Ottoman and Southeast Asian examples discussed above, both
Shiʿis and Sunnis regarded ʿAlī and members of the Ahl al-Bayt as potent chan-
nels of intercession and a source of protection. In fact, images of Dhū l-Fiqār
rarely appear on arms and armor from Shiʿi regions such as Iran and Deccan
India but are ubiquitous features of Ottoman weaponry. This reflects the versat-
ility and inclusivity of these talismanic symbols in Ottoman domains. Warriors
from diverse faiths and affiliations saw a reflection of themselves, their tradi-
tions, and their allegiance to the Ottoman state in Dhū l-Fiqār. By extension
warriors from faraway lands under Ottoman influence, such as Indonesia, also
came to regard it as a source of protection against their enemies. In this con-
power and piety: islamic talismans on the battlefield 449

text, Dhū l-Fiqār was considered a multivalent and potent talismanic symbol
and an icon of Ottoman military might across the vast empire.
This discussion has sought to demonstrate how significant talismans were
in the construction, function, and decoration of arms and armor in the Islamic
world, from the materials used to the types of talismans and how they were
deliberately positioned on a weapon or a piece of armor. The examination
of specific talismans has brought to light their socio-political, cultural, and
religious significance in different regions throughout the Islamic world, from
Anatolia to Southeast Asia, thus providing an understanding of their implic-
ations beyond the surface on which they are etched, engraved, embroidered,
and painted. The inclusion of magical inscriptions and symbols on arms and
armor, as well as other accoutrements used on and off the battlefield, was
employed to protect and empower the owner, ultimately enabling a connec-
tion with the divine. But, while arms and armor conjure notions of bravery
and violence, the inclusion of talismanic verbal and visual motifs also allows
us to view these objects from a different perspective, one that highlights a
more intimate side to war, manifesting human emotions and states such as
fear, vulnerability, aspiration, and hope. Talismans were constructed to pro-
tect their owners from danger, illness, and misfortune; bestow upon them luck
and blessings; give them a means of connecting with God or other holy figures
for protection and guidance; and provide a sense of certainty for the future.
While these traits appeal to everyone, having divine protection from harm and
taming fears of the uncertain were especially desired by men at war. Arms and
armor with talismanic programs provided both metaphysical power and phys-
ical protection, giving their owners a sense of otherworldly advantage on the
battlefield.

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Yürekli, Zeynep. “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans.” People of the Prophet’s House, edited
by Fahmida Suleman, 163–172. London: Azimuth, 2015.
 chapter 11

Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī in Southeast Asia

Farouk Yahya

Calligrams, or pictorial/figurative calligraphy, are texts that have been shaped

into images. They may take the form of inanimate objects or living beings and
may consist of any kind of script. Since the ninth/fifteenth century, calligrams
have been found in various parts of the Islamicate world, particularly in Turkey,
Iran, South Asia, Southeast Asia, China, and West Africa. They remain popular
today.1
Calligrams appear on various media, such as paper, textiles, metalwork,
woodwork, and glass. Although some are found within a manuscript as part
of a wider text, they are often in the form of detached images and appear on
their own. They may be displayed publicly (as on the walls of a home, mosque,
or Sufi lodge, or on items of clothing, shields, and banners) or kept private for
personal appreciation or devotion (as in albums and manuscripts).
They are typically composed of Arabic script. The language of the texts is
predominantly Arabic, but calligrams are occasionally composed in other lan-
guages, such as Persian and Turkish. The textual components are almost always
religious and mystical, comprising sacred phrases or the names of holy fig-
ures.

1 There are a few studies that focus on Islamicate calligrams specifically; among them are
Chaubey Bisvesvar Nath and Thomas H. Hendley, “Calligraphy,” The Journal of Indian Art and
Industry 16 (1913): 31–32 and pls. 9–13; Malik Aksel, Türklerde dinî resimler: yazı-resim (Istan-
bul: Elif Kitabevi, 1967); Robert Hillenbrand, “Figural Calligraphy in the Muslim World,” in Ten
Poems from Hafez, by Jila Peacock (Lewes: Sylph Editions, 2006), 9–17; İrvin Cemil Schick, “The
Content of Form: Islamic Calligraphy between Text and Representation,” in Sign and Design:
Script as Image in Cross-Cultural Perspective (300–1600 CE), ed. Brigitte Miriam Bedos-Rezak
and Jeffrey Hamburger (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2016), 184–189 (I am grateful to
Yasmine Al-Saleh for introducing me to Schick’s work). As they belong to the calligraphic
arts, discussions on calligrams are also usually found among studies on calligraphy, such as
Annemarie Schimmel, Islamic Calligraphy (Leiden: Brill, 1970), 11–12; Annemarie Schimmel,
Calligraphy and Islamic Culture (London: I.B. Tauris, 1990), 110–113; Oleg Grabar, The Medi-
ation of Ornament (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 86–88, 102, 106–107; Sheila
S. Blair, Islamic Calligraphy (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 449–451, 506–508,
558–559; and Maryam D. Ekhtiar, How to Read Islamic Calligraphy (New York: Metropolitan
Museum of Art, 2018), 113–114.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 455

The images that are formed by these texts are varied, but certain forms are
more common than others.2 They include human beings, animals (particularly
birds and quadrupeds), objects (such as ships), and architectural features (such
as mosques). The shapes chosen often relate in some way to the texts, but many
do not. Even so, the images were not chosen randomly. They are often symbolic
and reflected the beliefs and lives of the societies that produced them.
The ornate and complex way in which the texts are shaped means that calli-
grams are often difficult to decipher.3 This enhances their esoteric qualities but
raises issues of legibility and visual perception. In addition to being aesthet-
ically appealing, calligrams can have multiple functions and embody various
meanings. Their sacred nature often made them objects of popular devotion,
and among Sufi orders they represent the visual embodiment of mystical doc-
trines.4 Their sacred and ambiguous character meant that calligrams were also
employed for magical purposes. While their talismanic properties have been
noted in passing by scholars,5 there have recently been efforts to bring cal-
ligrams into the study of the occult sciences, as in the catalog of Ottoman
talismans in the Halûk Perk Müzesi Museum in Istanbul;6 and the exhibitions
and catalogs for Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural at the

2 Calligrams are not the only type of Islamicate calligraphic art that can be used to create
images. A closely related form of calligraphy is micrography (ghubār, lit. “dust”), in which
texts are written in miniscule form and may be arranged to represent objects or living beings,
or even further words and phrases. Often found in scrolls, they were also considered talis-
manic. On micrography, see Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, 451–452. Mirror writing—in which
letters, words, or phrases are doubled symmetrically, with one side being a mirrored rep-
resentation of the original—can also be manipulated to form images. Indeed, calligrams
may themselves be mirrored (Figures 11.10, 11.11). On mirror writing, see Ekhtiar, How to Read,
111.
3 The texts may begin in the figure’s head (as noted in Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, 559), or start
from the right-hand side of the image and then move in the direction of writing for Arabic
script (right to left).
4 This is an important facet of the use of calligrams in the Islamicate world, but, because the
focus of this chapter is on the occult sciences, space does not permit such a discussion. For
calligrams in Sufism and popular devotion, see, e.g., Frederick de Jong, “The Iconography of
Bektashiism: A Survey of Themes and Symbolism in Clerical Costume, Liturgical Objects
and Pictorial Art,” Manuscripts of the Middle East 4 (1989): 7–29; and “Pictorial Art of the
Bektashi Order,” in The Dervish Lodge: Architecture, Art, and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey, ed.
Raymond Lifchez (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 228–241; Annemarie Schim-
mel, “Calligraphy and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey,” in Lifchez, The Dervish Lodge, 242–252;
Yousuf Saeed, Muslim Devotional Art in India (New Delhi; Abingdon: Routledge, 2012), 88,
91–92, 97.
5 Nath and Hendley, “Calligraphy,” 31; Hillenbrand, “Figural Calligraphy,” 14.
6 Halûk Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım Mühürleri (Istanbul: Halûk Perk Müzesi Yayinlari, 2010), 136–137.
456 yahya

Ashmolean Museum in Oxford (2016–2017) by Francesca Leoni7 and Divine Pro-

tection: Talismanic Art of Islamic Cultures at the James Reinish Gallery, New York
(2019) by Shawn Ghassemi.8
This chapter focuses on a type of calligraphic design that was perhaps the
most popular in the Islamicate world, especially in the Persianate regions—
particularly Ottoman Turkey and the Balkans, Safavid and Qajar Iran, Central
Asia, South Asia, and Southeast Asia—since at least the ninth/fifteenth cen-
tury.9 It is in the form of a large feline, often composed of verses extolling
the prophet Muḥammad’s cousin and son-in-law ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/661),
a legendary hero popular with many Muslims, both Shiʿi and Sunni. ʿAlī was
known as the “Lion of God,” so this form of zoomorphic calligraphy is com-
monly referred to as the Lion of ʿAlī. The calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī are not
homogeneous but may differ in terms of their iconography, posture, textual
content, and style. Various forms of the motif have been found on materials
as diverse as paper, textiles, and woodwork, and incorporated in such things as
royal commissions, Sufi devotions, and magical rituals. The ubiquity of the calli-
gram attests to its importance in Muslim cultures, and gives us the opportunity
to look closely at the role that writing, images, and the religious and occult
sciences played in Muslim societies, as well as the interconnections between
them.
There have been several studies on the Lion of ʿAlī in the Persianate realm
by scholars such as Malik Aksel, Thierry Zarcone, Raya Shani, and Fahmida
Suleman.10 This chapter, however, shifts the focus to Southeast Asia, where this
topic has largely been unexplored, investigating the development and usage

7 Francesca Leoni, ed. Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural (Oxford: Ash-
molean Museum, 2016), cats. 28, 46, 47, 105, 109.
8 Shawn Ghassemi, Divine Protection: Talismanic Art of Islamic Cultures (San Francisco: Art
Passages, 2019), cat. 11.
9 “Persianate” was defined by Marshall Hodgson as referring to areas where “local languages
of high culture … depended upon Persian wholly or in part for their prime literary inspira-
tion,” The Venture of Islam, 3 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), 2:293. South-
east Asia—which was influenced by Persian language, literature, and cultural traditions—
was thus a part of the Persianate world. See also footnote 68.
10 Aksel, Türklerde dinî resimler, 83–89; Thierry Zarcone, “The Lion of Ali in Anatolia,” in The
Art and Material Culture of Iranian Shiʿism: Iconography and Religious Devotion in Shiʿi
Islam, ed. Pedram Khosronejad (London: I.B. Tauris, 2010), 104–121; Raya Shani, “Calli-
graphic Lions Symbolising the Esoteric Dimension of ʿAlī’s Nature,” in Khosronejad, The
Art and Material Culture of Iranian Shiʿism, 122–158; Fahmida Suleman, “The Iconography
of Ali as the Lion of God in Shiʿi Art and Material Culture,” in Khosronejad, The Art and
Material Culture of Iranian Shiʿism, 215–232.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 457

of the motif within this region particularly from the twelfth/eighteenth to the
early fourteenth/twentieth century. It seeks to further our understanding of the
religious and artistic connections between Southeast Asia and the rest of the
Islamicate world, how foreign ideas and motifs were adapted into local belief
and cultural systems, and what meanings and functions calligrams had among
Muslim societies more broadly.
To provide context, this chapter will begin with a discussion of the talis-
manic properties of calligrams, followed by a brief background on the Lion of
ʿAlī motif in the Islamicate world. It will then consider the possible routes of
transmission of the design into Southeast Asia and highlight the main charac-
teristics of the calligram in the region. Among the key points of this research
is that there was an ambiguity regarding the identity of the animal depicted in
the calligrams (often referred to as a tiger instead of a lion), and a disconnect
between the textual content and ʿAlī, even though the designs were still asso-
ciated with him by the local populations. The concluding sections will focus
on two major types of Southeast Asian calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī. The first,
in which the designs are composed of the shahāda, is generally concentrated
around the city of Cirebon, in Java. The second type, in which the calligrams are
composed of a verse from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff (Q 61:13), is more widespread, being
found in the Malay peninsula, Java, the Lesser Sunda Islands, and Sulawesi.

1 The Talismanic Properties of Calligrams

Calligrams have been produced in the Islamicate world since at least the ninth/
fifteenth century, as attested by a scroll dated 862/1458 dedicated to the Otto-
man ruler Mehmed II (r. 848–850/1444–1446 and 855–886/1451–1481), which
contains examples of zoomorphic calligraphy in the form of a lion and a bird.11
A common explanation given for the initial development and subsequent pop-
ularity of calligrams is that they circumvented the so-called Islamic “prohibi-
tion” of depicting living beings.12 Indeed, by their ambiguous nature, calligrams

11 Hillenbrand, “Figural Calligraphy,” 13. The scroll is in Istanbul, Topkapı Palace Museum, E.
H. 2878. See Filiz Çağman, “E.10: Scroll of Mehmed II,” in The Anatolian Civilisations III:
Seljuk/Ottoman, by Nazan Tapan et al. (Istanbul: Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tour-
ism, 1983), 111, cat. E.10; Zeren Tanındı, “Scroll of Sultan Mehmed II,” in Turks: A Journey of
a Thousand Years, 600–1600, ed. David Roxburgh (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 2005),
288–289, 439, cat. 246; Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, 378–380; Shani, “Calligraphic Lions,” 122–
132, 137; Schick, “The Content of Form,” 184–185.
12 Nath and Hendley, “Calligraphy,” 31; Schimmel, Islamic Calligraphy, 11; Hillenbrand, “Fig-
ural Calligraphy,” 14–15.
458 yahya

(as well as other related forms of pictorial writing such as micrography and
mirror writing) blur the lines between text and image and thus challenge the
perception of the viewer.13 As İrvin Cemil Schick has pointed out, however,
calligrams are not the only form of writing that do this. Examples of devo-
tional calligraphy, such as the Ottoman ḥilye (word portraits of the prophet
Muḥammad), and talismanic designs such as the “seal of prophethood” (muhr
al-nubuwwa; it enjoins the user to “see” the text), similarly oscillate between
the realms of the written and the graphic.14 Of more direct relation to calli-
grams are the anthropomorphic and zoomorphic scripts found on sixth/twelfth
to seventh/thirteenth-century metalwork from Khurasan,15 and picture-poems
(mudabbajāt) whereby the texts are arranged visually to form shapes such
as trees.16 To these we may add diagrams—whether scientific, religious, or
divinatory—that help to organize textual information in a graphical manner.17
The incorporation of writing into illustrations of people, buildings, and land-
scape in Arab and Persian miniature painting, as in the form of captions and
inscriptions, similarly acts to combine text and image.18

13 They are in a sense similar (but not identical) to puzzle pieces such as the “Duck and Hare”
(Is it a duck? Is it a hare?). On micrography and mirror-writing, see footnote 2.
14 İrvin Cemil Schick, “The Iconicity of Islamic Calligraphy in Turkey,”RES: Anthropology and
Aesthetics 53–54 (2008): 211–224. For the ḥilye, see Nabil F. Safwat, The Art of the Pen: Calli-
graphy of the 14th to 20th Centuries (London: Nour Foundation in association with Azimuth
Editions and Oxford University Press, 1996), 46–68. For the “seal of prophethood,” see the
chapter by Christiane Gruber in this volume.
15 On these scripts, see David S. Rice, The Wade Cup in the Cleveland Museum of Art (Paris:
Éditions du Chêne, 1955); Adolf Grohmann, “Anthropomorphic and Zoomorphic Letters
in the History of Arabic Writing,” Bulletin de l’ institut d’Egypte 38 (1955–1956): 117–122;
Richard Ettinghausen, “The ‘Wade Cup’ in the Cleveland Museum of Art, Its Origin and
Decorations,” Ars Orientalis 2 (1957): 327–366.
16 Lara Harb, “Beyond the Known Limits: Ibn Dāwūd al-Iṣfahānī’s Chapter on ‘Intermedial’
Poetry,” in Arabic Humanities, Islamic Thought: Essays in Honor of Everett K. Rowson, ed.
Joseph E. Lowry and Shawkat M. Toorawa (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 122–149, here 138–141; Julia
Bray, “Picture-Poems for Saladin: ʿAbd al-Munʿim al-Jilyani’s Mudabbajat,” in Syria in Cru-
sader Times: Conflict and Co-Existence, ed. Carole Hillenbrand (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni-
versity Press, 2020), 247–264.
17 For a discussion of the relationship between diagram and text in a type of Malay divinat-
ory diagram, see Farouk Yahya, “The Wheel Diagram in the Malay Divinatory Technique
of the Faal Qurʾan,” Indonesia and the Malay World 45 (2017): 200–225.
18 Anna Contadini, A World of Beasts: A Thirteenth-Century Illustrated Arabic Book on Anim-
als (the Kitāb Naʿt al-ḥayawān) in the Ibn Bakhtīshūʿ Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 100–
101; Christiane Gruber, “Between Logos (Kalima) and Light (Nūr): Representations Of
The Prophet Muhammad In Islamic Painting,” Muqarnas 26 (2009): 229–262, here 240;
Massumeh Farhad, “Reading Between the Lines: Word and Image in Sixteenth-Century
Iran,” in By the Pen and What They Write: Writing in Islamic Art and Culture, ed. Sheila
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 459

It is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss figural representation in

Islam,19 but, while the explanation that calligrams were created to avoid the
orthodox disapproval of depicting living beings may be valid in certain
respects, there were other factors involved. One concerns the belief that God’s
hidden signs are manifest in the universe as mentioned in the Qurʾan (e.g.,
2:164 and 41:53). This is evidenced, for instance, in the idea that the five fingers
of the human hand represent the five strokes that form the name of God (‫الله‬,
Allāh).20 The written texts contained within the figural forms of calligrams can
likewise be said to parallel God’s presence within Creation.21 In other words,
calligrams reflect the basic Sufi doctrine that “all of God’s creation has a vis-
ible outer appearance (ẓāhir) while simultaneously carrying a deeper, hidden
meaning (maʿnā), a more profound inner essence known as the bāṭin (interior),
the source of eternal beauty.”22
Calligrams developed at a time when ideas on the ʿilm al-ḥurūf (science
of letters) had taken hold across the Islamicate world, with the works of the
seventh/thirteenth-century scholars Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) and Aḥmad al-
Būnī (fl. c. 622/1225) being particularly influential. Coeval with the Jewish Kab-
balah, the ʿilm al-ḥurūf “is based on the occult properties of the letters of the
alphabet and of the divine and angelic names which they form.”23 It was foun-

Blair and Jonathan Bloom (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017), 177–203, quotation
from 202–203.
19 There have been several discussions on this topic, such as Schick, “The Content of Form,”
177–180, and, most recently, in Christiane Gruber, ed., The Image Debate: Figural Repres-
entation in Islam and Across the World (London: Gingko, 2019).
20 Schick, “The Content of Form,” 184.
21 Timothy E. Behrend, “Textual Gateways: The Javanese Manuscript Tradition,” in Illumina-
tions: The Writing Traditions of Indonesia, ed. Ann Kumar and John H. McGlynn (Jakarta
and New York: Lontar Foundation, Weatherhill, 1996), 161–200, here 198; Schick, “The Con-
tent of Form,” 184–187.
22 Quotation from Ladan Akbarnia, “Sufi Inspiration in the Visual Arts,” in Light of the Sufis:
The Mystical Arts of Islam, by Ladan Akbarnia with Francesca Leoni (Houston: Museum of
Fine Arts, 2010), 85–87, here 85, see also 86–87. This also applies to portraiture: see Priscilla
Soucek, “The Theory and Practice of Portraiture in the Persian Tradition,” Muqarnas 17
(2000): 97–108. James Bennett suggests that this concept applies also to Javanese shadow
puppets; see his “The Shadow Puppet: A South-East Asian Islamic Aesthetic,” in Gruber,
The Image Debate, 172–193, here 179, 188. The ẓāhir-bāṭin binary is also essential to premod-
ern natural-scientific discourse (I am grateful to Matthew Melvin-Koushki for alerting me
to this point).
23 Toufic Fahd, “Ḥurūf,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. On the ʿilm al-ḥurūf, see also
Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Of Islamic Grammatology: Ibn Turka’s Lettrist Metaphysics of
Light,” Al-ʿUṣūr al-Wusṭā 24 (2016): 42–113, esp. 54–59; and the chapters by Noah Gardiner
and by Matthew Melvin-Koushki in this volume.
460 yahya

ded on the notion that “God created the world through His speech; every exist-
ing creature is a result of a divine word and the whole history of humanity can
be compared to an immense divine discourse or book.”24
The belief in the power of Arabic letters—and, by extension, names, words,
and phrases—thus led to their use in various occult materials.25 The use of cal-
ligrams for talismanic purposes derives from the same principle. The employ-
ment of sacred written formulas for magical aims is not new,26 but the way
in which they are distorted artistically in calligrams means that they are often
difficult to read. This is not, however, unusual in the occult sciences. Many talis-
mans contain obscure inscriptions designed to enhance their effectiveness.27
This can be achieved by arranging the texts in unconventional ways, such as by
disconnecting the letters of a word,28 or by using magical words (such as budūḥ
and various names and words of foreign origin29) or magical scripts (such as the
“linear Kufic”30 and the “lunette sigla,” also known in Greek as charaktēres31).
All these forms of magical writing, including calligrams, are not really meant
to communicate messages to human viewers but are invocations of God or His
intercessors for their aid,32 making their legibility irrelevant.

24 Pierre Lory, “Divination and Religion in Islamic Medieval Culture,” in Leoni, Power and
Protection, 13–31, here 31.
25 See the many examples in Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” in
Magic and Divination in Early Islam, ed. Emilie Savage-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004),
125–177. In his research on Malay magic practitioners, Amin Sweeney noted how “many of
them, otherwise illiterate, have learned how to trace out in writing certain words, such as
‘Allah,’ ‘Muhammad,’ which are considered to be particularly useful in the preparation of
talismans”; A Full Hearing: Orality and Literacy in the Malay World (Berkeley: University of
California, 1987), 110–111.
26 Canaan, “The Decipherment;” Raymond Silverman, “Arabic Writing and the Occult,” in
Brocade of the Pen: The Art of Islamic Writing, ed. Carol Garrett Fisher (East Lansing: Kresge
Art Museum, Michigan State University, 1991), 19–30; Kathleen Malone O’Connor, “Popu-
lar and Talismanic Uses of the Qurʾān,” in Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾan, ed. Jane Dammen
McAuliffe (Leiden: Brill, 2009); Francesca Leoni, “Sacred Words, Sacred Power: Qurʾanic
and Pious Phrases as Sources of Healing and Protection,” in Leoni, Power and Protection,
53–67.
27 They were not, however, necessarily obscure to their makers.
28 Canaan, “The Decipherment,” 152.
29 Canaan, “The Decipherment,” 145–159.
30 Venetia Porter, “The Use of the Arabic Script in Magic,” Proceedings of the Seminar for Ara-
bian Studies 40 (2010): 131–140.
31 Canaan, “The Decipherment,” 167–169; Venetia Porter, Liana Saif, and Emilie Savage-
Smith, “Medieval Islamic Amulets, Talismans and Magic,” in A Companion to Islamic Art
and Architecture, ed. Finbarr Barry Flood and Gülru Necipoğlu, 2 vols. (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2017), 1:521–557, here 523–524.
32 As noted by Silverman, “Arabic Writing,” 20; cf. Schick, “The Content of Form,” 182, in rela-
tion to building inscriptions.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 461

Calligrams, however, have an additional element in their operation. As

Michel Foucault has noted, a calligram not only “says” but also “represents.”33
The forms that are created by the texts contribute equally to the magical power
of calligrams. They are perhaps the first thing that the viewer sees, or at least
is able to recognize,34 because the rendering of the scripts can make it difficult
for one to interpret the text quickly.35 The image chosen for the calligram often
had symbolic associations and probably possessed inherent power independ-
ent of the calligraphic text. In Southeast Asia, for instance, shadow puppets
(Malay, wayang kulit) were a common form of theater; performances were held
not only for entertainment but also for sacred occasions and purification. Cer-
tain puppets were considered powerful and sacred, so it is not surprising to
find some Southeast Asian calligrams shaped in the form of revered charac-
ters.
When functioning as talismanic designs, calligrams differ in how their mag-
ical powers operate. We can gain a partial understanding of this by look-
ing at parallels in other occult material, particularly magical images ( figurae
magicae) that are found in magicians’ handbooks and “applied magic” (e.g.,
amulets, etc.). For example, in Greek magical papyri (primarily from Egypt,
dating from the second century BCE to the fifth century CE), one category of
magical images comprises what Peta McDonald, based on the work of Raquel
Martín Hernández,36 calls “performative images”—images that “essentially
depict the enactment of the magical praxis, what the invoked supernatural
being is supposed to do, or prefigure its eventual results.”37 We can apply the

33 Michel Foucault, This is Not a Pipe, trans. and ed. James Harkness (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1983), 20–21.
34 Valérie Gonzalez has divided figurative calligraphy into two types: those in which the text
is perceived first, before the image (“figurative calligraphy of the scriptural regime”), and
those in which the reverse is true (“figurative calligraphy of the representational regime”);
see “The Double Ontology of Islamic Calligraphy: A Word-Image on a Folio from the
Museum of Raqqada (Tunisia),” in M. Uğur Derman Festschrift. Papers Presented on the
Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. Irvin Cemil Schick (Istanbul: Sabancı Universitesı,
2000), 313–340, here 320.
35 Foucault in This is Not a Pipe, 24–25, observes that it is impossible to read the text and view
the image at the same time.
36 Raquel Martín Hernández, “Reading Magical Drawings in the Greek Magical Papyri,” in
Actes du 26e Congrès International de Papyrologie. Genève, 16–21 août 2010, ed. Paul Schubert
(Geneva: Droz, 2012), 491–498, here 494–495.
37 Peta Louise McDonald, “The Iconography of the Images in the Magical Papyri” (MRes
thesis, Macquarie University, 2015), 58. Thus for instance, in a Greco-Egyptian spell that
seeks to hurt a troublemaker by having him trampled, an image of a boot is depicted;
McDonald, “The Iconography,” 59.
462 yahya

same framework to some forms of Islamicate calligrams that have an apo-

tropaic function, such as that of a ship composed of the names of the Seven
Sleepers of Ephesus and their dog Qiṭmīr (aṣḥāb al-kahf ).38 Writing the names
of the Seven Sleepers on ships was believed to help prevent them from sinking,
and consequently ship-shaped calligrams featuring their names became pop-
ular in the Ottoman world.39 The image of the ship in the calligram therefore
functions as the object to which the Seven Sleepers’ power (in the form of text,
i.e. their names) is directed. Here we have a text-image relationship in which
the text is the subject and the image the object.40
Another category of magical images in Greek magical papyri is what McDon-
ald refers to as “talismanic images,” which “act as visual manifestations of super-
natural force” and “typically depict the being itself or visual elements which can
iconographically be identified with the named being.”41 A spell invoking a god
would therefore be accompanied by a figure of the deity. The image, however,
is not “a mere representation of the supernatural being” but “itself channels
the being’s power and thus acts as one of the main sources of the ritual’s effic-
acy.”42 We can similarly apply this interpretation to calligrams of the Lion of
ʿAlī. The symbolism behind the various elements of this calligram will be dis-
cussed below, but for now it suffices to note that ʿAlī, the epitome of bravery and
vigor, was represented in the form of a lion because he was known as the “Lion
of God.” At the same time, the lion itself was considered the embodiment of
courage and strength. Thus, by shaping the text into the form of a lion, the cal-
ligram harnesses both the power of ʿAlī (in the guise of his leonine equivalent)
and the power of the beast it depicts. The texts that form the calligrams include
invocations of ʿAlī or other sacred formulas, such as Qurʾanic verses. Here text

38 The Christian legend of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, which is also mentioned in the
Qurʾan (Sūrat al-Kahf, 18:9–26), tells the story of seven young men and their dog who fell
asleep in a cave near Ephesus (now Turkey) while escaping religious persecution and mira-
culously awoke centuries later.
39 Venetia Porter, “Amulets Inscribed with the Names of the ‘Seven Sleepers’ of Ephesus in
the British Museum,” in Word of God, Art of Man: The Qurʾan and Its Creative Expressions,
ed. Fahmida Suleman (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with The Institute
of Ismaili Studies, 2007), 123–134, here 126. For examples, see Aksel, Türklerde dinî resimler,
65–70. See also Francesca Leoni’s chapter in this volume.
40 Cf. J. Kirsten Smith, “Visual Strategies in the Greek Magical Papyri: The Productive Integra-
tion of Image and Text” (MA thesis, Harvard University, 2000), who in her study on figurae
magicae in Greek magical papyri, argues that the texts that are written on the body of the
magical images (often names) “reflect an attempt to appropriate the power of the divinity
whose name is written or to project the power onto the object whose name is written,” 32.
41 McDonald, “The Iconography,” 62.
42 McDonald, “The Iconography,” 63.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 463

and image are thus both subjects, which work simultaneously in order to affect
an external object, such as enemies and other malevolent forces.
It is, nevertheless, impossible to disentangle the textual and visual elements
from each other. David Morgan referred to calligrams as a form of “imagetext,”
which are “representations that are neither image nor text alone, but a syn-
thesis that needs to be classified separately because it is experienced neither
as merely text nor as merely image.”43 This parallels Arabic epigraphic material
as studied by Richard Ettinghausen, who noted that inscriptions ought gen-
erally to be legible and in the language of the viewer in order to communic-
ate the messages they contain (as in the case of modern-day traffic signs).
Yet, he observed that Arabic inscriptions are found also in non-Arabic speak-
ing regions and often cannot be read, regardless of literacy levels, on account
of their ornate nature. Ettinghausen argued that the textual content of the
inscriptions is irrelevant and that it is instead the gestalt (the item as a whole
that is bigger than the sum of its parts, comprising its visual aspects and other
signifiers) that is more important.44 We can make a similar argument for calli-
grams. While the text and the figural representation that it forms are no doubt
important, it is its gestalt—the overall combination of both its text and image
(and even also possibly including its surrounding elements and ambience)—
that makes a calligram effective.

2 Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī

The calligrams known as the Lion of ʿAlī are often composed of epithets and
invocations of the legendary figure of ʿAlī, the cousin and son-in-law of the
prophet Muḥammad. A formidable warrior, ʿAlī played a crucial role in the early
struggles of the Muslim community in Mecca and Medina. He was the fourth of
the Rightly Guided Caliphs who were the successors to the Prophet, but whose
reign was troubled by political instability. ʿAlī is particularly revered among
Shiʿis, who believe that he had been divinely appointed as Muḥammad’s heir.

43 David Morgan, The Sacred Gaze: Religious Visual Culture in Theory and Practice (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2005), 65.
44 Richard Ettinghausen, “Arabic Epigraphy: Communication or Symbolic Affirmation,” in
Near Eastern Numismatics, Iconography, Epigraphy and History. Studies in Honor of George
C. Miles, ed. Dickran K. Kouymjian (Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1974), 297–317,
here 299–304. The inconsequential nature of the text is echoed by scholars such as Gra-
bar, Mediation of Ornament, 106–107. See also the discussion in Sheila S. Blair, “Writing as
Signifier of Islam,” in By the Pen and What They Write: Writing in Islamic Art and Culture,
edited by Sheila Blair and Jonathan Bloom (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017), 15–49.
464 yahya

He also holds an eminent position among Sufis, who consider him the recipi-
ent of Muḥammad’s spiritual knowledge.45 In certain traditions, ʿAlī was linked
to the development of calligraphy.46
In the Muslim world, the lion and its imagery were often linked to cour-
age, regal power and protection—associations that have a history dating back
to the pre-Islamic period.47 ʿAlī’s bravery and military prowess resulted in his
being likened to a lion, and he thus became known as the “Lion of God” (asad
Allāh) or “Lion” (ḥaydar). Among the earliest references to ʿAlī’s association
with this animal is in the Taʾrīkh al-rusul wa-l-mulūk (“The annals of the proph-
ets and kings”) by Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Jarīr al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), specific-
ally in relation to the Battle of Khaybar (7/628). ʿAlī was the standard bearer in
the attack against the Jewish community of Khaybar and, in confronting their
leader, is said to have recited, “I am he whose mother named him lion (Hay-
dara): I will mete you out sword blows by the bushel—A lion (laith) in thickets,
powerful and mighty.”48 Later works give further accounts on ʿAlī’s connection
with the animal.49
In the Middle East, images of the lion have been used as astrological and apo-
tropaic symbols for millennia. In the ancient Near East and Egypt, lions (as well
as composite animals that incorporate the feline form) appeared as guardian
figures on buildings and on objects such as temples, city gates, palaces, doors,

45 On ʿAlī, see L. Veccia Vaglieri, “ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.; I.K. Poon-
awala and E. Kohlberg, “ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭāleb,” Encyclopædia Iranica.
46 Melvin-Koushki, “Of Islamic Grammatology,” 48, 50.
47 For the lion in the Islamicate world, see H. Kindermann, “Al-Asad,” in Encyclopaedia of
Islam, 2nd ed.; and Ernst Grube, “A Bibliography of Iconography in Islamic Art,” in Image
and Meaning in Islamic Art, ed. Robert Hillenbrand (London: Altajir Trust, 2005), 159–320,
here 187. For the Seljuk period, see Deniz Beyazit, “The Lion Motif,” in Court and Cos-
mos: The Great Age of the Seljuqs, by Sheila R. Canby, Deniz Beyazit, Martina Rugiadi, and
A.C.S. Peacock (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2016), 219–222, cats. 136a–d. For
the lion and kingship in Iran, see Parviz Tanavoli, Lion Rugs: The Lion in the Art and Culture
of Iran (Basel: Wepf, 1985), 21–22; A. Shapur Shahbazi, “Flags. i. Of Persia,” Encyclopædia
Iranica; for Mesopotamia, see Chikako E. Watanabe, Animal Symbolism in Mesopotamia: A
Contextual Approach (Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2002), 42–56;
Krzysztof Ulanowski, “The Metaphor of the Lion in Mesopotamian and Greek Civiliza-
tion,” in Mesopotamia in the Ancient World: Impact, Continuities, Parallels. Proceedings of
the Seventh Symposium of the Melammu Project Held in Obergurgl, Austria, November 4–
8, 2013, ed. Robert Rollinger and Erik van Dongen (Münster: Ugarit, 2015), 255–284, here
258–260, 262.
48 Suleman, “The Iconography of Ali,” 220.
49 David Alexander, “Dhuʾl-Faqār And The Legacy Of The Prophet, Mīrāth Rasūl Allāh,” Gla-
dius 19 (1999): 157–187, here 166; Suleman, “The Iconography of Ali,” 220–221.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 465

thrones, amulets, and seals.50 The use of lion images for apotropaic and magical
practices continued well into the Islamic period. For instance, a group of Ira-
nian talismans, dating to the third/ninth or early fourth/tenth century, features
images of lion and scorpion together, probably representing the zodiacal signs
of Leo and Scorpio.51 In his Muqaddima (“Introduction”), the historian Ibn
Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) records a talisman known as the “lion seal,” which can
be used to hold power over other people. The engraving is to be made “when
the sun enters the first or third decan of Leo.”52
Although the connotations behind the imagery of the lion—kingship,
strength, astrology, and magic—must have played some part in the develop-
ment of the calligraphic Lion of ʿAlī, the precise origins of the calligram are
unclear. The earliest known example appears on the aforementioned Meh-
med II scroll dated 862/1458.53 It was probably not a coincidence that cal-
ligrams developed at this time when the Islamicate world was experiencing
a flourishing “writerly culture,” when there was an increase in textual and
manuscript production, with the emergence of a new theoretical defense of
textuality and especially visuality over orality during the early ninth/fifteenth
century.54
Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī in the Islamicate world are not identical but
vary in their textual content and design, reflecting the beliefs and artistic styles
of the societies that produced them. In this case, the Mehmed II calligram is
depicted as a lion passant, walking toward the right with its left paw raised.
The lion consists of a text praising ʿAlī, which reads: “The victorious Lion of
God ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, commander of the faithful, may God ennoble his face and
be pleased by him.”55 The lion’s tail ends with a serpent’s head, a motif that

50 For Mesopotamian examples, see Christopher A. Faraone, Talismans and Trojan Horses:
Guardian Statues in Ancient Greek Myth and Ritual (New York: Oxford University Press,
1992), 22–24, 32, note 41; Eva A. Braun-Holzinger, “Apotropaic Figures at Mesopotamian
Temples in the Third and Second Millenia,” in Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical,
and Interpretative Perspectives, ed. Tzvi Abusch and Karel van der Toorn (Groningen: Styx,
1999), 149–172, here 154–158; Ulanowski, “The Metaphor of the Lion,” 260.
51 Emilie Savage-Smith, “Amulets and Related Talismanic Objects,” in Science, Tools and
Magic: Part One: Body and Spirit, Mapping the Universe, by Francis Maddison and Emilie
Savage-Smith (London: Nour Foundation in association with Azimuth Editions and
Oxford University Press, 1997), 132–147, here 133, 138–139.
52 Abū Zayd ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Muḥammad Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction
to History, trans. Franz Rosenthal, 3 vols. (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1958), 3:163.
53 Istanbul, Topkapı Palace Museum, E. H. 2878. See footnote 11.
54 Melvin-Koushki, “Of Islamic Grammatology.”
55 Translation adapted from Shani, “Calligraphic Lions,” 123.
466 yahya

had a long history in the region and probably had astronomical associations.56
The calligram resembles Seljuk images of the lion in terms of iconography and
style.57
Lion-shaped calligrams continued to be a popular motif in Turkey over the
following centuries, particularly in the art of the Bektāshī, a crypto-Shiʿi order
active in Ottoman Turkey and the Balkans. One of their main tenets is that
Muḥammad and ʿAlī were manifestations of God on earth; calligrams of the
Lion of ʿAlī are thus an expression of their belief in the divinity of ʿAlī.58 One
particular design has the lion facing left with its legs bent, making it look as
though it is crouching (Figure 11.1).59 Its body consists of the same praise of ʿAlī
as that on Mehmed II’s scroll, but other parts of its body contain other texts.
While in most calligrams it is difficult to ascertain any relationship between
the letters and words with their placement in the constructed image, here the
choice of texts and their position on the lion’s body are dictated by Bektāshī
doctrine. The lion’s face is shown in the frontal view, composed of the names
of Allāh and ʿAlī written in mirror writing, with the ʿayn of ʿAlī forming its eyes.
This pertains “to the belief that ʿAlī (i.e., God) manifests himself in the human
face,” while the lion’s dislocated tongue contains the text Muḥammad rasūl
Allāh (“Muḥammad is the messenger of God”), alluding to the Bektāshī creed
that Muḥammad was the spokesman of ʿAlī.60
Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī were produced in Iran from the mid-tenth/
sixteenth century onward, under the Shiʿi Safavids, usually employing a prayer
invoking ʿAlī known as the nād-i ʿAlī: “Call upon ʿAli, revealer of miracles.

56 Willy Hartner, “The Pseudoplanetary Nodes of the Moon’s Orbit in Hindu and Islamic
Iconographies,” Ars Islamica 5, no. 2 (1938): 112–154, here 138, 143–144.
57 For instance the lion on a frieze fragment from Iran or Central Asia, sixth/twelfth century,
now in Kuwait, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, al-Sabah Collection, LNS 1071 C; see Beyazit,
“The Lion Motif,” 219–221, cat. 136b; and the paired lions on a bronze lamp, probably
from Konya, Turkey, second half of the seventh/thirteenth century, now in Konya Müze
Müdürlüğü, inv. no. 400; see Nazan Ölçer, “Hasan b. ʿAli al-Mevlevi (c. 1250–1300): Lamp,”
in Roxburgh, Turks, 121, 394–395, cat. 70.
58 There are also calligrams of the human body and face, composed of the names of the
Ahl al-Bayt. These indicate the Bektāshī belief that the signs of God’s presence in Man are
manifest in the form of Arabic letters on the human face and body. For Bektāshī calligrams
and their meanings, see de Jong, “The Iconography of Bektashiism;” and “Pictorial Art.”
59 De Jong, “The Iconography of Bektashiism,” plate 16; and “Pictorial Art,” fig. 11.9; Shani,
“Calligraphic Lions,” fig. 54. A paper cut with this motif, dated 1280/1863–1864, is now in
The David Collection in Copenhagen, inv. no. 21/1974; see Sheila S. Blair and Jonathan
Bloom, Cosmophilia: Islamic Art from the David Collection, Copenhagen (Chestnut Hill, MA:
McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, 2006), 201, cat. 121.
60 De Jong, “The Iconography of Bektashiism,” 12–13; and “Pictorial Art,” 234, 237–239; see also
Shani, “Calligraphic Lions,” 132–134.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 467

figure 11.1 Paper cut, Turkey, dated 1280/1863–1864. Paper. 33×45.5cm. The David Collec-
tion, Copenhagen, inv. no. 21/1974
Photo: Pernille Klemp. Courtesy of The David Collection

You will find him a comfort to you in crisis. Every care and every sorrow will
pass through your companionship, O ʿAli, O ʿAli, O ʿAli.”61 Perhaps the most
famous example of this motif is one in the Shāh Maḥmūd Nishāpūrī album
(compiled c. 967/1560), which has been attributed to the Safavid calligrapher
Mīr ʿAlī Haravī (d. c. 951/1544–1545) and was probably executed in the mid-
tenth/sixteenth century when he was in Bukhara.62 Here again the form of the
calligram reflects local artistic styles, resembling leonine representations found
in contemporaneous manuscript painting and metalwork.63 This particular

61 Translation taken from Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, 449. On the nād-i ʿAlī, see Alexander,
“Dhuʾl-Faqār,” 165.
62 Istanbul, Istanbul University Library, F1426, fol. 46r; see Blair, Islamic Calligraphy, 449–451;
Shani, “Calligraphic Lions,” 138–139.
63 As in the illustrations of the lion as one of the four bearers of God’s throne in eighth-
ninth/fourteenth-fifteenth-century copies of Zakariyyāʾ Muḥammad al-Qazwīnī’s ʿAjāʾib
al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt (“The wonders of creation and the oddities of
existence”), particularly the Sarre Qazvīnī manuscript in Washington, DC (Freer Gallery of
Art, F1954.50v), and its related copy in St. Petersburg (Oriental Institute, Russian Academy
of Sciences, MS E7); see Julie Badiee, “An Islamic Cosmography: The Illustrations of the
468 yahya

calligraphic design was clearly influential, as it was replicated in Iran and Dec-
can India over the following centuries.64 During the Qajar period, calligrams in
the form of the lion-and-sun motif (a Persian emblem with astrological con-
nections, referring to the Sun being domiciled in Leo) incorporated the nād-i
ʿAlī in the body of the lion.65 Today, posters with figural calligraphy related to
ʿAlī are still sold in shrine bazaars in Pakistan and coastal India.66

3 Transmission into Southeast Asia

The motif of the Lion of ʿAlī also appears in maritime Southeast Asia.67 Ex-
amples of the calligram have been found on the east coast of the Malay pen-
insula (encompassing Kelantan and Terengganu in peninsular Malaysia and
Patani in southern Thailand), and the Indonesian islands of Java (particularly
in Cirebon on the north coast, but also Sumedang, Surakarta, and Yogyakarta),
Sulawesi (particularly Luwuq), and the tiny island of Rote in the Lesser Sunda
Islands, just north of Australia and thus marking the furthest geographical
reach of the motif (see Map 11.1).
The extant objects and manuscripts that feature the calligram date from the
twelfth/eighteenth to the early fourteenth/twentieth century. This period was
characterized by greater contacts between Southeast Asia (which then con-
sisted of a myriad of sultanates) with India, China, Europe, and the Ottoman
Empire, particularly in politics, trade, scholarship, and human movement. The
calligrams that were produced and used during this time reflect these diverse
interactions.
Although the earliest examples date only to the twelfth/eighteenth century,
calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī were probably being used in the region much

Sarre Qazwīnī” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 1978), 384, plate 20; Arthur Upham
Pope, A Survey of Persian Art: From Prehistoric Times to the Present (Ashiya: SOPA, 1981),
10:plate 854A. Also a steel standard (ʿalam) from Iran datable to the ninth-tenth/fifteenth-
sixteenth century, now in a private collection; see Tanavoli, Lion Rugs, 27, fig. 33.
64 See Shani, “Calligraphic Lions,” 138–149.
65 For example, a thirteenth/nineteenth-century block-printed cloth banner in a private col-
lection; see Tanavoli, Lion Rugs, 27, fig. 32; and a cotton standard/banner dated 1262/1845–
1846, now in Singapore, Asian Civilisations Museum, inv. no. 1998–01471; see Huism Tan,
“Qajar Standard,” in The Asian Civilisations Museum A–Z Guide, ed. Sharon Ham and Shan
Wolody (Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum, 2003), 261.
66 Personal communication, Terenjit Sevea, 15 June 2019.
67 Farouk Yahya, Magic and Divination in Malay Illustrated Manuscripts (Leiden: Brill, 2016),
187.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 469

map 11.1 Map of Southeast Asia, showing locations of the Lion of ʿAlī

earlier. Unfortunately, objects on which they would have appeared were typ-
ically made of perishable materials, such as paper, wood, and textiles, which
do not survive long in the hot and humid conditions of the region. As a res-
ult, the exact origin and development of the Lion of ʿAlī in Southeast Asia is
difficult to ascertain.
The design clearly has its origins in the Persianate world, and its transmis-
sion into Southeast Asia is no doubt due to the fact that the region was part
of this vast transregional network. The impact of Persian cultural influence
on Southeast Asian societies is well attested, although much research is still
needed as to its nature and extent.68 Several early and important works of

68 For an overview of Persian contacts and influence in Southeast Asia, see M. Ismail Mar-
cinkowski, “Southeast Asia. i. Persian presence in,” Encyclopædia Iranica; R. Michael
Feener and Chiara Formichi, “Debating ‘Shiʿism’ in the History of Muslim Southeast Asia,”
in Shiʿism in Southeast Asia: ʿAlid Piety and Sectarian Constructions, ed. R. Michael Feener
and Chiara Formichi (London: Hurst, 2015), 3–15; Tomáš Petrů, “‘Lands Below the Winds’
as Part of the Persian Cosmopolis: An Inquiry into Linguistic and Cultural Borrowings from
the Persianate Societies in the Malay World,” Moussons 27 (2016): 147–161; Nile Green,
470 yahya

classical Malay literature in prose were translated from Persian,69 and local
audiences would have been familiar with the concept of ʿAlī as the Lion of
God (or rather, Tiger of God, as will be discussed below) through texts such
as the eighth/fourteenth-century Hikayat Muhammad Hanafiah (“The tale of
Muḥammad b. al-Ḥanafiyya”).70 In the occult sciences, divinatory texts, partic-
ularly those relating to sortilege, can also be traced to Persian models.71 The
Lion of ʿAlī calligram often appears in conjunction with another motif ubiquit-
ous in the Persianate world, the legendary bifurcated sword Dhū l-Fiqār, which
the prophet Muḥammad had given to ʿAlī, with whom it became strongly asso-
ciated.72 Reproductions and visual representations of the sword were common
in many parts of Southeast Asia.73
The Indian Ocean networks played a key role in the dissemination of Per-
sian influences into Southeast Asia, but the precise geographical and tem-
poral nexus of transmission of the Lion of ʿAlī motif is uncertain. The design
may have been transmitted via Muslim India, from areas such as Gujarat,
the Coromandel Coast, Golconda, and Bengal, which long had close contacts
with the region.74 Another possibility is that the calligram was introduced
from the Ottoman areas.75 There have been contacts between Southeast Asia

“Introduction: The Frontiers of the Persianate World (ca. 800–1900),” in The Persianate
World: The Frontiers of a Eurasian Lingua Franca, ed. Nile Green (Oakland: University of
California Press, 2019), 1–71, here 28–29, 38–41.
69 Vladimir Braginsky, “Jalinan dan Khazanah Kutipan: Terjemahan dari Bahasa Parsi dalam
Kesusastraan Melayu, Khususnya yang Berkaitan dengan ‘Cerita-cerita Parsi’,” in Sadur:
Sejarah Terjemahan di Indonesia dan Malaysia, ed. Henri-Chambert Loir (Jakarta: Kepus-
takaan Populer Gramedia, 2009), 59–117.
70 Lode F. Brakel, The Hikayat Muhammad Hanafiyyah, a Medieval Muslim-Malay Romance
(The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1975), 166, 169.
71 Farouk, Magic and Divination, 139–150; Farouk, “The Wheel Diagram.”
72 On Dhū l-Fiqār, see Alexander, “Dhuʾl-Faqār;” Zeynep Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Otto-
mans,” in People of the Prophet’s House, ed. Fahmida Suleman (London: Azimuth Editions,
Institute of Ismaili Studies, British Museum, 2015), 163–172; see also the chapter by Maryam
D. Ekhtiar and Rachel Parrikh in this volume.
73 Mohd. Zahamri Nizar, “Ikonografi Zulfikar dalam Sejarah Hubungan Turki dan Nusantara,”
Suhuf 4, no. 1 (2011): 111–141; Annabel Teh Gallop and Venetia Porter, Lasting Impressions:
Seals from the Islamic World (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia in associ-
ation with the British Library and the British Museum, 2012), 176–177; Harm Stevens, Bitter
Spice: Indonesia and the Netherlands from 1600 (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum and Nijmegen:
Vantilt, 2015), 52–65; Feener and Formichi, “Debating ‘Shiʿism,’” 12–13.
74 Braginsky, “Jalinan dan Khazanah Kutipan,” 62–63; Feener and Formichi, “Debating
‘Shiʿism’,” 6–7, 10.
75 As suggested by Jérôme Samuel, “A la recherche des ateliers perdus. Peinture sous verre et
production en série à Java,” Archipel 94 (2017): 143–169, here 149.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 471

and the Ottoman world since the 1500s, and these intensified during the thir-
teenth/nineteenth century due to political and religious factors.76 Several talis-
manic motifs commonly found in the Ottoman region were also used in South-
east Asia, perhaps the most obvious example being the official signature of the
Ottoman sultans, the tughrā, which frequently appears on Indonesian calli-
graphic batiks, where it seems to have acquired talismanic properties.77 The
most relevant parallel for the Lion of ʿAlī however is the presence of another
Ottoman calligram—the ship of the Seven Sleepers, such as one produced in
1283/1866 in Cangking, West Sumatra.78 There is also evidence that Southeast
Asian calligraphers were learning and practicing calligraphy in Mecca, and, in
fact, the thuluth style was referred to as “the Istanbul style of writing” (menyurat
Istanbul).79 It is thus probably not a coincidence that the places where many
of the calligrams are found—Kelantan, Patani, and Cirebon—were also the
centers of religious learning and Sufism, run by scholars who were trained in
the Ottoman-dominated holy cities of Mecca and Medina. Nevertheless, direct
evidence that these scholars and calligraphers were interested in calligrams, or
brought back objects featuring them, is lacking. The origin of the design cannot
be identified without the discovery of further material evidence and historical
sources, but it may be too limiting to posit a single, exclusive line of influence
on the development of the Lion of ʿAlī motif in Southeast Asia. In the extensive

76 For relations between the Ottoman world and Southeast Asia, see Andrew C.S. Peacock
and Annabel Teh Gallop, eds., From Anatolia to Aceh: Ottomans, Turks and Southeast Asia
(Oxford: Oxford University Press for The British Academy, 2015). The Ottoman connec-
tions are also reflected in Javanese glass painting; see Jérôme Samuel, “Iconographie de
la présence turque dans le monde malais: ce que dit la peinture sous verre javanaise,”
Archipel 87 (2014): 103–142; Jérôme Samuel, “Peinture sous verre javanaise et thématique
ottomane: quelques compléments.” Archipel 88 (2014): 233–238.
77 Fiona Kerlogue, “Islamic Talismans: The Calligraphy Batiks,” in Batik Drawn in Wax, ed. Itie
van Hout (Amsterdam: Royal Tropical Institute, 2001), 124–135, here 127–128, 131.
78 Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, MS Arab e.58; see Farouk Yahya, “Jimat in Form of a Ship,” in
Leoni, Power and Protection, 36–37, 91, cat. 105.
79 Annabel Teh Gallop, “A Jawi Sourcebook for the Study of Malay Palaeography and Ortho-
graphy: Introduction,” in “A Jawi Sourcebook for the Study of Malay Palaeography and
Orthography,” ed. Annabel Gallop, special issue of Indonesia and the Malay World 43
(2015): 13–39, here 22–24. James Bennett, “Talismanic Panel Featuring Ganesha,” in Cres-
cent Moon: Islamic Art & Civilisation in Southeast Asia, ed. James Bennett (Adelaide: Art
Gallery of South Australia, 2005), 283, cat. 81, notes that zoomorphic calligraphy is known
in Java as ukiran Mehmet (“Muḥammad carving”), which suggests a link to Ottoman prac-
tices. According to B.A. Soepratno, Ornamen ukir kayu tradisional Jawa, 2 vols. (Semarang:
s.n., 1984), 2:34, however, the term for figural woodcarving is ukiran memet, which can be
translated as “detailed woodcarving.”
472 yahya

and complex Indian Ocean transregional network, simultaneous impact by the

Ottoman and Indian regions—both of which were often responding to devel-
opments in the Safavid realm—is likely. Indeed, rather than entering the region
via a single source, it is probable that different parts of Southeast Asia adopted
and developed the motif independently.
The use of images, motifs and designs containing sacred texts for talismanic
purposes was widely practiced throughout Southeast Asia. They typically con-
tain Arabic letters, words, and numbers with some esoteric significance that
can affect malevolent spirits or other human beings. For instance, many images
used to repel spirits have the letters hāʾ and wāw emanating from their bod-
ies, probably representing the Arabic word Huwa (“He”), which, in mystical
thought, refers to the Divine Name of the Essence.80 These written elements
are integrated into the body of the figures, and the making of calligrams could
be seen as an extension of this practice.
In Cirebon, in addition to calligrams in Arabic script, there are those made
from the Indic-based Javanese script.81 Although these are recent productions,
they suggest a continuation of earlier practices dating to pre-Islamic times.82
In any case, the use of calligrams as magical devices in Southeast Asia is
not restricted to Muslim communities. They can also be found among the
Buddhists of Myanmar (Burma) and Thailand, where talismanic designs in
the form of human- and animal-shaped calligrams composed of local, Indic-
based scripts were produced.83 It is unclear when these societies began to use
calligrams, but they suggest that the power of figural and zoomorphic calli-
graphy has long been recognized widely throughout Southeast Asia. Evidence
of a cross-religious connection has been found in the Patani region of southern
Thailand, where Andrew Forbes reported the presence of a calligram composed

80 As in a talismanic drawing of the pelesit spirit in a manuscript from Patani or Kelantan,

Malay peninsula, thirteenth/nineteenth century, now in Kuala Lumpur, Perpustakaan
Negara Malaysia, MSS 1394(3), fol. 3v; see Farouk, Magic and Divination, fig. 73.
81 As in a copy of the Serat Selarasa (“The tale of Selarasa”), Cirebon, Java, 1250/1835, now
in Yogyakarta, Museum Sonobudoyo, L. 323; see Behrend, “Textual Gateways,” 199, fig.
222.
82 Sulaeman Pringgodigdo, “Wall Decorations in Cirebon / Hiasan dinding Cirebon,” in
Abdurachman, Cerbon, 105–112, here 109.
83 For Burmese talismanic calligrams, see Thomas N. Patton, “In Pursuit of the Sorcerer’s
Power: Sacred Diagrams as Technologies of Potency,” Contemporary Buddhism 13, no. 2
(2012): 222–223 (I am indebted to Yin Ker for this reference); for examples in a Tai man-
uscript from Myanmar or Thailand, nineteenth century, now in Washington, DC, Library
of Congress, no. B380, see Susan Conway, Tai Magic: Arts of the Supernatural in the Shan
States and Lan Na (Bangkok: River Books, 2014), 69–75.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 473

of Qurʾanic verses in the shape of a Thai Buddhist stupa.84 Although of a recent

date, it demonstrates the porous boundaries between religion, iconography,
and script in the formation of figural calligraphy.

4 Characteristics of Southeast Asian Calligrams

Southeast Asian calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī have certain characteristics that
set them apart from those in the Turkish, Iranian, and Indian areas. Foreign
ideas and elements that entered Southeast Asia were often localized, that is,
they were adapted to fit into the existing systems and were attributed local
meanings.85 The Lion of ʿAlī was used by the peoples of the region precisely
because it fit into local beliefs and worldview regarding the potency of writing,
images, animals, and powerful personages.
Concerning figural representation in Muslim Southeast Asia, James Ben-
nett found that, historically, the attitudes toward them were mixed and that
the anxiety regarding images might have had more to do with their magical
potency rather than with theological concerns.86 As Bennett notes, Islam
arrived in a region where images, whether created under animistic practices or
in a Hindu-Buddhist context, were believed to “be capable of containing a life
essence.”87 The superposition of Arabic script onto a figural form in calligrams
“may have been to imbue greater spiritual efficacy, through the revered power
of Qurʾanic calligraphy, into an old symbol still believed capable of repelling
misfortune.”88
This hybridity can be seen in the Lion of ʿAlī calligram, about which there
was some ambivalence regarding the identity of the animal depicted. The feline
forming the calligram was often identified as a tiger (Malay, harimau; high
Javanese, sima; low Javanese, macan) instead of a lion. It is often difficult to
ascertain whether the animal depicted in the calligrams is a lion or a tiger, as
the depictions typically lack identifying features such as a mane or stripes.

84 Andrew Forbes, “ ‘Azima’ or Muslim Talisman from Southern Thailand,” The South East
Asian Review 13 (1988): [no page numbering].
85 Oliver W. Wolters, History, Culture, and Region in Southeast Asian Perspectives (New York
and Singapore: Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University, Institute of Southeast Asian
Studies, 1999), 55–57.
86 Bennett, “The Shadow Puppet,” 176–179; see also James Bennett, “Crescent Moon: After-
word/Bulan sabit: Bab lapan,” in Bennett, Crescent Moon, 246–261, here 251.
87 Bennett, “The Shadow Puppet,” 176–177; quotation from Bennett, “Crescent Moon: After-
word,” 251.
88 Bennett, “Crescent Moon: Afterword,” 251.
474 yahya

There was, in fact, often a conflation between the lion and tiger in South-
east Asia, because the lion is not native to the region.89 Instead, knowledge of
the animal and its images were derived from the Indian tradition (particularly
in religion, literature, and art) which began to be adopted in Southeast Asia
during the first millennium CE. Indeed, the terms for “lion” in local Southeast
Asian languages were typically derived from the Sanskrit word siṁha (Malay
and Javanese, singa). The lion usually had religious and royal connotations and
was often associated with courage and strength. Images of the lion are usually
stylized, not particularly naturalistic, and sometimes fanciful.90
In Southeast Asia the dominant predator is the tiger. Like the lion, the tiger
was associated with courage and strength. As a result, there are many instances
in which the figure of the tiger has replaced the lion, as in traditional Malay
literature.91 This substitution has a long history in the region: in the thirteenth-
century Hindu-Buddhist temple of Candi Jago in East Java, a relief depicting
the “The Lion and the Bull”—a story that appears in both the Indian Pañcatan-
tra (“Five topics/books”) and Buddhist jātaka tales—depicts a tiger instead of
a lion.92 Despite the conflation of the two animals in such instances, they were
clearly differentiated in some forms of divination. For instance, in the Rejang
divinatory calendar used by Malays, Batak, and Javanese, each day of the month
is associated with a symbol, usually an animal. In this system, the tiger repres-
ents the third day of the month and the lion the fourteenth.93
The tiger was substituted for the lion not only because the former is more
familiar but also because of its inherent power. In many societies in South-
east Asia, the power of the tiger was not only manifest in its physical form but
also took on a magical dimension. In Malay society, for example, the tiger spirit

89 Farouk, Magic and Divination, 185–187.

90 For an overview of lion images in Southeast Asia, see Daniel Perret, “Societies of Padang
Lawas (Mid-Ninth–End of Thirteenth Century CE),” in History of Padang Lawas, North
Sumatra. II. Societies of Padang Lawas (Mid-Ninth–Thirteenth Century CE), ed. Daniel Per-
ret (Paris: Cahier d’ Archipel, 2014), 283–372, here 314–318. For the lion in Thai art, see
Pamela York Taylor, Beasts, Birds, and Blossoms in Thai Art (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1994), 42–48; for Malay art, see Farouk, Magic and Divination, 185–191; for
Java, see the works by Hélène Njoto in footnote 122.
91 For examples of this practice, see Russell Jones, “Harimau,” Bijdragen tot de taal-, land- en
volkenkunde 126, no. 2 (1970): 260–262.
92 Marijke J. Klokke, The Tantri Reliefs on Ancient Javanese Candi (Leiden: KITLV, 1993), 210–
211; Ann R. Kinney, Worshiping Siva and Buddha: The Temple Art of East Java (Honolulu:
University of Hawai’i Press, 2003), 102.
93 On the Rejang, see Farouk Yahya, “An Illustrated Malay Manuscript of the Rejang Calendar
in the Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia (MS 291),” Jurnal Filologi Melayu 22 (2015): 115–140;
Farouk, Magic and Divination, 111–114.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 475

(Malay, hantu belian) assisted spirit mediums in séances during healing rituals.
It also appeared in revelations or dreams that “called” or “accepted” new prac-
titioners into this profession.94 In many parts of Southeast Asia the powerful
tiger’s body parts—skin, bones, whiskers, teeth and claws—were often prized
as amulets. Images of tigers were also used as talismanic designs. Among the
Buddhist Tai communities of Myanmar and Thailand for instance, the tiger’s
power “lies in its stealth, speed and the physical force of its attack,” and illus-
trations of the animal can be found in the notebooks of magic practitioners, on
talismanic shirts, and as tattoos.95
The calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī are varied in their iconography and style.
The bodies are always in profile but may face left (with the text beginning in
the tail/rump, Figures 11.2–11.7, or head, Figures 11.8a, 11.9) or right (with the
text beginning in the head, Figures 11.8b, 11.10, 11.11). In most cases, the animal
is standing on four legs, with its legs straight or with knees bent, in a crouching
pose. The heads are depicted either in profile or in frontal view, reminiscent of
the Bektāshī calligrams described earlier (Figure 11.1). There are also calligrams
that consist of a pair of mirrored lions rampant, a design that was probably
derived from European coats of arms (Figures 11.10, 11.11).
The styles in which the felines are rendered also allude to local artistic forms.
They are reminiscent of lions and tigers on two-dimensional works such as
stone reliefs and woodcarvings. The closest resemblance is, however, to shadow
puppets, particularly in posture, iconography, and style.96 This connection is
particularly obvious in the calligram on the old Kelantan flag, which even has
an ornamental strip typical of local shadow puppets underneath the calligram
(see below). It is also possible that the calligraphic nature of the designs played
into Southeast Asian aesthetics. In many forms of figurative art, and particu-
larly in shadow puppets, characters are of two types in their appearance and
nature—the “refined” and the “coarse.” The latter are often depicted natural-
istically, while the former are highly stylized, reflecting their greater sophist-

94 On beliefs regarding the tiger in maritime Southeast Asia, see Walter W. Skeat, Malay
Magic: Being an Introduction to the Folklore and Popular Religion of the Malay Peninsula
(London: Macmillan, 1900), 157–170; Robert Wessing, The Soul of Ambiguity: The Tiger in
Southeast Asia (DeKalb: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University,
1986); Peter Boomgaard, Frontiers of Fear: Tigers and People in the Malay World, 1600–1950
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), especially chaps. 8 and 9. See also Farouk, Magic
and Divination, 183.
95 Conway, Tai Magic, 67, 154, 197.
96 For an example of a tiger shadow-puppet, see Alit Djajasoebrata, Shadow Theatre in Java:
The Puppets, Performance and Repertoire (Amsterdam: Pepin Press, 1999), 54. I am grateful
to Tan Zi Hao for this reference.
476 yahya

ication and wisdom.97 As wild beasts, tiger and lions are considered “coarse”
creatures, but the very ornate and abstract forms of the Lion of ʿAlī calligrams
might have been a way of indicating the sacred and refined nature of the
creature that is being associated with the revered figure of ʿAlī.
The Arabic script on the bodies of the animals also contributed to their
power. Writing was considered sacred to many Southeast Asian societies.98 This
is because they were believed to carry the “voice” of ancient ancestors or, more
specifically, that “writing was a sacred talisman or physical token that con-
tained words from the ancient past and made that past present.”99 Written texts
such as manuscripts were venerated objects, being subject to rituals and kept
as heirlooms, while talismans and talismanic objects employed texts for their
efficacy.
The textual content of the Lion of ʿAlī therefore connected the user and
viewer to the divine. Yet in the Southeast Asian context, ʿAlī’s role in the calli-
grams is uncertain. The phrases that form the designs are not invocations of ʿAlī
but instead comprise other texts, predominantly the shahāda and a Qurʾanic
verse from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff (61:13). The reason for this change in textual con-
tent is unclear, but it breaks the direct connection between the calligrams and
ʿAlī. The motif was, nevertheless, still often associated with him, as seen in the
local appellations attributed to the design, such as Macan Ali and Sima Ngali.
There also appears to be a close relationship with another of ʿAlī’s symbols, his
sword Dhū l-Fiqār, with the two motifs often occurring together.
With few exceptions, the Muslim population of Southeast Asia are Sunni,
and the reverence shown toward ʿAlī does not necessarily imply a Shiʿi adher-
ence, as has sometimes been suggested.100 Motifs associated with ʿAlī were also
used by Persianate Sunni communities elsewhere, reflecting the Imamophilic
nature of these societies.101 In such cases Shiʿi connotations were stripped
from the motifs by adding the names of the Rightly Guided Caliphs, as prac-

97 Behrend, “Textual Gateways,” 184–185.

98 For the power of writing in Southeast Asia, with a focus on the Makassarese of South
Sulawesi, see William Cummings, “Scripting Islamization: Arabic Texts in Early Modern
Makassar,”Ethnohistory 48, no. 4 (2001): 559–586; William Cummings, Making Blood White:
Historical Transformations in Early Modern Makassar (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i
Press, 2002), 37–57.
99 Cummings, “Scripting Islamization,” 566.
100 For instance in Muhammad Zafar Iqbal, Kafilah Budaya: Pengaruh Persia Terhadap Kebu-
dayaan Indonesia (Jakarta: Citra, 2006), 127. A major exception was the Persian Shiʿi com-
munity in the Thai kingdom of Ayutthaya (1351–1767CE).
101 See the chapters by Maria Subtelny, and by Maryam Ekhtiar and Rachel Parikh in this
volume.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 477

ticed by the Ottomans with Dhū l-Fiqār.102 Being within the Persianate ambit,
Southeast Asian societies similarly display features of ʿAlid piety or loyalism,
in which the Ahl al-Bayt (members of the prophet Muḥammad’s family) were
celebrated for their holy links to the Prophet and their own personal attrib-
utes.103 As with the Ottomans, the Sunni identification of these communit-
ies is reflected in the addition of the names of Abū Bakr, ʿUmar, ʿUthmān,
and ʿAlī to some examples of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram (Figures 11.4, 11.8b,
11.11).
The characters of foreign personages often played an important role in their
acceptance and veneration in Southeast Asia. In Malay society, for instance,
Mohd. Taib Osman argues that sacred figures from the Hindu and Islamic tra-
ditions were incorporated into the local cosmology, not as who they are but “for
the power that they are believed to possess.”104 For instance, the prophet Khiḍr,
who was associated in Islamic tradition with the Fountain of Life, was invoked
in Malay magical incantations as the “Lord of water.”105
We thus find ʿAlī, a formidable fighter who epitomized physical power and
bravery, invoked in Malay spells to enhance the strength of warriors (peng-
gagah).106 In addition to his heroic qualities, however, ʿAlī was known for his
piety and wisdom, as one half (alongside Fāṭima) of the perfect Muslim couple,
a disciple of the prophet Muḥammad, and a messenger of Islam.107 It is pos-
sible that his association with the calligram might have extended beyond mar-
tial connotations, and an understanding of what he meant to Southeast Asian
Muslim societies might help shed further light on the meaning and use of this
design.
In function and use, the calligrams were predominantly apotropaic. They
are found mainly on panels (wood, glass, textiles) in the home or public spaces
(Figures 11.2, 11.4, 11.7, 11.10, 11.11), on flags and banners (Figures 11.3, 11.12), on

102 Yürekli, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 165.

103 Feener and Formichi, “Debating ‘Shiʿism’;” see also Mohd. Zahamri, “Ikonografi Zulfikar,”
137.
104 Mohd. Taib Osman, Malay Folk Beliefs: An Integration of Disparate Elements (Kuala Lum-
pur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1989), 107.
105 Skeat, Malay Magic, 99, 297, 423; Mohd. Taib, Malay Folk Beliefs, 107–108.
106 Skeat, Malay Magic, 653.
107 Edwin Wieringa, “Does Traditional Islamic Malay Literature Contain Shiʿitic Elements?
ʿAlî and Fâtimah in Malay Hikayat Literature,” Studia Islamika 3, no. 4 (1996), 93–111; Ronit
Ricci, “Soldier and Son-in-law, Spreader of the Faith and Scribe: Representations of ʿAlī
in Javanese Literature,” in Feener and Formichi, Shiʿism in Southeast Asia, 51–62; Faried
F. Saenong, “ʿAlid Piety in Bugis Texts on Proper Sexual Arts,” in Feener and Formichi,
Shiʿism in Southeast Asia, 99–113.
478 yahya

items of clothing, or in magicians’ handbooks (Figures 11.8, 11.9). In most cases,

they relied on the power of the calligraphic representations in order to offer
protection and welfare. Yet some calligrams were put to other uses and required
further actions in order to be activated. For instance, one banner was employed
for healing, being used to cover the patient in order to cure him (Figure 11.3). In
one manuscript, the calligrams were to be used in the sport of bull- and buffalo-
fighting (Figure 11.8), and they had to be consumed by the contesting animal
in order for it to defeat its opponent. Other types of calligrams offer addi-
tional insights into the ritual practices surrounding their use. One calligram,
in the form of an elephant from Patani, southern Thailand, required benzoin
resin to be burned before it, accompanied by recitations of religious texts (see
below).108 The smoking of sacred objects with benzoin is common in Southeast
Asia; it acts as an offering to spirits who favor its smell.109 Many of the Lion of
ʿAlī calligrams discussed below would probably have been treated in the same
way.
Lion of ʿAlī calligrams were also found in a mosque (Figure 11.7) and in a
copy of the Qurʾan (Figure 11.5), bringing into question the often quoted Muslim
reluctance to represent living beings in religious contexts. This relates to how
calligrams were perceived, that is, whether they were seen as images or as texts.
In the bull- and buffalo-fighting manuscript, they are referred to in the text as
peta (“drawing,” “picture”). In the colophon of the aforementioned Sumatran
ship of the Seven Sleepers, however, the calligrapher refers to it as a kalimat
(“word,” “sentence”).110 This indicates a variety of interpretations. Although a
general overview of calligrams is useful, investigations into specific cases could
lead to a more nuanced understanding of their perception and meaning among
Muslim societies.

5 Southeast Asian Lion of ʿAlī Calligram Types

The following discussion looks more closely at two types of calligrams of the
Lion of ʿAlī found in Southeast Asia. The first, composed of the shahāda, was
generally concentrated in the Javanese sultanate of Cirebon. The other consists
of a Qurʾanic verse from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff (61:13) and was more widely distrib-
uted across the region. The selection of objects examined is not exhaustive,
but they provide a framework for studying issues such as iconography, style,

108 Forbes, “ ‘Azima’.”

109 For the use of benzoin in Malay culture, see Skeat, Malay Magic, 75–76.
110 Farouk, “Jimat,” 91.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 479

meaning, function, and the use of figural images among the Muslim societies
of Southeast Asia. Although it could be argued for some of these objects that
the calligrams are merely formulaic auspicious blessings and symbols of faith,
in several manuscripts their occult-scientific functions—typically for strength
and protection—are explicitly stated.
The third type of Lion of ʿAlī calligram, found in the Javanese city of Yogya-
karta, will be dealt with only cursorily, as the texts that form it have yet to be
identified.

6 Type 1: The Lion of ʿAlī Composed of the shahāda

As noted above, one variant of the calligram of the Lion of ʿAlī found in South-
east Asia is composed of the shahāda, the Islamic statement of faith:

‫ل الله‬ ُ َ ‫ل َا ِإلهٰ َِإ َلّا الله م ُح َم ّدٌ ر‬

ُ ْ ‫سو‬

Lā ilāha illāllāh Muḥammadun rasūlallāh

There is no god but God. Muḥammad is the messenger of God.

In addition to being an expression of religious belief, the shahāda was believed

in the Islamicate world to have special powers, and it appears on various talis-
mans.111 In Java, chronicles and legends attributed supernatural power to the
phrase, especially in proving the superiority of Islam to other faiths. In the
Wawacan Sunan Gunung Jati (“Narrative poem of Sunan Gunung Jati”), such
was the power of the shahāda that the saint Sunan Gunung Jati (see below)
was able to turn areca nuts into gold by reciting it.112 The shahāda also had
the power to convert to Islam one of the characters in the Hindu epic of the
Mahābhārata.113

111 Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” 131.

112 Emon Suryaatmana and T.D. Sudjana, eds., Wawacan Sunan Gunung Jati (Jakarta: Pusat
Pembinaan dan Pengembangan Bahasa, Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan, 1994),
110.
113 Yudhiṣṭhira’s weapon was called kalimahoṣadha (“the great medicine of Kālī”), but mis-
takes made by manuscript scribes led to its misidentification, by the early thirteenth/nine-
teenth century, as the Islamic shahāda; see S. Supomo, “From Śakti to Shahāda,” in Islam:
Essays in Scripture, Thought and Society: A Festschrift in Honour of Anthony H. Johns, ed.
Peter G. Riddell and Tony Street (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 230–234; also see Merle C. Ricklefs,
Mystic Synthesis in Java: A History of Islamization from the Fourteenth to the Early Nine-
teenth Centuries (Norwalk: EastBridge, 2006), 199.
480 yahya

The calligram was, and still is, particularly popular in the sultanate of Cire-
bon, where it is commonly known as the Macan Ali (“Tiger of ʿAlī”). Cirebon is a
port city on the north coast of Java, a region characterized by urban settlements
with maritime trade links to other parts of Southeast Asia and the wider world.
Its religious and cultural constitution reflects these foreign contacts, and its art
and architecture display a combination of Javanese, Indian, Middle Eastern,
and Chinese elements.114
Cirebon became one of the earliest kingdoms on the island to adopt Islam,
during the ninth/fifteenth century. The city is commonly associated with the
figure known as Sunan Gunung Jati (“Lord of the Teak Hill”; d. c. 978/1570). He
is said to be a descendant of both the prophet Muḥammad and the royal house
of Pajajaran (a Hindu kingdom that ruled West Java from 1482 to 1579) and, in
Javanese tradition, is one of the legendary nine saints (wali sanga) reported to
have propagated Islam on the island.115
There is a strong tradition of figural and zoomorphic calligraphy in Cire-
bon. Calligrams can be found on carved wood panels or reverse glass painting,
which are hung on walls of the home (usually placed at entrances) for protec-
tion. The designs can be of animals, Hindu deities, or characters from shadow
puppets, with the Arabic calligraphy usually painted in gold to make the text
stand out.116
The figure of the Macan Ali is one of the best known examples of zoo-
morphic calligraphy in Cirebon, although it is unclear when it began to be used.
One version of the Babad tanah Sunda/Babad Cirebon (“Chronicle of the land
of Sunda”/“Chronicle of Cirebon”) mentions the use of a standard/banner bear-
ing the Lion of ʿAlī during a tenth/sixteenth-century battle between the joint
Muslim forces of Cirebon and Demak against a neighboring Hindu kingdom
that refused to convert to Islam.117 The reliability of this account is, however,
questionable, as the texts of these chronicles tend to date much later than the
events they purport to describe.

114 For a brief history of Cirebon, see Merle C. Ricklefs, “Cirebon,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam,
3rd ed. For its art, see Paramita R. Abdurachman, ed., Cerbon (Jakarta: Yayasan Mitra
Budaya Indonesia, Sinar Harapan, 1982); John N. Miksic, “The Art of Cirebon and the Image
of the Ascetic in Early Javanese Islam/Kesenian Cirebon dan Citra Pertapa pada Islam Jawa
Awal,” in Bennett, Crescent Moon, 121–143.
115 For Sunan Gunung Jati, see Martin van Bruinessen, “Gunung Jati, Sunan,” in Encyclopaedia
of Islam, 3rd ed.
116 Pringgodigdo, “Wall Decorations,” 106–109; see also Miksic, “The Art of Cirebon,” 130; Ben-
nett, “Talismanic Panel.”
117 P.S. Sulendraningrat, ed., Babad Tanah Sunda/Babad Cirebon (Cirebon: s.n., 1984), 75.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 481

figure 11.2 Carved wooden panel with the Macan Ali, Cirebon, Java, c. 1147–1164/1735–1751.
Red and gold paint on wood. Approx. 67 ×103cm. Kraton Kasepuhan, Cirebon
Photograph by the author

The earliest surviving example is a carved wooden panel in the collection

of the Kraton Kasepuhan (“Senior palace”) in Cirebon (Figure 11.2), dated to
the twelfth/eighteenth century.118 The animal faces left with its body in pro-
file but its head in frontal view. It has long legs and sits on its haunches,
with its tail bending over its back. It has large round eyes and two protruding
flared ears on each side, and its mouth is curved in a smile, showing a row of
teeth.
The Arabic text that shapes its body is in a foliated script, of a style found also
in later calligrams.119 The body of the animal contains the shahāda repeated:
“Lā ilāha illa āllāh” is visible in its torso and along its back, while “rasū-” can be
seen on the haunch, belly, and the back of the neck, where the phrase continues
to form its nose with “[l]allā[h]” (the shadda is on its forehead). Underneath
the creature are two Javanese inscriptions in Arabic script (pegon). Accord-

118 Inventory number unknown; see K.C. Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk met inscripties in de kraton
Kasepoehan te Cheribon,” Djåwå 12 (1932): 8–10, here 10, illustrated on plate between 8–
9.
119 For the use of foliated and floriated scripts in Southeast Asia, see Ali Akbar, “Tracing Indi-
vidual Styles: Islamic Calligraphy from Nusantara,” Lektur 5, no. 2 (2007): 244–255, here
246–247.
482 yahya

ing to Karel Christiaan Crucq, these are both chronograms (candrasengkala),

although each gives a different date. The one under its forelegs reads “iku buta
pandita rupane” i.e. 1-5-7-1, signifying [1164]/1751, while the one beneath its hind
legs reads “wong peksi nguni tutur Basuki,” i.e. 1-1-4-7 (or 8), which corresponds
to 1147–1148/1735–1736.120
Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī often reflect artistic styles in their design. Here,
the form of the animal resembles the Chinese lion shi (lion-dog, fu-dog), a
symbol that is often found on batik textiles produced in Chinese communit-
ies on the north coast of Java.121 Indeed, Chinese-style feline figures have a
long history in Javanese Islamic art. They have appeared since at least the
tenth/sixteenth century as guardians in the mausoleums of saints and on vari-
ous wooden objects. The features of these animals are often profusely decor-
ated with, or even formed by, volutes and foliate scrolls.122 Perhaps the foliated
calligraphic Arabic script forming the Macan Ali calligrams in Cirebon was an
interpretation of this style.
In the panel, the animal sits next to a multi-branched palm tree and stands
on Chinese-style curlicued, layered rocks, an ornamental design often found
in Cirebonese art, where it is known as wadasan or karang (“coral”).123 The
creature and the surrounding landscape are painted in gold against a red back-
ground, a color combination reminiscent of Chinese woodcarving.

6.1 The Cirebon Banner

Another object from about the same period is perhaps the best known example
of the calligram: the royal banner of Cirebon, dated to 1190/1776, now in the
Museum Tekstil in Jakarta (Figure 11.3).124 Measuring 172× 322cm, it is made of

120 Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk,” 10. The museum label, however, dates the panel to [1132]/1720.
121 On this motif in Javanese textiles, see Robyn Maxwell, Textiles of Southeast Asia: Tradition,
Trade and Transformation, rev. ed. (Singapore and Hong Kong: Periplus, 2003), 277, who
refers to it as the qilin. For the lion in Chinese art, see Jessica Rawson, Chinese Ornament:
The Lotus and the Dragon (London: British Museum, 1984), 110–114.
122 Hélène Njoto, “Sinitic Trends in Early Islamic Java (15th to 17th century),” NSC Highlights:
News from the Nalanda–Sriwijaya Centre 4 (2017): 2–3; Hélène Njoto, “Mythical Feline Fig-
ures in Java’s Early Islamisation Period (Fifteenth to the Early Seventeenth Centuries):
Sinitic and Vietnamese Imprints in Pasisir Art,” Arts Asiatiques 73 (2018): 41–60. Njoto has
suggested that the iconography and style of the figures might be the result of Vietnamese
influence.
123 On this rock motif, see Maxwell, Textiles of Southeast Asia, 279–280.
124 Inv. no. 017; see Judi Achjadi, The Jakarta Textile Museum (Jakarta: Jakarta Textile Museum,
Jakarta Museums & Conservation Services, 1998), 77; James Bennett, “Royal Banner,” in
Bennett, Crescent Moon, 285, cat. 90, illustrated on 41; Tawalinuddin Haris, “Bendera
Macan Ali koleksi Museum Tekstil Jakarta,”Paradigma, Jurnal Kajian Budaya 1, no. 1 (2010):
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 483

figure 11.3 Royal banner, Cirebon, dated to 1190/1776. Cotton, silk, natural dyes. 172×322
cm. Museum Tekstil, Jakarta, inv. no. 017
Photo: Saul Steed. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of South Aus-
tralia

cotton using the batik technique. On the left-hand side is a large calligraphic fig-
ure of the Macan Ali. It is difficult to determine the text that forms its body—it
has been read as being the phrase known as the ḥawqala,125 but the shahāda is
more likely.126 In its tail is the basmala. The body of the animal is in profile and
the head in frontal view. Unlike the aforementioned wooden panel, however,
its legs are short and bent at the knees. The text in its body criss-crosses in a
manner reminiscent of the Buddhist endless-knot motif.127
Two smaller calligrams of a similar design flank a representation of the
legendary Dhū l-Fiqār, the bifurcated sword of ʿAlī. Other talismanic symbols
appear on both sides of the sword: a pentagram and four eight-pointed geomet-
ric designs known in Southeast Asia as Solomon’s ring. The latter are filled with

88–103. In addition, there are two copies of the flag: one in Amsterdam, Tropenmuseum,
Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, inv. no. TM-5663-1; see Mirjam Shatanawi, Islam
at the Tropenmuseum (Arnhem: LM, 2014), 24, fig. 12; another in Singapore, Asian Civilisa-
tions Museum, inv. no. T-0677. I am grateful to Mirjam Shatanawi, Pim Westerkamp and
Noorashikin Zulkifli for their help with these objects.
125 “There is no might or power except in God, the Most High, the Exalted”; see Achjadi,
Jakarta Textile Museum, 77; Bennett, “Royal Banner.”
126 Haris, “Bendera Macan Ali,” 92.
127 The endless-knot motif could also be seen on stone wall panels and carved on the wooden
minbar of the Masjid Agung Sang Cipta Rasa in Cirebon.
484 yahya

the numbers 1 to 9 and Arabic letters that make up the word budūḥ.128 Between
the two blades of Dhū l-Fiqār is a series of disconnected Arabic letters which
Judi Achjadi interprets as a chronogram for the date of the banner, 1190/1776.129
Qurʾanic verses fill the edges of the composition: the Sūrat al-Ikhlāṣ (Q 112),130
a verse from the Sūrat al-Anʿām (Q 6:103),131 and a verse from the Sūrat al-Ṣaff
(Q 61:13).132
One of the main functions of flags and banners is to identify a particular
group or society, through the choice of its emblems, inscriptions, colors, and
materials.133 Because the shahāda is the Muslim proclamation of faith, Tawali-
nuddin Haris suggests that the placement of the calligram on the Cirebon
banner was to identify the sultanate as an Islamic kingdom.134 The use of the
shahāda on flags and banners is common in the Islamicate world: it appeared,
for instance, on Ottoman banners, and is used now on the flags of Saudi Arabia
and various jihadist groups.135
The choice of emblem often reflects the qualities that a group would like to
identify with. Lions and tigers, symbols of bravery and strength, are featured on
the flags, banners, and standards of many cultures worldwide, including those
in Southeast Asia.136 This practice seems to have a long history in the region.
In a sixth/twelfth-century Old Javanese poem (kakawin) called Smaradahana
(“Burning of Smara”), a battle scene describes how, for one side, “their standard
for the battle was a fierce tiger [embroidered with] gems; its whiskers entwined

128 Thus linking it with another talismanic device, the magic square. On these talismanic
designs, see Farouk, Magic and Divination, 194–207.
129 Achjadi, Jakarta Textile Museum, 77. If the letters are replaced by their numerical equival-
ents using the abjad system, the result would be: 1 5 3 7 4 2 6 3.
130 “Say: He is God, the One and Only; God, the Eternal, Absolute. He begetteth not, nor
is He begotten; and there is none like unto Him.’” All translations of the Qurʾan in this
chapter are based on ʿAbdullah Yūsuf ʿAlī, Holy Qurʾān: Text and Translation (Kuala Lum-
pur: Islamic Book Trust, 1999 [repr. of 1994 ed.]).
131 “No vision can grasp Him, but His grasp is over all vision; He is above all comprehension,
yet is acquainted with all things.” The verse on the banner is slightly faulty.
132 “Help from God and a speedy victory. So give the glad tidings to the Believers.”
133 For a brief overview of flags in the Islamicate world, see Jonathan Bloom and Sheila S. Blair,
eds., The Grove Encyclopedia of Islamic Art and Architecture, 3 vols. (New York, Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2009), 2:75–76.
134 Haris, “Bendera Macan Ali,” 93.
135 Afshon Ostovar, “The Visual Culture of Jihad,” in Jihadi Culture: The Art and Social Practices
of Militant Islamists, ed. Thomas Hegghammer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2017), 82–107, here 88–91.
136 For instance, the flag of the sultan of Kutai Kartanegara in Borneo (probably thirteenth/
nineteenth century) has an image of a crowned tiger. Leiden, Museum Volkenkunde,
Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, inv. no. RV-614–135.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 485

together [caused feelings] of chaos and twisting of the entrails [in those who
saw them]” (canto 30:7).137 The appearance of the Macan Ali calligram as an
emblem on the Cirebon banner, as well as other Southeast Asian flags that also
feature similar motifs (two of which will be discussed below, one from Kelantan
and the other from Luwuq, Figure 11.12), is thus a continuation of this tradition.
The designs were chosen because they resonated with local beliefs, and it is
possible that they replaced similar motifs that were already in circulation. One
interpretation is that the feline in the calligram represents the white tiger of
Prabu Siliwangi (r. 1482–1521), king of the Sundanese kingdom of Pajajaran in
West Java.138 According to tradition, Siliwangi had a white tiger that helped him
defeat his enemies and is said to have transformed his people into tigers when
their kingdom was in danger of being attacked.139 The power associated with
the white tiger is still acknowledged in Java today. A practice known as the Ajian
Macan Putih (“Incantation of the White Tiger”) is used to increase the charisma
of a person; many examples of this practice can be found online.140
The figure on the banner has been identified also with another creature.
According to Achmad Opan Safari, the term Macan Ali is a recent appellation
dating to the 1970s. Instead, the Cirebon royal banner was previously known as
Kad kalacan Singa Baruang Dwajalullah (“The Singa Barong is the emblem of
the flag of God”).141 The singa barong or singhabarwang (a mythical composite
animal with an elephant’s head, a lion’s body, and the wings of an eagle) is a
prominent figure in Cirebonese rituals and art. A royal carriage in the shape of
this creature, made in 956/1549 and now in the Kraton Kasepuhan in Cirebon,
is a prized component of the royal regalia.142 It is thus possible that flags and
other emblems of the city once featured this creature, which was later replaced
by the Macan Ali calligram as contact with the Ottomans increased.
The decision to put the calligram on the banner was in order to draw upon
the talismanic properties not only of the animal depicted but also of ʿAlī. Here,

137 Edi Sedyawati, Gaṇẹśa Statuary of the Kaḍịri and Siŋhasāri Periods: A Study of Art History
(Leiden: KITLV, 1994), 143.
138 Paramita R. Abdurachman, “Introduction/Pendahuluan,” in Abdurachman, Cerbon, 11–25,
here 20–21.
139 Wessing, Soul of Ambiguity, 31, reports that Siliwangi himself was said to have become a
white tiger.
140 Agus S.W., “Khasiat Ajian Macan Putih dan cara mempelajarinya,” Harta Langit, 2018,
https://hartalangit.blogspot.com/2018/12/khasiat‑ajian‑macan‑putih‑dan‑cara.html.
141 Achmad Opan Safari, “Iluminasi dalam naskah Cirebon,” Suhuf 3, no. 2 (2010): 309–325. I
am grateful to Annabel Gallop for this reference.
142 See Helen Ibbitson Jessup, Court Arts of Indonesia (New York: The Asia Society Galleries,
Harry N. Abrams, 1990), 207–208; Bennett, Crescent Moon, 52.
486 yahya

the association with ʿAlī is enhanced by its coupling with his other symbol,
the Dhū l-Fiqār sword.143 As noted earlier, there were numerous flags depicting
Dhū l-Fiqār that were employed in Southeast Asia from the twelfth/eighteenth
century to the early fourteenth/twentieth. The Dutch captured many of these
during battles with the local populations, indicating that they were used for
military purposes.144 The Cirebon banner would probably have been similarly
employed in battle, and the Macan Ali and Dhū l-Fiqār motifs therefore served
to invoke ʿAlī in order to enhance bravery, subjugate enemies, and gain protec-
tion for the Cirebon forces.
Like the calligram, the incorporation of the Dhū l-Fiqār motif on the ban-
ner might also reflect preexisting local beliefs. Among Austronesian societies,
metal (particularly weapons such as the keris dagger) represented the “male”
element, while textiles represented the “female”; a combination of the two
materials thus symbolized the unity of male and female.145 The appearance of
Dhū l-Fiqār on a cloth flag perhaps similarly signifies this union and was adop-
ted in Southeast Asia from Ottoman practice because it reflected ancient local
beliefs.
The apotropaic properties of the banner are increased by the presence of
Qurʾanic verses and talismanic designs.146 The use of magical symbols on flags
in Southeast Asia is not unusual: a thirteenth/nineteenth–early fourteenth/
twentieth-century flag from Budong-Budong, West Sulawesi, contains an image
of Dhū l-Fiqār, the talismanic design known as Solomon’s ring, and various
Arabic inscriptions.147 Similarly, the thirteenth/nineteenth-century flag of
Sumenep, Madura, contains five of the magical symbols known as the “seven
seals of Solomon.”148 Like the Cirebon banner, these flags would have conferred
protection upon the societies that used them.
Apart from military use, the Cirebon banner was believed to have healing
properties. According to one account, a ruler of the Central Javanese prince-

143 There are swords in Iran that combine both an epithet for ʿAlī that mentions Dhū l-Fiqār
(“There is no hero but ʿAlī and no sword but Dhū l-Fiqār”) and an image of a lion; see
Alexander, “Dhuʾl-Faqār,” 166.
144 Mohd. Zahamri, “Ikonografi Zulfikar,” 119–120, 126–127, 130; Stevens, Bitter Spice, 52–65.
Amulets featuring the Dhū l-fiqār were used by the Ottomans during battle, see Yürekli,
“Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” 167.
145 Justus M. van der Kroef, “Dualism and Symbolic Antithesis in Indonesian Society,” Amer-
ican Anthropologist, n.s. 56, no. 5, part 1 (1954): 847–862, here 849–851.
146 Haris, “Bendera Macan Ali,” 99.
147 Leiden, Museum Volkenkunde, Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, inv. no. RV-3600–
5545.
148 Leiden, Museum Volkenkunde, Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, inv. no. RV-370–
803.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 487

dom of Mangkunegaran had fallen ill. The banner was lent to him and used
to cover his body, and, as a result, the king recovered.149 The curative powers
of sacred banners have been observed elsewhere in Java. During the thir-
teenth/nineteenth and early fourteenth/twentieth centuries, the sacred royal
banner of Yogyakarta was paraded around the city at times of widespread ill-
ness. The banner, named Kangjeng Kyai Tunggul Wulung (“The blue-black ban-
ner”), has an image of Dhū l-Fiqār together with Arabic inscriptions. It is said
to have been made from the cloth that hung around the Prophet’s grave. In
1350/1932 this banner, alongside another banner with the Dhū l-Fiqār motif, the
Kangjeng Kyai Paré Anom (“The green and yellow one”), was paraded around
the city during an outbreak of disease, accompanied by rituals and offerings.150
The use of the Yogyakarta and Cirebon banners for healing indicates that Dhū
l-Fiqār was believed to have curative powers.
The power of calligrams derives from the combination of its text, image, and
surrounding elements. The Cirebon banner is the perfect example of how an
object can draw power from the gestalt of its designs. The Macan Ali calligram
provides power through the shahāda and the feline figure—which represents
ʿAlī, the white tiger of Siliwangi, or the singa barong, or perhaps a combina-
tion of all three—which are supplemented by surrounding elements, such as
Qurʾanic verses, talismanic motifs, and Dhū l-Fiqār. These components work
together to enhance the talismanic properties of the banner.

6.2 The Lion of ʿAlī and Gaṇeśa

Cirebonese wood panels that were hung for apotropaic purposes may feature
figures from the Javanese pre-Islamic past. Among them is the elephant-headed
Hindu god Gaṇeśa (known in Java as Batara Gana), the remover of obstacles.151
A calligram of Gaṇeśa appears, for instance, on a carved wood panel dating to

149 According to Bambang Irianto, reported by Abu Nisrina, “Dimana Bendera Macan Ali?,”
Satu Islam, 2014, https://satuislam.org/humaniora/mozaik‑nusantara/dimana‑bendera
‑macan‑ali. It is unclear when this loan occurred, but it would have been after 1170/1757
when the Mangkunegaran princedom was created. In 1976 its ruler Mangkunegara VIII (r.
1944–1987) presented the banner to the Museum Tekstil. Many thanks to Pim Westerkamp
for this information.
150 For the banners and a description of the procession, see R. Soedjana Tirtakoesoema,
“De ommegang met den Kangdjeng Kjahi Toenggoel Woeloeng te Jogjakarta, Donderdag–
Vrijdag 21/22 januari 1932 (Djoemoeah–Kliwon 13 Påså, Djé 1862),” Djåwå 12 (1932): 41–49;
see also Bennett, Crescent Moon, 50; Merle C. Ricklefs, Islamisation and Its Opponents in
Java: A Political, Social, Cultural and Religious History, c. 1930 to the Present (Singapore: NUS
Press, 2012), 40–41.
151 For Gaṇeśa in Java, see Sedyawati, Gaṇẹśa Statuary; Kinney, Worshiping Siva and Buddha,
151–153.
488 yahya

the early fourteenth/twentieth century, now in the Asian Civilisations Museum

in Singapore. Composed of the shahāda, the figure was known as tolak bala
(“repelling disaster”) and would have been placed at the entrance of a house
for protection.152
In the collection of the Kraton Kasepuhan are two identical wood panels,
dated to 1242–1253/1827–1837CE (Figure 11.4).153 They depict Gaṇeśa standing
on the Macan Ali poised above karang (coral) rocks, against a sky filled with
seven calligraphic birds. He holds a sword (instead of his usual attribute, the
ax) in his left hand, while his right clutches an unidentified object. According
to Crucq, his body is composed of, among other things, the shahāda and the
title of the Sūrat Yā-Sīn.154
The posture of the feline underneath is similar to the examples mentioned
earlier, and the text is in a foliated script. As Crucq has observed, the body
of the creature is composed of the shahāda and a salutation to the Prophet,
and here the phrase lā ilāha illāllāh forms the endless-knot motif on its rump,
with Muḥammad on its neck. It also has the names of the four Rightly Guided
Caliphs—Abū Bakr, ʿUmar, ʿUthmān, and ʿAlī—on or underneath its legs. The
karang rocks beneath it include, among others, the ḥawqala: Bismillāhi tawak-
kaltu ʿala Allāh wa-lā ḥawla wa-lā quwwata illā billāhi l-ʿaliyyi l-ʿaẓīm (“In the
name of God, I place my trust in God, and there is no might or power except in
God, the Most High, the Exalted”).155 The birds are composed of phrases that
begin with the word bismillāh.156
On the reverse of one of the panels is a Javanese inscription in pegon script
that refers to the seven birds as representing the seven deadly sins. The inscrip-
tion also contains two chronograms, although with a discrepancy between the
dates. One gives the year 1755 of the Javanese era (śaka), equivalent to 1242/1827,
the other 1253/1837.157
In the Hindu tradition Gaṇeśa often rides a rat but is known to ride other
creatures as well. The iconography of Gaṇeśa riding a lion was particularly pop-
ular in Nepal, Kashmir, and the Tamil region of India,158 but this form did not

152 Inv. no. 2000.5571; see Bennett, “Talismanic Panel,” illustrated on 130; Bennett, “The
Shadow Puppet,” 188.
153 Inventory number unknown; see Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk,” 8–10, illustrated on plates after
10; Miksic, “The Art of Cirebon,” 130.
154 Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk,” 9.
155 Thanks to Liana Saif for this translation.
156 For the full texts of all the inscriptions on the panel, see Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk,” 8–10.
157 Crucq, “Houtsnijwerk,” 9–10. The museum labels date the panels to [1132]/1720.
158 Anita Raina Thapan, Understanding Gaṇap̣ati: Insights into the Dynamics of a Cult (New
Delhi: Manohar, 1997), 116–117, 188–190; Alexandra van der Geer, Animals in Stone: Indian
Mammals Sculptured Through Time (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 335.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 489

figure 11.4 One of a pair of carved wooden panels with

Gaṇeśa riding the Macan Ali, Cirebon, c. 1242–
1252/1827–1837. Red and gold paint on wood.
Approx. 78 × 50 cm. Kraton Kasepuhan, Cirebon
Photo: Saul Steed. Courtesy of the Art
Gallery of South Australia

appear to have been widespread in Javanese arts of the pre-Islamic period.159

Instead, it is possible that the iconography in the Kraton Kasepuhan panels
was the result of Sufi connections. The Gaṇeśa-and-lion image recalls depic-

159 It does not seem to be among the Gaṇeśa figures described in Sedyawati, Gaṇẹśa Statuary.
490 yahya

tions of Sufi saints in India and Pakistan, who are often shown riding lions
or tigers, demonstrating their ability and power in taming wild animals.160 In
these panels Gaṇeśa is shown wearing a turban-like headress (ketu), a feature
usually associated with religious figures such as sages and ascetics.161 According
to James Bennett, the local Shaṭṭāriyya order in Cirebon identifies Gaṇeśa “as
the Earthly Angel (malekat lindhu) who crawled out of materiality to achieve
heavenly spirituality.”162 He is thus the embodiment mystical power, particu-
larly when combined with the figure of the Macan Ali.
While a discussion of the mystical aspects of calligrams is beyond the scope
of this chapter, the panels demonstrate the close relationship between Sufism
and occult practices in Southeast Asia. Further research into these panels and
similar examples may help reveal the degree to which mystical concepts played
a part in Southeast Asian occult sciences.

6.3 Variations of the Motif

Over the following decades, further variations of the calligram were produced.
It appears, for instance, in a Qurʾan from the nearby town of Sumedang, West
Java, copied in 1272/1856 (Figure 11.5).163 The middle of the Qurʾan contains a
double-page illumination surrounding the beginning of the Sūrat al-Kahf (18:1–
8). Its structure—a pair of rectangular borders framing the text block, with
triangular arches protruding from the sides—is typical of Javanese illumina-
tion. The triangular arches contain calligrams of the Macan Ali, rendered in
the same foliated script as the wooden panels described before (Figures 11.2,
11.4). All four legs are short and point forward, making it look as though it is
crouching on all fours, reminiscent of the figure in the Cirebon banner (Fig-
ure 11.3) and the Bektāshī calligrams (Figure 11.1). In other respects, however, it
marks the beginning of a style found in later examples of the calligram. Its face
is more heart-shaped, with slanted eyes and upward-pointed ears.
These features appear in a manuscript of the Babad Talaga, Majalengka
(“Chronicle of Talaga, Majalengka”), probably copied in Cirebon in about 1283/

160 Saeed, Muslim Devotional Art, 72–75.

161 Lydia Kieven, Following the Cap-Figure in Majapahit Temple Reliefs (Leiden: Brill, 2013),
55–56.
162 Bennett, “The Shadow Puppet,” 188.
163 Sumedang, Prabu Geusan Ulun Museum, no. I2; see Edi S. Ekadjati and Udang A. Darsa,
Katalog induk naskah-naskah Nusantara: Jilid 5A: Jawa Barat: Koleksi lima lembaga
(Jakarta: Yayasan Obor Indonesia, Ecole Française d’ Extrême-Orient, 1999), 234; Ali Akbar,
“Qurʾan,” in Bennett, Crescent Moon, 272, cat. 25, illus. on 171; Annabel Teh Gallop, “Islamic
Manuscript Art of Southeast Asia/Seni naskah Islam di Asia Tenggara,” in Bennett, Cres-
cent Moon, 158–189, here 170.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 491

figure 11.5 Qurʾan, Sumedang, Java, dated 1272/1856. Ink and colors on paper. Page
44 × 28 cm. Prabu Geusan Ulun Museum, Sumedang, no. I2, fols. 147v–148r
Photo: Saul Steed. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of South Aus-
tralia

1866.164 The manuscript contains a catalog of calligraphic designs following

the main text. These include three variants of the Macan Ali, composed of
the shahāda followed by a salutation of the prophet Muḥammad: ṣallā ʾllāhu
ʿalayhi wa-sallam (“Blessings and peace be upon him”). The third variant

164 Leiden University Library, CB 141, from the collection of E.W. Maurenbrecher, 1933; see
Theodore G.Th. Pigeaud, Literature of Java: Catalogue Raisonné of Javanese Manuscripts in
the Library of the University of Leiden and Other Public Collections in the Netherlands, (The
Hague: Martinus Nyhoff, 1968), 2:782. The manuscript does not have a colophon, but at
the end of the chronicle, on page 90, is a notice on the birth of a boy: “Punika Hijrah, ran-
cangen putra ngi [unclear character] babarkĕn ring sasi Robingullakir pukul 1 / tanggale
8 dintĕne Saptu taun Alip 1283.1866. Tamat” (“This is the hijri date, recorded when the son
… was born in the month of Rabī ʿal-Ākhir at 1 o’clock, the date being 8, on Saturday, in the
year of alif [the first in the Javanese eight-year cycle] [AH] 1283 or 1866 [CE]. The end”);
transliteration and translation by Merle Ricklefs, who notes that the hand is Cirebonese.
I am grateful to him for his help with the manuscript.
492 yahya

figure 11.6 Calligraphic drawings with two variants of the Macan Ali, Babad Talaga,
Majalengka, probably Cirebon, Java, c. 1283/1866. Ink and colors on paper. Page
35 × 21.5 cm. Leiden University Library, Leiden, CB 141, pp. 90–91
© Leiden University Library

(MS, page 93) is similar in some respects to the one in the Sumedang Qurʾan,
being formed of a foliated script, with slanted eyes surrounded by a mask-like
feature that doubles as its pointed ears. The other two variants of the motif
(not in a foliated script) also have sharp, pointed ears (Figure 11.6). Their facial
features are, however, less well defined, the eyes being smaller (page 91) or non-
existent (page 90).165

6.4 The Cirebon Mosque

A similar calligram appears on a carved wood panel in the Masjid Agung (“Great
Mosque”) Sang Cipta Rasa in Cirebon (Figure 11.7). The mosque is located next

165 A calligram with similar features appears on a carved wood panel in the Asian Civilisations
Museum, Singapore, dated to the mid-fourteenth/twentieth century, inv. no. 2000–05572.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 493

figure 11.7 Carved wooden panel with the Macan Ali, probably late
twentieth or early twenty-first century, in the Masjid
Agung Sang Cipta Rasa, Cirebon
Photograph by the author

to Kraton Kasepuhan and probably dates to the tenth/sixteenth century, mak-

ing it one of the oldest in Java. It contains several sacred architectural and
decorative features that have been attributed to the legendary saints of Java
(wali sanga).166
The panel is displayed above one of the doorways leading into the prayer
hall, on the outside of the wall opposite the mihrab. It is thus placed in one of
the most prominent places in the mosque. As there is a veranda outside the

166 On this mosque, see Hasan Muarif Ambary, “Historical Monuments/Peninggalan-pening-

galan Sejarah,” in Abdurachman, Cerbon, 68–91, here 82–85.
494 yahya

main structure where worshippers could also pray, this wall also becomes the
qibla wall, facing Mecca. Its position indicates the great reverence paid to this
figure in Cirebon.
An often-repeated theory for the production and usage of calligrams is that
they circumvented the “prohibition” of depicting living beings. The presence
of the Macan Ali in the Cirebon mosque and the Sumedang Qurʾan raises
the issue of the representation of living beings in a religious setting in South-
east Asia. The calligram is not the only animal figure in the Cirebon mosque.
Two small lion-like figures sit at the feet of its original minbar (pulpit), which
probably dates to the tenth-eleventh/sixteenth-seventeenth centuries. Similar
paired leonine creatures are found on the minbar of another mosque in Java, as
well as at the doorways of several mausoleums of Javanese saints.167 As Hélène
Njoto has pointed out, this practice harks back to the Javanese Hindu-Buddhist
period, when images of mythical creatures such as the nāga serpent and the
makara (a sea monster) acted as guardian figures.168 This practice continued
into the Islamic period: the wooden doors of the Great Mosque of Surakarta,
Central Java, bear carvings of a mythical creature (probably the makara), while
the wooden minbar of the Mosque of Kajen, Central Java, as well as a few in
Lombok, have carvings of the nāga.169 It could thus be argued that the panel of
the Macan Ali in the Great Mosque of Cirebon similarly performs an apotropaic
function.
Meanwhile Tawalinuddin Haris has argued that the calligram could be seen
as actually representing not an animal but rather the shahāda itself, and, as
such, it would not have been felt to be against Islamic principles to include it
in religious contexts such as mosques and the Qurʾan.170 This therefore places
the importance of the calligram on the text, or rather the creed it repres-
ents, instead of on the image. However, the shaped formed by calligrams also
embody power in themselves, and the placement of the figure of the Macan Ali
in the mosque and Qurʾan could be due to the benedictive and protective func-
tions of lion/tiger images. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss these
complicated issues, but the calligrams remind us of the variability of positions

167 Njoto, “Mythical Feline Figures,” 42–50.

168 Njoto, “Mythical Feline Figures,” 44–45.
169 For the Kajen minbar, see Merle C. Ricklefs, The Seen and Unseen Worlds in Java, 1726–
1749: History, Literature, and Islam in the Court of Pakubuwana II (St. Leonards, New South
Wales: Asian Studies Association of Australia in association with Allen & Unwin and Uni-
versity of Hawai’i Press, 1998), 135; for the Lombok mosques, see Galih Widjil Pangarsa,
“Les Mosquées de Lombok: évolution architecturale et diffusion de l’Islam,” Archipel 44
(1992): 75–93.
170 Haris, “Bendera Macan Ali,” 93.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 495

regarding this matter and how local traditions might have an effect on the use
and acceptability of such images.171

6.5 The Calligram Today

The Macan Ali calligram remains a popular symbol in Cirebon today. It is a
subject of works by artists such as the late Rastika (1942–2014) and his son Kus-
dono (b. 1981), whose glass paintings of figural calligraphy and shadow puppet
characters are based on local iconography and styles.172 The Kraton Kanoman
(“Junior palace”), which has a carved wooden panel of the calligram in its col-
lection, has placed the motif on the cover of their guidebook.173 The palace
also sells merchandize such as prints and stickers with the design. The Macan
Ali seems also to have been adopted as the “mascot” of Cirebon. Merchandize
such as stickers and T-shirts featuring the design, as well as of Dhū l-Fiqār, can
be found in various locations around the city, placed on display or offered for
sale to locals and tourists.174 The calligram is thus now a symbol of the city’s
identity.

7 Type 2: The Lion of ʿAlī Composed of the Qurʾanic Verse 61:13

The second type of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram in Southeast Asia is composed of
part of a Qurʾanic verse from sura 61, the Sūrat al-Ṣaff (“The Ranks”), verse 13:

َ‫ب و َب َش ِ ّر ِ ال ْمؤُ ْم ِن ِي ْن‬ ٌ ْ ‫ن ال َل ّـه ِ و َف َت‬

ٌ ْ ‫ح قرَ ِ ي‬ َ ِ ّ‫ن َص ْر ٌ م‬

Naṣrun min Allāh wa-fatḥun qarīb wa-bashshiri l-muʾminīn

Help from God and a speedy victory. So give the glad tidings to the Believ-
ers.

171 Insofar as these images were inspired by specifically Persianate practice, figural represent-
ation is utterly a non-issue.
172 A glass painting of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram (titled Singa, “Lion”) by Rastika is in Jakarta,
Wayang Museum (inventory number unknown). Some of Rastika’s and Kusdono’s works
have been archived digitally at the Indonesian Visual Art Archive (IVAA): http://archive
.ivaa‑online.org. I am grateful to Tan Zi Hao and Kusdono for their help.
173 Kraton Kanoman, Sejarah berdirinya kesultanan Kanoman Cirebon (Cirebon: Kraton Kan-
oman, 2011), which includes an entry on the panel on 18–19.
174 T-shirts with the Macan Ali and Dhū l-Fiqār designs were purchased by the author at a
clothes stall in front of the Great Mosque of Cirebon in 2018. For the sale of amulets in
contemporary Turkey, see Chapter 13 by Christiane Gruber in this volume.
496 yahya

The Sūrat al-Ṣaff is one of the suras that was revealed after the Prophet’s
emigration (hijra) to Medina, probably soon after the Battle of Uḥud (3/625),
in which the Muslim forces were defeated (the title refers to the ranks during
battle). Verse 13 assures Muslims of God’s help.175 Its militaristic connotation
meant that it often appeared on weapons, armor, talismanic shirts, standards,
and banners across the Islamicate world, as it invokes God’s aid in ensuring vic-
tory.176 The “victory” referred here could, nevertheless, also be understood to be
spiritual.177 The verse was found also on other types of objects that entail the
user seeking help from God, such as those connected to healing.178 At the same
time, it may be part of a benedictory inscription, suggesting a more prosaic role
as a general expression of good wishes.179 Annabel Gallop has found the verse
on several seals in Southeast Asia,180 but a detailed survey of Southeast Asian
inscriptions featuring this verse has yet to be undertaken, which might shed
light on its meaning and usage in the regional context.
In contrast to the shahāda calligrams, which were mainly concentrated in
Cirebon and its environs, those composed of Q 61:13 were more widespread
across Southeast Asia.

7.1 Kelantan and Patani

Many examples of calligrams of this type come from the Malay states of Kelan-
tan and Patani, on the east coast of the Malay peninsula. Historically and cul-
turally the two areas were closely connected, even though they are now part of
separate political entities: the sultanate of Kelantan is now one of the states of
Malaysia, and Patani is now part of Thailand. Islam is thought to have arrived
there during the ninth/fifteenth century. From the thirteenth/nineteenth cen-
tury to the fourteenth/twentieth, they were both major centers of Islamic learn-

175 ʿAbdullah Yūsuf ʿAlī, The Holy Qurʾān: English Translation of the Meanings and Comment-
ary, revised and edited by the Presidency of Islamic Researches, IFTA (Medina: King Fahd
Holy Qurʾān Printing Complex, 1990), 1741.
176 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, “Beyond the Secular and the Sacred: Qurʾanic Inscriptions in
Medieval Islamic Art and Material Culture,” in Suleman, Word of God, 41–49, here 44–45;
Leoni, “Sacred Words,” 57.
177 ʿAlī, The Holy Qurʾān, 1741.
178 For example, it appears on a magico-medicinal bowl described by H. Henry Spoer, “Arabic
Magic Medicinal Bowls,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 55, no. 3 (1935): 237–256,
here 252.
179 As on a casket made for the Fatimid caliph al-Muʿizz (r. 341–365/953–75), Madrid, Museo
Arqueológico Nacional, inv. no. 50887; Behrens-Abouseif, “Beyond the Secular,” 46.
180 See Annabel Teh Gallop, Malay Seals from the Islamic World of Southeast Asia: Content,
Form, Context, Catalogue (Singapore: NUS Press in association with the British Library,
2019), 318, 341, 342, 486, 568.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 497

ing in Southeast Asia, when local ʿulamāʾ who were trained in Mecca, Medina,
and Cairo produced religious works and established private boarding schools,
a tradition that continues today.181 As a result of its geographical position and
political history, Thai culture also had an influence on various aspect of life,
including art and magic.182
Lion of ʿAlī calligrams appear in a concertina-format manuscript that was
compiled for a crown prince (raja muda) of Kelantan, datable to the mid-
thirteenth/nineteenth century and now in a private collection in Kuala Lumpur
(Figure 11.8).183 It contains invocations, talismanic designs, and divinatory tech-
niques for the sports of bull-, buffalo-, and ram-fighting. Animal fights, espe-
cially between bulls, were a popular sport in Patani and Kelantan up to the early
fourteenth/twentieth century. In order to ensure success on the day of the fight,
various steps were taken, including making ointments and concoctions for the
animal, as well as magical techniques, such as drawing talismanic designs and
effigies of the opponent. Many of these are given in the manuscript, including
a few examples that take the form of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram.
One is used to strengthen the bull or buffalo (Figure 11.8a).184 Here the verse
begins from the head of the lion (Naṣrun …), continuing onto its belly and lower
jaw (min Allāh). It then continues to its rear legs (wa-fatḥun) and front legs
(qarīb), with the final words on its belly (wa-bashshiri l-muʾminīn). The design
is to be drawn perhaps onto a plant shoot or bark (pucuk kulit; it is unclear what
is meant) and given to the animal to consume for three days:

Bab ini pegagah lembu atau kerbau. Maka surat pada pucuk kulit, beri
makan tiga hari. Inilah rajahnya.

This chapter is for strengthening the bull or buffalo. Draw it on a plant

shoot [or piece of bark?], give it to eat for three days. Here is the design.

181 For a brief history of the two states, see Virginia Matheson Hooker, “Patani,” and
C.S. Kessler, “Kelantan,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
182 See Farouk, Magic and Divination, 83–84, for a discussion of Thai elements in Malay magic
and divination manuscripts.
183 The patron of the manuscript may have been Tengku Bongsu Bachok bin Tengku Temeng-
gung Long Tan (d. 1304–1305/1887), younger brother of Sultan Muhammad II of Kelantan
(r. 1254–1304/1838–1886). The manuscript was in the collection of the late Nik Mohamed
Nik Mohd. Salleh. On this manuscript, see Farouk, Magic and Divination, 277, cat. 23.
184 Side A, 29th opening.
498 yahya

figure 11.8a
Talisman to strengthen a bull or buf-
falo, in a treatise on bull-fighting,
buffalo-fighting, and ram-fighting,
compiled for a crown prince (raja
muda) of Kelantan, c. 1253–1305/1838–
1887. Colored inks and gold on paper.
Page 18×11.5cm. Collection of the
late Nik Mohamed Nik Mohd. Salleh,
Kuala Lumpur, side A, 29th opening
Photograph by the author

figure 11.8b
Azimat Singa (“Talisman of the lion”),
in a treatise on bull-fighting, buffalo-
fighting, and ram-fighting, compiled
for a crown prince (raja muda) of
Kelantan, c. 1253–1305/1838–1887.
Colored inks and gold on paper. Page
18×11.5cm. Collection of the late Nik
Mohamed Nik Mohd. Salleh, Kuala
Lumpur, side A, 30th opening
Photograph by the author
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 499

Another calligram, on the following page, highlights the ambiguity in the

identity of the animal depicted.185 Here the creature is referred to as a lion
instead of a tiger: Azimat Singa (“Talisman of the lion”) (Figure 11.8b).186 It is
to be drawn on betel leaves which are fed to the competing bull or buffalo.
The style of the calligram is different from the previous one, and the Qurʾanic
verses that form it are not as obvious. Around it are the names of the archangels
(Jibrāʾīl, Mikāʾīl, Isrāfīl, and ʿIzrāʾīl) and the four Rightly Guided Caliphs (Abū
Bakr, ʿUmar, ʿUthmān, and ʿAlī). Within the figure of the animal is written inshā
Allāh (“if God wills”) and the name “ʿAlī b. Ṭālib.”

Bab ini Azimat Singa namanya. Maka disurat pada sirih yang bertemu urat.
Maka disuratkan ekor gembala ini dahulu ke dalam mulut lembu kita atau
kerbau kita supaya tidak bertatang oleh lawannya dengan berkat gembalan
singa. Inilah rajahnya.

This chapter is on the Talisman of the Lion. Draw it on a betel leaf

that has its veins coming together. Draw the tail of the herdsman[?]
first into the mouth of our bull or buffalo so that it will not falter in
front of its opponent, with the blessing of the lion tamer[?]. This is the
design.

Also in the manuscript is a set of three calligrams that is referred to in the text
as Peta Naṣr (“Drawing of Naṣr”), in reference to the first word of the Qurʾanic
verse that forms them.187 They are similar in style to the first calligram in the
manuscript (Figure 11.8a)188 and are all highlighted in gold. In the text, the three
designs are associated with the “Tiger of God” (Rimau Allah), and they are to
be drawn using the oil from the forehead of the bull. The text then provides an
incantation to be recited:

Bab ini Peta Naṣr yang ketiga. Ini rajah dengan minyak dari muka lembu
kita dari dahinya. Dan apabila sudah buat rajah Peta Naṣr yang ketiga
itu inilah bangkitnya: “Naṣrun min Allāh wa-fatḥun qarīb wa-bashshiri l-
muʾminīn.” Aku pinta menjadikan rimau tiga, kiri kanan di atasan belakang

185 Side A, 30th opening.

186 Malay uses “azimat” to mean talisman, from the Arabic “ʿazīma” (incantation or spell).
187 Side B, sixth opening. Published in Farouk, Magic and Divination, 193, fig. 207.
188 The middle calligram is slightly different: “wa-fatḥun” forms the tail, while “qarīb wa-
bashshiri l-muʾminīn” forms its legs.
500 yahya

lembu aku. Lembu aku Rimau Allah atas kulit bumi dalam alam ini. Ali
membelah batu di hadapan lembu aku, Ali lantar di kanan lembu aku, Ali
gagah di kiri lembu aku, Ali kuat di belakang lembu aku. Muhammad akan
payung lembu aku. Ali betukat [bertongkat?] besi kiri kanan tanduk lembu
aku. Lembu aku menjadikan Rimau Allah yang tiada berlawan dalam alam
ini. Ali berdiri di hadapan lembu aku sendiri-sendiri. Menolong serta aku,
aku minta tolong serta lembu aku kesama-samanya dengan kata “lā ilāha
illāllāh”. Inshā Allāh.

This chapter is on the three “Drawings of Naṣr.” Draw it with the oil from
the forehead of our bull. And once we have done the Drawings of Naṣr,
[recite] this incantation: “Help from God and a speedy victory. So give the
Glad Tidings to the Believers.” I seek to create three tigers, on the left, right,
above, and behind my bull. My bull is the Tiger of God on this earth. ʿAlī
broke the stone in front of my bull. ʿAlī lies on the right of my bull. ʿAlī is
strong on the left of my bull. ʿAlī is strong behind my bull. Muḥammad
will shelter my bull. ʿAlī with an iron staff on the left and right of my bull’s
horns. My bull is the Tiger of God, with no equal in this world. ʿAlī himself
stands in front of my bull, helping, and I seek help for my bull with “There
is no god but God,” if God wills.

These talismans raise several points regarding the Lion of ʿAlī calligrams. First,
they highlight the ambiguity of the animal being depicted, being referred to
the lion in one case and connected to tigers in the other. Second, they demon-
strate the importance of the text used to construct the calligrams. Here, the
use of Q 61:13 reflects how the bull-fighting competition was likened to a battle.
Third, in the Peta Naṣr, although ʿAlī is not explicitly mentioned by name
in the text forming the calligrams, he is still invoked for his strength in the
accompanying incantation and identified with the tigers on the three sides
of the bull, which itself is referred to as the “Tiger of God.” They are thus a
good example of calligrams acting as “talismanic images,” in which the milit-
aristic connotation of Q 61:13 in the text, ʿAlī’s prowess, and the power of the
tiger (as represented by the figural form of the calligrams) were combined in
order to ensure success in combat. Finally, they also demonstrate that calli-
grams do not necessarily work by themselves but may require specific rituals
and actions—such as the recitation of oral incantations, placement on spe-
cific materials or surfaces, and ingestion—in order to be activated and effect-
ive.
In another manuscript, a thirteenth/nineteenth-century compilation of
magical and divinatory techniques probably from Patani or Kelantan, the motif
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 501

figure 11.9 Talisman to protect against misfortune, Patani

or Kelantan, thirteenth/nineteenth century. Ink
on paper. Page 18.5 × 12 cm. Perpustakaan Neg-
ara Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, MSS 2778, side A,
eighth opening
Courtesy of the Perpustakaan Negara
Malaysia

had a more protective function (Figure 11.9).189 Here, according to the text, the
design was used to avoid misfortune (bala) upon one’s body: Ini penolakkan
bala di tubuh kita jukadita[?] demikian buninya … (“This is to repel misfortune
from our bodies, it is as follows …”). The verse Q 61:13 begins with the head
and back of the animal (Naṣrun …), jumping to its front, then inside its back,

189 Kuala Lumpur, Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia, MSS 2778, side A, eighth opening; on this
manuscript, see Farouk, Magic and Divination, 286, cat. 66, illus. on 192, fig. 206.
502 yahya

then to its rump and tail, before continuing to form its legs (qarīb wa-bashshiri
l-muʾminīn). Written inside the body are al-ghālib ʿalā al-ṭālib (“He who has
dominion over the petitioner”)190 and insha Allāh (“If God wills”) in mirror writ-
ing.
The same Qurʾanic verse also performed an apotropaic function in a four-
teenth/twentieth-century printed talisman from Patani, dated [1338]/1920.191
Here, however, the verse has been shaped into the form of an elephant hold-
ing a Qurʾan in its trunk. The composition is framed by the Ninety-nine Names
of God (asmāʾ Allāh al-ḥusnā), with the names of the Rightly Guided Caliphs
placed in the four corners. Underneath it is a text in Malay giving instructions
on how to use the talisman and describing its benefits,

which include thirty-three rewards, such as protection from evil, escape

from sickness, domestic harmony, easy childbirth, and freedom from
theft. The owner is instructed to frame the talisman and to hang it near
the front door of the house. Once a year benzoin should be burned before
it and various specified verses from the Qurʾān repeated, together with
praise to the Prophet Muḥammad. Then prayers should be offered for
whatever may be desired.192

These are further examples of certain actions required for the activation and
maintenance of calligrams. It is possible that other calligrams, such as those
of the Lion of ʿAlī, were treated with similar rituals, that is, the recitations of
Qurʾanic verses and the burning of benzoin. Further studiers, particularly in
the field of anthropology, might help to identify the rituals involved in the pro-
duction and use of calligrams in Southeast Asia.

7.2 The Kelantan Flags

As in Cirebon, the calligram of the Lion of ʿAlī once appeared on the royal and
state flags of Kelantan. Before the early fourteenth/twentieth century, flags of
the Malay states tended to be of single colors, until it was necessary to make
them more distinctive. The Kelantan flag was initially plain white, but, after it
came under British protection in 1327/1909, the reigning sultan, Muhammad IV

190 I am grateful to Liana Saif for this translation.

191 Published in Forbes, “ ‘Azima.’ ” Another calligram of an elephant formed from the same
verse is in Kuala Lumpur, Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia, MSS 1072, side B, 20th open-
ing.
192 Quotation from Forbes, “ ‘Azima.’ ”
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 503

(r. 1317–1339/1899–1920), commissioned a fresh design featuring the Lion of

ʿAlī. The new flag was unfurled during the sultan’s birthday celebrations in
1328/1910.193
Like the Cirebon examples, the creature on the flag was identified as a
tiger.194 Standing on four long legs, it faces right, with its tail curving over its
back. It has a crest above the back of its head and a protruding tongue. The
figure resembles puppets of tigers and lions in Kelantanese shadow plays, and
underneath the calligram is an ornamental strip of a type that typically appears
beneath shadow puppets.195
The choice of verse Q 61:13 for the calligram was to seek “Divine aid for the
country and for its development.”196 The verse begins with the eyes and back of
the creature (Naṣrun …), and the rest is placed mainly within its body. Its paws
are rendered naturalistically. The calligram was embroidered in black against a
plain white background. The same design was also used for the personal stand-
ard (bendera tubuh) of the sultan, except in this case the calligram was yellow.
By the early fourteenth/twentieth century the use of an animal-shaped cal-
ligram on the state flag and sultan’s standard was apparently disapproved of.
In 1341/1922, Muhammad IV’s successor Sultan Ismail (r. 1339–1363/1920–1944)
changed the flags to feature emblems of non-figurative design. This was appar-
ently due to reformist concerns about putting depictions of living beings on

193 “Kelantan’s Rajah. Birthday Celebrations at Khota Bharu. The Populace Rejoice,” Straits
Times, March 11, 1910; Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, “The Flags of the Malay
Peninsula,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 75 (1917): 3–4 and
plates; Saʿad Shukri Haji Muda, Detik-detik sejarah Kelantan (Kota Bharu: Pustaka Aman
Press, 1971), 140–141; Persatuan Pencinta Sejarah Kelantan, “Makna bendera dan jata negeri
Kelantan Darul Naim,” PPSK: Persatuan Pencinta Sejarah Kelantan, 2015, http://pp‑sk.blog
spot.com/2015/06/makna‑bendera‑dan‑jata‑negeri‑kelantan.html; Farouk, Magic and
Divination, 187, 192, fig. 205. I am grateful to the staff of the Muzium Negeri Kelantan
for references on this flag. According to the website of a Kelantanese antique dealer,
Sultan Muhammad IV drew the inspiration for the design from a pair of wood panels
that were formerly above the doors of the palace of his predecessor, Sultan Ahmad (r.
1304–1307/1886–1889), see Azman Azahari, “Ukiran kayu khat berbentuk harimau sepas-
ang,” A.zahari Antik, 2010, http://azmankeriskb.blogspot.co.uk/2010/08/ukiran‑kayu‑khat
‑berbentuk‑harimau.html. On these panels are two calligrams (one of them mirrored) of
the Lion of ʿAlī of a Bektāshī design, similar to one in London, Nasser D. Khalili Collec-
tion, CAL 242, dated 1331/1913 (published in Suleman, “Iconography of Ali,” 216, fig. 82).
This account has yet to be verified.
194 “Kelantan’s Rajah,” Straits Times. Some recent discussions on the calligram have inter-
preted it as Qiṭmīr, the dog of the Seven Sleepers; see for instance Persatuan Pencinta
Sejarah Kelantan, “Makna bendera.”
195 For an example, see Farouk, Magic and Divination, 192, fig. 204.
196 “Kelantan’s Rajah,” Straits Times.
504 yahya

figure 11.10 Wooden panel, Kelantan, thirteenth/nineteenth to early fourteenth/twentieth

century. Wood. 43.1 × 92.9 × 1.3 cm. Museum of Asian Arts, University of Malaya,
Kuala Lumpur, inv. no. UM.79.133
Courtesy of the Museum of Asian Arts

the flags and to worries that the use of Qurʾanic verses might have been dis-
respectful to the holy text.197 These accounts require further investigation, but
the Kelantan coat of arms, which features a pair of barking deer (kijang)—also
introduced by Muhammad IV—is still used by the state government. This indic-
ates that there were probably other issues beside figural representation that
influenced the replacement of the calligraphic flags.

7.3 Paired Mirrored Forms of the Calligram

In another variation of the Lion of ʿAlī motif, the calligrams are mirrored,
forming a pair of lions/tigers flanking a central motif. These designs are prob-
ably based on European coats of arms, with the mirrored figures—typically in
the form of the lion rampant—acting as supporters to another mirrored cal-
ligraphic design occupying the center. An example can be seen in a pierced
wooden panel from Kelantan, dated to the thirteenth/nineteenth or early
fourteenth/twentieth century, now in the Museum of Asian Arts, Univer-
sity of Malaya, in Kuala Lumpur (Figure 11.10).198 The panel, which measures
43.1×92.9×1.3cm, has a circular central design formed by the mirrored name
Muḥammad which is topped by Allāh. The feline calligrams flanking it are

197 Straits Times, “62-Year-Old Mini Flag of Kelantan for Museum,” April 4, 1971; Saʿad, Detik-
detik, 140.
198 Kuala Lumpur, Museum of Asian Arts, University of Malaya, inv. no. UM.79.133. It was
acquired from Kelantan in 1979.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 505

shaped by Q 61:13 with Allāh placed at the top of their heads: in the one on the
left, the text is in the “normal” direction but Allāh is written in reverse, while
the figure on the right is mirrored but with Allāh written right to left.
Huism Tan has observed that, in Malay vernacular architecture, pierced cal-
ligraphic wooden panels were often placed over doorways, where the sacred
texts offer protection from malign spirits seeking to enter the home. The use of
mirrored calligraphic compositions on pierced panels also enabled the viewer
to see the same design from both inside and outside the room.199 The Uni-
versity of Malaya panel would probably have been placed above a doorway of
a domestic or religious structure. The latter seems likely, as an almost identical
panel appears in the Mosque of Jamhuriah (built 1345/1927) in Kuala Besut, Ter-
engganu, close to the border with Kelantan.
A similar design appears on several velvet doorway hangings now in the
Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia in Kuala Lumpur. One textile, probably from
Kelantan or Patani and datable to the thirteenth/nineteenth or early four-
teenth/twentieth century, is of red velvet with gold leaf applique, measuring
51 × 94.5cm (Figure 11.11).200 The Lion of ʿAlī calligrams flank a mirrored calli-
graphic shahāda, and the four corners feature mirrored calligraphic names of
two of the Rightly Guided Caliphs, Abū Bakr and ʿUmar. The upper and side
borders are decorated with a repeated pattern of rectilinear spirals known as
the meander, a common motif in Chinese, Greek, and ancient Egyptian decor-
ation.201 The large size, sumptuous material, and ornate designs of the textile
point to its probable use in a palace. The placement of sacred verses above the
entrance would thus have bestowed blessings (baraka) on the royal household
and prevented the entrance of undesired elements.
Tan has nevertheless observed that, although it is reasonable to assume that
Qurʾanic inscriptions were placed in the home for apotropaic reasons, there is
no concrete evidence for that use. Their meanings may also differ over time and
with the perception of the viewer.202 These issues merit further investigation
and analysis, but the magical qualities of the mirrored Lion of ʿAlī calligrams are
perhaps more readily apparent in a manuscript in the Mangkunegaran Palace

199 Huism Tan, “Qurʾanic Inscriptions on Woodcarvings from the Malay Peninsula,” in Sule-
man, Word of God, 205–215, here 207.
200 Kuala Lumpur, Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, inv. no. 1998.1.4107, from a set of three sim-
ilar textiles (the other two are 1998.1.4108 and 1998.1.4109). There is also another similar
hanging but with a black base, inv. no. 1998.1.4020.
201 Rawson, Chinese Ornament, 144, 205.
202 Tan, “Qurʾanic Inscriptions,” 208–209.
506 yahya

figure 11.11 Doorway hanging, probably Kelantan or Patani, thirteenth/nineteenth to early

fourteenth/twentieth century. Velvet with gold leaf applique. 51×94.5cm.
Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, inv. no. 1998.1.4107
© Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia

in Surakarta, Java, datable to c. 1269–1298/1853–1881.203 It contains a catalog of

various calligraphic designs that are thought to be talismanic, among which is
the paired Lion of ʿAlī composed of Q 61:13. Here, the calligraphic lions/tigers
are depicted more naturalistically, with their eyes and claws rendered in a real-
istic fashion. The heraldic origin of the motif is apparent from the presence of
a shield between the two figures, containing Q 61:13.

7.4 Talismanic Shirt from Rote

Calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī with the same Qurʾanic verse (61:13) can be found
also elsewhere in Southeast Asia. A talismanic shirt containing this design, now
in the Museum Nasional Indonesia in Jakarta, is said to have originated on the
island of Rote (or Roti) and probably dates to the thirteenth/nineteenth cen-
tury.204 Made of cotton, it has a soft stand-collar with a slit at the throat and

203 Surakarta, Mangkunegaran Palace, MS Reksa Pustaka I 8; see Florida, Javanese Literature,
2:23, plate 5, 392.
204 Jakarta, Museum Nasional Indonesia, inv. no. 3376; see Intan Mardiana Napitupulu and
Singgih Tri Sulistiyono, eds., Archipel. Indonésie, les royaumes de la mer (Ghent: Snoeck,
2018), 156, cat. 141; Bambang Asrini Widjanarko, “Menenggang empati, berkunjung ke
Museum Nasional,” Kompas.com, 2019, https://entertainment.kompas.com/read/2019/03/
31/215307410/menenggang‑empati‑berkunjung‑ke‑museum‑nasional?.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 507

is sleeveless. Talismanic inscriptions and designs are written in black ink on

a plain white background. The inscriptions on the front of the shirt include
the shahāda (which also lines the edges of the shirt), Qurʾanic verses, and the
Names of God. There are two circular talismanic designs, one of which includes
the names of the Seven Sleepers formed in a six-pointed-star pattern, of a type
found in the Ottoman world.205 There are six calligrams of the Lion of ʿAlī, three
facing right and three left. Those that face left are similar in design to those in
the Kelantan bull- and buffalo-fighting manuscript discussed earlier. In those
facing right, the texts that form the outer contours of their bodies are mirrored,
but those that are contained inside their bodies run in the normal direction.
Like the Cirebon banner, the calligrams here work not in isolation but in con-
junction with the other texts and designs on the shirt to confer protection and
blessings to the wearer.
The circumstances behind the production and use of this shirt are unclear.
Rote is one of the easternmost Lesser Sunda Islands (Nusa Tenggara), which
stretch from eastern Java to northern Australia. It is the southern-most island
in Indonesia and “its traditions represent one of the furthest extensions of the
culture of Southeast Asia.”206 The Rotenese are predominantly Christian, but
there are also long-standing Muslim populations in the settlements of Pepela
and Oe Laba, who are mainly of Butonese descent.207 They are descendants
of immigrants from the sultanate of Buton, which comprised the island of
Buton (located just southeast of Sulawesi) and its surrounding islands. Buton
embraced Islam in the tenth/sixteenth century, with Sufism playing a promin-
ent role in the religious and political spheres of the kingdom.208
In terms of its material (cotton) and style (sleeveless, with a slit at the throat),
the Rote shirt does indeed resemble those from Buton and South Sulawesi
and thus was probably produced or brought to the island by the Butonese.209

205 For objects with a similar design, see Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,”
145, fig. 6; Porter, “Amulets Inscribed,” 128–130, figs. 7.4, 7.5; Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım Mühürleri,
95–103; Leoni, Power and Protection, cat. 86.
206 James J. Fox, Bahasa, sastra dan sejarah: Kumpulan karangan mengenai masyarakat Pulau
Roti (Jakarta: Djambatan, 1986), 3. For a brief background on the island, see James J. Fox,
“Roti (Rote),” in Southeast Asia: A Historical Encyclopedia, from Angkor Wat to East Timor,
ed. Ooi Keat Gin (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2004), 1151–1152.
207 I want to thank James Fox for sharing his knowledge of Rote with me. For information
about the Butonese community in this region, see James J. Fox, “Reefs and Shoals in
Australia–Indonesia Relations: Traditional Indonesian Fishermen,” in Australia in Asia:
Episodes, ed. Anthony Milner and Mary Quilty (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998),
111–139, here 123, 126–127.
208 On Buton, see O. Schumann, “Sulawesi,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
209 I am grateful to James Fox for sharing this insight.
508 yahya

There is a parallel in a talismanic shirt from Boné in South Sulawesi, produced

before 1344/1926, now in Leiden.210 Made of cotton, it differs slightly from the
Rote shirt in having short sleeves and no collar, but talismanic inscriptions
and designs (which includes pentagrams) are similarly written in black ink on
a white background. If the Rote shirt was indeed produced by the Butonese
community, it demonstrates how motifs such as the Lion of ʿAlī accompanied
population movements.
The Rote and Boné shirts belong to a wider tradition of making and using
talismanic shirts within the Islamicate world, which has been attested since at
least the ninth/fifteenth century.211 In Southeast Asia, however, talismanic gar-
ments have been found not only in Muslim societies but also among those of
other faiths, such as the Buddhist Tai people on the mainland and the Chris-
tian communities of the Philippines.212 Like the examples from Rote and Boné,
these were produced by writing/drawing magical inscriptions in black ink on
white cotton cloth, indicating a commonality of practice across the region.

7.5 The Luwuq Flag

Another possibility is that the design of the calligram on the Rote shirt ori-
ginated in Sulawesi rather than Buton. We have evidence of the Lion of ʿAlī
motif on a flag from Luwuq, a Bugis kingdom in South Sulawesi that was the
first in the area to adopt Islam (in 1013/1605). Here, an image of a lion, with
Q 61:13 written in rows across its body, is shown in white on a dark background
(Figure 11.12).213 The animal is not represented calligraphically but naturalist-
ically, with particularly prominent mane and whiskers, walking toward the left
with its tail curving over its back. The figure is reminiscent of certain Ottoman
glass paintings of the Lion of ʿAlī.214 The names of the four archangels (Jibrāʾīl,
Mikāʾīl, Isrāfīl, and ʿIzrāʾīl) are written in the corners. There is ambiguity regard-
ing the identity of the creature being represented. The flag is known locally as

210 Leiden, Museum Volkenkunde, Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, RV-3600–5588.

211 Emilie Savage-Smith, “Talismanic Shirts,” in Maddison and Savage-Smith, Science, Tools
and Magic, 117–123; Rose Muravchick, “God is the Best Guardian: Islamic Talismanic Shirts
from the Gunpowder Empires” (PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2014).
212 See the Tai examples in Conway, Tai Magic, 144–159; and the talismanic shirt with biblical
passages from the Philippines in Maxwell, Textiles of Southeast Asia, 365.
213 I am grateful to Sharifah Nursyahidah Syed Annuar for informing me about this flag. On
the flag see Claas Spat, “De rijkssieraden van Loewoe,” Nederlandsch-Indië Oud & Niew
3, 2 (1918): 64–72, here 71; Joanna Barrkman, “Talismanic Flags of South Sulawesi,” TAASA
Review 16, no. 2 (2007): 12–14, here 13–14; Eko Rusdianto, “Islam di Sulawesi Selatan,”Pindai,
2015, http://pindai.org/2015/07/23/islam‑di‑sulawesi‑selatan.
214 See, for instance, Zarcone, “The Lion of Ali,” fig. 46.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 509

figure 11.12 Replica of the Macangngé flag of Luwuq, made by the batik studio Brahma
Tirta Sari in Yogyakarta, 2007. Cotton. 124 ×216.5cm. Museum and Art Gallery
of the Northern Territory, Darwin, inv. no. SEA 03476
Courtesy of the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Ter-
ritory

Macangngé (“The tiger”), even though with its mane the animal is clearly iden-
tifiable as a lion, demonstrating a conflation between the two animals.215 In the
modern replicas of the flag there is a statement in Arabic above the animal’s
head: dhā asad (“This is a lion”). This is apparently a later addition: a photo-
graph of the flag, taken in the mid-fourteenth/twentieth century, depicts the
figure without this statement, suggesting that it was added later to clarify the
identity of the creature being depicted.216
The Macangngé is one of several flags forming part of the regalia (arajang)
of the datu (king, ruler) of Luwuq. Among the societies of South Sulawesi,
regalia (which also include items such as weapons and plows) were believed
to be infused with great quantities of the sumangeq (life force, spirit; Malay:

215 Makassar, La Galigo Museum (inventory number unknown), replica made in 1996; Dar-
win, Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory, inv. no. SEA 03476, made by the
batik studio Brahma Tirta Sari in Yogyakarta in 2007. I am grateful to Elaine Labuschagne,
Merinda Campbell, and James Bennett for their help with this object.
216 The photo is now in the archives of the Gereformeerde Zendingsbond (GZB) missionar-
ies. It can be seen here: Ringel Goslinga (@ringelgoslinga), “Vlag van de Datu van Luwu
(foto, eigen collectie),” Instagram photo, September 17, 2018, https://www.instagram.com/
p/Bn1HBILnpoL/?igshid=lpi95ob944z3. I am grateful to Ringel Goslinga for information
regarding the photo.
510 yahya

semangat) of the ancestors and thus helped protect the realm and bring pros-
perity. As such, they were the subject of sacred rituals and cared for by special
caretakers known as the bissu (gender-transcendent priests).217
Flags or banners (baté) did not only serve to distinguish different groups in
society but were also considered sacred and kept as regalia. Each had a name,
and they were taken out at moments of danger (as during war), when they were
smeared with the blood of sacrificial animals to invoke the spirits of the ancest-
ors.218 Some of the Luwuq regalia were believed to have originated in heaven,
including a flag named Suléngkaé (“The kitchen tripod”), which was lost in a
fire at the palace in 1323/1905.219 In addition to the Suléngkaé, there were four
other flags, including the Macangngé, which were described by Claas Spat in
1918:

Een, genaamd De Gontjang-e draagt een afbeelding van een groote schaar.
Deze vlag was vroeger de krijgsbanier; hij ging voorop, dadelijk gevolgd
door de slaven, ata riolâng, den vijand tegemoet; achter deze werd een effen
paarse vlag gedragen, Kamoemoe-e. Een derde, genaamd De Matjang-e,
bleef achter ter bewaking van de Datoe; deze vlag draagt als teeken een
tijgerfiguur. Eindelijk is er nog een oranje-zijden vlag met in het midden een
wit veld, waarop enkele Arabische spreuken en teekens, die in het bijzonder
tot scheepsvlag is bestemd; de Datoe voerde hem op zijn prauw.220

One, called the Gontjang-e, carries an image of a large pair of scissors. This
flag used to be the banner of war; this flag was in front, immediately fol-
lowed by the slaves, ata riolâng, heading toward the enemy; behind this a
plain purple flag was carried, Kamoemoe-e. A third, named the Matjang-
e, remained behind to guard the Datoe; this flag bears a tiger figure as

217 On the regalia of Luwuq, see Spat, “De rijkssieraden;” Shelly Errington, Meaning and Power
in a Southeast Asian Realm (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), 121–129.
218 On the baté, see Christian Pelras, “Textiles and Weaving of the South Sulawesi Muslim
Peoples: A Preliminary Report,” in Weaving Patterns of Life: Indonesian Textile Symposium
1991, ed. Marie-Louise Nabholz-Kartaschoff, Ruth Barnes, and David J. Stuart-Fox (Basel:
Museum of Ethnography, 1993), 397–418, here 402; Leonard Y. Andaya, “Nature of War and
Peace Among the Bugis-Makassar People,” South East Asia Research 12, no. 1 (2004): 53–80,
here 63–65; Elizabeth Morrell, Securing a Place: Small-scale Artisans in Modern Indonesia
(Ithaca, New York: Southeast Asia Program Publications, Cornell University, 2005), 59–
60.
219 Spat, “De rijkssieraden,” 70. A suléngka is a tripod-shaped kitchen utensil. There was
also a tenth/sixteenth-century sacred flag from the neighboring kingdom of Gowa called
Suléngkaya. Many thanks to Roger Tol for this information.
220 Spat, “De rijkssieraden,” 71.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 511

a sign. Finally there is an orange-silk flag with a white field in the cen-
ter, on which some Arabic phrases and signs [are written], which is, in
particular, meant as a ship’s flag; the Datoe flew/carried this flag on his
boat.221

The power of these flags derived from the images and texts that they display.
The “large scissors” on the Goncingngé (“The scissors”; Malay: gunting) is Dhū l-
Fiqār; on the flag its image is filled with Arabic texts consisting of the basmala
(on the hilt), a blessing (ṣalawāt) upon the Prophet (on the crossguard) and
the shahāda (on the blades).222 The militaristic nature of this sword is reflec-
ted in the role of the Goncingngé in leading troops into battle, with the flag
called Kamummuqé (“The purple one”) following behind it. Here, the Lion of
ʿAlī motif clearly had a more protective role, as attested by the position of the
Macangngé flag in guarding the king.

8 Other Types

A final type of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram can be found in the glass-painting
tradition of the Central Javanese city of Yogyakarta. Here, the calligram was
known as Sima Ngali (“Tiger of ʿAlī”). A Javanese account, published by Jacoba
Hooykaas-van Leeuwen Boomkamp in 1939, attributes the origins of this design
to Fāṭima:

Nabi Ali, schoonzoon van den profeet, was ernstig ziek. Dèwi Partimah
(Fatima, een zeer geliefde figuur in de populaire overlevering) ging naar den
medicijnmeester. Deze wilde echter de noodige medicijn slechts geven, op
voorwaarde, dat Fatima zich aan hem gaf.
Het gevolg van deze verbintenis was de geboorte van een tijger, Simå
Ngali. Deze ging naar den profeet en vroeg hem een bewijs, dat hij inder-
daad zijn kleinzoon was. De profeet beval hem daarop, een vat inkt te halen
van het dak van een moskee. De tijger klom op het dak, kreeg de inkt over zijn

221 I am grateful to Jan van der Putten and Roger Tol for their help with this translation and
for clarifying Spat’s text.
222 This flag is also on display in the La Galigo Museum in Makassar (inventory number
unknown). The shape of the sword—particularly its crossguard—is reminiscent of seals
dating from 1188/1775 to 1237/1821 from the neighboring kingdom of Tanete; see Gallop and
Porter, Lasting Impressions, 176–177; Gallop, Malay Seals, 594–596. Many thanks to Anna-
bel Gallop for pointing out the resemblance.
512 yahya

lichaam, maar hierop vormden zich tegelijkertijd op wonderbaarlijke wijze

de letterteekens, waaruit zijn afkomst bleek.223

Nabi Ali, son-in-law of the prophet, was seriously ill. Dèwi Partimah
(Fatima, a very beloved figure in popular tradition) went to the medicine
man, but he wanted to give the necessary medicine only on the condition
that Fatima gave herself to him.
The result of this union was the birth of a tiger, Simå Ngali. He went
to see the Prophet and asked him for proof that he was indeed his grand-
son. The Prophet then ordered him to fetch a barrel of ink from the roof
of a mosque. The tiger climbed on the roof, [and] got the ink [all] over
his body, but at the same time the letters indicating his origins appeared
miraculously.224

In one variation of the graphical representation of this animal, it is depic-

ted facing right.225 Its body is painted black, and it has large tufted ears, an
open mouth with a protruding tongue, and large claws. Its form thus resembles
Javanese shadow puppets of tigers. There is a saddle on its back, while its tail
grips a lance. In another version of the calligram, the animal faces left and
has a bird perched upon its tail, holding a lance (with a flower garland) in its
beak.226 In both cases the body of the tiger and its saddle are covered with
Arabic calligraphy in gold. The texts, however, are obscure and have yet to be
identified.

9 Conclusion

This chapter has delved, for the first time, into the characteristics of Lion of ʿAlī
calligrams in Southeast Asia, and investigated how they fit into the wider tradi-
tion of such representations in the Islamicate world. It has also highlighted the
importance of calligrams in the study of the occult sciences. As potent and pop-
ular talismans designed to harness the combined powers of the written word

223 Jacoba H. Hooykaas-van Leeuwen Boomkamp, “Volksoverlevering in beeld,” Djåwå 19

(1939): 54–68, here 63–64.
224 I am grateful to Jan van der Putten for his help with this translation.
225 Hooykaas-van Leeuwen Boomkamp, “Volksoverlevering in beeld,” 63–64, fig. 39; Samuel,
“A la recherche des ateliers perdus,” 149–150, 167, fig. 10.
226 Jérôme Samuel, “Die Hinterglaskunst in Java (Indonesien) im 20. Jahrhundert: Ursprünge,
Entwicklung, Hauptthemen,” paper presented at 8. Tagung zur Hinterglasskunst, Schloß-
museum Murnau, 2013, 10.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 513

and the image, they provide a rich resource for our understanding of the roles
played by texts, images, and belief systems in the practice of magic in Muslim
societies, as well as how these elements interrelated to one another.
The calligrams also demonstrate the importance of Southeast Asia for re-
search into Islamicate societies and help to expand the discourse on art and
the occult sciences beyond the traditional limits of the central Islamic lands.
The region was strongly integrated with the rest of the Islamicate world, yet
understanding the use of these designs helps to elucidate not only how motifs
traveled but also why certain designs and texts were considered particularly
important in certain societies. The identification of the feline with local tradi-
tions surrounding the tiger, the reverence and respect accorded ʿAlī, and the
belief in the magical power of texts and images all played key roles in the
reception of the Lion of ʿAlī calligram in Southeast Asia. All of these factors
show how an understanding of regional variations can provide a more nuanced
and comparative view of the occult sciences practiced in Islamicate societ-
ies.
The Muslim community is not monolithic, and even within Southeast Asia
there were varying attitudes across geography and time and even between
neighboring cities regarding figural representation and esoteric practices. For
instance, the people of Cirebon have proudly embraced the figure of the Macan
Ali as an emblem of their city. In contrast, the Malaysian state of Kedah in 1996
issued as fatwa forbidding the use of Qurʾanic verses to form figural images,
although this ruling was not gazetted.227 In 2008, however, another Malaysian
state, Johor, issued a similar fatwa that was gazetted, making the production of
figural calligrams an enforceable offense:

1. Khat yang berkaitan dengan dua kalimah syahadah, ayat Al-Quran,

Al-Hadis, kalimah zikir dan sebagainya, dengan membentuk huruf-
huruf dan tulisan tersebut menjadi seperti bentuk manusia dan hai-
wan adalah dilarang.
2. Penulisan ayat Al-Quran dan Hadis dalam bentuk khat yang sukar
untuk dibaca dan boleh berlaku kesalahan dalam pembacaan adalah
dilarang, kecuali dijelaskan dibawahnya dengan tulisan yang terang
lagi boleh dibaca.228

227 “Khat berbentuk lukisan manusia/haiwan,” JAKIM, e-SMAF: e-Sumber Maklumat Fatwa,
http://e‑smaf.islam.gov.my/e‑smaf/fatwa/fatwa/find/pr/10677.
228 “Tulisan khat berbentuk manusia,” JAKIM, e-SMAF: e-Sumber Maklumat Fatwa, http://e
‑smaf.islam.gov.my/e‑smaf/fatwa/fatwa/find/pr/12430.
514 yahya

1. Calligraphy relating to the shahāda, Qurʾanic verses, hadith, dhikr

etc., forming the letters and texts into human and animal forms are
prohibited.
2. Writing Qurʾanic verses and hadith in calligraphic forms that are
difficult to read and can cause serious errors in their reading is pro-
hibited, unless clarified underneath with clear, readable text.

How far these directives were adhered to in popular practice is unclear, but
such views attest to the complex debates raised by calligrams and how closely
they are linked to not only art and the written word but also to belief systems
and even notions of identity, both pre-Islamic and Islamic, pre-modern and
modern. The discovery of further examples of the Lion of ʿAlī from the region,
as well as studies of other types of calligrams, would contribute to a greater
understanding of how they were produced, viewed, and used for metaphysical
and spiritual purposes, and of the role played by texts and images in Southeast
Asian religious and occult sciences.

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to the owners and staff of the various collections for their assist-
ance in my research on their objects and images, and to Professor Anna Con-
tadini, Dr. Francesca Leoni, Dr. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Dr. Liana Saif for
their insightful comments on numerous aspects of this article. Thanks are due
also to the organizers and attendees of the events at which I have presented
earlier versions of this paper for their kind invitation and constructive feed-
back: in addition to the Ashmolean conference, this paper was presented at
the Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, Bangi (2017), and the ISEAS-Yusof Ishak
Institute, Singapore (2017). Any mistakes are my own. I am very grateful to the
Leverhulme Trust for supporting my role in the two-year research project titled
“Divination and Art in the Medieval and Early Modern Islamic World” at the
Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford, which made my research possible.
Finally, warm thanks to Shajaratuddur Mohd. Ibrahim, Laila Razlan, and Ricky
Valentino for their kind help in my travels.
calligrams of the lion of ʿalī in southeast asia 515

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 chapter 12

A Stamped Talisman
Francesca Leoni

Il est curieux de voir tout le mal que prennent les auteurs des livres de
magie pour augmenter, au rebours des écrivains strictement religieux, la
confusion entre le saint et le sorcier; qu’on lise le chapitre de la Terbia,
c’est-à-dire l’éducation (magique) dans un de ces livres, on n’ y trouvera
que des conseils de morale, d’ascétisme, absolument comme s’ il s’ agissait
d’un mourid ou aspirant dans une confrérie religieuse ….
Edmond Doutté1

∵
Edmond Doutté’s dated remark about the confusion between saint and magi-
cian observed in Islamic magical texts reflects a long-standing conviction that
the two operate in entirely separate spheres. Accordingly, while saints or
“friends of God” (Arabic, awliyāʾ, sg. walī) are holy individuals venerated for
their spiritual virtues and miracles (Arabic, karāmāt) and are called upon for
salvific interventions, magicians (Arabic, suḥḥār, sg. sāḥir) are generally mobil-
ized to alter the course of events for allegedly corrupt aims, thereby posing
a more overt threat to divine authority and order.2 Until recently, the mater-
ial forms taken by their activities were also considered on the basis of the
same binary, with devotional objects (e.g., blessed images and prayers) linked
to the domain of popular piety on the one hand, and amuletic gadgets (e.g.,
charms and curative stones) associated with the world of “superstition” on the

1 “It is surprising to see how far the authors of magic texts will go to increase the confusion
between saint and sorcerer, counter to strictly religious authors. If we were to read a chapter of
the Terbia, that is, (magical) training in one such book, we would find only moral suggestions
or asceticism, just as if it was about a murid or aspiring member of a religious confratern-
ity ….” (my translation); Edmond Doutté, Magie et Religion dans l’Afrique du Nord (Algiers:
Adolphe Jourdan, 1908), 55.
2 Richard J. McGregor, “Friend of God,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.; Toufiq Fahd, “Siḥr,” in
Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
528 leoni

other hand.3 Objects in which the seemingly irreconcilable resources of the two
spheres are instead combined produced unease or remained overlooked.4
This article reconsiders this stark division and reflects more broadly on
the fact that, in some instances, the “devotional” and “magical” spheres could
merge in relation to specific objectives. The large talisman that is the main
subject of this essay provides the basis for this argument (Figure 12.1).5 By
combining pious texts and magical formulas for the same protective aim,
this object not only defies categorizations and assumptions, but pushes us to
reconsider accepted notions (and associated limits) of everyday devotion and,
ultimately, to question established and dominant views of what constitutes
belief. The article begins with a detailed analysis of the talisman’s content and
layout, with special attention to the textual and iconographic formulas used
in it, both in their own right and with respect to their positions and functions.
I then move on to the object’s context in order to address issues of produc-

3 For the first category, see, for instance, Alexander Fodor, “Types of Shīʿite Amulets,” in Shīʿa
Islam, Sects and Sufism: Historical Dimensions, Religious Practice and Methodological Con-
siderations, ed. Frederick de Jong (Utrecht: M.Th. Houtsma Stichting, 1992), 118–134; David
J. Roxburgh, “Visualising the Sites and Monuments of Islamic Pilgrimage,” in Architecture
in Islamic Arts: Treasures of the Aga Khan Museum, ed. Margaret Graves (Geneva: Aga Khan
Trust for Culture, 2011), 33–41; Christiane Gruber, “Prophetic Products: Muhammad in Con-
temporary Iranian Visual Culture,” Material Religion 12, no. 3 (2016): 259–293. For the second
category—in addition to early works such as Edward W. Lane, An Account of the Manners and
Customs of Modern Egyptians (London: J. Murray, 1860), esp. chaps. 10–12; Ernest A.W. Budge,
Amulets and Superstitions (London: Oxford University Press, H. Milford, 1930), 33–81; and Bess
A. Donaldson, The Wild Rue: A Study of Muhammadan Magic and Folklore (London: Luzac,
1938), esp. chaps. 1, 18 and 16—see Christopher Gandy, “Inscribed Silver Amulet Boxes,” in
Islamic Art in the Ashmolean Museum, Part I, ed. James Allan (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1995), 155–166; Jürgen W. Frembgen, “The Scorpion in Muslim Folklore,” Asian Folkore Stud-
ies 63, no. 1 (2004): 95–123; and Živa Vesel, “Talismans from the Iranian World: A Millenary
Tradition,” in Art and Material Culture of Iranian Shiism, ed. Pedram Khosronejad (London:
I.B. Tauris, 2011), 254–275.
4 The dichotomy persists even in works that have transformed the way in which this type of
material evidence is approached. In her influential introduction to the two-volume catalog on
scientific and talismanic objects in the Khalili Collection, for instance, Emilie Savage-Smith
underscores the protective and God-bound nature of the Islamic magical tradition but links
invocations addressed directly to jinns and demons with illicit magic and its practitioners,
“conjurors and sorcerers,” considering them rarer. Emilie Savage-Smith, “Magic and Islam,”
in Science, Tools and Magic, ed. Francis Maddison and Emilie Savage-Smith, 2 vols. (London:
Nour Foundation, in association with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1997),
1:59–60.
5 About the word “talisman” and associated terminology, see Emilie Savage-Smith, “Introduc-
tion,” in Emilie Savage-Smith, Magic and Divination, xxii–xxiii, and, more recently, Christiane
Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection: Amulets and Talismans in the Islamic World,” in Power
and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural, ed. Francesca Leoni (Oxford: Ashmolean
Museum, 2016), 33.
a stamped talisman 529

figure 12.1 Talisman, probably Turkey, late thirteenth/nineteenth or early twentieth

century. Colored inks on paper. 86.6 × 60.9cm. Nasser D. Khalili Collection,
London, MS 1179.
© Nour Foundation, Courtesy of the Khalili Family Trust
530 leoni

tion and authority and understand how this and cognate examples operated
and conveyed meaning.6
The talisman, although unusual, is not unique. It belongs to a group of doc-
uments attested in the late Ottoman world that share several features (Fig-
ures 12.2–3).7 First, they are all on the same medium (paper) available in various
formats and all probably produced during the thirteenth/nineteenth century.8
Second, they all show signs of wear and tear, which are not simply a mark
of their age or their support’s fragility but also reflect various forms of phys-
ical interaction—from touching, rubbing and, possibly, kissing to folding and
rolling for storage and easy carrying. This, in turn, indicates degrees of mobil-
ity and various contexts for their final use that complicate the objects’ nature
and function. Third, they all exhibit an impressive variety of imprinted motifs

6 In doing so, this article joins recent studies aiming to reconstruct the vocabulary and logic
structuring amuletic and talismanic material. See, in particular, Massumeh Farhad, with
Serpil Bağcı, Falnama: Book of Omens (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009); Heather Coffey,
“Between Amulet and Devotion: Islamic Miniature Books in the Lilly Library,” in The Islamic
Manuscript Tradition: Ten Centuries of Book Arts in Indiana University Collections, ed. Chris-
tiane Gruber (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 79–115; Venetia Porter, with
Robert Hoyland and Alexander Morton, Arabic and Persian Seals and Amulets in the British
Museum (London: British Museum, 2011); Özgen Felek, “Fears, Hopes, and Dreams: The Talis-
manic Shirts of Murad III,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-
Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 647–672; Rose
Muravchick, “Objectifying the Occult: Studying a Talismanic Shirt as an Embodied Object,” in
“Islamicate Occultism: New Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner,
special double issue of Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 673–693; Venetia Porter, Liana Saif, and
Emilie Savage-Smith, “Amulets, Magic, and Talismans,” in A Companion to Islamic Art and
Architecture, ed. Finbarr Barry Flood and Gülru Necipoğlu (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2017), 1:521–
556; and Christiane Gruber, “ ‘Go Wherever You Wish, for Verily You Are Well-Protected’: Seal
Designs in Late Ottoman Amulet Scrolls and Prayer Books,” in Visions of Enchantment: Occult-
ism, Spirituality, and Visual Culture (London: Fulgur, 2019), 22–35. Also, Rose Muravchick,
“God is the Best Guardian: Islamic Talismanic Shirts from the Gunpowder Empires” (PhD
diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2014), and Yasmine al-Saleh “The Touch and Sight of Islamic
Talismanic Scrolls” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 2015).
7 Halûk Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım Mühürleri (Istanbul: Halûk Perk Müzesi Yayınları, 2010), 111–126. A
further large-scale version, with dimensions similar to the one considered in this study, is in
the Ankara Ethnographic Museum (inv. no. 16340); see Sabiha Göloğlu, “Depicting the Holy:
Representations of Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem in the Late Ottoman Empire” (PhD diss.,
Koç University, 2018), 273–274, fig. 177; and Sabiha Göloğlu, “Linking, Printing, and Painting
Sanctity and Protection: Representations of Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem in Late Ottoman
Illustrated Prayer Books,” in The Miraj of the Prophet and Stations of His Journey, ed. Ayşe
Taşkent and Nicole Kançal-Ferrari (Ankara: Republic of Turkey Ministry of Culture and Tour-
ism; Independent Art Foundation, forthcoming). I thank Dr Göloğlu for sharing images of
this and other talismans and for liaising with the Perk collection for the purpose.
8 The dating suggested here is based on some of the pictorial elements appearing on this and
comparable talismans, as their analysis below will demonstrate.
a stamped talisman 531

figures 12.2–3 Talismanic scrolls, probably Turkey, late thirteenth/

nineteenth or early fourteenth/twentieth century. Colored
inks on paper. c. 25 × 8 cm and 30 × 7 cm. Halûk Perk
Müzesi, Istanbul
© Akadur Tölegen
532 leoni

figure 12.4 Hand-shaped stamp with Qurʾanic excerpts and

invocations, Ottoman Empire, 1154/1741. Copper
alloy, engraved. 6.6 × 9.3 cm. Nasser D. Khalili Col-
lection, London, tls2707
© Nour Foundation, Courtesy of the
Khalili Family Trust

featuring texts, images, and diagrams whose content ranges from the pious
to the occult. These impressions have all been applied by means of seals,
which are generally made of a durable material, mostly copper alloys, and are
inscribed with phrases and motifs in the negative (Figures 12.4–5).9 A handle
on their back enabled the easy transfer and repetition of their formulas. Yet the
fact that the prop could occasionally be removed indicates that these matrices

9 Various examples are illustrated in Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım, 35–110, and Porter et al., Arabic and
Persian Seals, 169–172.
a stamped talisman 533

figure 12.5 Amulet/seal, possibly Turkey, thirteenth/nineteenth century. Brass, engraved.

Diam. 7 cm. British Museum, London, 1893,0215.1
© Trustees of the British Museum

could also function as amulets in their own right, dispensing the benefits that
they were seemingly designed to transfer.10 Elaborately laid out yet accessible,
these printed talismans provide quick, attractive, and more affordable altern-
atives for personalized handwritten and painted versions documented in both
scroll and codex form over the centuries, across various Islamic societies.11 As
such, they open a window on additional makers and consumers of talismanic
arts, revealing the preoccupations and needs that prompted people to commis-
sion and accumulate them in the first place.

1 The Talisman’s Contents

Bearing the shelf number Mss 1179 in the Nasser D. Khalili Collection, our talis-
man is an impressive 86.6×60.9cm brown sheet of paper entirely covered by

10 For a discussion of the practical versus apotropaic functions of amulets, see Venetia Porter,
“Islamic Seals: Magical or Practical?” University Lectures in Islamic Studies 2, ed. Alan Jones
(London: Altajir World of Islam Trust, 1998), 135–149 (reprinted in Savage-Smith, Magic
and Divination in Early Islam, 179–200).
11 For an overview and examples, see Leoni, Power and Protection, esp. cat. nos. 62–63, 88–90,
95, 105–106. For earlier examples, see al-Saleh, “ ‘Licit Magic,’” esp. 79–178.
534 leoni

seal impressions in black and red inks (Figure 12.1).12 Its surface bears traces
of burnishing, as well as the residues of an oily patina, probably the result of a
spill.13 In addition to the areas of wear where it was folded, small losses of paper
at top and bottom and on the right-hand side indicate that the sheet was pos-
sibly only a couple of centimeters longer and wider. Yet, as the distribution of
the seal impressions indicates, what survives is not part of a larger object. This
fact is confirmed by the other talismans in the group, all of which were origin-
ally executed on paper surfaces that probably match their current dimensions,
save for the detectable areas of wear (Figures 12.2 and 12.3). The presence of
a mostly unmarked perimetral band, as opposed to the contiguous, and often
overlapping, distribution of the seal marks, further corroborates this point and
sheds some light on how the talisman was produced.
The larger and most visually compelling impressions appear to have been
laid out first in key areas of the surface and in a somewhat symmetrical fash-
ion, with the smaller stamps used as fillers on the sides and in the interstices to
maximize the space and the device’s effectiveness (Figure 12.6).14 Even though
the level of discoloration, the different shades of ink, and the ways in which
the seal marks overlay one another might suggest that they were applied over
an extended period of time, and, possibly, at multiple venues, their humble
and disposable nature makes it more likely that they were imprinted in one
session, by individuals possessing both the tools and the knowledge to real-
ize protective devices addressing a range of needs.15 Unfortunately, their some-

12 I thank Nahla Nassar of the Khalili Collection for bringing this object to my attention while
I was working on the exhibition Power and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural
held at the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, Oxford from 20 October 2016
to 15 January 2017. The Khalili Collection recently acquired another example of this kind,
accompanied by the pouch in which it was rolled and stored (Mss 0793).
13 Bands of this varnish-like substance, marked by an orange tinge and running horizont-
ally across the entire surface, are visible about ⅓ and ⅔ down the length of the object. I
thank Alexandra Greathead, head of paper conservation at the Ashmolean Museum, for
pointing this out to me, following an examination of the object in 2016.
14 A comparable logic can be observed on the scroll versions (Figures 12.2–12.3), where the
short and oblong nature of the support has inspired an equally ordered and visually bal-
anced application of the various impressions.
15 Halûk Perk, who has amassed an extensive collection of engraved seals and stamped talis-
mans over the last three decades, indicated that he often found talismans folded inside
manuals on talismanic arts. Further, as he acquired seals in batches rather than as indi-
vidual items, he believes that they were owned in such large quantities by their users, who
would then select from them based on the specific needs of the client. Personal commu-
nication with the author, January 17, 2018. I want to thank Mr. Perk for granting access to
his collection while I was doing research in Istanbul and for kindly providing the high-
resolution images for the items included in this article. Thanks also due to Christiane
Gruber for introducing me to the collection.
a stamped talisman 535

figure 12.6 The five categories of impressions appearing on the talisman and their distri-
bution
536 leoni

what orderly but not progressive or sequential placement on the surface of our
object reveals little about the way in which the composition was viewed and
used by its intended users. We may thus only speculate as to whether indi-
vidual images or formulas prompted close engagement (as discussed below),
or whether the cumulative and combined effect of the impressions dominated
the ways in which people interacted with the device.
The seal marks can be regrouped in several categories, which will be ana-
lyzed below:
a) impressions consisting exclusively of text (Figures 12.7a–7b A–M)
b) impressions combining letters and numbers (Figures 12.8 N–P)
c) impressions combining text and images (Figures 12.9a–9b Q–X)16
d) calligrams (Figure 12.10 Y)
e) diagrammatic images of sanctuaries and shrines (Figures 12.11 Z–AA).

1.1 Impressions with Text

The textual stamps draw on both familiar and less familiar sources. To the
former group belong Qurʾanic excerpts, hadith, and invocations featuring some
of the so-called “beautiful Names of God” (al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā). Taken from Sūrat
al-Qalam, the verse “And the Unbelievers would almost trip thee up with their
eyes when they hear the Message, and they say: Surely, he is possessed!” is repro-
duced twice on the upper-right corner of the sheet (Figure 12.7a A).17 This pas-
sage is considered among the most effective verses against the evil eye, a phe-
nomenon mentioned in the Qurʾan, recognized in Islam, and a key preoccupa-
tion, as the occurrence of other texts and apotropaic symbols on this talisman
suggest.18 Also inscribed in a roundel and reproduced frequently across our
page, is the divine saying (ḥadīth qudsī) “Were it not for you (O Muḥammad),
I would not have created the universe” (lawlāka la-mā khalaqtu al-aflāk) (Fig-
ures 12.7a–7b B).19 Attributed to God himself, the phrase was popular in Sufi
circles, where it was considered a divinely inspired “ecstatic utterance” that
might be witnessed during a mystical experience.20 Yet the expression also

16 This includes those featuring well known apotropaic symbols such as the khamsa or the
cypress, which will thus be addressed as part of this group.
17 Q 68:51. All Qurʾan translations are from Abdullah Yusuf Ali, The Holy Qurʾan (London:
Wordsworth, 2000).
18 Philippe Marçais, “ʿAyn,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
19 The expression refers to sayings of the prophet Muḥammad whose transmission goes back
to God.
20 William A. Graham, Divine Word and Prophetic Word: A Reconsideration of the Sources,
with Special Reference to the Divine Saying or Ḥadîth al-Qudsî (The Hague: Mouton, 1977),
esp. 53–54 and 69–71.
a stamped talisman 537

figure 12.7a Detail of the top half of the talisman with textual impressions

figure 12.7b Detail of the bottom half of the talisman with textual impressions
538 leoni

captures the intensity of God’s love for the Prophet and what inspired his ven-
eration. This aspect is intrinsically connected to stamped talismans such as the
one considered in this article and whose efficacy relied heavily on devotions to
venerable individuals, as we will see below.21
In a single rectangular panel, we find some of the divine attributes of God,
another source of relief whose magical uses were theorized in works attributed
to one of the key medieval contributors to occult sciences, Abū l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad
al-Būnī (d. 622/1225; Figure 12.7b C).22 “The most beautiful names belong to
God; so call on Him by them” says an often quoted verse of the Qurʾan,23 rein-
forcing the belief that He is bound to respond to any appeal that makes use
of them.24 In her study of the seals in the British Museum collections, Venetia
Porter noted that, when used on amulets, God’s names do not follow a standard
order25 but are paired on the basis of assonance and correlation or conform
to specific verbal forms.26 This rule appears to be followed also in our case;
the panel opens with yā raḥman (“O Merciful”), yā raḥīm (“O Compassion-
ate”), each repeated twice, followed by others epithets, including yā dayyān (“O
Redeemer”) and yā mannān (“O Bountiful”), which do not appear in conven-
tional lists of the divine attributes but are recorded in some hadith collections
and dhikr practices.27
The asmāʾ al-ḥusnā are not the only names called upon in the talisman. In
addition to those of Abrahamic prophets, to be addressed below, two groups of
seals invoke other interlocutors. The first, confined to the top left-hand corner
of the sheet and having a four-leaved shape, records the names of the Four
Rightly Guided Caliphs, in addition to Muḥammad and Allāh (Figure 12.7a D).
Unusually however, ʿAlī’s name is not along the circumference, like those of
the other three caliphs, but appears in the center of the seal, along with that
of Muḥammad, as part of the invocation yā ʿAlī meded, “O ʿAli help us.” ʿAlī is

21 Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill: University of North Car-
olina Press, 1975), 215.
22 Porter et al., “Medieval Islamic Amulets,” 1:531, 536. For a discussion of al-Būnī’s works,
see Noah Gardiner, “Forbidden Knowledge? Notes on the Production, Transmission and
Reception of the Major Works of Aḥmad al-Būnī,” Journal of Arabic and Islamic Studies 12
(2012): 81–143.
23 Q 7:180.
24 Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” Berythus 4 (1937): 69–110, here
80. See also L. Gardet, “al-Asmāʾ al-Ḥusnā,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
25 They are listed in Q 59:22–24.
26 Porter et al., Arabic and Persian Seals, 132.
27 Shaykh Muhammad Hisham Kabbani, The Naqshbandi Sufi Tradition: Guidebook of Daily
Practices and Devotions (Fenton, MI: Islamic Supreme Council of America, 2004).
a stamped talisman 539

therefore singled out in this instance for both his political and his spiritual lead-
ership, the latter emphasized by the direct appeal.
The second seal mark, reproduced in the central area of the talisman, con-
solidates the link with Sufism noted earlier, by evoking Qandīl Nūranī Sayyid
Muḥyī al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlanī (d. 561/1166), and Sayyid Aḥmad Rifāʿī
(d. 577/1181), followed by the eulogy qaddasa [Allāh] sirrahu, “may he [God]
glorify his secret” (Figure 12.7a E).28 Popular devotion to ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlanī,
known as “the sultan of the walīs,” was extensive in the regions dominated
by the Qādiriyya order, from Anatolia to the Indian subcontinent, well into
modern times.29 A provider of assistance and a saint appealed to for protec-
tion from adversities and sickness, al-Jīlanī was also viewed as a master of evil
spirits, as reflected in the many caves and deserted spots associated with his
charisma and veneration cult across North Africa and the Near East.30 Simil-
arly, his cousin Aḥmad Rifāʿī, also the founder of the popular Rifāʿiyya order,
came to be venerated for his miraculous powers and celebrated during dedic-
ated festivals and other popular annual celebrations from the Balkans through
the Maghrib.31 Their presence on this sheet, therefore, represents a call for their
intervention in worldly affairs, as well as a pointer to the context in which this
and comparable talismans were produced and consumed, a subject to which I
shall return in the second part of this article.
The plea for supernatural intercession against life tribulations continues
in two large impressions located prominently at the top of the talisman (Fig-
ure 12.7a F). Consisting of four concentric bands arranged around verse 20 from
Sūrat al-Baqara (“God hath power over all things”), they contain shorter and
longer supplications interspersed with names. Beginning with the innermost
circle:

‫لا اله إلّا الله سعد بن )ابي( وقاص محمد رسول الله عبيدة الله بن الجراح محتج لمحمد سعيد‬
‫بن يز يد انت منصور عبد الرحمن بن عوف توجه حيث شئت طلحة بن عبيد الله فإنك منصور‬
‫ز بير بن عوام‬

28 Qandīl Nūrānī was another of al-Jīlanī’s names. K.H. Muḥammad Sholikhin, 17 jalan meng-
gapai mahkota Sufi Syaikh ʿAbdul Qadir al-Jailani (Yogyakarta: Mutiara Media, 2009),
7.
29 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 247–248.
30 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 247–248; Tewfik Canaan, Mohammedan Saints
and Sanctuaries in Palestine (London: Luzac, 1927), 19–20, 246, 274–275.
31 C.E. Bosworth, “Rifāʿiyya,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.
540 leoni

There is no God but God, Saʿd b. [abī] Waqqāṣ, Muḥammad is the Messen-
ger of God, ʿUbayd Allāh b. al-Jarrāḥ, You are the Affirmer of Muḥammad,
Saʿīd b. Yazīd, You are Victorious, ʿAbd al-Raḥman b. ʿAwf, You lead in any
direction you wish, Talḥa b. ʿUbaydallāh, You are Triumphant, Zubayr b.
al-ʿAwām.

The six names mentioned in this frieze are from among the ten al-mubashsha-
rūn bi al-janna, the Companions of the Prophet to whom Heaven was promised
during their lifetime. Their names are also found in circular arrangements on
textiles associated with the Kaʿba.32 The placement of this seal mark on either
side of a stamp representing Mecca’s Masjid al-Ḥarām may thus not be fortuit-
ous and was possibly designed to invoke their blessings in ways comparable to
the furnishings prepared for the ḥarāmayn.
The intermediate circle reads:

‫اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد وآدم ونوح وإبراهيم وموسى وما بينهم النبيين صلاة الله على الغير‬
‫اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد النبي الامي وآله وصحبه اجمعين‬

O God, pray upon our master Muḥammad, and Adam, Noah, Abraham,
Moses, and all prophets among them, God’s prayer upon [all] others / O
God, pray upon our master Muḥammad / O God, pray upon our master
Muḥammad, the illiterate Prophet, his Family and all his Companions.

Finally, in the outermost band, we find the following duʿāʾ, a variant of a pro-
tective prayer attested across the Arab world as ṣalāt tunjīnā:33

32 Venetia Porter, “The Mahmal Revisited,” in The Hajj: Collected Essays, ed. Venetia Porter
and Liana Saif (London: The British Museum, 2013), 195–205. I thank Liana Saif for bring-
ing this to my attention and for many clarifications and additional readings of several
inscriptions on this talisman.
33 Another version reads: ‫اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد صلاة تنجينه بها من جميع الوال والآفات وتقضي لنا‬
‫بها جميع الحاجات وتطهرنا بها من جميع السيئات وترفعنا بها عندك على درجات وتبلغنا بها اقصى الغايات‬
‫“( من جميع الخـيرات في الحواة و بعد الممات وعلى آله وصحبه وسلم تسليما كثيرا‬O God, pray upon our
master Muḥammad a prayer by which he will be saved from all woes and afflictions, by
which You will fulfill all our needs, by which we will be cleansed of all our faults, that
will raise us in Your presence to higher degrees, and that makes us achieve the ultimate
goals in [the attainment] of all that is good in life and after death. [Prayers] be upon his
family and his companions, may He grant safety and peace”). Hüseyin Hilmi Işık, Seʿâdet-
i ebediyye: Endless Bliss, fasc. 1 (Istanbul: Hakîkat Ki̇tabevi̇, 1993), 96; Shaykh Muhammad
Hisham Kabbani, Salawat of Tremendous Blessings (Islamic Supreme Council of America,
2012).
a stamped talisman 541

‫اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد في الارواح وصل وسلم على )؟( في الاجساد سبحان الله و بحمده‬
‫سبحان الله العظيم و)؟(لا حول ولا قوة إلّا بالله العظيم )؟( تنجينا بها من جميع الوال و الآفات‬
‫و تقضي لنا بها جميع الحاجات و تطهرنا بها من جميع السيئات وترفعنا بها اقصى الغايات من‬
‫جميع الخـيرات في الحيواة و بعد الممات‬

O God pray upon our master Muḥammad in the souls, pray and grant
peace … in the bodies / May God be exalted with praise / May God the
Mighty be exalted … / There is no might or power except in God the
Mighty … / May You save us by it from all woes and afflictions and ful-
fill with it all our needs / May You purify us with it from all our sins and
elevate us to the ultimate goals in [the attainment] of all good in life and
after death.34

The most significant aspect of this formula is the invocation of Muḥammad’s

beneficial intercession by pleading with God to honor and bless him. It is
perhaps no coincidence that the associated seal mark bears some resemb-
lance to a version of Muḥammad’s ḥilya, the verbal portrait of his physical
and moral qualities.35 Calligraphed ḥilyas were first developed by the Ottoman
calligrapher Hafez Osman (d. 1109/1698) and were considered acts of sincere
devotion by those who made them,36 as well as vehicles for the provision of
the blessings associated with Muḥammad’s physical traces and remains.37 “It is
as though he who sees my ḥilya has seen me in person,” recites a hadith attrib-
uted to ʿĀʾisha, which hints at how the Prophet’s presence and his beneficial

34 The intermediate band also uses the above-mentioned formula allāhumma ṣalli ʿalā sayy-
idinā Muḥammad, repeated several times, and including the names of other Abrahamic
prophets.
35 See, for instance, the version with a similar clover-shaped arrangement of the letter ‫ع‬
signed by İbrahim Edhem b. Ahmed Rifet and illustrated in Nabil E. Safwat, The Art of the
Pen: Calligraphy of the 14th to 20th Centuries (London: Nour Foundation in association with
Azimuth Editions and Oxford University Press, 1996), cat. no. 37.
36 Muhammad Zakariyya, “The Hilye of the Prophet Muḥammad,” Seasons (Autumn-Winter
2003–2004): 13–22.
37 References to the use, collection, and distribution of some of Muḥammad’s bodily re-
mains—such as nail parings, hair, saliva, and sweat—occur in hadith literature and histor-
ical sources. See Brannon Wheeler, “Collecting the Dead Body of the Prophet Muḥammad:
Hair, Nails, Sweat and Spit,” in The Image of the Prophet Between Ideal and Ideology: A Schol-
arly Investigation, ed. Christiane Gruber and Avinoam Shalem (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014),
45–61.
542 leoni

influence could be obtained also through scripted means.38 In addition to being

hung in private and public spaces, excerpts from ḥilyas were popular on port-
able amulets and talismans, extending the referent’s influence to the personal
sphere and the everyday existence of individuals.39
Supererogatory prayers and supplications invoking divine protection from
evil are the bridge to the second, more challenging, category of texts on this
talisman. Still classified as duʿāʾ (“supplication”) by their headings, two of these
texts address not saints but demons. The first one, stamped twice on the top
half of the talisman, opens with a cartouche with the heading “prayer of Umm
Ṣubyān”40 (Figure 12.7a G) and begins with a series of names, possibly refer-
ring to demons,41 followed by the three divine epithets “the Pre-Existent” (al-
qadīm), “the Eternal” (al-azalī), “the Everlasting” (al-abadī). Umm Ṣubyān, lit-
erally “mother of the children” or child-witch,42 is a female demon traditionally
held responsible for diseases in children, as well as for problems of fertility and
miscarriage in women.43 Her figure is often linked to Solomon, who is said to
have obtained a protective remedy from her known as the “seven covenants of
Solomon.”44

38 Annemarie Schimmel, And Muḥammad Is His Messenger: The Veneration of the Prophet in
Islamic Piety (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), 36.
39 See, for instance, Porter et al., Arabic and Persian Seals, cat. no. A100 and Safwat, The Art
of the Pen, cat. no. 24.
40 This is followed by the word būdir, whose meaning is unclear.
41 Drawing on several sources, Tewfik Canaan reported variant names for demons such as
Umm Ṣubyān, generally ending in -hūsh, -hīsh, -hāsh, -tāsh, -tūsh. Quoting Jalāl al-Dīn
al-Suyūṭī, he also lists names such as Qartūsh, of which the opening words of the above
supplication seem to be a further variation; Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talis-
mans,” 86.
42 Alexander Fodor, “Types of Shīʿite Amulets from Iraq,” in Shīʿa Islam, Sects and Sufism: His-
torical Dimensions, Religious Practice and Methodological Considerations, ed. Frederick de
Jong (Utrecht: M.Th. Houtsma Stichting, 1992), 118–134, Anne Regourd, “Représentations
d’ Umm Sibyān dans les contes yéménites: de la dévoreuse d’enfant à la djinniyya posséd-
ant les humains,” in Femmes médiatrices et ambivalentes: Mythes et imaginaires, ed. Anna
Caiozzo and Nathalie Ernoult (Paris: Armand Colin, 2012), 63–72. References to Umm Ṣub-
yān also appear in earlier literature, including Hans A. Winkler, Salomo und die Karīna:
eine orientalische Legende von der Bezwingung einer Kindbettdämonin durch einen heiligen
Helden (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1931) and Samuel M. Zwemer, Studies in Popular Islam:
A Collection of Papers Dealing with the Superstitions and Beliefs of the Common People (Lon-
don: Sheldon, 1939), esp. chap. 5.
43 On her connection with Qarīna, another popular she-demon, see Canaan, “The Decipher-
ment of Arabic Talismans,” 85.
44 Samuel M. Zwemer, The Influence of Animism on Islam (London: Central Board of Missions
and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920), 192–196. This elaborate formula—
consisting of invocations to God, the four archangels, and the prophet Muḥammad, as
a stamped talisman 543

On this talisman, the duʿāʾ of Umm Ṣubyān is connected to a second stamp

in a reddish hue featuring a verse from Sūrat al-Burūj, which declares “Those
who persecute the Believers, men and women, and do not turn in repent-
ance, will have the Penalty of Hell, they will have the Penalty of the Burning
Fire,” a warning whose proximity to the main invocation seems to suggest that
these would be the consequences experienced by those persisting with their
wrongdoing.45 Hence, this verse lends the protection and efficacy of the Holy
Scripture to the appeal, legitimizing an invocatory practice that, in the eyes of
at least some thirteenth/nineteenth-century observers, could prove problem-
atic.46
A similar combination of profane subject and pious supplication also char-
acterizes the second entity addressed by the talisman, Ūghrī ʿAbbās.47 The plea
reads as follows (Figure 12.7b H):

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم اللهم إني إستغفرك من كل ما تبت عنه إليك ثم عدت فيه اللهم إن ّي‬
‫إستغفرك من كل ما وردت به وجهك فخالطني ما ليس فيه رضاؤك‬

In the name of God, the Merciful and Most Compassionate. O God I ask
for Your forgiveness for everything I had repented then returned to / O
God I ask for Your forgiveness for everything with which I sought Your
face but was mixed up with what does not contain Your favor.

The list of requests continues immediately below (Figure 12.7b I):

well as recording the story of Solomon’s first encounter with the demon—specifies other
areas exposed to her negative influence, which encompass trade and personal property. It
also stresses the necessity for people to carry the prayer with them to ensure protection,
which explains its appearance also on lithographed scrolls still available for sale in Egypt
in the early twentieth century.
45 Q 85:10. The same sequence of text blocks occurs on other talismans of the same type,
which confirms their semantic link; see Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım, 114.
46 This is especially true in view of the open condemnation of all forms of divination and
magic articulated by thirteenth/nineteenth-century revivalist thinkers. For an overview,
see Natana J. Delong-Bas, Wahhabi Islam: From Revival and Reform to Global Jihad (Oxford
and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), esp. chaps. 1 and 2. For the various forms of
Islam in the late Ottoman period, see also Hasan Kayalı and A. Kevin Reinhart, “Studies in
Late Ottoman Islam,” Archivum Ottomanicum 19 (2001): 193–303.
47 Although numerous versions of the duʿāʾ of Ūghrī ʿAbbās exist in the popular domain, this
figure remains elusive, appearing mainly in popular folklore. Old women in Istanbul used
to keep the prayer close to their chest for protection against his negative influence.
544 leoni

‫اللهم إني إستغفرك من كل ما وعدتك من نفس ثم ّ لم اؤف اللهم إني إستغفرك من كل نعمت‬
‫انعمتها على فوقها على ما )؟( اللهم إني إستغفرك من الذنوب التي لا يعلمها غيرك ولم يطلع عليها‬
‫سواك و لا يسعها إلّا رحمتك ولا ينجي منها إلّا مغفرتك و )؟( لا إله إلّا انت سبحانك إن كنت‬
(‫من الظالمين اللهم إني إستغفرك من كل )الذنوب‬

O God, I ask for Your forgiveness for every breath I promised You but
didn’t fulfill / O God, I ask for Your forgiveness for every blessing that You
bestowed on me and above and … / O God, I ask for Your forgiveness for
all the sins that no one knows about but You and no one is privy to except
You and that can only be contained by Your mercy, and from which one
cannot be saved except by Your forgiveness and … / And there is no God
but You, Exalted You are, I was among the unjust / O God I ask for Your
forgiveness for all [wrongdoing].48

Completing the sequence is a paragraph that is visually separate from the pre-
vious ones, despite representing their continuation (Figure 12.7b J):49

‫كثيرة وعندني )؟( عبادك فاني عبد من عبادك او امت من اماتك ظلت في بدنه او عرضه‬
(‫)؟( او لم تستطع من خزانتك التي لا تنقص )وأسالك ان تكرمني( برحمتك بالخـيرات )الله على‬
‫كل شيء قدير هركيم كي بوغري عباّ س دعاسني اوزرندهگتورسه دنيوي واخروي مرآدينه‬
50‫نائل وولور باذن الله تعالى تمت‬

… the many … of Your servants, for I am a servant among Your servants or

a slave among Your slaves / remaining in his body and honor … are You not
able [to give] from Your undiminished bounty, I ask You to bestow Your
blessings on me with Your mercy / [God] is powerful over everything /
Everyone who will get this prayer of Ūghrī ʿAbbās will have all his mater-
ial and spiritual wishes granted, God Almighty willing. The end.

48 The name of Ūghrī ʿAbbās here appears in a large ‫ و‬at the center of the panel, along with
the heading hādhā duʿāʾ-i Ūghrī ʿAbbās.
49 See also Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım, 115.
50 For an alternative version of this invocation, to be employed during the month of Rajab,
see Shaykh Muhammad Hisham Kabbani and Muhammad Nazil Adil al-Haqqani, Pearls
and Coral: Secrets of the Sufi Way (Fenton, MI: Islamic Supreme Council of America, 2005).
I want to thank Dr. Ruba Kanaan for assisting with the reading and translation of this and
other passages.
a stamped talisman 545

This supplication is unlike those examined so far, as it features also a selec-

tion of images including a conical building, a flag,51 and three of Muḥammad’s
personal effects (mukhallafāt): his sandals, shirt, and sword.52 The building has
been identified as a stylized representation of Aḥmad Rifāʿī’s mausoleum,53
which, incidentally, appears, in more elaborate fashion, in a second impres-
sion at the bottom of our talisman (Figure 12.12).54 If correct, the association of
the building with Rifāʿī helps clarify the remaining two objects on our impres-
sion; a mace resembling the topuz,55 a tool used in a ritual specific to the
Rifāʿī order known as bürhan göstermek (“infallible proof”),56 and a ridged cap
with a colored cloth band wrapped around it, probably representing the head-
dress worn by the order’s affiliates. While the reason for their combination
here and their full meaning remain elusive, these revered designs provide the
pictorial equivalent of the Qurʾanic verses accompanying the prayer of Umm
Ṣubyān.57 Imbued with comparable sacredness, the motifs extend their pro-
tective aura to the nearby invocation, lending reassurance and legality to its
remedial intent.
There are three more panels in the group, each reproduced only once but
containing precious information about the nature of the object, its makers, and
users (Figure 12.7b K–M). The first of these texts is especially revealing, as it
sheds some light on the interaction of makers and clients and the sensitivities
attached to the use of talismanic material in everyday life (Figure 12.7b K):

51 The flag contains the star and crescent found in the modern Turkish flag but harks
back to a late twelfth/eighteenth-century–early thirteenth/nineteenth-century Ottoman
design.
52 I will elaborate on the role of similar figures in talismans in the next section.
53 M. Baha Tanman, “Depictions of the Mausoleum of Seyyid Ahmed el-Rifaʾî in Late Dervish
Convent Ottoman Art,” Electronic Journal of Oriental Studies 4, no. 41 (2001): 1–37.
54 See my discussion below, 557–560.
55 This is smeared on our talisman but visible on other seal stamps produced from the same
matrix; see, e.g., Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım, 118, cat. no. 2.1.05.01. For an illustrated example of
this tool, see Jürgen W. Frembgen, Kleidung und Ausrüstung islamischer Gottsucher: ein
Beitrag zur materiellen Kultur des Derwischwesens (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1999), 150–
151, cat. no. 49.
56 Tanman, “Depictions of the Mausoleum,” 4.
57 Another recipe for amulets against miscarriage and deemed efficacious against Umm Ṣub-
yān is given by Zwermer, The Influence of Animism, 118–122. It is attributed to a shaykh,
Aḥmad al-Dayrabī, who details it in his book Kitāb al-Mujarrabāt (first printed in 1328/
1910) and similarly makes abundant use of sacred verses and names, as well as the pro-
tective powers of the mysterious isolated letters found at the beginning of certain Qurʾanic
suras (al-ḥurūf al-muqaṭṭaʿāt).
546 leoni

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم إن استطعتم يا مشعر الجن والانس بالله الواحد القهار العارف الدافع‬
‫و يعهد الذي اخذه عليكم ملء هذا الكتاب وان تشركوه في اخده الله وحمايته وصل الله على‬
‫سيدنا محمد وآله اجمعين الطيبين الظاهر ين وسلم تسليما كثيرا يا الله يا الله يا الله يا رحمن يا رحيم‬

In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate / O assembly of jinns

and men, by [the name of] God, the One, the Conqueror, the Knower, the
Protector / He who filled this document made you take an oath to parti-
cipate, with him, in accepting God and his protection / May God praise
our master Muḥammad and all the pure and good members of his family
and grant them peace / O God, O God, O Merciful, O Compassionate.

The text is noteworthy for its reference to an “oath” that clients to-be would
be asked (implicitly or not) to swear by the creator of the talisman. Such a
statement formalizes the recognition that remedies and cures lie not in the
object itself but in God as its powers’ sole provider, making sure to commu-
nicate explicitly, to users and observers alike, the terms under which this and
related objects could be used.
Found in the lower corner of the talisman, the other two panels reiterate the
idea by listing the wide-ranging applications of the device (Figure 12.7b L–M):

‫روايت اولنور كه هر كيم بوحمائل شر يف اعتقاد كامل و نيت خالص اوزر كتوره و يا‬
‫اوقو يه هر مطلب و مراد باذن الله حاصل اوله حق تعالى كندي خز ينه غيبندن رزق ايد ياوز‬
‫كوزدن ياوز دلدن سحر مكر)ندن؟( مكار مكرندن و ظالملر شرندن امين اوله جمله دشمان اولسه‬
‫بر قلنه خطى كتيرميه لر ناذن الله تعالى‬

‫دوشمان اوزر ينه غالب او … باشوكوز وقولاق و نزله نظر و صيتمه يل و صيز يدن امين اوله‬
‫ذر يتي اولميان خاتون ديري اوله باذن الله تعالى ذر يتي يشاميان باذن خداى محبت ايچون‬
‫فايده سى چوق اوله‬

It is related that whosoever bears or reads this noble [?] amulet with full
belief and pure intention may, God willing, attain all [his] wishes and
desires; that the Lord Almighty may provide [for him] from His own invis-
ible treasury; that he may be kept safe from the evil eye, from wicked
tongues, from witchcraft, from deceit, and from cruelty; that, if all should
be [his] enemies, they may not harm one hair [on his head], God Almighty
a stamped talisman 547

figure 12.8 Section of the talisman containing sequences of letters and numbers

willing; that he may prevail over his enemies; that he may be kept safe
from [ailments of] the head, eyes, and ears, from the cold, from the evil
eye [?], from fever and rheumatism, and from pain; that if [his] wife is
childless, she may be youthful, God Almighty willing; and that if her chil-
dren should not survive, she may, Lord willing, offer much in the way of
affection.58

1.2 Impressions Containing Letters and Numbers

Although sparsely used on our talisman, these impressions rely on various
combinations of individual letters, numbers, or alphanumeric sequences (Fig-
ure 12.8 N–P). The recourse to separate letters, foremost among them the ḥurūf
al-muqattaʿāt, is a well known magical technology that relies on the inherent
power of the letters to control angels and spirits.59 The sequences of single let-
ters on our seal impressions, presented in continuous rows or interspersed with
numbers, reflect this practice. They also show the use of different styles char-
acteristic of magical writing, including Kufic, the angular script known to have

58 The author is grateful to Dr. Ünver Rustem for translating this passage.
59 For an introduction to the ʿilm al-ḥurūf (“science of letters”), see Pierre Lory, La science
des lettre en Islam (Paris: Dervy, 2004).
548 leoni

been used in early Islamic amulets and here seen in one of the inscriptions.60 In
one instance, the four archangels preside over the letters’ efficacy (Figure 12.8
O). In others, elaborate knots make up most of the mark, increasing its magical
potency (Figure 12.8 N).

1.3 Impressions Combining Text and Images

As numerous as the first group is the third category of seal marks, in which figur-
ative motifs are imaginatively combined with textual references. The simplest
one, in the shape of a cypress, a traditional symbol of eternity,61 occurs four
times on the central panel of the top half of the talisman (Figure 12.9a Q). It
reminds readers and users of the Qurʾan’s salvific and restorative nature by
citing the following āya: “And We sent down from the Qurʾan that which is
healing and mercy for the believers, but it does not increase the wrongdoers
except in loss.”62 This is followed by a call for blessings on the prophet Moses
(Mūsā).
More prominent than the cypress is possibly the most recognizable protect-
ive design of those employed on our document, the khamsa, otherwise known
as the “hand of Fāṭima” or the “hand of ʿAbbās,”63 reproduced in two different
forms, in the upper and lower half of the sheet (Figures 12.9a–12.9b R–S). In
the first version, the hand is purely textual, combining the shahāda (on the
thumb), Q 13:61 (on the index finger), and Q 11:88 (at the base of the palm),
and several of the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā (middle, ring, and little fingers, as well as the
palm) with the names of the twelve Shiʿi imams, inscribed in roundels border-
ing the palm (Figure 12.9b R). In the second khamsa, the design instead uses a
more varied vocabulary, beginning with the names Allāh, Muḥammad, and ʿAlī
(on the thumb), those of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus and their dog Qiṭmīr
(on the other four fingers), Q 17:82, and the phrases “O God, heal, as You are the
Healer” and “O God, mend, as You are the Mender!” (‫الله اشف فانت الشافي الله عاف‬

60 Venetia Porter, “The Use of Arabic Script in Magic,” in The Development of Arabic as a Writ-
ten Language, ed. M.C.A. MacDonald, Supplement to the Proceedings of the Seminar for
Arabian Studies 40 (2010): 131–134.
61 Jonathan Bloom and Sheila Blair, “Ornament and Pattern” in The Grove Encyclopedia of
Islamic Art and Architecture, ed. Jonathan Bloom and Sheila Blair. Oxford Islamic Studies
Online, http://www.oxfordislamicstudies.com/article/opr/t276/e705.
62 Q 17:82.
63 Fahmida Suleman, “The Hand of Fatima: In Search of Its Origins and Significance,” in
People of the Prophet’s House: Artistic and Ritual Expressions of Shiʿi Islam, ed. Fahmida
Suleman (London: Azimuth Editions in association with The Institute of Ismaili Studies
in collaboration with the British Museum’s Department of the Middle East, 2015), 173–186,
and Leoni, Power and Protection, 40–41.
a stamped talisman 549

figure 12.9a Detail of the top half of the talisman with impressions combining text and
image

‫فانت الآفي‬, Figure 12.9a S). These verses encircle the motif at the center of the
hand, that is, two stylized scorpions, whose bodies are marked by the phrases
“O Sufficient, O Healer” ( yā kāfī yā muʿāfī).
The Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, one of the most influential medieval works on astrolo-
gical magic, reports a story dating back to third/ninth-century Egypt, in which
seals inscribed with images of scorpions are used to counteract or avoid their
stings on the basis of sympathetic magic (similia similibus curantur).64 Signific-
antly, the tale employs the term khātm for the inscribed ring and for the impres-
sions produced with it, which suggests a custom of transferring potent designs
onto various media in order to disseminate their benefits.65 That this image

64 Hellmut Ritter and Martin Plessner, “Picatrix”: das Ziel des Weisen, von Pseudo-Magǧrīṭī
(London: Warburg Institute, 1962), 55, cited in Porter, “Islamic Seals,” 141. The text enjoyed
wide success in Europe, where it became known as Picatrix, following its translation into
Castilian first and Latin afterwards; David Pingree, ed. Picatrix: The Latin Version of the
Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm (London: Warburgh Institute, 1986).
65 For examples of amulets inscribed with images of scorpions, see, Tewfik Canaan, Dämon-
englaube im Lande der Bibel (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1929), 13–14, and Perk, Osmanlı Tılsım,
55–56, cat. nos. 1.1.22–25.
550 leoni

was employed across the Islamic world for protective and prophylactic pur-
poses from the start is further documented by its adoption in key monuments
and city landmarks, such as mosques, gates, and bridges, effectively perpetu-
ating a centuries-old custom.66 Efficacious yet still profane, the motif’s pagan
origin is, in our case, mitigated by the phrases and expressions inscribed in its
proximity, which subordinate its efficacy to God, the ultimate source of rem-
edy.
Last but not least, the second khamsa impression carries another meaning-
ful seal mark, the “seal of the Great Name of God,” placed around a penta-
gram/hexagram or “seal of Solomon” and appearing twice.67 The seal consists
of a series of motifs that can be combined in various sequences, as described
evocatively by al-Būnī: “three sticks are lined up after a seal, at their head is
like a bent head of a lance, a mim squashed and amputated, then a ladder that
leads to every hoped-for object but that is nonetheless not a ladder; four objects
resembling fingers have been lined up, they point toward good things but are
without a fist, a ha in half then a waw bent over like a tube of a cupper (hijam)
but which is not a cupping glass.”68 Less legible than other marks yet just as
common, “the seal of the Great Name of God” appears to have gained special
popularity in Ottoman lands, adding to the range of methods deemed accept-
able to counteract spirits. This is due not only to its connection to Solomon,
who obtained power over the jinn through a signet ring carrying the same signs,
but also to the fact that it declares trust in God and His power.69
Not far from this khamsa, two other stamps shaped like double-tipped
swords are visible (Figure 12.9a T).70 Known as Dhūʾl-Fiqār and employed as
an auspicious symbol in Ottoman art, this motif mythologizes the invincible
weapon captured by Muḥammad during the Battle of Badr and subsequently
presented to his cousin and son-in-law ʿAlī, with whom it later came to be asso-
ciated.71 The link with ʿAlī is reiterated by the inscription yā ʿAlī (“O ʿAlī”) on one

66 Finbarr Barry Flood, “Images against Nature: Spolia as Apotropaia in Byzantium and the
dār al-Islām,” The Medieval History Journal 9, no. 1 (2006): 143–166, esp. 151–152.
67 J.M. Dawkins, “The Seal of Solomon,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 2 (1944): 145–150;
Gruber, “ ‘Go Wherever You Wish,” 7–10.
68 G.C. Anawati, “Le nom supreme de Dieu,” in Atti del Terzo Congresso di Studi Arabi ed
Islamici, Ravello, 1–6 Settembre 1966 (Naples: Istituto Universitario Orientale, 1967), 7–58,
esp. 26–27, and Porter et al., Arabic and Persian Seals, 166.
69 Gruber, “Go Wherever You Wish,” 8.
70 Fodor, “Amulets from the Islamic World,” 96, no. 117. For the use of the motif against evil
spirits, see Fodor, “Types of Shīʿite Amulets,” 122.
71 Zeynep Yürekli-Görkay, “Dhuʾl-faqār and the Ottomans,” in Suleman, People of the Prophet’s
House, 163–172.
a stamped talisman 551

of the tips, and with the formula ‫“( لا فتى إلّا علي ولا سيف إلّا ذو الفقار‬There is no
brave youth except ʿAlī, there is no sword but Dhūʾl-Fiqār”) near the hilt.72 This
is combined with Q 48:1 “Indeed, We have given you a clear victory” also found
on the grip, and additional verses along the blade which are, however, too faint
to be deciphered.
In the same area of the talisman there is an oval stamp with an elaborate
frame reproduced four times (Figure 12.9a U). In it, are several symbols related
to the Day of Judgment, beginning with the liwāʾ al-ḥamd (“banner of praise”),
two pulpits labeled minbar al-anbiyāʾ (“pulpit of the prophets”), three high
chairs identified as kursī al-ʿulamāʾ (“chair of the scholars”), and a scale. The
liwāʾ al-ḥamd is among the most tangible expressions of the Prophet’s ability
to intercede for his community. According to several traditions it is under this
banner that he will gather the true believers in order to protect them from the
tribulations of Doomsday.73 The scale of justice (mīzān) likewise refers to the
judgment taking place on that day; people’s deeds will be weighed on it, and
the outcome will determine their eternal destiny. By looking beyond the realm
of human existence, therefore, this seal mark ensures that its protection will
cover users in this life as well as the next.
Belonging to the text-image category are also two seal marks that stand out
for their heraldic quality and explicit links with the Bektāshī and Rifāʿī orders
respectively (Figures 12.9a–9b V–W).74 The design of the first one is inscribed
in a lobed cartouche and is centered on a tall, ridged cap on top of an elab-
orate plinth and flanked by two ceremonial axes (tabar) (Figures 12.9a–9b V).
Along each shaft the names of Aḥmad Rifāʿī and ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī are pre-
ceded, respectively, by the titles Abā Muslim tabardār and Sulṭān Shāh-i naksh-i
band.75 The axes’ handles extend at the base of the image being sinuously trans-
formed into the name of ʿAlī, whose calligraphic treatment and prominence in
the composition reflect the central position held in Bektāshī creed.76 The name

72 The word fata is here mistakenly replaced by the word sayf. The motto and associated
military symbol acquired special relevance for the Bektāshī order, functioning as symbols
of sanctity; Zeynep Yürekli-Görkay, Architecture and Hagiography in the Ottoman Empire:
The Politics of Bektashi Shrines in the Classical Age (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), 77.
73 Schimmel, And Muḥammad Is His Messenger, 282.
74 Frederick de Jong, “The Iconography of Bektashiism: A Survey of Themes and Symbolism
in Clerical Costume, Liturgical Objects and Pictorial Art,” Manuscripts of the Middle East
4 (1989): 7–29, and Frederick de Jong, “Pictorial Arts of the Bektashi Order,” in The Dervish
Lodge: Architecture, Art and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey, ed. Raymond Lifchez (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1992), 228–241.
75 Literally, “Abū Muslim’s ax-bearer” and “the embroiderer of Sultan Shāh.”
76 John Kingsley Birge, The Bektashi Order of Dervishes (London: Luzac, 1994), 131–145.
552 leoni

figure 12.9b Detail of the bottom half of the talisman with impressions combining text and
image

of Muḥammad, executed in mirror writing (muthanna), hovers over the turban,

while the names of Abrahamic prophets are distributed evenly around it along
with those of the four archangels placed at the four corners.77 Hanging beneath
the headdress is also the teslim taşı (“the stone of surrender”), which represents
the union of human individuality with the Eternal Truth.78 The second design
also centers on a Sufi headgear and is recognized as “the coat of arms” of the
Rifāʿiyyya order (Figure 12.9b W).79 Placed on a polygonal stool and above a
bowl, the order’s headgear (tāj-i şerif ) is flanked by banners invoking Aḥmad
Rifāʿī and ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī. Al-Jīlānī’s name occurs again on an inscrip-
tion at the base of the stamp, alongside those of the four archangels, while the
shahāda embroiders the canopy framing the tāj.

77 The list of twenty-four begins with Adam, first man and first prophet according to Islam,
in a roundel at the very top, and ends with Jesus (ʿĪsā), found at the very base of the seal
mark. Curiously, Dhūʾ l-Qarnayn is also mentioned here, possibly to be identified with
Khiḍr, given the latter’s prominence in certain Sufi ṭarīqas.
78 De Jong, “The Iconography of Bektashiism,” 10–11.
79 Tanman, “Depictions of the Mausoleum,” 23, fig. 6.
a stamped talisman 553

Through their explicit reference to the Bektāshiyyya and Rifāʿiyyya orders,

these designs not only strengthen the association with Sufi traditions seen
elsewhere on the talisman, but also add specific saints to the personalities peti-
tioned by it, expanding the object’s intercessory power. Sainthood (wilāya),
based on the belief that select special individuals manifest the attributes of
God and partake of the Prophet’s exemplary virtues, was a central concept in
Sufism.80 Hence, renowned leaders and their deeds came to be recognized as
sources of continuous blessing or baraka. Taking into account the great involve-
ment of spiritual leaders and dervishes in the provision of healing remedies and
protective devices to their followers, these two stamps may point to their direct
participation in the production of this and similar apotropaia, a possibility that
will be explored in the second part of this essay.
Another frequently reproduced round stamp portrays a domed building
with a crescent inscribed in a star-shaped motif and the invocation ‫اللهم ارزقنا‬
‫“( علما نافعا ورزقا واسعا و)؟( برحمتك يا رحيم‬O God, bestow on us beneficial knowledge,
ample blessing and … by Your grace, O Compassionate”) (Figures 12.9a–9b X).

1.4 Impressions with Calligrams

A single, popular example represents this category on our talisman: a ship
whose hull consists of the names of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, the “Com-
panions of the Cave” (aṣḥāb al-kahf ) recorded in the Qurʾan (Figures 12.6 Y and
12.10).81 The presence of the Sleepers’ names, referring to the six Christians and
a shepherd who survived persecution by miraculously falling asleep in a cave
for centuries,82 is common on Islamic amulets and talismans.83 Their use on

80 M. Baha Tanman, “Setting for the Veneration of Saints,” in The Dervish Lodge, ed. Lifchez,
130–171, here 131.
81 Q 18:9–26.
82 Rudi Paret, s.v. “Aṣḥāb al-kahf,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. A classical study on the
subject is that of Louis Massignon, “Les sept dormants d’Éphèse (ahl al-kahf ) en Islam et
Chrétienté: première partie,”Revue d’études islamiques 22 (1954): 59–112; Louis Massignon,
“Les sept dormants d’ Éphèse (ahl al-kahf ) en Islam et Chrétienté: deuxième partie,”Revue
d’ études islamiques 23 (1955): 94–106; and Louis Massignon, “Les sept dormants d’Éphèse
(ahl al-kahf ) en Islam et Chrétienté: troisième partie,” Revue d’études islamiques 25 (1957):
1–11.
83 Sheila Blair, Islamic Calligraphy (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 506–508,
Venetia Porter, “Amulets Inscribed with the Names of the ‘Seven Sleepers of Ephesus’ in
the British Museum,” in Word of God, Art of Man: The Qurʾan and Its Creative Expressions,
ed. Fahmida Suleman (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with the Institute
of Ismaili Studies London, 2007), 123–134, and Jürgen W. Frembgen, “The Symbolism of
the Boat in Sufi and Shiʿa Imagery of Pakistan and Iran,” Journal of the History of Sufism 6
(2016): 85–100.
554 leoni

figure 12.10 Detail of the ship-shaped calligram

ship-shaped calligrams, in particular, is common in areas with strong maritime

enterprises, from the Ottoman Empire to Southeast Asia,84 the latter probably
influenced by the more popular Turkish examples arriving in the wake of com-
mercial contacts.85 A saying attributed to the prophet Muḥammad invites the
believers to teach the names of the Sleepers to their children, “for if they are
written on the door of a house, that house will not be burnt, or on an object,
that object will not be lost, or on a ship, that ship will not sink.”86 A broad pro-
phylactic use is probably the intended aim of this example too, enhanced by
additional phrases selected for their auspicious value: the shahāda (left-hand

84 Filiz Çağman and Şule Aksoy, Osmanlı Sanatında Hat (Ankara: Kültür Bakanlığı, Anıt-
lar ve Müzeler Genel Müdürlüğü, 1998), 83; Denise-Marie Teece and Karin Zonis, “Cal-
ligraphic Galleon,” in Masterpieces from the Department of Islamic Art in the Metropol-
itan Museum of Art, ed. Maryam D. Ekhtiar, Priscilla Soucek, Sheila R. Canby, and Nav-
ina Hadjat Haidar (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2011), 297–298, cat. no. 206,
and Farouk Yahya, “Jimat in Form of a Ship,” in Leoni, Power and Protection, 36–37, cat.
no. 105.
85 Venetia Porter notes that the Ottoman navy was dedicated to the aṣḥāb al-kahf, which
explains their protective use in seafaring and trade; Porter, “Amulets Inscribed with the
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus,” 126. For a recent collection on Ottoman–Southeast Asian rela-
tions, see Andrew Peacock and Annabel Teh Gallop, From Anatolia to Aceh: Ottomans,
Turks, and Southeast Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press and British Academy, 2015).
86 Tewfik Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” Berythus 5 (1938): 141–151, here
146; Porter, “Amulets Inscribed with the ‘Seven Sleepers of Ephesus,” 126.
a stamped talisman 555

flag), Q 48:1 (left-hand sail), Q 61:13 (right-hand flag), as well as sequences of

numbers and isolated letters and invocations to God.87

1.5 Impressions with Sanctuaries and Shrines

The last category of seal marks on our talisman ranges in content and legibil-
ity, although, as in previous examples, it encompasses both motifs universally
accepted in Islam and sectarian formulas. The most immediately identifiable
design, reproduced both at the top of the document and at its very center, is
that of Mecca’s sacred precinct (Figure 12.6 Z and 12.11). The main image, delin-
eated by a circular enclosure with double rows of lamps marking the space
of circumambulation, depicts the key structures at the heart of the mosque.
Accessed through a single gate (bāb banī shayba) are a staircase,88 the maqām
Ibrāhīm (the sanctuary erected on the site where Abraham stood in prayer),
an outdoor pulpit, the Kaʿba shrouded in black, and the ḥaṭīm (the semicir-
cular enclosure marking the spot where Ismail and Hagar found shelter). This
succinct depiction is similar to other representations of Mecca featuring iconic
monuments and sites.89 In this instance, however, the background is filled with
inscriptions with strong Alid references. Inside the precinct, starting from the
right-hand side, we find the formula “The prophet Muḥammad, may God pray
for him; God’s peace and blessing upon Imam ʿAlī, may God be pleased with
him (?) the remembrance [of ʿAlī] is worship” (‫حضرت پيغمبر صلى الله وسلم قدس‬
(‫)امام علي رضي الله عنه )؟( )؟( امام علي ذكر عبادة )؟‬. Separated from it by the ḥaṭīm
is the phrase “O Abū l-Qāsim” ( yā abā l-qāsim), referring to Muḥammad, while
on the left-hand side of the Kaʿba we read the expression “the remembrance
of ʿAlī is worship” (dhikr ʿalī ʿibādat). The Alid connection is strengthened by
the well known saying “I am the city of knowledge and ʿAlī is its gate” (‫انا مدينة‬
‫ )العلم وعلي بابه‬prominently displayed on top of the Kaʿba, as well as by the inclu-
sion of the names of ʿAlī’s wife Fāṭima al-Zahrāʾ and their sons, Ḥasan and
Ḥusayn.

87 In this version of the ship, a baldachin structure can also be seen on the stern, but its sig-
nificance remains unclear. An identical calligram, said often to be found on painted glass,
is reproduced in Şennur Şentürk, ed., Cam altinda yirmi bin fersah: geleneksel halk resim
sanatından camaltı resimleri (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi Kültür Sanat Yayıncılık, 1997), 68.
88 Significant is the absence of the structure giving access to the Zamzam well, which could
be used to establish the date of the image after which the seal (and possibly the talisman)
was produced.
89 See some of the hajj certificates and manuscript illustrations in Venetia Porter, ed., Hajj:
A Journey to the Heart of Islam (London: British Museum Press, 2012), esp. 28–29, fig. 5;
32–33, fig. 8; 39, figs. 14–15; 54–55, fig. 27.
556 leoni

figure 12.11 Example of impression featuring a sanctuary (Mecca)

The most distinctive characteristic of this seal mark, compared to the others
on the page, lies in its condition. Especially evident on the uppermost example,
the impression appears to have been heavily rubbed, which possibly explains
the transfer of ink across the upper part of the talisman following the direction
in which it was folded. Direct interaction with a sacred image, understood as a
channel to access and benefit from the qualities of the subject(s) represented
in it, is often explicitly invoked in Islamic devotional literature.90 In particular,
extended gazing, skin contact—by touching an object with one’s hand or fore-
head or by kissing it—as well as forms of ingestion all contribute to activating
an image’s baraka.91 In addition to commemorating the completion of the pil-

90 For examples with instructions on how to interact with protective images, see Alexan-
dra Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿam-i Serif: Sacred Texts and Images in an Islamic Prayer
Book” (PhD diss., University of Victoria, 1999), cat. nos. 16, 19–20 and 24, 26, and 28; Nabil
E. Safwat, Golden Pages: Qurʾans and Other Manuscripts from the Collection of Ghassan
I. Shaker (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press for Azimuth Editions, 2000), 226,
cat. nos. 57, and 228; Barbara Schmidt, Islamic Manuscripts in the New York Public Library
(New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press and The New York Library, 1992), 48, cat.
no. I.11; and Gruber, “From Prayer to Protection,” 51.
91 Christiane Gruber, “A Pious Cure-All: The Ottoman Illustrated Prayer Manual in the Lilly
Library,” in The Islamic Manuscript Tradition: Ten Centuries of Book Arts in Indiana Uni-
versity Collections, ed. Christiane Gruber (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2010),
117–153, here 132 and 140–141, and Finbarr Barry Flood, “Bodies and Becoming: Mimesis,
Mediation, and the Ingestion of the Sacred in Christianity and Islam,” in Sensational
Religion: Sensory Cultures in Material Practice, ed. Sally M. Promey (New Haven: Yale Uni-
versity Press, 2014), 459–493, here 461, 470–471.
a stamped talisman 557

figure 12.12 Example of a second impression featuring a shrine (Aḥmad Rifāʿī’s tomb)

grimage, representations of Islam’s two most sacred sites, Mecca and Medina,
flourished in the early modern period to popularize the visualization of vener-
able, and at times unreachable, destinations.92 Their appearance in illustrated
devotional texts, in particular—from Muḥyī al-Dīn Lārī’s Futūḥ al-ḥaramayn
(“Revelations of the Two Sanctuaries”) to al-Jazūlī’s Dalāʾil al-khayrāt (“Guides
to Happiness”)—bears witness to their inclusion among those select formulas
and symbols adopted for both contemplative and apotropaic purposes.93 The
rubbing on the stamp reproduced on our talisman is best understood along
these lines, powerfully merging the desire to acquire the miraculous powers of
Islam’s most revered site usually realized through an actual visit, with pietistic
practices triggered by its visual reproduction.
Last but not least, a less recognizable though similarly powerful shrine,
which has been object of detailed study by M. Baha Tanman, can be found in a
single impression at the bottom of the talisman (Figure 12.6 AA and 12.12).94 In
it we recognize a tomb sheltered by a canopied structure. A lamp hangs from
the central arch of this construction, a detail often found in mausoleums of reli-

92 Roxburgh, “Visualising the Sites and Monuments of Islamic Pilgrimage.”

93 This explains their subsequent reproduction on more ephemeral media, including talis-
mans, such as those produced with the plaque now at the Walters Art Museum, Baltimore
(inv. no. 54.51), engraved with images of Mecca and Medina.
94 Tanman, “Depiction of the Mausoleum.”
558 leoni

gious brotherhoods that facilitates the identification of the individual buried in

it with the saint named in the top inscription, ḥaḍrat sayyid Aḥmad Rifāʿī. The
image is full of references to Rifāʿī’s deeds, offering a compelling pictorial cel-
ebration of his miraculous power. For instance, the lions in the foreground are
a reference to his legendary ability to tame these ferocious beasts.95 Similarly,
the serpent stretched between the felines symbolizes the venomous animals
believed to be subject to the shaykh and unable to harm his followers.96 For
this reason, this image was used against poisonous animals, as testified by the
wide range of decorative objects, paintings, and murals bearing it that flour-
ished in the late Ottoman period.
The background of the composition, beginning from the top-left corner and
proceeding counter-clockwise, reads:

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم السلام عليكم يا الغيب و يا ارواح المقدسة و يا امان و يا اوتاد و يا بدلا‬
‫و يا رقبا و يا امنا و يا نجبا و يا حوار يون و يا قطب الاقطاب اغيثوني بغوثة وارحمني وانظروني‬
‫بنظرة واغيثوني على المهمّات في الدنيا والآخرة بحرمة سي ّد الـكونين محمد وآله وصحبه اجمعين‬

In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate / Peace be upon

You, O the hidden world and blessed spirits, O Surety, O Pegs, O Substi-
tutes, O Guardians, O Trustees, O Nobles, O Disciples of Jesus, O Pole /
lend me [your] help, have mercy on me, cast a glance upon me and help
in all [my] undertakings in this world and the next / by the sanctity of the
master of the two worlds, Muḥammad, his family, and his Companions
all.

Continuing under the three arches, starting on the left-hand side:

97‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم امرابرموامرا فانا مبرمون چبان شيش ايچون‬

‫بسم الله صمد )؟( قي ّوم حكيم عدل )؟( إن فتحنا لك فتحا مبينا‬
98‫صلى وسلم به‬

95 Tanman, “Depiction of the Mausoleum,” 14. See also Tanman’s elaboration on the symbolic
meaning of the sphere under the lion’s paw in the image.
96 In other versions of the composition, the image of a scorpion is also included. See Tanman,
figs. 3–5.
97 The rest of the text is obscure.
98 Liana Saif suggested a possible alternative reading of this as wusima bihi, “to stamp with it.”
a stamped talisman 559

In the Name of God, (the) Eternal, (the) Self-Subsisting, (the) Wise, (the)
Judge: Indeed We have given you [a clear conquest] [Q 48:1].

Peace and blessings upon Him.

The text around the serpent reads:

99‫ رقعة‬٣ ‫ في الجلد بحق الحي الذي )؟( موت‬٣ ‫يا ايها )؟( المنبوت موت‬

Finally, on the right-hand side area of the seal mark, from the corner down, we
read:

(‫الف صلاة )؟( الهم سلم و بارك)ة( على كنز الطلسم في النشر من لم يزل في قابناسوت و)؟‬
‫قرب رب‬

A thousand prayers, O Lord grant peace and bless the treasure of he who
made the talisman …

‫الف سلام عليك يا حبيب الله‬

A thousand greetings to you, O God’s beloved.

100‫والغيث المطمطم لاهوت الجمال ناسوت الوصال طلعت الحو كسو بالانسان ازلى‬

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم لها و لكل )؟( عظيم الف صلاة الف سلامات عليك الف صلاة منه‬
‫فيه و عليه ال ّهم يا عظيم انت العظيم هون علي يا عظيم المي فرج عنيّ و عن المسلم)ين؟( بفضل‬
‫الرحمن‬

In the name of God the Merciful and the Compassionate, for her and all
… great, a thousand prayers, a thousand greetings upon you, a thousand
prayers from him … in him and on him. O Great Lord, You are Great,

99 This is another obscure passage in which only the following phrase bi-ḥaqq al-ḥayy alladhī
(“by the right of [God] the Living One who …”) is clear.
100 These two phrases, inscribed in the two rectangles found in the upper right-hand side
corner of this seal, are also unclear.
560 leoni

ease my pain, O Great [God], O Lord, relieve me and all Muslims (?) by
the grace of the Merciful One.

Despite the more obscure content, this seal impression solidifies the idea of
combining multiple spiritual forces observed across the talisman. The well-
being of the maker of the seal is given equal consideration, possibly as a way to
defend and further validate his essential role as the middleman between dis-
pensers and receivers of blessings and aid.

∵
A few points emerge from a closer analysis of the talisman’s contents. The first
is that this device’s power, like that of others in the same category, relies on
the combination of resources and their cumulative effect. In our particular
instance, the aspects affected by the supplications—from gender-specific ill-
nesses to generic apotropaic functions—as well as the object’s large size, indic-
ate that it was likely commissioned to protect the whole household, where it
might have been prominently displayed. Second, the mundane perils and tribu-
lations feared by the talisman’s purported users—stings of poisonous animals,
physical ailments, and the evil eye—perpetuate preoccupations common since
before the advent of Islam but reconfigured through an Islamic lens. Pious
exclamations, prayers, and invocations sacralize these archaic concerns, in so
far as they now subject their resolving to God, who is consistently presented as
the ultimate source of succor and guidance for mankind. Third, the mediation
of God’s agency through angelic and saintly intercessors is of pivotal import-
ance for the object’s efficacy. By harnessing their beneficial power through
direct invocations and “meta-pilgrimages” to sacred places, the talisman ulti-
mately transposes, on paper, a variety of practices that remain comfortably
within the parameters of everyday piety. As such the object can be best under-
stood in relation to the strong devotional shift observed in the Ottoman sphere
during the twelfth/eighteenth and thirteenth/nineteenth centuries, the subject
to which I shall now turn.

2 The Talisman’s Context

The period during which our talisman was most likely produced, the long
thirteenth/nineteenth century, witnessed profound religious transformations
across the Islamicate world. Often framed as responses to changing internal
conditions and external threats, paramount among them European imperial-
a stamped talisman 561

ism, various reformist movements embraced the revival of traditional Islamic

values for moral, social, and political reform.101 In the Ottoman sphere, in par-
ticular, the primacy of sharīʿa, the emphasis on the Qurʾan and early hadith, and
the Prophet’s example sustained this revitalization, while mystical teachings,
especially those promoted by moderate and more conservative orders such as
the Naqshbandiyya, added a balanced spiritual dimension to the process.102
The urban nature of this order, which, by the thirteenth/nineteenth century
counted over fifty lodges in Istanbul alone, meant that it obtained a great deal of
support from among the ʿulamāʾ and members of the ruling elite,103 with some
of their leaders becoming active players in the process of renewal sponsored
by the state.104
Such a process of rejuvenation did not mean a despiritualized approach to
Islam. Unlike the puritan stance espoused by Wahhabism—established in the
heart of the Arabian Peninsula in the mid-twelfth/mid-eighteenth century by
the theologian Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb (d. 1206/1792) with the object-
ive of purifying Islam of devotional practices and behaviors deemed innova-
tions (bidʿa) and, as such, negations of the fundamental principle of tawḥīd—
Ottoman Islam valued ritual practice and private devotions as ways to embrace
God’s unity. Likewise, the Prophet was upheld as a prime example of conduct
and infallible guidance, which led to his further veneration. The visitation of
sites associated with Muḥammad’s life and physical traces, and the flourish-
ing of poetic and visual meta-relics—from Turkish translations of al-Būṣīrī’s
Qaṣīdat al-burda (“The Mantle Ode”) celebrating the curative powers of his
mantle, to copies of his blessed sandal (naʿl)—testify to the process. In the
same way, the accumulation of sacred objects and relics associated with him

101 On the concept of tajdīd (renewal) and its origins and various incarnations, see Butrus
Abu Manneh, Studies on Islam and the Ottoman Empire in the 19th Century (1826–1876)
(Istanbul: Isis, 2001); for its role in contemporary revivalist movements, see Ira M. Lap-
idus, “Islamic Revival and Modernity: The Contemporary Movements and the Historical
Paradigms,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 40, no. 4 (1997): 444–
460.
102 For the Sunni-sharīʿa-Sufi synthesis at the heart of twelfth/eighteenth- and thirteenth/
nineteenth-century revivalisms, see Ira M. Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), esp. 192–224.
103 Abu Manneh, Studies on Islam, 8; Butrus Abu Manneh, “The Naqshbandiyya-Mujad-
didiyya in the Ottoman Lands in the Early 19th century,” Die Welt des Islams 22, nos. 1–4
(1982): 1–36.
104 David W. Damrel, “The Spread of Naqshbandi Political Thought in the Islamic World,” in
Naqshbandis: Historical Development and Present Situation of the Mystical Order. Proceed-
ings of the Sevres Round Table, May 2–4, 1985, ed. Marc Gaborieau, Alexander Popovic, and
Thierry Zarconne (Istanbul: Isis, 1990), 269–287, esp. 274.
562 leoni

in Istanbul,105 heightened by the destructive Wahhabi campaigns of 1799–1803

against holy sites in the Hijaz, reinforced the view of the Prophet as an elect
conduit of divine grace and thus as God’s primary intercessor.106
The material impact of this enlivened devotional climate is highlighted by
Alexandra Bain in her study of late Ottoman prayer manuals.107 Bain con-
siders these ubiquitous books as part of the polemics surrounding Ottoman
Islam and Wahhabi Islam, in light of the latter’s growing influence in areas of
Arabia officially under Ottoman control. More specifically, the combined con-
tent of these books constitutes an explicit celebration of specific practices—
tawaṣṣul (supplicating God through an intercessor) and tabarruk (obtaining
blessings from sacred objects and sites) paramount among them—condemned
and persecuted by the fundamentalist movement.108 Bain notes the individu-
als involved in the production and consumption of such manuals and lists
representatives of the government, scholars and members of the royal house-
hold among them, thus exposing individual journeys of devotional awakening
amongst the elites.109 She also delves into the content of twelfth/eighteenth-
and thirteenth/nineteenth-century examples of such books, which contain
selected Qurʾanic passages and prayers and incorporate litanies, blessings for
the Prophet, and diagrams and pictures.110 The gradual inclusion of images
and texts for the purpose of taʿwīz—using the former for talismanic and aus-
picious purposes—suggest a transformation of these manuals into protective

105 Süleyman Beyoğlu, “The Ottomans and the Islamic Sacred Relics,” in The Great Turkish
Civilization, ed. Kemal Cicek (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye, 2001), 4:36–44. These are now collec-
ted and some of them exhibited in the Pavilion of Relics and Sacred Trusts in the Topkapi
Palace Museum.
106 The notion of tawassul, God’s supplication by means of an intermediary, was accepted in
all four schools of Sunni Islam. See also Gruber’s article in this volume.
107 Alexandra Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿami Şerif ” and “The Enʿami Şerif : Sacred Text and
Images in a Late Ottoman Prayer Book,” Archivum Ottomanicum 19 (2001): 213–238. The
manuals are presented under the title of enʿam-i şerif on account of the prominence often
given to Sūrat al-Anʿām. For a discussion of alternative titles, see Gruber, “A Pious Cure-
All,” 117 n. 3 and references therein.
108 Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿami Şerif,” 41. This is in addition to helping to reiterate the
idea of the Ottomans as protectors of Islam against the threat posed by the Wahhabis to
their sovereignty.
109 Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿami Şerif,” 38–41. Comparable experiences at more popular
level, however, are not addressed in her study, a gap that this essay partially remedies.
110 Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿami Şerif,” 79–93 and 100–106. Some of these images, such
as those of the ḥarāmayn, became especially popular in another body of devotional texts
focusing on the Prophet’s veneration, including al-Jazūlī’s Dalāʾil al-khayrāt, which grew
in popularity from the twelfth/eighteenth century.
a stamped talisman 563

and therapeutic vademecums rooted firmly in religious piety.111 Renderings of

prophetic relics and select sacred seals—which include the “seal of prophecy”
(muhr al-nubuwwa), the “seal of the Great Name of God,” and the “seal of the
eye upon God” (ʿayn ʿalā Allāh)—in particular, acquired a double function as
props for contemplation and as viable sources of blessing (baraka) and healing
(shafāʿa) for those unable to access the originals at the source, thus emerging
as the most telling manifestation of this phase of revamped piety.112
A crucial facet of these wide-ranging devotional products is the role played
by members of some Sufi orders both in their realization and in sustaining the
modalities of pious interaction that underpinned their efficacy, an aspect that
is of particular importance for the talisman considered in this article.113 Mem-
bers of the Naqshbandiyya featured as teachers of prominent patrons and as
calligraphers of devotional manuals or were makers themselves.114 Sufi spiritu-
ality was also tied to urban crafts and their guild system,115 to the extent that it
exerted some influence on and, possibly, control over their products.116 If Evliya
Çelebi’s (d. 1093/1682) observation on the thriving business of Istanbul’s guild of
seal-makers was still applicable in the twelfth/eighteenth and thirteenth/nine-
teenth centuries, as the quantity of surviving matrices appears to suggest, then
even this activity was probably exposed to the same influence.117 The mystical

111 See Gruber’s detailed study of one of such instances now in the Lilly Library at the Uni-
versity of Michigan, Ann Arbor (Misc. Uncat. II.C.4), “A Pious Cure-All.”
112 Their power, particularly when related to specific individuals such as the prophet Muḥam-
mad, resided on “an indexical chain of contact” with his body “that imbued every mun-
dane or profane materials with a sacrality capable of further transmission”; Flood, “Bodies
and Becoming,” 463.
113 Modes centered on the principle of “human physicality as locus and mediator of spir-
itual presence and power.” Patricia Cox Miller, The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the
Holy in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009),
5.
114 Bain, “The Late Ottoman Enʿami Şerif,” appendix II, 347–363.
115 Among the many Sufi-oriented guilds were those of metalworkers such as silversmiths
and goldsmiths, as well as paper and bookmakers.
116 Some of these guilds were even led by Sufi shaykhs, imparting a working ethics that often
echoed the mechanics of order membership, from the close master-pupil relationship and
the value assigned to silsilas (“chains of transmission”) at the heart of specific crafts, to
the adoption of Sufi-inspired liturgy in daily activities to guarantee success. See Laleh
Bakhtiar, Sufi Expressions of the Mystic Quest (New York: Thames and Hudson 1976), 94,
J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998),
234, and William Rory Dickson, Unveiling Sufism from Manhattan to Mecca (Sheffield:
Equinox Publishing, 2017), 131–132.
117 Evliya Çelebi, Evliya Çelebi Seyahatnamesi, ed. Robert Dankoff, Seyit Ali Kahraman, Yücel
Dağli, and Zekeriya Kurşun (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi Yayınları, 2001), 1:312. Already in the elev-
564 leoni

connotations and, at times, explicit Sufi content of some of the seal impres-
sions on our talisman further corroborate the possibility that aspects of their
production was informed by Sufi ideas and went so far as to support some of
their communal functions. The taʿwīz discussed earlier, for instance, was often
explicitly practiced by Sufi shaykhs, whose spiritual training and knowledge
equipped them with the tools necessary to produce reliable and authoritative
measures against human tribulations. Increasingly recognized by the popu-
lace as guides to worldly fulfilment and otherworldly salvation, Sufi leaders
and dervishes were even accused by some of having become excessively pre-
occupied with the production of amulets and talismans in the late Ottoman
period,118 a fact that indicates their popularity as authorities for the creation of
similar protective devices.119
When we consider the content and tone of the devotional miscellanea men-
tioned above, their Qurʾanic references, prayers, supererogatory acts, intense
remembrance of God, and the invoking of blessings from the Prophet repro-
duce the standard devotions performed by members of the Sufi orders in the
tangible and confined form of the book. These same resources are concentrated
on an even smaller surface, the single talisman page considered by this study,
its clearest difference being in the semi-mechanical way and impromptu cir-
cumstances in which this and others were realized. Both categories of works,
however, rely on the long-held belief that the writing, and by extension the
printing of sacred verses, prolongs the benefits of the uttered words, mak-
ing their material application and repetition on another surface an essential
aspect of the whole exercise.120 Contents and channels are effectively shared,
which suggests that the more expedient, single-sheet talisman is but another
manifestation, at the less expensive end of the scale, of the spiritual revivi-
fication affecting this part of the Islamic world in the twelfth/eighteenth and

enth/seventeenth century these matrices included motifs such as magic squares, select
Qurʾanic verses, and some of the healing seals discussed above. Gruber, “Go Wherever You
Wish,” 4.
118 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 238.
119 During his fieldwork in Palestine in the early twentieth century, Tewfik Canaan observed
the production of talismans in the proximity of sanctuaries and even mosques by shaykhs
equipped with ad hoc seals. Some were even produced to be fumigated during an illness.
Seal impressions also occur on images of specific sanctuaries. Khaled Nashef, ed., Ya Kafi
Ya Shafi: The Tawfik Canaan Collection of Palestinian Amulets, An Exhibition, October 30,
1998–February 25, 1999 (Al Bireh: Birzeit University, 1998), 33 and cat. no. 161. See also Baha’
al-Ju’beh, “Magic and Talismans: The Tawfiq Canaan Collection of Palestinian Amulets,”
Jerusalem Quarterly 22–23 (2005): 103–108.
120 Canaan, “The Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” 73.
a stamped talisman 565

thirteenth/nineteenth centuries. Objects such as these should thus not be dis-

missed as devotional distortions or aberrations, but rather be assessed as one
of the ways in which everyday piety articulated one’s quest for sustainment and
shelter from life’s many inescapable challenges.

Acknowledgments

The author expresses her gratitude to Nahla Nassar, Professor Aslı Niyazioğlu,
Dr. Liana Saif, and Dr. Farouk Yahya for reading and commenting on previous
drafts of this article.

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 chapter 13

Bereket Bargains: Islamic Amulets in Today’s “New

Turkey”

Christiane Gruber

Among the occult arts, amulets have proved especially popular in Turkey over
the course of the past decade. They draw upon Ottoman-Islamic talismanic
and devotional traditions while extending Mediterranean and Anatolian folk
cultures into new commercial and religious terrain. Most important among
such amulets are “blessing cards” (bereket kartelası), depictions of the prophet
Muḥammad’s relics, and evil-averting glass beads known as “eye beads” (nazar
boncuğu). While these talismanic items are widely found in Turkish stores and
homes, they are most often offered for sale in “hajj goods” (hac malzemeleri)
shops located close to Islamic shrines and mosques, especially the tomb com-
plex of Eyüp in Istanbul (Figure 13.1). These shops of devotional goods cater to
pilgrims and visitors who wish to purchase souvenirs and wares, such as prayer
garb and rugs, rosaries, and other objects enabling the fulfilment of religious
rites.
Cheap and portable, blessing cards are believed to convey to their own-
ers and viewers mystic virtue or blessings (Turkish, bereket; Arabic, baraka).
Moreover, if made as pocketsize laminated sheets, their rectos tend to depict
the Prophet’s verbal icon (hilye), his relics, the “seal of prophecy,” Qurʾanic
verses, and devotional prayers to be recited on various occasions. On their
versos, their many virtues ( faziletler) are enumerated, including protection
from gossiping neighbors and a painful birth. At times, Muḥammad’s relics—
especially his “seal of prophecy,” footprint, and sandalprint—are made also
as pendants and turban hats, to be worn in direct contact with the body
of the faithful. As three-dimensional objects, such amulets pay witness to
human urges toward embodiment and physical intimacy, all while reviving
older Ottoman Prophet-centered pietistic practices.1 Moreover, the production
of eye beads thrives in Turkey, catering to local consumers and foreign tour-
ists. These beads draw upon both Islamic and non-Islamic beliefs concerned

1 On this topic, see Christiane Gruber, The Praiseworthy One: The Prophet Muhammad in Islamic
Texts and Images (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2019), 252–309.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 573

figure 13.1 Religious-goods shops surrounding the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August
2015
Photograph by the author

with diverting and neutralizing the evil eye. In recent years, however, they have
become increasingly “Islamized” via the replacement of the eye-bead’s pupil
with Arabic-script calligraphic inscriptions of Qurʾanic verses.
Today’s boom in the talismanic arts, prophetic relics, and eye beads in Turkey
has benefited from several factors: a neoliberal market saturated with cheap
commodities, the revival of Ottoman cultural and artistic traditions for both
local consumers and the tourist trade, and the overt Islamization of the Turk-
ish public sphere as undertaken by the ruling Justice and Development Party
(AKP). Following official discourse and efforts, this “New Turkey” (Yeni Türkiye)
seeks to inculcate religious morality at both the individual and political level,
thereby raising a new “pious generation” of committed citizens.2 Over the past
few years, the Islamic (and Islamized) occult arts in Turkey respond to these
forces at the popular level while also shining new light on the flexible and ever-
evolving nature of the occult arts in Islamic lands.

2 Daren Butler, “With More Islamic Schooling, Erdogan Aims to Reshape Turkey,” Reuters,
25 January 2018, https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special‑report/turkey‑erdogan‑educa
tion/.
574 gruber

1 Blessings in Laminate

Amulets dot Turkey’s landscape of popular Islamic devotion, from the large-
scale Hacı Bayram mosque complex in Ankara to smaller shrines across the
country. In Istanbul proper, the neighborhood of Eyüp hosts wholesale shops
of religious goods that surround the shrine complex of Abū Ayyūb (Eyüp)
al-Anṣārī, the prophet Muḥammad’s standard-bearer who is believed to have
taken part in the first Umayyad siege of Constantinople, in 54–58/674–678.
Upon the Ottoman conquest of the city in 857/1453, the miraculous discovery
of this Muslim warrior’s tomb helped Islamize the city. Thereafter, the Eyüp
neighborhood was further consecrated through Ottoman building activities,
pilgrimage practices, and political rituals, most significant among them visita-
tions to the Prophet’s stone footprint preserved in Eyüp’s tomb and the sultans’
accession ceremonies, which included the “girding of the sword” at the shrine.
Eyüp remains the religious heart of Istanbul throughout the year, in particular
during the holy month of Ramadan.3
Eyüp is a place where officially sanctioned (and largely Sunni) forms of
Islamic practice coexist, and at times collide, with vernacular manifestations
of devotion. For these reasons, activities in and around the shrine have been
a matter of contention for some time. For example, warning signs inform pil-
grims and visitors not to tie votive ribbons, light candles, or make offerings at
the sacred site. Besides articulating the proper rules governing shrine visitation,
various state institutions—such as the Eyüp Municipality and the Ministry
of Religious Affairs—have purged the shrine’s surroundings of objectionable
people and articles, including sellers of charms, candles, and other items of
“superstition” (as occurred in 1994).4 In Timur Hammond’s fitting expression,
these “matters of the mosque”5 attempt to delineate and restrict Islam’s fluid
assemblage of beliefs, practices, and objects.

3 For an overview of the Eyüp neighborhood and shrine complex, see Çiğdem Kafescioğlu,
“Eyüp,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd ed.; Çiğdem Kafescioğlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul: Cul-
tural Encounter, Imperial Vision, and the Construction of the Ottoman Capital (University Park:
Pennsylvania State University Press, 2009), 45–51; and Tülay Artan, ed., Eyüp. Dün-bugün
(Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yayınları, 1994); for a historical-ethnographic study of the shrine
during the modern and contemporary periods in particular, see Timur Hammond, “Mediums
of Belief: Muslim Place Making in 20th-Century Turkey” (PhD diss., University of California,
Los Angeles, 2016).
4 Timur Hammond, “Matters of the Mosque: Changing Configurations of Buildings and Belief
in an Istanbul District,” City: Analysis of Urban Trends, Culture, Theory, Policy, Action 18, no. 6
(2014): 684.
5 Hammond, “Matters of the Mosque,” throughout.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 575

While such efforts aim to regulate faith and its material dimensions, more
vernacular forms of religious life—that is, of “lived Islam”—continue to thrive.
Around the shrine of Eyüp, charms and candles are indeed gone, but in their
place have appeared other devotional paraphernalia, many of which tread a
careful line between what is deemed official religion and what is censured as
“superstition.” Most widely found are the portable blessing cards (bereket kar-
telası), which contain religious texts and images printed on laminated paper
(Figure 13.2). In shape, size, and format, many of these hand-held cards closely
follow the format of Turkish state-issued identity cards (nüfus cüzdanı) that
were used before their biometric updating in 2016. The terminology used for
these cards—that is, kartela, which also means “paint swatch”—highlights
the fact that these vademecum Islamic amulets come in a panoply of col-
ors.
The promise of variety largely delivers. As can be seen in Figure 13.2, just one
of these boxes contains a wide range of blessing cards, whose contents include
amuletic designs, healing verses from the Qurʾan (Kur’an’daki şifa ayetleri),
the bilingual Turkish-Arabic enumeration of God’s Beautiful Names (esma-ül
hüsna), meal or food prayers (sofra/yemek duaları), and the basmala. One card
also highlights the merits of writing down the names of the Seven Sleepers of
the Cave (Ashab-ı Kehf ), which are considered especially effective in staving
off headaches, children’s crying, and catastrophic fire.6 Finally, at the bottom
of the box in Figure 13.2, an upside-down bright green sticker inscribed with
God’s and Muḥammad’s names asks its viewer: “What have you done for God
today?” (Bugün Allah için ne yaptın?). This rhetorical question encourages its
pious beholder to perform daily good deeds on behalf of the Lord via a Turk-
ish verbatim translation of a common Christian supplication. This mélange of
Islamic devotional paper goods is eclectic, as it blends excerpts from the Qurʾan
and Islamic occult arts with an entreaty drawn from Christian religious rhet-
oric.
Blessing cards are a new phenomenon, appearing on the market in about
2011. At the time, a laminated verbal icon—or hilye—of the prophet Muḥam-
mad was issued on the occasion of his birthday (mevlid) celebrations on

6 On the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus and the incorporation of their names into amulets that
are considered especially protective against disaster in the home, on the road, and at sea, see
Venetia Porter, “Amulets Inscribed with the Names of the ‘Seven Sleepers’ of Ephesus in the
British Museum,” in Word of God, Art of Man: The Qurʾan and its Creative Expressions, ed. Fah-
mida Suleman (Oxford: Oxford University Press in association with the Institute of Ismaili
Studies, 2007), 123–134.
576 gruber

figure 13.2 A box of blessing cards (bereket kartelası) offered for sale at a religious-goods
shop next to the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016
Photograph by the author
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 577

figure 13.3 A laminated “radiant document” (nurani belgesi)

of the prophet Muḥammad in the size and format
of a Turkish state-issued identity card. Laminated
paper. 10.3 × 7.7 cm
Item purchased near the Eyüp shrine
in August 2015 and now in the author’s
collection

12 Rabiʿ I (Figure 13.3).7 While some cards identify this type of latter-day hilye as
a personal identification card (nüfus cüzdanı), others, such as the example illus-
trated in Figure 13.3, bear the description “radiant document” (nurani belgesi).8

7 Numerous articles about Muḥammad’s hilye card can be found on Turkish news websites
by searching for “Hz. Muhammed’e nüfus cüzdanı.” For a critical discussion of these types
of Turkish identity cards and state-sponsored religious practices in Turkey today, see Yıl-
maz Özdil, “İnsanda biraz utanma olur,” Sözcü, 2017, http://www.sozcu.com.tr/2017/yazarlar/
yilmaz‑ozdil/insanda‑biraz‑utanma‑olur‑1743213/.
8 The expression nurani belgesi is linguistically awkward, suggesting that the card’s manufac-
turer was not fully conversant in either Arabic or Ottoman Turkish.
578 gruber

Often, Muḥammad’s seal impression and a roundel of his calligraphed name

fill the upper left corner of the card, in lieu of a Turkish citizen’s photographic
portrait. The Kaʿba and a rose accompany this synecdochal and scripted “por-
trait” of Muḥammad, offering viewers further visual allegories for the Prophet
through a sacred geographic marker and heavenly scented flower—a mode of
iconotextual representation that effectively skirts the thorny issue of figural
depiction.9
In addition to these visuals, the front of the card provides textual informa-
tion about Muḥammad’s parents and grandparents, his birth and death places
and dates, and the place and date of his appointment to prophecy (peygamber-
lik). On the back, the Prophet’s “radiant document” also notes his civil status
as married; his religion as Islam; his tribe as Qurayshi; the color of his face
as “radiant” (nurani) and “glowing” (parlak); his eyes and hair as black; and
his size as not too tall and not too short—all physical descriptors traditionally
found in Islamic hilye texts and Ottoman hilye paintings and panels.10 The iden-
tity card’s number (kimlik no.) also is given as 124000-313-25-5-1, which stands
for the number of monotheistic prophets (124,000), apostles (313), Muslim
prophets (25), leading Abrahamic prophets (Abraham, Moses, David, Jesus,
and Muḥammad), and the last prophet of all, Muḥammad. Through charged
numerical symbolism, this contemporary Turkish “radiant document” serves
to celebrate Muḥammad’s Prophetic pedigree and supreme standing in a long
line of illustrious apostles sent by God to humankind.
Once purchased, these mass-produced items are carried in pockets and
hung on walls in the hopes of securing protection and blessings to individu-
als, homes, stores, and restaurants. Just like monumental calligraphic hilyes,

9 On Ottoman traditions of describing and depicting the Prophet as a rose, see Christiane
Gruber, “The Rose of the Prophet: Floral Metaphors in Late Ottoman Devotional Art,”
in Envisioning Islamic Art and Architecture: Essays in Honor of Renata Holod, ed. David
Roxburgh (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 227–254; and on the hilye as an iconotextual design, see
İrvin Cemil Schick, “The Content of Form: Islamic Calligraphy between Text and Repres-
entation,” in Sign and Design: Script as Image in Cross-Cultural Perspective (300–1600CE),
ed. Brigitte Miriam Bedos-Rezak and Jeffrey Hamburger (Washington, DC: Dumbarton
Oaks, 2016), 173–194; and İrvin Cemil Schick, “The Iconicity of Islamic Calligraphy in Tur-
key,” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics 53–54 (Spring–Autumn 2008): 211–224.
10 On Ottoman hilyes, see Faruk Taşkale and Hüseyin Gündüz, Hz. Muhammed’in Özellik-
leri: Hat sanatında hilye-i şerîfe/Characteristics of the Prophet Muhammed in Calligraphic
Art (Istanbul: Kültür Yayınları, 2006); Mohamed Zakariya, “The Hilye of the Prophet
Muhammad,” Seasons (Autumn–Winter 2003–2004): 13–22; and Nabil Safwat, The Art of
the Pen: Calligraphy of the 14th to 20th Centuries. Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art,
vol. 5 (New York: Nour Foundation in association with Azimuth Editions and Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1992), 46–68.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 579

these portable verbal icons serve as meditative devices to help viewers recall
and meditate upon the Prophet’s presence and being. Ever since the elev-
enth/seventeenth century, calligraphic hilyes have also functioned as talismans
in Ottoman and Turkish lands. The reasons for their perceived prophylactic
power are two-fold: first, like the Qurʾan, the Prophet himself is considered
a prime “talismanic force,”11 and, second, a hadith (of opaque origin) records
Muḥammad encouraging his followers to contemplate his resemblance (ḥilya)
after his death in order to “feel as if they have seen me.” This hadith goes on to
encourage believers to kiss and rub the Prophet’s countenance (ḥilya) to secure
protection from hardship and disease.12
Another laminated hilye card, offered for purchase in Eyüp in August 2016,
expands upon these details. On its verso, it enumerates the noble icon’s virtue
(Hilye-i Şerif’in fazileti).13 The text encourages the owner to read, look at, and
carry this Prophetic talisman in order to activate its dormant powers: “Who-
soever looks at it from below with love will be protected from hell and the
tortures of the grave. Whosoever carries it at their side will be granted a pavil-
ion in heaven by God. Whosoever carries it above them will be saved from all
disasters. And whosoever reads it will be granted what they desire within forty
days.” These modern, miniature hilyes thus function as visual aids for pious con-
templation and as talismans containing a mystic virtue that is thought to be
unleashed by ritualized reading, viewing, and bearing.
What are the origins of such laminated blessing cards, how are they used
in everyday life, and from what forces are they believed to protect individuals
in today’s Turkey? Although they seem novel, they represent an outgrowth of
pre-modern Islamic occult traditions as these intersect with late Ottoman cal-
ligraphic arts. Moreover, from the mid-fourteenth/twentieth century on, many
similar postcards were issued as colored prints. These often depict the Prophet’s
hilye, Qurʾanic chapters and verses deemed especially protective, and other
talismanic devices. Some of these postcards are imprinted with the expression,
“May your holiday be blessed” (Bayramınız kutlu olsun). Some stamped post-
cards that survive today include the writers’ handwritten notes wishing their
addressees a happy Bayram or ʿĪd al-Fiṭr (Feast of Breaking the Fast), which
marks the end of the holy month of Ramadan.

11 W.E. Staples, “Muhammad, a Talismanic Force,” The American Journal of Semitic Languages
and Literatures 57, no. 1 (1940): 63–70.
12 Taşkale and Gündüz, Hz. Muhammed’in Özellikleri, 18.
13 This card, now in the author’s collection, depicts the hilye surrounded by basmalas on its
recto.
580 gruber

While such items were and are given as gifts to celebrate the end of Rama-
dan, the Prophet’s birthday, and other Islamic holidays, they also circulate out-
side of religious festivities. Indeed, these blessing cards can be acquired or
offered at any time during the calendar year and so are widely found in quo-
tidian settings: for instance, nestled in an individual’s pocket or wallet, affixed
to the front and rear windows of cars, taxis, and buses, or hung on the walls
of homes, stores, and restaurants. These light, portable, and easy-to-use amu-
letic items thus prosper in diverse contexts, from the personal to the domestic
and commercial. Whether carried on the body or pasted to a surface, they are
believed to protect from disease and disaster, avert the evil eye, and strengthen
vulnerable areas such as a vehicle’s windows or a building’s doors, which are
thought particularly susceptible to negative energies and dangerous forces.
Not infrequently, various blessing cards and laminated magnets are accu-
mulated for optimal talismanic effect. Such is the case for a popular restaurant
in the Beyoğlu area of Istanbul, where amuletic cards and magnets ornament
a wall behind the food dishes laid out before customers (Figure 13.4). From
the top row to the bottom appear a beautifully calligraphed basmala; the “eye
verse” (nazar ayeti), the Qurʾanic verse (68:51) that mentions the harmful eyes
of enemies, topped by an evil-averting blue eye bead (nazar boncuğu); a swirl-
ing disk of thirty-five basmalas said to be the “means to prosperity and bless-
ing” (rızık ve berekete vesiledir); a magnet containing three Qurʾanic excerpts,
that is, the “ant-blessing prayer” (karınca bereket duası), which contains invoc-
ations to God, the Prophet, and the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, the “eye verse”
(nazar ayeti), and the “Throne Verse” (ayetel kürsi), the latter a Qurʾanic passage
that praises God’s omnipotence (2:255). These verses—most especially āyat
al-kursī—count among the Qurʾan’s pre-eminent “verses of protection” (āyāt
al-ḥifẓ).14 For these reasons, they are believed to provide blessings and protec-
tion, especially against the evil eye. These talismans highlight the widespread
paraliturgical use of the Qurʾan against malefic intention in Turkey, a practice
that stretches back centuries to the holy text—itself God’s divine speech offer-

14 Āyat al-kursī is widely recited as a cure-all formula (Francesca Leoni, “Sacred Words, Sac-
red Power: Qurʾanic and Pious Phrases as Sources of Healing and Protection,” in Power
and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural, ed. Francesca Leoni [Oxford: Ashmolean
Museum, 2016], 57). For instance, during the early decades of the fourteenth/twentieth
century, Bess Allen Donaldson recorded Iranian practices involving āyat al-kursī, such as
the bending and unbending of the fingers of both hands in order to follow the rhythm
of the verse’s ten pauses (Bess Allen Donaldson “The Koran as Magic,” Muslim World 27
[1937]: 264). James Robson recorded the use of āyat al-kursī to quiet crying children and
to cure epilepsy (James Robson, “Magic Cures in Popular Islam,” Muslim World 24 [1934]:
34 and 36).
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 581

figure 13.4 Cards and magnets displaying a variety of Islamic

amulets, affixed to a wall in a restaurant located
in Beyoğlu, Istanbul
Photograph taken by the author in
January 2018

ing both “healing and mercy” (17:82). These amulets are based on the scriptural
foundations of the faith, and thus “commonly performed talismanic uses of the
Qurʾan stem not from a deviation from the Islamic tradition but arise at the
center of its religious authority.”15

15 Kathleen Malone O’Connor, “Popular and Talismanic Uses of the Qurʾān,” in Encyclopaedia
582 gruber

Below these textual talismans drawn from Holy Scripture, the middle mag-
net incorporates several amuletic texts and images, among them the “eye” and
“throne” verses flanking representations of Muḥammad’s traces and personal
effects, in this instance his foot- and sandalprints, strand of hair, noble-seal
impression, and holy mantle. These Prophetic marks and items are believed to
channel the Prophet’s baraka, a theme that will be discussed in greater detail
shortly. Also included in this middle magnet is a wheel-like diagram contain-
ing God’s supreme name (Allāh), from which thirty-five basmalas pirouette in
unison. This graphic rendering suggests that the power of the one God pivots
outwardly, like rays of sun.
For its part, the basmala often is written as an incipit to a document—
including all Qurʾanic suras—and uttered aloud by an individual embarking on
an activity or endeavor. As an opening and easing praise-formula whose genea-
logy stretches back to holy scripture, it is believed to carry beneficial properties.
Its manifold repetition was (and, in some places, still is) believed to act as an
antidote to poison.16 In contemporary Turkey, many websites, booklets, and
amulets describe its numerous merits ( faziletler).17 For example, one blessing
card depicting the thirty-five basmala wheel includes on its verso the follow-
ing explanation: “The benefits of the thirty-five noble basmala: If the basmala
is written thirty-five times and hung in the home or workplace, the blessing
of that place increases. The earnings of that place increase. That place will be
protected from jinns, the evil of Satan, fire, and malicious eyes.”18 That the bas-
mala is considered especially effective in countering poison and protecting a
workplace from fire while augmenting its financial income would certainly be
a proposition appealing to a restaurateur.
Moving down the rows of talismans, the lowermost magnet displays ninety-
nine of God’s “beautiful names” rendered in Arabic script, next to which
appears the Prophet’s “noble countenance” (hilye-i şerif ). The iconotextual
hilye serves to recall the Prophet’s physical and moral features while also chan-
neling his talismanic force, while the enumeration of the names of God is
believed to carry with it numerous advantages, among them securing entry into

of the Qurʾān, ed. Jane Dammen McAuliffe: http://dx.doi.org.proxy.lib.umich.edu/10.1163/

1875‑3922_q3_EQCOM_00152.
16 Robson, “Magic Cures in Popular Islam,” 36.
17 See, among others, “Besmele’nin Faziletleri,” Dua Hazinesi, http://www.dualarhazinesi
.com/2014/08/besmelenin‑faziletleri.html.
18 35 besmele-i şerifin fazileti: Besmele 35 defa yazılıp eve veya iş yerine asılırsa o yerin bereketi
artar. İş yerinin kazancı çoğalır. Cin, şeytan şerrinden, yangından ve kem gözlerden korun-
muş olur. Blessing card offered for sale in a religious goods shop in İzmir in June 2016 and
now in author’s collection.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 583

Paradise.19 Taken together, these names are intended to capture the unboun-
ded totality and supreme power of God through his many honorific epithets,
several of which praise his ability to provide, preserve, and restore. These and
many other adjectival names praise God’s paramount ability to guide, protect,
and heal the faithful. As a textual product, the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā magnet thus
appears as if a “visual dhikr”—or pious recollection in pictorial form—insofar
as it invites devotees to perform prayerful litanies (sg. wird).20 As a grapheme,
moreover, these ninety-nine names occupy single cells that depict a checker-
board, in a manner similar to the magic square, itself a staple of Islamic occult
arts.21
Although these many amulets fall squarely within Islamic traditions, to what
extent do they reflect their viewer’s religious sentiments and worldview? To
answer this question, I interviewed the restaurant’s owner—to whom I shall
refer by the pseudonym “Iskender”—in August 2015. Iskender informed me
that his father gave these amulets to him and personally placed them in his
restaurant in 2012. Echoing a practice in his home village on the Black Sea,
the placing of these Islamic amulets was a gesture, from father to son, wish-
ing the restaurant protection and prosperity. According to Iskender, running a
restaurant is fraught with perils and uncertainties: for example, a kitchen fire
can consume one’s investment, while the rising cost of foodstuffs erodes the
business’s profits. More recently, especially during and after the Gezi uprisings
of 2013, the Taksim area has witnessed police violence and a harsh economic
downturn. Iskender has thus had to cope with the occasional closing of his res-
taurant during tear-gas attacks. Additionally, in our COVID-19 pandemic era,
the precarity of his business must be more acute than ever. This adverse turn
of events for the restaurateur requires some extra hope, better luck, and greater
protection. To this end, Iskender told me in 2015, the Qurʾanic amulets may be
of symbolic assistance—just like the miniature Qurʾan hanging in the kitchen
and the garlic suspended above the restaurant’s entrance door.22

19 Al-Ghazālī, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God, trans. David Burrell and Nazih Daher
(Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1992), 172.
20 On the expression “visual dhikr,” see O’Connor, “Popular and Talismanic Uses of the
Qurʾān”; and Leoni, “Sacred Words, Sacred Power,” 65.
21 On the magic square (wafq), see Schuyler Cammann, “Islamic and Indian Magic Squares
Part 1,”History of Religions 8, no. 3 (1969): 181–209; Schuyler Cammann, “Islamic and Indian
Magic Squares Part 2,” History of Religions 8, no. 4 (1969b): 271–299; Tewfik Canaan, “The
Decipherment of Arabic Talismans,” in Magic and Divination in Early Islam, ed. Emilie
Savage-Smith (Aldershot UK and Burlington VT: Ashgate Variorum, 2004), 125–178; and
Bink Hallum’s chapter in the present volume.
22 The garlic is believed to act as a dispeller of negative energy and disease in Islamic Proph-
584 gruber

For Iskender, however, the Islamic amulets are of paramount importance. In

his estimation, the uttering of positive prayers (duas) must wield more power
than belief in the negative nazar (evil eye). Here, Iskender draws a distinc-
tion between licit and illicit magic, and, potentially, between Islamic and non-
Islamic belief systems. Although he shows a clear preference for identifiably
“Islamic” amulets, he admits that he does not speak, read, or write Arabic, and
their contents therefore remain accessible to him only in Turkish translation, if
available. Despite these items’ system of religious reference, Iskender also tells
me that he does not consider himself particularly devout. As a largely secu-
lar individual, he highlights the fact that he does not fast during the month of
Ramadan and enjoys drinking alcohol, especially with his father—the very per-
son who clad the restaurant in a shield of Islamic amulets. Thus, for Iskender,
these laminated cards and magnets do not—and, on account of the language
barrier, cannot—prompt him to utter Arabic prayers drawn from the Qurʾan.
Instead, he notes, they remind him to be “honest” (dürüst) and to do “good”
(iyilik) in his everyday life. They thus act as an encouragement to ethical beha-
vior, a code of conduct that he takes seriously in his personal and professional
life. After all, he tells me, he gives all his leftover food to his employees, the
homeless, and the street dogs and cats of Beyoğlu.
While it might be difficult to detect a particular ordering principle in this
case, Iskender’s approach to amulets—whether these are defined as “Islamic”
or not—proves unexceptional. Many people in Turkey have recourse to protect-
ive devices through their dynamic inscription into a religious tradition, even
when rationalist discourses also contribute a dominant paradigm for iden-
tity formation. As Iskender’s example shows, the Qurʾan can still hold pride of
place, even in more secular settings. To maximize its baraka, it can be com-
bined freely with miscellaneous apotropaia, including garlic, eye beads, and
even cult images of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (d. 1357/1938), the founding father
of the secular Republic of Turkey.
Consequently, to draw too strict a distinction between “Islamic” and “non-
Islamic” amulets would skirt a more complex reality, in which these various
amuletic devices do not merely comprise a hodgepodge of material stuff. More
significantly, they reveal that Qurʾanic and prophetic talismanry can thrive

etic medicine and Anatolian vernacular traditions. Although it caused noxious breath,
garlic was nevertheless used as a curative substance in Islamic traditions of Prophetic
medicine (al-ṭibb al-nabawī). See, e.g., Cyril Elgood, “Tibb-ul-Nabbi or Medicine of the
Prophet,” Osiris 14 (1962): 76 (on garlic relieving the pains of a cold or easing the sting of a
scorpion bite), and 191, no. 123 (for the advice, “Eat garlic, for in it lies the cure for seventy
diseases”).
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 585

alongside vernacular beliefs and laic imagery. As Heinko Henkel reminds us,
“Muslimness, and the discourses regarding it, are hinged to only some aspects
of the heterogeneous realm of material culture.”23 Those aspects and objects
not necessarily encompassed by the Islamic tradition nevertheless are believed
to help harness positive forces and, like garlic, repel the undesirable.

2 Prophetic Baraka: Muḥammad’s Traces and Effects

The production of blessing cards has accelerated in recent years. Since 2015,
many of them depict the Prophet’s relics on their rectos and display Turkish-
language descriptions of their merits ( faydalar) and virtues ( faziletler) on
their versos. While many of these innovative cards include the representation
of a single Prophetic trace or object—such as Muḥammad’s foot- or sandalprint
and his “noble seal” (mühr-ü şerif )—others depict them as a larger collective,
that is, as a sweeping metonymy for the Prophet’s presence and being. Much
like the hilye, which invites an imagining of Muḥammad through text arranged
in diagrammatic form, these types of representation deftly circumvent figural
representation. The contemporary depiction of the Prophet’s traces and effects
also revives the past by drawing upon older Ottoman Prophet-centered devo-
tional and artistic traditions, while propelling Islamic occult arts toward new,
and increasingly lucrative, horizons.
The Prophet’s “noble seal” (mühr-ü şerif ) is found on several blessing cards,
including the so-called “radiant documents” emulating the older format of
state-issued identity cards (as in Figure 13.3). On such cards, it also constitutes
a subject unto itself, with the seal’s inscribed outline shown on the recto and
its range of virtues enumerated on the verso (Figure 13.5). Most often, the seal
contains Arabic inscriptions that provide the shahāda—the Muslim witness-
ing of the faith declaring that “There is no god but God, and Muḥammad is His
Prophet”—or, more succinctly, “Muḥammad is the Messenger of God.” The lat-
ter is the case in Figure 13.3, where the Prophet’s status as God’s envoy is written
in a lapidary script in emulation of the seal impression left by his signet ring.24

23 Heiko Henkel, “The Location of Islam: Inhabiting Istanbul in a Muslim Way,” American
Ethnologist 34, no. 1 (2007): 65.
24 For a discussion of Muḥammad’s seal, see Venetia Porter et al., Arabic and Persian Seals
and Amulets in the British Museum (London: British Museum, 2011), 1–2; and Christiane
Gruber, “ ‘Go Wherever You Wish, for Verily You are Well Protected’: Seal Designs in Late
Ottoman Amulet Scrolls and Prayer Books,” in Visions of Enchantment: Occultism, Spiritual-
ity, and Visual Culture, ed. Daniel Zamani and Judith Noble (London: Fulgur, 2019), 23–35.
586 gruber

figure 13.5 Laminated blessing card (bereket kartelası) of the prophet Muḥammad’s
“noble seal” (right) and its virtues (left), offered for sale at a religious-goods
shop next to the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016. Laminated
paper. 11.4 × 7.5 cm
Item now in the author’s collection

The question of their authenticity aside, Muḥammad’s seal and examples of its
impression on several letters attributed to his hand are today preserved in Top-
kapı Palace, Istanbul.25 These locally-held “blessed trusts” (mübarek emanetler)
associated with the Prophet no doubt inspired these amuletic designs on bless-
ing cards.26
On the one hand, Muḥammad’s “noble seal” was the impression left by
his signet ring, while, on the other, his “seal of prophecy” was a fleshy pro-
tuberance located between his shoulder blades, whose circular shape was
likened to a pigeon’s egg or curtain button. This mark left on the Prophet’s

25 Hilmi Aydın, Pavilion of the Sacred Relics: The Sacred Trusts, Topkapı Palace Museum, Istan-
bul (Istanbul: Kaynak Kitaplığı), 98–100.
26 It also has inspired collegiate-styled silver rings of “the Prophet’s Noble Seal” that are
widely available to a Turkish male clientele. For example, see the various rings (identi-
fied as Allah Resulü Muhammed Mührü Şerif gümüş erkek yüzük) offered for sale at gitti-
gidiyor (the Turkish eBay) at: http://www.gittigidiyor.com/arama/?k=m%C3%BChr%C3
%BC+%C5%9Ferif+y%C3%BCz%C3%BCk. The Prophet’s seal impression also appears
as the central logogram in the flag of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS). In the flag
and other ISIS products, it functions as an iconotextual device representing ISIS militants
as “armed” with the Prophet’s authority, inheritance, strength, perhaps even blessing.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 587

body, Islamic textual sources inform us, allowed the Christian monk Baḥīrā
to recognize Muḥammad’s apostleship well before the beginnings of revela-
tion. In addition, various authors stress its Prophetic baraka. For example, in
his book compiling statements about the physical features and moral charac-
teristics of the Prophet (shamāʾil al-nabī), al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892), a pupil of
the famous hadith compiler al-Bukhārī (d. 256/870), records its ability to cure
pain upon viewing, convert to Islam upon rubbing, and forgive sins upon kiss-
ing.27
The seal depicted in Figure 13.5 probably represents the corporeal trace of
Muḥammad’s prophecy, not the impression left by his signet ring. Inscribed
with the complete shahāda, its virtues are enumerated on its back. The fol-
lowing advice, attributed to al-Tirmidhī (= Tirmizi), is imparted: “Whoever has
performed ablutions and looks at the noble seal in the morning will be pro-
tected until evening, whoever looks at it at the beginning of the month will be
protected until the end of the month, whoever looks at it when leaving a place
will be protected until his return. He will pass prosperous and blessed times.
If someone dies within a year of looking at the noble seal, God willing, he will
cross over to the Afterworld with faith.”28 These words of wisdom about visu-
ally unlocking the seal’s baraka are credited to al-Tirmidhī and are found also
in Ottoman amuletic depictions of the seal of the Prophet made between the
tenth/sixteenth and thirteenth/nineteenth centuries.29 As a consequence, the
ritualized viewing and interacting with such amuletic images are represented
as emerging from hadith compilation and hence rooted in long-lasting Sunni

27 Al-Tirmidhī, Shamāʾil al-Nabī, ed. Māhir Yāsīn Faḥl (Beirut: Dār al-Gharb al-Islāmī, 2000),
42–46 (bāb mā jāʾa fī khatam al-nubuwwa); and Hidayat Hosein, “A Translation of Ash-
Shama’ʾil of Tirmizi,” Islamic Culture (July 1933): 401–404.
28 The Turkish text reads in full: “Mührü Şerif’in Fâzileti: Her kim abdestli olarak sabahtan
Mühr-ü Şerif’e baksa, akşama kadar, ayın evvelinde baksa ayın sonuna kadar, yola çıkarken
baksa, gittiği yerden dönünceye kadar, kendisine geçen zamanlar hayırlı ve mübarek olur.
Müfrü [sic] Şerif’e baktığı sene içerisinde ölürse, inşallah iman ile ahirete göçmüş olur.
Tirmizi.”
29 Among other things, see the minute Ottoman thirteenth/nineteenth-century depiction of
the hilye of the Prophet (on its recto) and his seal of apostleship (on its verso) now held in
the Topkapı Palace Library, G.Y. 1500. The seal includes a citation of al-Tirmidhī encour-
aging its viewers to look at the seal day and night in order to secure protection from a range
of calamities (Aşk-ı Nebi: Doğumunun 1443. Yılında Hz. Peygamber / Love for the Prophet: The
Prophet Muhammad on the 1443th Anniversary of his Birth [Istanbul: Kültür Sanat Basımevi,
2014], 128, cat. no. 23). For an example dated to the tenth/sixteenth to twelfth/eighteenth
century, see Safwat, The Art of the Pen, 48–50, cat. no. 25; and Francesca Leoni, ed., Power
and Protection: Islamic Art and the Supernatural (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2016), 85,
cat. no. 94.
588 gruber

Muslim belief and practice—itself carried over, innovated upon, and passed
down by Ottoman and Turkish patrons and artists.
Other contemporary amulets depicting Muḥammad’s relics and traces are
likewise represented as carrying prophylactic powers and being anchored in
long-standing Islamic and Ottoman image-based devotional practices. Today,
the Prophet’s blessed trusts are shown singly or collectively, or as a combin-
ation of the two. As such, they are understood as adhering to an acceptable
“Sunna” and promoted as a “normative” form of piety, especially in today’s
Turco-Muslim cultural context and religious worldview. It is widely believed
that their intercessory power (tawaṣṣul)—especially when combined with ritu-
alized behaviors, prayers, and petitionary utterances—help to reach a desired
goal. As object intermediaries laden with talismanic virtue, such items essen-
tially promise Muslim believers rewards for pious thought, speech, and beha-
vior.
Among them, one card (printed by Kabe Basım) that was offered for sale in
Eyüp in 2016 depicts on its recto a selection of Muḥammad’s symbols and rel-
ics (Figure 13.6), while its verso includes an outline of his sandalprint filled with
Arabic prayers and accompanied by a Turkish explanatory text. Beginning first
with the recto, the Prophet appears as if an “absent presence”30 through sev-
eral of his attributes, symbols, and emblems. At the center of the card appears
the green dome of his house/mosque in Medina—itself a geographical marker
of his Prophetic career and place of inhumation—imprinted with his “noble
seal.” The words “Allāh” and “Muḥammad” in Arabic flank the dome’s finial and
function as calligrams that are readily legible even to those who cannot read
the Arabic script. Around this central medallion, moving clockwise from the
upper right corner, appear Muḥammad’s seal, its impression on green paper,
and its container; the impression of his foot (ayak izi) on a silver plaque meant
for hanging on a wall; his leather sandal (nal); his black mantle (hırka) wrapped
in green cloth and nestled in a gold box; a strand of hair from his beard (sakal)
mounted in wax and preserved in a pellucid reliquary; his water cup (kadeh),
which was strengthened with silver plating during the tenth/sixteenth cen-
tury; and a jeweled container and small glass vial containing soil from his grave
(kabir toprağı).
In addition to recalling Muḥammad through an encyclopedic approach to
his traces, places, and relics, this blessing card copies the color illustrations

30 Expression borrowed from Pierre Centlivres and Micheline Centlivres-Demont, “Une

présence absente: symboles et images populaires du Prophète Mahomet,” in Derrière les
images, ed. Marc-Olivier Gonseth et al. (Neuchâtel: Musée d’Ethnographie, 1998), 139–170.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 589

figure 13.6 Laminated blessing card (bereket kartelası) of the prophet

Muḥammad’s relics, offered for sale at a religious-goods
shop next to the Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August
2016. Laminated paper. 9.5 × 6.5 cm
Item now in the author’s collection
590 gruber

of each object as reproduced in Hilmi Aydın’s 2004 publication on the sac-

red trusts held in the Topkapı Palace Museum.31 These images thus not only
record locally held prophetic relics but also borrow directly from a scholarly
publication that is lavishly illustrated with color images. On the one hand,
the sacred trusts per se form the object of local and tourist pious visitation to
the palace museum (and the ceremonial washing of the Prophet’s mantle still
today counts among Ramadan festivities for a small group of special guests).
On the other hand, Aydın’s publication elucidates these relics’ meanings and
uses in Ottoman political and religious life, recording, in particular, how they
were collected, preserved, touched, kissed, washed, worn, and prayed over so
as to activate their protective powers and baraka.32 However inadvertently,
the publication also appears to have triggered popular laminated print cop-
ies of these relics, along with a revivification of associated beliefs and prac-
tices.
The Prophet’s sandalprint and footprint hold pride of place in contemporary
Turkish blessing cards and other religious paraphernalia. For instance, the card
illustrated in Figure 13.6 includes an outline of Muḥammad’s sandalprint—
filled with simple Arabic-language blessings addressed to Abraham, the
Prophet, and his family, below which a short Turkish-language “how-to” text
describes how to unleash the image’s apotropaic powers. The text promises
that:

Whosoever carries the noble sandal on his person will be protected, by the
permission of God, from the evil targeting him. If it is placed in a house,
the house will be protected from fire and theft. If it is above a woman, it
will ease childbirth by the grace of God. If carried, it improves one’s liveli-
hood and blessings. And whosoever continuously carries it will be granted
visitation (ziyaret) to the Prophet’s grave.

31 Aydın, Pavilion of the Sacred Relics, 101 (the seal and its container), 122 (the silver foot-
print), 127 (the leather sandal); 54 (the mantle); 103 (the beard hair), 140–141 (the cup),
and 196–197 (the soil containers).
32 For a general discussion of Muḥammad’s relics in Islamic and Ottoman traditions, see
Süleyman Beyoğlu, “The Ottomans and the Islamic Sacred Relics,” in The Great Ottoman-
Turkish Civilization, ed. Kemal Çiçek (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye, 2000), 4:36–44; Josef Meri,
“Relics of Piety and Power in Medieval Islam,” Past and Present 206, suppl. 5 (2010): 97–
120; and Brannon Wheeler, “Collecting the Dead Body of the Prophet Muhammad: Hair,
Nails, Sweat and Spit,” in The Image of the Prophet Between Ideal and Ideology: A Scholarly
Investigation, ed. Christiane Gruber and Avinoam Shalem (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014), 45–
61.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 591

Another blessing card of the sandalprint made in 2015 makes similar recom-
mendations:

If the depiction (resim) is next to a person, they are protected from assault,
defeat by enemies, the evil of satans, and the evil eye (nazar). If it is
held in the pregnant woman’s right hand, God will ease childbirth. Magic
and spells (sihir ve büyüler) cannot have an effect on those who carry it.
Whoever carries it continuously will be granted visitation to the Prophet’s
grave. They will see the Prophet in their dreams. They won’t lose in battle,
a ship won’t sink, and a house won’t burn. And if its owner needs help
with any illness, they will undoubtedly receive healing (şifa).

Time and again, devotees are encouraged to carry, wear, or hang an image of
the Prophet’s sandalprint in order to counter evil, disaster, and disease and to
reap benefits, cures, and blessings—above all, visiting the prophet Muḥammad
at his grave and seeing him in a dream vision. This belief in the potential pro-
tection afforded by the sandalprint is by no means new or unique in Islamic
lands; rather, it stretches back centuries to the many copies and calques of
Muḥammad’s sandal(s) (sg. naʿl, dual naʿlayn), which were believed to extend
the baraka of the original object. Moreover, in late Ottoman contexts in partic-
ular, the sandalprint was promoted as a legal or acceptable (mashrūʿ) symbol of
Sunni learning and as a talisman brimming with special properties (khawāṣṣ),
virtues ( fawāʾid), and benefits (manāfīʿ).33
Today, the Prophet’s sandalprint appears in many formats and media, includ-
ing as a metal pendant and magnet or embroidered as a chic, minimalist design
on tote bags and turban hats (called kufis). Widely sold in Eyüp’s religious-
goods shops, the turban hats come in various sizes and colors, the sandal-
print ornament embroidered in variously tinted threads. Adult customers often
purchase the smaller hats and offer them as gifts to young males embarking
on their first studies in religion, Arabic, or the Qurʾan. One can easily dis-
tinguish these young pupils by their sandal-printed turban hats as they wait

33 On Muḥammad’s sandal, see Anastase-Marie de St. Elie, “Le culte rendu par les Musul-
mans aux sandales de Mahomet,” Anthropos 5 (1910): 363–366, and Christiane Gruber, “A
Pious Cure-All: The Ottoman Illustrated Prayer Manual in the Lilly Library,” in The Islamic
Manuscript Tradition: Ten Centuries of Islamic Book Arts in Indiana University Collections,
ed. Christiane Gruber (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 136–137. See also the
Ottoman Turkish sandal poem dated 1872 CE reproduced in Hilmi Aydın, Hırka-i saadet
dairesi ve mukaddes emanetler (Istanbul: Kaynak Kitaplığı, 2004), 130–135, whose verses
promise cure and healing (e.g., p. 133: “Kimi cümle derdine ister deva / Cümlesi de derdine
buldu şifa”).
592 gruber

figure 13.7 Boys wearing turban hats decorated with the prophet Muḥammad’s sandal-
print, Eyüp shrine complex, Istanbul, August 2016
Photograph by the author

in line to attend their weekly classes in the Eyüp complex (Figure 13.7). In
such cases, the sandalprint turban hats suggest visually that the students must
place their heads below the Prophet’s footwear—itself an expression and act
of humility—and also that they must follow in Muḥammad’s steps as they turn
to learning the core teachings and principles of the Prophetic Sunna. If, along
the way, the sandal ornament should provide these pious, studious youngsters
with some extra blessings in their endeavors, then all the better.
Turkish adult males also wear sandalprint turban hats to complete their own
overtly religious looks and outfits, which often include a beard and loosely
fitting shirts and pants. On July 12, 2017, while I was waiting for a cab at the
Topkapı Palace taxi stop, a man wearing such recognizably “Muslim garb”34 and
sporting a turban hat rode his motorcycle to the taxi stop to deliver food to its
drivers. I noticed the sandalprint ornament crowning his headgear and asked
him how and why he came into the hat’s possession; he informed me that he

34 On Islamic vestimentary systems and the crafting of “Muslim looks,” see Emma Tarlo, Vis-
ibly Muslim: Fashion, Politics, Faith (Oxford and New York: Berg, 2010).
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 593

purchased it himself at a religious-goods shop in Eyüp. He was drawn espe-

cially to its beautiful decoration (süsleme). He explained that he believed that
placing his head under Muḥammad’s sandalprint represents an act of devotion,
a “reason” (sebeb) to live, work, and carry on, despite all of life’s uncertainties
and difficulties. Put simply, the sandal is for him a sebeb: a reason in and of
itself, requiring no further explanation. This said, he added that the sandalprint
might protect him as he whizzes around everyday on his motorcycle delivering
food.
For others—especially the makers and sellers of these types of goods—the
Prophet’s sandal and sandalprint can turn a handsome profit. For example,
Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca (b. 1384/1965), the famous Turkish Muslim preacher based
in the Istanbul district of Fatih, has, in the recent past, promoted the many
blessings of Muḥammad’s sandal. He has written a tract and delivered sermons
on the subject and has even produced real leather sandals emulating those
of the Prophet. In 2017, he spent considerable time encouraging his listeners
to “run, citizen, run to acquire these specially priced, genuine leather sandals
whose benefits are countless and that bring about dreams of the Prophet.”35
The cost of these items? 130 Turkish liras, or the equivalent of about $ 40 at the
time. This was a high price for his middle- to lower-middle-income followers. As
his critics have been quick to point out, the financial gain from these products
enables Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca—the much-beloved and equally-reviled “dealer
in religion” (din tüccarı)—to vacation in the Swiss Alps and jet-ski in Malta.
Regardless of one’s opinion of Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca and his leather replicas
of the Prophet’s sandals, the prophet Muḥammad’s relics present big business
opportunities in Turkey today. They highlight the more commercial aspects of
this type of trade—itself paradigmatic of the country’s larger neoliberal eco-
nomic landscape—as they intersect with a renewed interest in Islamic and
Ottoman religious and artistic cultures. At the same time, these visual and
material products allow Turkish Muslims to perform their visibly Muslim Sunni
selves in everyday life.36
As a case in point, one may turn to one last blessing card that depicts the
Prophet’s footprint (kadem), printed by Semazen Pazarlama in 2015. Its verso
includes a list of nineteen merits. We read that the footprint protects against
evil people, defeat by one’s enemies, Satan, jealousy (hasûd), and the evil eye

35 “Din tüccarı Cübbeli, Peygamberi güya rüyaya getiren terliği 130 Tl ye pazarlamış,” Haber-
Som, 30 April 2017, http://www.habersom.com/din‑tuccari‑cubbeli‑peygamberi‑guya‑ru
yaya‑getiren‑terligi‑130‑tl‑ye‑pazarlamis/.
36 This sociological expression is inspired by Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in
Everyday Life (Woodstock: Overlook Press, 1973).
594 gruber

(nazar). It renders magic (sihir) ineffective, induces dreams of the Prophet,

brings blessing to all buildings, provides assistance if carried in battle, and acts
as a safeguard during a journey. If carried on a boat, the boat won’t sink; if in a
house, the house won’t burn. If its carrier petitions any intermediary (tevessül)
for anything, then they will most certainly attain their desires. If a sick (but not
deceased) person carries it, they will be granted intercession by the Prophet
on the Day of Judgment. At the bottom of the verso, these nineteen merits are
noted as cited directly from the “Saadetü’d-Dareyn, pages 535–536.”
Two details are notable. First, like Muḥammad’s other relics, the footprint
is promoted as an intercessory means (tawaṣṣul) to secure one’s desires and
optimize positive results. In some Muslim traditions, including those propag-
ated in Salafi-Wahhabi contexts, the use of objects and persons (including
the Prophet and saints) to achieve an objective is frowned upon, considered
a blameworthy innovation (bidʿa), and hence forbidden and even punished.
Conversely, these blessing cards highlight a Turkish Sunni Muslim worldview
in which the use of object-based tawaṣṣul is not only permitted but widely
encouraged. As a result, this particular construction of Islamic orthodoxy and
orthopraxy embraces the symbolic power and ritualized use of objects believed
laden with baraka, chief among them the Prophet’s footprint and sandalprint.
Second, the merits of the footprint as included on the blessing card are noted
as excerpted from Shaykh Ibrāhīm al-Samnūdī’s (d. 1314/1897), Kitāb Saʿādat
al-dārayn fī l-radd ʿalā l-firqatayn al-Wahhābiyya wa-muqalladat al-Ẓāhiriyya
(“The bliss of the two abodes in the refutation of the two sects, Wahhabis and
Zahiris”), which was printed in Cairo in 1319/1901. Al-Samnūdī’s opus offers
an outspoken manifesto against Wahhabism. The text articulates a doctrine
of the ahl al-Sunna against Salafism while also promoting belief in tawaṣṣul.
To a certain degree, this position translates in turn into the preservation of
Muḥammad’s relics from Wahhabi destruction and also religiously supports
their reiteration in Muslim practices and products, extending forward to today’s
mass production of the amuletic and talismanic arts.
Blessing cards and other devotional paraphernalia depicting the Prophet’s
relics thrive at the juncture of various cultural, political, and religious forces
at work in Turkey today. As they reiterate Ottoman forms of Islamic devotion,
they engage in an aesthetics of public piety and heritage preservation. Such
forces and practices come together to form a nostalgic form of “pious neo-
Ottomanism.”37 To some critics, this revivalist “Ottomania” is simply obsessed

37 Jeremy Walton, “Practices of Neo-Ottomanism: Making Space and Place Virtuous in Istan-
bul,” in Orienting Istanbul: Cultural Capital of Europe?, ed. Deniz Göktürk, Levent Soysal,
and İpek Türeli (London and New York: Routledge, 2010), 89.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 595

with, and parasitic on, a glorious bygone past, while, to others, it represents a
positive mining of Ottoman-Muslim civilization and its discursive, artistic, and
material repertoire. For creative entrepreneurs, this past also can be monet-
ized in a capitalist system of supply and demand, yielding copious “prophetic
profits.” As for the pious consumers themselves, these relic cards and objects
are believed to provide guidance and help and even to invoke dream visions
of Muḥammad. They allow numerous Turkish Muslims to stake out a pro-
image and pro-amulet Sunni position that simultaneously rejects Wahhabi-
Salafi models of proper piety, which otherwise seek to bar the use of intercess-
ory media and the occult arts in general.

3 Nazar Boncuğu: The Eye Bead’s New “Islamic” Twists

In Turkey, evil eye beads (nazar boncuğu) made of blue glass are sold and used
alongside more overtly “Islamic” amulets, such as Qurʾanic verses and images
of the Prophet’s relics.38 These glass objects are believed to protect against and
avert the evil eye. They also function as decorative devices often found hanging
in homes and stores, ornamenting jewelry, and in a wide array of other objects
offered for sale to local consumers and tourists wishing to acquire what is
popularly considered a recognizable “Turkish” souvenir (alongside other favor-
ites, such as “Turkish” delight and “Turkish” coffee). The eye bead has thus
achieved a bivalent status as a “heraldic shield” in its dual role as a national
visual emblem and a quintessential amulet (Figure 13.8).
The belief in the evil eye is neither peculiar to Turkey nor limited to Muslim
lands. It is a universal superstition concerned with the gaze of a jealous indi-
vidual, whose malefic eye is believed to emit (sometimes deliberately, some-
times involuntarily) negative energy that causes bodily harm, including
death.39 In other words, the evil eye is a “covetous form of looking”40 propelled

38 For a general discussion of eye beads in Turkey, see Ronald Marchese, ed., The Fabric of
Life: Cultural Transformations in Turkish Society (Binghamton, NY: Global Academic Pub-
lishing, 2005), 99–125. Further studies follow below.
39 See in particular Alan Dundes, “Wet and Dry, the Evil Eye: An Essay in Indo-European and
Semitic Worldview,” in Interpreting Folklore, ed. Alan Dundes (Bloomington: Indiana Uni-
versity Press, 1980), 93–296; and Edward Westermarck, Pagan Survivals in Mohammedan
Civilisation: Lectures on the Traces of Pagan Beliefs, Customs, Folklore, Practices and Rituals
Surviving in the Popular Religion and Magic of Islamic Peoples (Amsterdam: Philo Press,
1973), 24.
40 Salime Leyla Gürkan, “Nazar [in World Cultures],” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslâm Ansikloped-
isi, vol. 32 (2006): 443.
596 gruber

figure 13.8 Booth selling a variety of eye beads, Nazarköy, June 2016
Photograph by the author

by envy—itself a term derived from the Latin invidia, meaning “to look mali-
ciously upon.”41 As a psycho-kinetic force, malevolent envy is believed to target
especially vulnerable people, sensitive places, and transitional states, including
children, pregnant women, animals, and doorways, as well as moments of birth,
illness, pregnancy, and death.42 For these reasons, objects protecting against
the evil eye can be found in many religions and cultures.
In Islamic traditions, the belief in the evil eye can be traced back to the
Qurʾan (68:51), which warns of the piercing power of the enemy’s eyes (abṣār).
Mentions of the malefic glance appear frequently in the hadith, in which
the prophet Muḥammad is recorded as recommending to his followers: “Take
refuge from naẓar in God, because the [touch of the] eye is real.”43 The topic

41 Helmut Schoeck, “The Evil Eye: Forms and Dynamics of Universal Superstition,” Emory
University Quarterly 11 (1955): 154.
42 H.Z. Koşay, “Etnoğrafya Müzesindeki Nazarlık, Muska ve Hamailler,” Türk Etnoğrafya Der-
gisi 1 (1956): 87.
43 The hadith mentions the fact that the “[evil] eye is real” (al-ʿayn ḥaqq), see, e.g., Ṣaḥīḥ
al-Bukhārī, 39.16 and 76.36; Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 39.16; and Sunan Ibn Mājah, 31.3635. These and
other mentions of the evil eye can be consulted at https://sunnah.com.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 597

of the evil eye is taken up by numerous Muslim writers, including Ibn Khaldūn
(d. 808/1406), who held views antagonistic toward magic and superstition. He
nevertheless devotes an entire section to the subject in his Muqaddima (“Intro-
duction [to history]”), in which he describes this mental form of assassination
induced by the gaze:

Another psychic influence is that of the eye, that is, an influence exercised
by the soul of the person who has the evil eye. A thing or situation appears
pleasing to the eye of a person, and he likes it very much. This (circum-
stance) creates in him envy and the desire to take it away from its owner.
Therefore, he prefers to destroy him.44

Blending local vernacular and sometimes non-Islamic traditions and beliefs

with information drawn from Islamic textual sources, the evil eye has per-
meated Middle Eastern cultures for centuries. Its prevalence is attested to by
numerous terms and expressions, among them ʿayn in Arabic; nazar or göz
in Turkish; and chashm-i bad (evil eye) and chasm-i ḥasūd (envious eye) in
Persian.45 To counter the malefic gaze, a wide range of talismans have been
made, whose constituent materials include, for example, cowry shells (known
as “eye-crackers”), agate, onyx (known as “father of avarice”), mother-of-pearl,
panther’s claws, pieces of horn, and deer skin.46
In Turkey, blue glass “eye beads” (göz boncuğu) are the preferred format
and material for this evil-averting device. Such beads can be combined with
Fāṭima’s hand, apotropaic spitting, and uttering protective phrases.47 The color
blue is considered especially effective in dispelling and killing negative

44 Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, 3 vols., trans. Franz Rosenthal
(New York: Pantheon Books, 1958), 170.
45 Rachel Parikh, “Evil Eye,” in Islam: A Worldwide Encyclopedia, ed. Cenap Çakmak (New
York: Praeger, 2017), 2:422–423; Ph. Marçais, “ʿAyn,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed.;
Ebrāhīm Šakūrzāda and Mahmoud Omidsalar, “Čašm-zaḵm,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica
https://iranicaonline.org/articles/casm‑zakm‑lit; İlyas Çelebi, “Nazar [in Islam],” in Tür-
kiye Diyanet Vakfı İslâm Ansiklopedisi, vol. 32 (2006): 444–446; D. Edwards, “The Evil Eye
and Middle Eastern Culture,” Folklore Annual of the University Folklore Association 3 (1971):
33–41; Bess Allen Donaldson, The Wild Rue: A Study of Muhammadan Magic and Folklore
in Iran (London: Luzac, 1938), 13–23; and Gürkan, “Nazar [in World Cultures].”
46 Donaldson, The Wild Rue, 20.
47 Metin Ekici and Pınar Fedakar, “Gelenek, aktarma, dönüşüm ve kültürel endüstrisi bağ-
lamında nazar ve nazar boncuğu (Evil Eye and the Evil Eye Bead in the Context of Tradi-
tion, Transmission, Transformation and Cultural Industry),” Milli Folklor 101 (2014): 43–44;
and on Persian traditions of spitting to avert the evil eye, see Donaldson, The Wild Rue,
18.
598 gruber

energy.48 The reason for this belief is in part due to the rarity of blue eyes among
Turks; as a result, blue-eyed people are thought to have supernatural powers,
including the capacity to emit or absorb nazar.49 As for the shape and image of
the eye itself, it is considered to be able to “throw back” the evil gaze through
the medium of glass, whose mirroring and reflective properties are said to be
especially effective against extramitted rays of covetousness.50 If the glass bead
happens to display a crack—which, due to the material’s fragility, is often the
case—it also is thought to have encountered or repelled an evil gaze.51 These
glass beads thus function as sentinels on active duty, with eyes wide open and
on the lookout for enemy forces to neutralize via both preemptive and defens-
ive means.
While the tradition of nazar boncuğu stretches back for centuries, there
has been a noticeable increase in its production since the middle of the four-
teenth/twentieth century.52 While many eye beads are mass produced in China,
more local places and methods of fabrication in Turkey today benefit from sup-
port and interest. For example, the town of Nazarköy (literally, “village of eye
beads”), located near the coastal city of Izmir, draws its income almost entirely
from its production of glass eye beads made in traditional kilns. Visitors to Naz-
arköy travel to the village specifically to amble among the booths displaying
thousands of evil-averting beads. As seen in Figure 13.8, most beads are made
of blue glass and shaped like eyes, with concentric pupils marking their centers.
Other beads meant to protect a domestic space are shaped like houses, while
pairs of fish (called aşık balık, or fish-in-love) are believed to protect married
couples in particular.
Nazarköy is the home of Mahmut Sür, who was recognized in 2012 by
UNESCO as a “Living Human Treasure” for his contributions to the design and
production of beads in the village. Although Sür benefited from traditional
training in glassmaking, he is committed to updating his bead designs and col-

48 Çelebi, “Nazar [in Islam],” 445.

49 Nilgün Çıblak, “Halk kültüründe nazar, nazarlık inancı ve bunlara bağlı uygulamalar,”
Türklük Bilimi Araştırmaları 15 (2004): 111; Ekici and Fedakar, “Gelenek, aktarma, dönüşüm
ve kültürel endüstrisi bağlamında nazar ve nazar boncuğu,” 45.
50 Westermarck, Pagan Survivals in Mohammedan Civilisation, 39.
51 Çıblak, “Halk kültüründe nazar, nazarlık inancı ve bunlara bağlı uygulamalar,” 110.
52 There has been a recent rediscovery of the hamsa motif in Israel after its initial margin-
alization when the country focused on secularization (Alexandra Nocke, The Place of the
Mediterranean in Modern Israeli Identity [Leiden: Brill, 2009], 132–135). It is possible that
Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s reforms in the early decades of the fourteenth/twentieth century
similarly affected the production and usage of talismans in Turkey.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 599

ors. He reminds us that the “updating of tradition” (geleneğin güncellemesi)53

is necessary—that innovation breathes new life into, rather than corrupts,
“Turkish handicrafts” as these have been passed down through the genera-
tions. Today, his studio and kiln provide an experience for tourists, who visit
his garden, drink tea, listen to music, and try their hand at making glass beads.
In such lively surroundings, Nazarköy “has embraced this method of presenta-
tion and now [the village] has taken its place in the field of cultural tourism as
a place where tradition remains alive.”54 Reigning supreme among such tradi-
tions is the evil-dispelling glass talisman.
Today, eye beads continue to be produced through a creative “updating of
tradition.” While Sür does not specify what such innovations might be, it is
clear that they emerge in part due to financial and religious pressures. When
I visited Nazarköy in August 2016, I spoke at length with the master glassmaker
Uğur.55 He informed me that he and his colleagues are preoccupied with lower-
ing the cost of their products, since they now must compete with evil eye
beads that are cheaply mass-produced in China. Moreover, they must make
beads containing more overtly “Islamic” content. To illustrate this increas-
ing domestic demand for less “pagan-like” amulets, Uğur shared an anecdote
with me. He said that one day a veiled woman told him that she would not
buy an eye bead because such items are “Satan’s eye” (şeytan gözü). However,
she reassured him that she does believe in the injurious power of the human
gaze (nazar), since nazar is mentioned in the Qurʾan. This religious Muslim
woman’s fear of lapsing into pagan or polytheistic superstition is not unique
but is shared and proliferating among some devout Sunni Muslims in Turkey
today.
To remain in business, Uğur and other artisans have had to become even
more innovative than Sür, creating recognizably “Islamic” eye beads for a diver-
sifying clientele. As a consequence, new types of beads have begun to emerge
in the past few years. Instead of containing a cornea and pupil, these novel
products include Arabic-script calligraphic content, such as the names of God
and Muḥammad and various apotropaic Qurʾanic verses, especially āyat al-
kursī (Figure 13.9). Also offered for sale alongside these newly “Islamized” eye
beads in Nazarköy are Qurʾanic talismans, models of the Kaʿba, and other devo-

53 Ekici and Fedakar, “Gelenek, aktarma, dönüşüm ve kültürel endüstrisi bağlamında nazar
ve nazar boncuğu,” 46.
54 Ekici and Fedakar, “Gelenek, aktarma, dönüşüm ve kültürel endüstrisi bağlamında nazar
ve nazar boncuğu,” 48.
55 Uğur is a master bead-maker who also manages the Facebook page “Nazarköy Boncuk”
(https://www.facebook.com/nazarkoy.boncuk.7).
600 gruber

figure 13.9 “Islamized” eye beads inscribed with the name of God (Allāh) and the “Throne
Verse” (āyat al-kursī) in Arabic script, Nazarköy, June 2016
Photograph by the author

tional paraphernalia that one would find more readily in Eyüp. Here and else-
where then, amulets and talismans still thrive, albeit overlaid increasingly with
signs and symbols more firmly rooted in Islamic tradition. This kind of “updat-
ing of tradition,” to borrow Sür’s fitting expression, sheds light on ongoing
anxieties and their creative solutions within the sphere of—and marketplace
for—the occult arts in Turkey today.

4 Islamic Amulets in a “New Turkey”

“Islamized” eye beads are not limited to the village of Nazarköy: they can be
found hanging in private homes, stores, and restaurants and accompanied by
other items for sale in souvenir shops in many Turkish cities. In Istanbul, tourist
stores lining the street heading down to Galata Tower offer many such objects
for sale, including cheap magnets that emulate Turkish traditional ceramic
painting. Some magnets that appeared on the market in the summer of 2016
diverged from the typical fare, however. Instead of tulip and textile designs,
the magnets were covered entirely in Arabic inscriptions, including the names
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 601

figure 13.10 Tile magnets decorated with Arabic-script and “Islamic” amuletic
content, offered for sale in a tourist-souvenir shop, close to Galata
Tower, Istanbul, July 2016
Photograph by the author

of Allāh and Muḥammad, the Qurʾanic verses of the throne and evil eye, and
thirty-five basmala (Figure 13.10). Offered at a cost of one Turkish lira (or about
US$0.30 at the time) per piece, these inexpensive items are purchased by local
inhabitants and foreign visitors alike.
The fact that an entire genre of Arabic-script amulets has arisen lately is
suggestive in several ways. First, it points to an “Arab” turn for the local Turk-
ish Muslim population, which is otherwise much more comfortable reading
602 gruber

Romanized texts. This Arabization of the amuletic arts is echoed in official rhet-
oric, especially in President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s systematic effort to purge
the Turkish language of European and English words while concurrently reas-
serting Arabic terminology and pronunciation in the Turkish language.56 The
use of spoken and written Arabic has soared in the past few years, due to the
influx of millions of Syrian refugees, who now call Turkey home. For Erdoğan
and other politicians and cultural entrepreneurs, this linguistic turn is mar-
shalled in support of a larger ideological platform that seeks to align Turkey
with the rest of the Muslim world rather than with the “West.” Consequently,
these types of talismans and amulets no doubt reflect present-day Turkish cul-
tural politics.
Second, blessing cards, eye beads, and other trinkets are not only purchased
by a Turkish clientele that identifies itself as Muslim to one degree or another
(or not at all) but are also acquired by tourists. Ever since the Gezi upris-
ings of 2013 and especially after the failed military coup of 2016, the num-
ber of American and European visitors has declined precipitously. In their
stead, vacationers from Arab states—including Lebanon, Jordan, Saudi Ara-
bia, Bahrain, and the UAE—have become much more common in Istanbul.
Arabic-script “Islamic” amulets, which have multiplied alongside the number
of Arab tourists, probably cater to growing Arabophone Muslim demand. These
types of commercial products, offered at bargain prices, reflect changing demo-
graphics and desires as these intersect with the heritage and tourism indus-
tries.
Taken together, these contemporary Islamic talismans showcase the fertile
intersections between Muslim devotional life, folk beliefs and practices, con-
sumer capitalism, and the rhetoric of Realpolitik in today’s “New Turkey.” Not
shunned or prohibited, the occult arts prove an innovative and thriving field
of production, bringing financial gain to businessmen and spiritual aid to their
owners. By drawing upon and reasserting Ottoman symbols and a script asso-
ciated with Islam, these images and objects expand a long tradition of Islamic
occult arts right up to the present day.

56 Burak Bekdil, “Erdoğan: French Words in Turkish are Foreign, Arabic Ones Aren’t,” Middle
East Forum, 4 July 2017, http://www.meforum.org/6797/erdogans‑language‑revolution.
bereket bargains: islamic amulets in today’s “new turkey” 603

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 chapter 14

Postscript: Cutting Ariadne’s Thread, or How to

Think Otherwise in the Maze

Travis Zadeh

[I]f I may say so, we have diseased language …

Friedrich Max Müller1

…
You can’t fix this ’cause I’m in the same mix.
m.i.a.2

∵
1 Theōria / Naẓar

A hallmark of scholastic classifications of knowledge, the conceptual division

between theory and practice has long shaped philosophical discourses on the
relationship between contemplation and action. In the context of Islamic intel-
lectual history, the distinction notably guides the psychology and ethics of Abū
Naṣr al-Fārābī (d. 339/950).3 So too does it shape the classificatory thought of
the philosopher-physician Ibn Sīnā (d. 428/1037), who, throughout his writings,
follows a venerable tradition of dividing the various branches of knowledge

1 Lectures on the Science of Language, 2 vols. (London: Longman, Green, 1861–1864), 2:358.
2 “Warriors,” in studio album Matangi (2013).
3 See, for instance, Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī, Ārāʾ ahl al-madīna al-fāḍila, ed. ʿAlī Bū Mulḥim (Cairo:
Dār wa-Maktabat al-Hilāl, 1995), 102, 107, 121; al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Siyāsa al-madaniyya al-
muqallab bi-mabādiʾ al-mawjūdāt, ed. Fawzī Mitrī Najjār (Beirut: al-Maṭbaʿa al-Kāthūlīkiyya,
1964), 73–74; al-Fārābī, Taḥṣīl al-saʿāda, ed. ʿAlī Bū Mulḥim (Beirut: Dār wa-Maktabat al-Hilāl,
1995), 25, 47, 49, 72–73, 79, 87–88; al-Fārābī, Iḥṣāʾ al-ʿulūm, ed. ʿAlī Bū Mulḥim (Beirut: Dār wa-
Maktabat al-Hilāl, 1996), 18, 50, 51, 61, 84. See also Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Khwārazmī (d. 387/997?),
Mafātīḥ al-ʿulūm, ed. Gerlof van Vloten (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1895), 131–132.
608 zadeh

(ʿilm) into the theoretical (naẓarī) and the practical (ʿamalī).4 Such classificat-
ory systems are often buttressed by the argument that the fullest application
of theoretical knowledge, as an abstract mode of contemplating and deriving
general principles, is the ethical pursuit of human flourishing (eudaimonia >
saʿāda).5
A good deal of postmodern critique has sought to upend the often-explicit
hierarchies that govern the neat bifurcation between observation and action
implied by the binary of theōria and praxis. As the wide-ranging contributions
in the present volume repeatedly demonstrate, locating exactly where magic
and the occult fit into such evaluative, classificatory, and performative schemas
is anything but straightforward.6 The ontology of magic, its epistemic signific-
ance, and its moral value are as mercurial as they are ambiguous. The path is
tortuous and labyrinthine by design.
So what might theory and practice mean today for the study of the Islamic
occult sciences as they are staged in the intellectual and material frameworks
of the Western academy? Theory, in the etymological sense suggested by both
theōria and naẓar, points not just to contemplation or abstraction but specific-
ally to ocular forms of observation and speculation. One of the most salient
features of modern critical theory is the realization that the objects of our
inquiries are constantly unfolding, as they respond dynamically to observa-
tion itself. Observation is never neutral but rather contextual, decisive, and
determinative. The ideal of distanced objectivity is an ideological construct
that serves as an authorizing agent, not an actual state of independent impar-
tiality.7 Sociologists, for instance, have long realized that they do not simply
observe society but also shape it through the questions they pose, the surveys

4 For example, Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ, al-Ilāhiyyāt, ed. Georges Anawati and Saʿīd Zāyid (Cairo: al-
Hayʾa al-ʿĀmma li-Shuʾūn al-Maṭābiʿ al-Amīriyya, 1960), 3–4; Ibn Sīnā, Dānish-nāma-yi ʿAlāʾī,
Ilāhiyyāt, ed. Muḥammad Muʿīn (Tehran: Anjuman-i Āthār-i Millī, 1331sh/1952), 2; Ibn Sīnā,
“Fī aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya,” in Ibn Sīnā, Tisʿ rasāʾil (Cairo: Maṭbaʿa Hindiyya, 1908), 104–
118, 105; Ibn Sīnā, al-Qānūn fī l-ṭibb, ed. Muḥammad Amīn al-Ḍannāwī, 3 vols. (Beirut: Dār
al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 1999), 1:12.
5 For more on the division of sciences in Persian manuals of ethics see, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-
Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274), Akhlāq-i Nāṣirī, ed. Mujtabā Minuwī and ʿAlī Riḍā Ḥaydarī (Tehran: Zar,
1356sh/1978), 37–41.
6 On the shifting status of various occult fields of learning in Arabic and Persian encyclopedias
of sciences over the centuries, see Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One: The Mathemat-
icalization of the Occult Sciences in the High Persianate Tradition,” Intellectual History of the
Islamicate World 5 (2017): 127–199.
7 For the production of objectivity as an authorizing force in modern scientific discourse, see
Lorraine Daston and Peter Galison, Objectivity (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2007), 17–53.
postscript 609

they conduct, and the categories they create.8 Attention to such feedback and
reflexivity can help us fathom how the Western academic study of Islam, with
its historical fixation on the “backward” practices and “superstitious” beliefs
of Muslims, has itself come to shape the various patterns of modern Islamic
reform. Modern scholarship has long been making magic as much as observing
it, by carving out and labeling particular domains and activities as rational,
authentic, and normative, while marginalizing others as primitive, folkloric,
and deviant. In some basic sense, we labor under the weight of the analytical
categories and the concepts behind them inherited from high colonialism that
serve to both authorize and disqualify. Magic-talk is never impartial or disin-
terested.9
It is in this light that attending to the historical contingencies of the categor-
ies and concepts we employ has been an enduring strategy in critical theory. In
recent years, various fields of Islamic studies have come to face with renewed
attention the challenges and unstated logic posed by the master categories
we use to analyze the world and our place in it. This increased attention has
benefited from theoretical insights developed in anthropology, sociology, the
study of religion, and the history of science, which have tackled the unstated
grammar of modernity that governs such master categories as science, religion,
secularism, magic, and reason. As with all historical inquiry, our sphere of ana-
lysis may intersect in various ways with the conceptual vocabularies of others.
But, as in a Venn diagram, such areas of confluence are never coterminous. The
locations that deserve attention are precisely the spaces that are orthogonal to
our own unstated conceptions of the normal, the authoritative, or the real.
As with superstition and magic, such second-order analytical terms as
“occult,” “esoteric,” “mystic,” and “gnostic” have served as important foils for
framing and affirming the rational and scientific basis of Western modernity.
While such analytical categories often have parallels in Islamic intellectual his-
tory, their use and application as trans-historical or trans-cultural signifiers
or as nodes for comparative analysis is, as with all acts of translation, by no

8 See Ulrich Beck, Anthony Giddens, and Scott Lash, Reflexive Modernization: Politics, Tradition
and Aesthetics in the Modern Social Order (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994); for this
collection and more observations pertinent to the topic, particularly as it relates to the study
of religion, see Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm, The Myth of Disenchantment: Magic, Modernity, and
the Birth of the Human Sciences (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017), 11–13.
9 For the intellectual contexts shaping such formulations in the western academy, see broadly
Randall Styers, Making Magic: Religion, Magic, and Science in the Modern World (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2004), 3–24; Wouter J. Hanegraaff, Esotericism and the Academy:
Rejected Knowledge in Western Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 164–
177.
610 zadeh

measure self-evident. Just as modern Western scholarship has been busy mak-
ing magic, as it were, through classificatory hierarchies and various strategies
for producing qualified knowledge, so too have Muslim intellectuals long been
occupied with identifying, evaluating, and categorizing the diverse branches of
what we may term here occult learning. In many notable ways these classificat-
ory practices overlap. Yet the historical, ethical, and basic evaluative premises
of these enterprises have often been radically distinct.
As an organizational rubric, the occult—foregrounded in the present
volume and in a growing body of recent scholarship—points historically to
hidden, invisible, and secret forces in nature binding the cosmos together. At
a sociological level, the occult also suggests the actual status of certain bod-
ies of knowledge and forms of practice that are hidden from view.10 Across
the diverse contours of Islamic thought, an obvious parallel with the occult,
at least ontologically, is ghayb, a catchall for the hidden world of the unseen.
The category notably plays a significant role in the Qurʾan and throughout
the development of Islamic cosmography. Yet the status of ʿilm al-ghayb, as
a form of epistemic authority, is generally restricted to the realm of angels,
demons, and jinn, often associated with knowledge obtained through dreams
or revelation. As such, it does not readily account for the full array of dis-
ciplines implied by the term “occult sciences,” which include—at least in the
vocabulary of Renaissance philosophy—alchemy, astral learning, and natural
magic.
The semantic field predicated in the distinction between bāṭin and ẓāhir,
the hidden and the manifest, is also generative. The distinction highlights
the secretive dimensions often associated with occult learning. The language
of unveiling as an elite strategy of esoteric disclosure has been important
throughout the development of Islamic thought and authority. As an author-
izing strategy for both containment and concealment, the esoteric has obvi-
ous structural and conceptual parallels with a vast array of historical contexts
and cultural practices; there are also real and measurable points of conflu-
ence between what we could identify as Islamic, Jewish, and Christian esoteric
writings and discourses of authority.11 Furthermore, the esoteric is notable, in

10 For the Latinate discourses on the occult implied here, see Hanegraaff, Esotericism, 177–
180; Hanegraaff, “Occult/Occultism,” in The Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism,
ed. Wouter J. Hanegraaff (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 884–889.
11 See, e.g., Moshe Halbertal, Concealment and Revelation: Esotericism in Jewish Thought
and Its Philosophical Implications, trans. Jackie Feldman (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 2007); see also Wouter J. Hanegraaff, “The Globalization of Esotericism,” Corres-
pondences 3, no. 1 (2015): 55–91.
postscript 611

comparative terms, for its current use in the burgeoning study of Western eso-
tericism as a discrete field of analysis. Yet, here again the category of the bāṭin
and its nominalized form bāṭiniyya are sensu stricto not only narrower in their
classificatory roles in the development of Islamic learning but are also shaped
by distinct sectarian valences that are easily lost in their elision with esoteri-
cism.12
Similarly generative in the development of Western scholarship on Islam
and in modern Islamic reformist discourses has been the pervasive category of
the mystical, with its roots in the hidden, secret, and mysterious implied in the
Greek etymology of such terms as mystēs, mystērion, and mystikos. As for the
modern construction of mysticism as a distinct and even universal field of reli-
gious activity and its conflation with Islamic discourses of taṣawwuf, the chief
problem has been the reifying force implied in the category itself. Above all, the
nominalization of mysticism serves to exclude certain beliefs and practices as
distinct from other domains of normativity and orthodoxy in such a way as to
make much of Islamic intellectual and cultural history unintelligible.13
Likewise, despite the direct semantic parallels between ʿirfān in Arabic and
gnōsis in Greek as conceptualizations for divine, secret, or hidden knowledge,
the modern category of gnosticism as either a coherent religious movement or
a clearly defined cosmological disposition is vexing. While there are numerous
examples in which early Arabic translations of the classical Greek corpus affirm
the semantic overlap between gnōsis and ʿirfān or maʿrifa, in comparative terms
the utility of gnosticism, as constituted in nineteenth-century Western scholar-
ship, and its application to Islamic intellectual history are anything but evident.
This is particularly the case in contexts in which gnosticism is used as a broad
umbrella for a set of transhistoric beliefs putatively shared by various religious
communities across time and place.14

12 For an overview of the problem of the universalization of esotericism and hopes for its
rehabilitation, see Liana Saif, “What Is Islamic Esotericism?,” Correspondences 7, no. 1
(2019): 1–59; see also Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “Magic in Islam between Religion and Sci-
ence,” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 14, no. 2 (2019): 255–287, 259 n. 5, 280–281.
13 Richard King, Orientalism and Religion: Post-Colonial Theory, India and ‘The Mystic East’
(London: Routledge, 1999), 7–34. For more on the Iranian context, see Ata Anzali, “Mys-
ticism” in Iran: The Safavid Roots of a Modern Concept (Columbia: University of South
Carolina Press, 2017), 197–235.
14 For the relevant scholarship on the problem of gnosticism as a comparative field of
study, see Patricia Crone, The Nativist Prophets of Early Islamic Iran: Rural Revolt and Local
Zoroastrianism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 215–218; for a similar for-
mulation in the context of Arabic “hermeticism,” see Kevin van Bladel, The Arabic Hermes:
From Pagan Sage to Prophet of Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 19.
612 zadeh

These tensions extend beyond merely emic and etic distinctions of the
insider/outsider variety. Evaluative hierarchies, which are designed to author-
ize certain ways of knowing and being while silencing and ridiculing others,
govern the syntax that animates our analytic categories. In some basic sense,
there is no way out of this labyrinth, for knowledge production is invariably
staged in relationship to what is right and what is wrong through various
discursive exercises of power that stigmatize others as unfit, unqualified, or
unreasonable.15 In today’s vocabulary, our epistemic demarcations—inherent
in all group formation—are marked by such master divisions as gender, class,
race, creed, and nation. It is not that we should do away with our terms of
engagement, most of which, as far as the Western academy is concerned, have
been inherited and fashioned in the course of European colonial history. The
notion that we could remove from our conceptual frameworks the productive
power of naming is a practical absurdity. Words are useful, they are powerful,
and they are, one might even say, alchemical—in their capacity to produce
something out of nothing through the slippage between being and language,
in that Joycean illusion of the world within a word.16 What any history of lan-
guage would demand of us, however, is that we analyze the conceptual gram-
mar underwriting our categories—what it forecloses and makes impossible to
see.17
Even the new terms we invent in an attempt to account more fully for
the intricacies and complexities of being inevitably have unintended con-
sequences that come to condition our conceptual horizons. An influential
example for our field is the term “Islamicate,” coined by Marshall Hodgson.18
The category has been immensely productive as a means of labeling in broad
civilizational terms a host of activities that extend beyond what “Islamic” (in
the narrow sense of pertaining solely to the interiorized domain of belief) could

15 On the matter of disqualification in the sociology of knowledge, see Michel Foucault,

Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972–1977, ed. Colin Gordon (New
York: Pantheon Books, 1980), 82–86. For the postcolonial implications, see, for instance,
Leela Gandhi, Postcolonial Theory: A Critical Introduction (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1998), 43; Ann Laura Stoler, Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the
Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 159–160.
16 See Jeri Johnson, “Introduction,” in James Joyce, Ulysses, ed. Jeri Johnson (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1993), ix–xxxvii, esp. xxxix–xxx.
17 For the strategy of tracing the grammar of concepts as developed by Ludwig Wittgenstein,
see Talal Asad, Formations of the Secular, Christianity, Islam, Modernity (Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 2003), 25 n. 9.
18 Marshall G.S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization,
3 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), 1:45–46, 57–60.
postscript 613

apparently achieve on its own. It is in this sense that the term has long served
as an organizing rubric for a wide array of scholarship, the present volume
included. Yet, despite its practical advantages as a means of highlighting areas
that extend beyond merely the religious or confessional, the term “Islamicate”
carries with it palpable limitations. Foremost, the cognitive divide between
the Islamic and the Islamicate proceeds from a demarcation between religion
and society, between an inner belief and outward expression. Demonstrably
shaped by specific Protestant formulations, this division, in turn, creates a
space for separating what is normative or orthodox from what is not authen-
tically Islamic as such. For both Muslims and non-Muslims alike, everything
that in today’s terms is viewed as not pertaining to Islam proper can be lumped
together in the waste bin of non-normative or heterodox beliefs and prac-
tices. Here we may find shrine visitation, Sufi piety, occult learning, millen-
arian sovereignty, wine drinking, image making, and general merriment. The
retrievable repertoire meant to betoken authenticity necessitates a potent vari-
ety of oppositional logic. Stripping all such purportedly non-orthodox layers
away from a nominally authentic core of Islam makes it all but impossible to
understand the historical centrality of numerous areas of devotion and learn-
ing that, from a modern vantage, are generally not conceived of as authentically
Islamic.19
The upside to all this is that the unfolding power of language, in its messy
reality, means that both categories and the concepts behind them are in a
continual state of flux. We may take some solace in the recognition that, as
scholars, we can do with our conceptual armature what we wish.20 It is also
worth stating though that jargon and other terms of art often serve to distin-
guish those in the know from those who know nothing, as notably on display
in the various linguistic strategies for affirming medical, legal, and scientific
authority. This ability to name, codify, and classify is precisely what gener-
ates scholarly authority through specialized knowledge. Critique does not end
by merely abandoning outdated categories and the ideas that animate them
or by simply fashioning new ones. Rather, the task at hand demands recog-

19 For a sustained critique of the term “Islamicate” and its broader implications, see Shahab
Ahmed, What Is Islam? The Importance of Being Islamic (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 2016), 113–175. On the mimetic tokens that constitute the properties of Islam, see
Aziz Al-Azmeh, Islams and Modernities (London: Verso, 1993), 24–26. For further on this
oppositional logic, see also Joseph Massad, Islam in Liberalism (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2015).
20 For more on this observation in the context of the category of religion, see Jonathan
Z. Smith, “Religion, Religions, Religious,” in Critical Terms for Religious Studies, ed. Mark
Taylor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 269–284, esp. 281–282.
614 zadeh

nizing that second-order forms of conceptualization invariably foreclose cer-

tain possibilities of thinking in other terms. The challenge posed by our tax-
onomies thus extends beyond solely a matter of accounting for the surplus
and deficit inherent in all translation; we must also mind how knowledge is
generated and how power is exercised. Attention to the conceptual frame-
works we have inherited is powerful, as it offers possibilities for thinking oth-
erwise.21

2 Passing Strange

When speaking of magic and the occult, there is much to be gained by account-
ing for the performative and material conditions that animate the intellec-
tual and cultural lives of the subjects we study. So too should we attend to
the diverse contexts that frame, guide, and make possible our own scholarly
endeavors. The parallels between scholarly taxonomic systems across time
often prove uncanny. Practices of naming, defining, and classifying magic are
quite old. In the diverse contexts of Islamic history, these stretch back to before
the days of the Baghdadi bookman Ibn al-Nadīm (d. 380/990), who opens his
famed bio-bibliographical survey with a comparative history of scripts and
writing found across the world and closes with a chapter on the global history
of alchemy and its mysterious ciphers and scripts. Along the way, Ibn al-Nadīm
dedicates a section to writings on magic, charms, talismans, and tricks, which
also includes works on summoning jinn and demons. In Ibn al-Nadīm’s schema,
there are licit and illicit forms of magic. Here Ibn al-Nadīm uses the word siḥr
for magic, which can also have the sense of enchantment or sorcery. Many of
the titles and authorities grouped in his treatment of magic and spells also
overlap with the cognate disciplines of alchemy and astral science, though Ibn
al-Nadīm treats each of these fields separately.22

21 On this discursive maneuver, see Gandhi, Postcolonial Theory, 42–63.

22 Ibn al-Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist, ed. Ayman Fuʾād Sayyid, 4 vols. in 2 (London: Al-Furqan
Islamic Heritage Foundation, 2009), 1:9–49 (scripts), 2:207–266 (astral learning included
along with mathematics, mechanics, and music, etc.), 2:333–342 (magic, talismans, nī-
ranjātiyyāt, etc.), 2:441–466 (alchemy). For a study and translation of the final maqāla of
the Fihrist, see Johann Fück, “The Arabic Literature on Alchemy according to an-Nadīm
(A.D. 987). A Translation of the Tenth Discourse of The Book of the Catalogue (al-Fihrist)
with Introduction and Commentary,” Ambix 4, nos. 3–4 (1951): 81–144. For more on the
organizational principles of the Fihrist as they relate to both writing and alchemy, see
Travis Zadeh, “Uncertainty and the Archive,” in Digital Humanities and Islamic and Middle
East Studies, ed. Elias Muhanna (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), 11–64, esp. 55–59.
postscript 615

But there were other bibliographic and classificatory efforts at bringing

together various branches of the occult sciences. In the course of later classical
Islamic learning, one of the more enduring forms is represented by the rub-
ric al-ʿulūm al-gharība, a phrase often used to group alchemy, astrology, and
various divinatory and magical practices. The equation of gharīb with occult,
however, is not entirely straightforward. The adjective gharīb evokes at once
the strange, extraordinary, rare, difficult, foreign, remote, and uncanny and
can even be put into the service of the noble or elite, as in Fakhr al-Dīn al-
Rāzī’s (d. 606/1210) pairing of gharīb with sharīf (noble, honorable, august).23
Regardless of the broad associations, the term gharīb is read above all as per-
taining to actual phenomena that exist in the world and that can be verified
and affirmed through scientific authority.
Here and throughout a growing body of recent scholarship, the label has
been read as an autochthonous category for the occult sciences in particu-
lar and occult phenomena in general. There is a case to be made for doing
just this, particularly in light of the significant role that occulta philosophia
played in early modern discourses of natural history and mathematical science,
where we can trace a parallel move to affirm the many “marvelous” and “won-
drous” phenomena of existence as entirely natural and thus the basis for sci-
entific study and rationalization. In the idioms of Islamic learning, the strange
or extraordinary sciences are often paired conceptually with such adjectives
as “obscure,” “hidden,” and “secret” (ghāmiḍa, khafiyya, sirriyya).24 To be sure,
something of the strange implied by the phrasing might be lost when eliding
gharīb into “occult.” As with magic, though to a different degree and for distinct

23 The identification is made in the context of physiognomy (ʿilm-i firāsa), described as

both sharīf and gharīb, see Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm (Sittīnī), ed. Sayyid ʿAlī Āl
Dāwūd (Tehran: Thurayyā, 1382sh/2003), 268. Cited in Melvin-Koushki, “Magic in Islam,”
281 n. 55. The pairing is part of a general semantic field that evokes the celebrated status
of occult learning, as in the phrase “the noble extraordinary sciences and the wondrous
subtle arts” (al-ʿulūm al-gharība al-sharīfa wa-l-funūn al-ʿajība al-laṭīfa), in Sirāj al-Dīn al-
Sakkākī, al-Shāmil fī l-baḥr al-kāmil, Bodleian Library, Oxford University, MS Walter 91,
fol. 135b.
24 For a further discussion of the labels ghāmiḍa, as “obscure,” and khafiyya, as “hidden,”
earlier synonyms for al-ʿulūm al-gharība, see the discussion of this topic in the introduc-
tion to the present volume by Liana Saif and Francesca Leoni. See also Matthew Melvin-
Koushki, “De-Orienting the Study of Islamicate Occultism,” in “Islamicate Occultism: New
Perspectives,” ed. Matthew Melvin-Koushki and Noah Gardiner, special double issue of
Arabica 64, nos. 3–4 (2017): 287–295, esp. 288–289; Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One,” 128
n. 2; Melvin-Koushki, “Persianate Geomancy from Ṭūsī to the Millennium: A Preliminary
Survey,” in Occult Sciences in Pre-modern Islamic Culture, ed. Nader El-Bizri and Eva Orth-
mann (Beirut: Orient-Institut Beirut, 2018), 151–199, esp. 152 n. 3.
616 zadeh

ends, the occult likewise has its own troubled history as a modern placeholder
for a variety of practices and beliefs that are set in opposition to reason and sci-
ence.25 Yet, as with all such attempts at cross-cultural equivalence, the equation
between al-ʿulūm al-gharība and the occult sciences opens up numerous ven-
ues for comparison and for tracing direct lines of contact, even while closing
off others.
As for its own synchronic significance, while gharīb and its direct variants
do not form part of the Qurʾanic lexicon,26 the term appears in numerous say-
ings ascribed to the prophet Muḥammad, such as the eschatologically portent-
ous hadith that “Islam began as a stranger, and it will return just as it began
a stranger, so may there be blessings upon strangers.”27 As for its categorical
value, gharīb comes to serve as a meaningful index for a host of semantic fields.
From works on rare or difficult lexical material in a variety of corpora (e.g.,
gharīb al-ḥadīth, gharīb al-Qurʾān, gharīb al-lugha) to collections dedicated to
preserving the passing graffiti of strangers and documenting their hardships
(e.g., adab al-ghurabāʾ), the adjective is used in the early formation of Arabic
literature to organize numerous phenomena.28 Notably, gharīb evokes such
cognitive and emotive registers as the remote, obscure, peculiar, uncommon,
rare, difficult, foreign, and strange, just as it can be glossed as both queer and
curious.29
Most salient in the present context is the taxonomical significance of
gharāʾib (sing. gharība), as a default placeholder for discourses on the won-
ders of creation. The term is generally coupled with ʿajāʾib (wonders, mar-
vels, and other natural curiosities). An early work to use these terms in its

25 See Hanegraaff, Esotericism, 181–191; Egil Asprem, “Science and the Occult,” in The Occult
World, ed. Christopher Partridge (London: Routledge, 2015), 710–719.
26 Elsaid M. Badawi and Muhammad Abdel Haleem, Arabic-English Dictionary of Qurʾanic
Usage (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 661–662, s.v. gh-r-b.
27 “Badaʾa l-islāmu gharīban wa-sayaʿūdu kamā badaʾa gharīban, fa-ṭūbā li-l-ghurabāʾi,” Mus-
lim b. al-Ḥajjāj (d. 261/875), Saḥīḥ, 2 vols. (Vaduz, Liechtenstein: Jamʿiyyat al-Maknaz al-
Islāmī, 2000), “Kitāb al-Imān,” 1:83, §§ 389–390; for more on the circulation of this saying,
along with its apocalyptic variants and connotations, see the editorial note in Aḥmad b.
Ḥanbal (d. 241/855), Musnad, ed. Shuʿayb al-Arnāʾūṭ, 52 vols. (Beirut: Muʾassasat al-Risāla,
1993–2001), 6:325–326 n. 2, § 3784.
28 For early examples, see Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Salām (d. 224/838), al-Gharīb al-muṣannaf,
ed. Muḥammad al-Mukhtār al-ʿAbīdī, 2 vols. (Tunis: Dār Saḥnūn li-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzīʿ,
1996); Abū l-Faraj al-Iṣfahānī (d. 356/967), Kitāb al-Adab al-ghurabāʾ, ed. Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-
Munajjid (Beirut: Dār al-Kitāb al-Jadīd, 1982).
29 See, for instance, Reinhart Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, 2 vols. (Leiden:
E.J. Brill, 1881), 2:205; Hans Wehr, A Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, ed. J. Milton
Cowan (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1961), 783.
postscript 617

title is the Persian encyclopedia of natural history by the courtier Shams al-
Dīn Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī (fl. 562/1166), titled the Kitāb ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-
gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt (“The wonders of all creation and the rarities of all exist-
ence”). In addition to a full account of the world, stretching from the macro-
cosmic workings of the heavenly spheres to the microcosmic marvels of insects,
al-Ṭūsī also includes in his cosmography sections on angels, jinn, demons, idols,
and talismans, along with the unique, hidden properties (khawāṣṣ) of plants,
animals, and minerals.
By al-Ṭūsī’s day the treatment of hidden properties had already been clothed
in the language of wonders and rarities. Medical, philosophical, and alchemical
writings on khawāṣṣ drew inspiration from earlier works in Greek on physika,
which covered a vast field of topics including stones, plants, animals, agricul-
ture, medicine, as well as crafts and tricks. In the Arabic translation of classical
philosophy and medicine, the term khāṣṣa (pl. khawāṣṣ) was also frequently
associated with the Greek idios and idiotētes, the unique physical qualities or
properties that could influence other forms of matter.30
The concept plays an important role in the medical writings of Galen who
uses the expression idiotētes arrētoi, “indescribable properties,” to refer to phe-
nomena with discernable effects but which cannot be explained by the mani-
fest elemental forces of the humors in their various combinations and mix-
tures. For Galenic medicine, this included not only a variety of substances and
conditions but also amulets and charms. In medieval Latin medical and schol-
astic writings, the phrase was generally rendered as qualitates occultae, the
hidden properties which represented the immediate agent or efficient cause
behind a given physical phenomenon. These hidden forces were beyond direct
perception or sensation and could only be witnessed indirectly through their
effects on substances, such as the manifest force of magnets, the power of vari-
ous drugs, or the influence of planetary movements. They also played part in
the physical push and pull of sympathy and antipathy that governed the cos-

30 For literature on khawāṣṣ, see Paul Kraus, Jābir ibn Hayyān: Contribution à l’histoire des
idées scientifiques dans l’ Islam, 2 vols. (Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale,
1942–1943), 2:61–95; Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam
(Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1972), 393–416; Lucia Raggetti, “The ‘Science of Properties’ and its Trans-
mission,” in In the Wake of the Compendia: Infrastructural Contexts and the Licensing of
Empiricism in Ancient and Medieval Mesopotamia, ed. J. Cale Johnson (Berlin: De Gruyter,
2015), 159–176. See also William Newman, “The Occult and the Manifest Among the
Alchemists,” in Tradition, Transmission, Transformation: Proceedings of Two Conferences
on pre-Modern Science Held at the University of Oklahoma, ed. F. Jamil Ragep et al. (Leiden:
E.J. Brill, 1996), 173–200.
618 zadeh

mos and with it the efficacy of talismans.31 The vocabulary of the strange and
marvelous, evoked by the likes of the physician and alchemist Abū Bakr al-Rāzī
(d. 313/925) frequently accompanied discussion of the unique physical proper-
ties found throughout existence. Rāzī notably viewed Galen as an authority for
the efficacious use of incantations and amulets.32
Wonders and rarities abound in philosophical and medical discussions of
the physical world that often touched on various occult practices. In a dis-
cussion of Zoroastrian ritual observances and magic performances, the famed
polymath at the Ghaznavid court Abū l-Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī (d. 440/1048) refers to
his Kitāb al-ʿAjāʾib al-ṭabīʿiyya wa-l-gharāʾib al-ṣināʿiyya (“Book of natural won-
ders and amazing arts”). According to al-Bīrūnī’s description, his collection
focused on, among other topics, incantations, natural magic, and talismans (al-
ʿazāʾim wa-l-nīranjāt wa-l-ṭilasmāt). In al-Bīrūnī’s hands we can see how the
generic organization of the strange and extraordinary could be imbued with
scientific authority.33 Unlike al-Bīrūnī’s unfinished book of wonders, however,
al-Ṭūsī’s collection survives in various manuscripts, several of them lavishly
illustrated. The work showcases amusing anecdotes of the strange and un-
canny, as does it contain a good deal of practical information on meteorology,
medicine, and pharmacology, concluding with a chapter on poisons and anti-
dotes.34 As with many earlier compilations of natural marvels, al-Ṭūsī’s col-

31 For the Galenic treatment of properties and its roots in Stoic philosophy, see Tobias Rein-
hardt, “Galen on Unsayable Properties,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 40 (2011):
297–317. For the later influence of these categories, see Brian Copenhaver, “The Occultist
Tradition and its Critics,” in The Cambridge History of Seventeenth-Century Philosophy, ed.
Daniel Garber and Michael Ayers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 454–512,
esp. 459, 504 n. 16; and Hanegraaff, Esotericism, 178–182. For Galen’s treatment of amu-
lets and charms, Caroline Petit, “Galen, Pharmacology and the Boundaries of Medicine:
A Reassessment,” in Collecting Recipes: Byzantine and Jewish Pharmacology in Dialogue.
Science, Technology, and Medicine in Ancient Cultures, ed. Lennart Lehmhaus and Matteo
Martelli (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2017), 53–79.
32 See Abū Bakr al-Rāzī, Kitāb al-khawāṣṣ wa-l-ashyāʾ al-muqāwima li-l-amrāḍ wa-dhikr
ʿajāʾib al-buldān, Dār al-Kutub, Cairo, MS Taymūriyya Ṭibb 264, pp. 1–3 (introduction), 33–
40 (ʿajāʾib al-buldān), 43–46 (Hermetic talismans), 50 (Galen). For his citation of Galen,
Rāzī copies from Alexander of Tralles, Therapeutica = Alexander von Tralles. Original-Text
und Übersetzung nebst einer einleitenden Abhandlung, ed. and trans. Theodor Puschmann,
2 vols. (Vienna: Braumüller, 1878–1879), 2:473–475. The relevant Greek passages are treated
in Petit, “Galen,” 71–73.
33 Referred to in Abū l-Raḥyān al-Bīrūnī, al-Āthār al-bāqiya ʿan al-qurūn al-khāliya, ed. Parwīz
Adhkāyī (Tehran: Mīrāth-i Maktūb, 1380sh/2001), 285–286, §77.
34 Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī, ʿAjāʾib-nāma, ed. Manūchihr Sutūda (Tehran: Nashr-
i Kitāb, 1966), 5 (for the full title), 336–369 (idols, images, and talismans), 496–512 (jinn
and demons), 615–637 (poisons). For a study of illuminated manuscripts on wonders of
postscript 619

lection is guided by a teleological argument for God’s existence through the

manifest order of creation, itself a common theme that can be traced back
through antiquity.35
Of the many cosmological compendia organized around ʿajāʾib wa-gharāʾib,
one of the most widely disseminated and arguably most influential is the
Arabic natural history by Abū Yaḥyā Zakariyyāʾ al-Qazwīnī (d. 682/1283), which
takes the same title as al-Ṭūsī’s collection. Al-Qazwīnī likewise follows a well-
trodden path in natural philosophy, starting with the premise that, through
contemplating the wonders of creation, one ultimately comes to know the
existence of the divine Creator. Similar discussions can be traced back to the
earliest stages of Greek philosophy and are found throughout Islamic intellec-
tual history, such as the argument deployed by the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (Brethren of
Purity) to describe the development of monotheism from polytheism as based
on the awe that humans feel in the face of the wonders and rarities of cre-
ation.36
In the context of the occult, al-Qazwīnī’s collection is particularly useful, as
he opens his cosmography, in true scholastic fashion, with a definition of the
key terms of his title, namely wonders, creations, rarities, and beings (i.e., ʿajāʾib,
makhlūqāt, gharāʾib, mawjūdāt). As for his understanding of gharīb, al-Qazwinī
notes:

The extraordinary is every seldom-occurring wondrous matter (kull amr

ʿajīb qalīl l-wuqūʿ) that diverges from customary phenomena and com-
monly witnessed experiences (mukhālif li-l-ʿādāt al-maʿhūda wa-l-mushā-

creation, with a focus on al-Ṭūsī and al-Qazwīnī, see Persis Berlekamp, Wonder, Image,
and Cosmos in Medieval Islam (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011). For another early
Persian collection, covering similar material with attention not only to various occult phe-
nomena but also to uncovering tricks and deceptions, see the work ascribed to the astro-
nomer and mathematician Muḥammad b. Ayyūb al-Ṭabarī, Tuḥfat al-gharāʾib, ed. Jalāl
Matīnī, 2nd ed. (Tehran: Mūza wa-Markaz-i Asnād-i Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, 1391sh/2012),
19–25 (editor’s introduction on the question of authorship and dating); see also Clif-
ford Edmund Bosworth and Iraj Afshar, “ʿAjāʾeb al-Maḵlūqāt,” in Encyclopaedia Iran-
ica.
35 For an early Arabic example of this discourse in the realm of alchemy, see, e.g., ps.-
Apollonius, Sirr al-khalīqa, ed. Ursula Weisser (Aleppo: Maʿhad al-Turāth al-ʿIlmī al-ʿArabī,
1979); in the framework of traditionalist hadith scholarship, see also Abū l-Shaykh al-
Iṣfahānī (d. 369/979), Kitāb al-ʿAẓama, ed. Riḍā Allāh b. Muḥammad Idrīs al-Mubārakfūrī,
2 vols. (Riyadh: Dār al-ʿĀṣima, 1998).
36 Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, Rasāʾil, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 1957), “Risāla fī l-ārāʾ wa-l-diyānāt,” 3:482.
For more on this topic, see Travis Zadeh, “The Wiles of Creation: Philosophy, Fiction, and
the ʿAjāʾib Tradition,” Journal of Middle Eastern Literatures 13, no. 1 (2010): 21–48.
620 zadeh

hadāt al-maʾlūfa).37 This occurs from the influence (taʾthīr) of powerful

psyches (nufūs qawiyya), celestial phenomena (umūr falakiyya), or ele-
mental bodies (ajrām ʿunṣuriyya), all of which are determined by the
power of God almighty and His will.38

To illustrate the point further, al-Qazwīnī lists as examples the miracles of

prophets and saints (muʿjizāt al-anbiyāʾ/karāmāt al-awliyāʾ), the prophecies
of soothsayers (akhbār al-kahana), the power of jinn, the evil eye, the men-
tal capacity (himma) associated with certain Indian sages, and various forms
of divination. Here too are rare astral, meteorological, and geological phenom-
ena, such as comets, meteors, blizzards in the middle of the summer, violent
hailstorms, and powerful earthquakes, as well as prodigious births, speaking
infants, and talking animals.
Al-Qazwīnī concludes his treatment of the topic by observing that philo-
sophers (ḥukamāʾ) have established three categories for “strange phenomena”
(al-umūr al-gharība): 1) psychic influences and subsidiary reactions (al-āthār
al-nafsāniyya wa-l-infiʿālāt al-tābiʿa) on the faculties of the imagination that
occur without any direct, natural intermediary—when used for good these are
either Prophetic miracles (muʿjiza) or saintly wonders (karāma), when used
for ill they are the illicit magic (siḥr) of evil souls; 2) talismans that function
through their connection by form, shape, and location with unique celestial
forces and elemental bodies (quwā samāwiyya wa-ajsām ʿunṣuriyya); 3) nīran-
jāt that produce strange phenomena through the power of terrestrial bodies,
as in the way lodestones (maghnāṭīs) attract iron.39

37 For the significance of habit or custom (ʿāda) as a dominant category in theological dis-
cussions of miracles, see Harry Wolfson, Philosophy of the Kalām (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1976), 544–558; see also Frank Griffel, Al-Ghazālī’s Philosophical Theology
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 194–201.
38 Abū Yaḥyā Zakariyyāʾ al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt, Bayer-
ische Staatsbibliothek, Munich, MS Cod.arab. 464, fol. 6b (the third muqaddima). For the
dedication in al-Qazwīnī’s redaction for the Ilkhanid statesman ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn al-Juwaynī
(d. 681/1283), otherwise missing from the Munich recension (copied 678/1280), see al-
Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib, British Library, London, Or. 14140, fol. 2a. This dedication appears in
al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt (Beirut: Muʾassasat al-Aʿlamī,
2000), 9. As with the editio princeps by Ferdinand Wüstenfeld (Göttingen: Dieterich, 1848),
this popular edition is lacunose and contains notable errata. A critical edition or even a
diplomatic edition of just the Munich manuscript, the oldest dated manuscript known to
survive, are still desiderata.
39 Al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib, Munich, fol. 6b; Wüstenfeld’s edition ascribes this statement to the
ḥukamāʾ (12), as does the Beirut edition (17), which parallels here British Library, MS Or.
14140, fol. 6a. For Ibn Sīnā in this passage, cf. Syrinx von Hees, Enzyklopädie als Spiegel des
postscript 621

Neither the language used in this classification of the strange or extraordin-

ary nor the ideas developed are especially novel. But a focus on original-
ity would largely miss the significance of al-Qazwīnī’s collection of wonders,
which represents a pious distillation of natural philosophy in an accessible,
concise, and entertaining form. The category al-umūr al-gharība, the tripart-
ite division, and the examples given all parallel directly the treatment of the
topic in the final section of the famed philosophical primer al-Ishārāt wa-l-
tanbīhāt (“Pointers and reminders”) by Ibn Sīnā. Here, the great teacher of the
philosophy of Aristotle offers a scientific basis for extraordinary phenomena,
which includes a general theory of prophecy and miracles. In earlier writings,
Ibn Sīnā develops other divisions of the extraordinary, but in this particular
work he makes exactly the same division as listed by al-Qazwīnī, namely: 1)
paranormal causation through the power of the soul or psyche as the basis for
both miracles and magic; 2) nīranjāt; and 3) talismans.40 Except for transposing
slightly the order of the list, al-Qazwīnī follows closely Ibn Sīnā’s classifica-
tion. Perhaps equally important, he fully accepts the naturalization of magic
and miracle, itself a central tenet of Avicennan metaphysics. The Ishārāt, a
succinct text, which represents the last significant articulation of Ibn Sīnā’s
philosophy, enjoyed several major commentaries over the course of history.41
This specific taxonomy became well known, as the Ishārāt circulated widely in
scholastic philosophical circles and in madrasa education.42 A good example
is the commentary by the renowned philosopher and occultist Fakhr al-Dīn al-

Weltbildes. Qazwinis Wunder der Schöpfung: eine Naturkunde des 13. Jahrhunderts (Wies-
baden: Harrassowitz, 2002), 100 n. 49.
40 Ibn Sīnā, al-Ishārāt wa-l-tanbīhāt, ed. Mujtabā Zāriʿī (Qum: Bustān-i Kitāb-i Qum, 2002),
390, § 10.30. For more on Ibn Sīnā’s earlier classifications and his use of the term nīranj,
see Charles Burnett’s chapter in the present volume. See also Charles Burnett, “Nīranj: A
Category of Magic (Almost) Forgotten in the Latin West,” in Natura, scienze e societa med-
ievali: studi in onore di Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ed. Claudio Leonardi, Francesco Santi,
and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2008), 37–66, esp. 43–
44.
41 For the place of this work in Ibn Sīnā’s oeuvre, see Dimitri Gutas, Avicenna and the Aris-
totelian Tradition: Introduction to Reading Avicenna’s Philosophical Works, 2nd rev. ed.
(Leiden: Brill, 2014), 130–133, 155–159 (work 11). On the long commentarial tradition asso-
ciated with the Ishārāt, as well as Ibn Sīnā’s treatment of the paranormal, see Michael
Rapoport, “The Life and Afterlife of the Rational Soul, Chapters VIII–X of Ibn Sīnā’s Point-
ers and Reminders and Their Commentaries” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2018), 203–215,
358–368.
42 For more on Ibn Sīnā’s Ishārāt in the context of madrasa education, see Gerhard Endress,
“Reading Avicenna in the Madrasa: Intellectual Genealogies and Chains of Transmission
of Philosophy and the Sciences in the Islamic East,” in Arabic Theology, Arabic Philosophy:
From the Many to the One, ed. James E. Montgomery (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 371–422.
622 zadeh

Rāzī (d. 606/1210), who, when discussing this passage, refers to his own detailed
treatment of the topic in al-Sirr al-maktūm (“The hidden secret”), a study of
theoretical and practical astral magic.43
Al-Qazwīnī, who served as chief judge of the provincial city of Wasit, near
Baghdad, and taught at a madrasa there until his death, does not directly
identify his classification of gharīb with Ibn Sīnā’s Ishārāt, but he does not need
to.44 By this point, the major arguments developed by Ibn Sīnā on the natural-
ization of both magic and miracle as derived from the singular metaphysical
power of the soul would have been fully legible to his audience, as they had
been largely absorbed in authoritative circles of teaching and learning.45 As for
his own intellectual maturation, al-Qazwīnī trained with the astronomer and
natural philosopher Athīr al-Dīn al-Abharī (d. 663/1264) in Mosul. Al-Abharī,
in turn, studied Ibn Sīnā’s philosophy in the mold of Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī. Al-
Abharī, like many among his generation, is known to have read the Ishārāt,
along with many of Ibn Sīnā’s other works.46 By now, the once radical claim,
with its obvious Neoplatonic resonances, that what distinguishes illicit magic

43 Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, Sharḥ al-Ishārāt wa-l-tanbīhāt, ed. ʿAlī Riḍā Najafzāda, 2 vols. (Tehran:
Dānishgāh-i Tihrān, 1384sh/2005–2006), 2:663–664. For al-Rāzī’s classifications of para-
normal phenomena (al-umūr al-gharība), see Tariq Jaffer, “Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s Tax-
onomy of Extraordinary Acts,” in Light upon Light: Essays in Islamic Thought and History in
Honor of Gerhard Bowering, ed. Jamal J. Elias and Bilal Orfali (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 347–365.
For more on al-Rāzī’s collection of astral magic, see Michael-Sebastian Noble, “The Perfec-
tion of the Soul in Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s al-Sirr al-Maktūm” (PhD diss., Warburg Institute,
University of London, 2017) and his chapter in the present volume.
44 For early biographical material on al-Qazwīnī, see the history ascribed to Ibn al-Fuwaṭī
(d. 723/1323), al-Ḥawādith al-jāmiʿa wa-l-tajārib al-nāfiʿa fī l-miʾa al-sābiʿa, ed. Mahdī Najm
(Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 2003), 299; for more on al-Qazwīnī’s teachers and Sufi
lineage, see Ibn al-Fuwaṭī, Majmaʿ al-ādāb fī muʿjam al-alqāb, ed. Muḥammad Kāẓim,
6 vols. (Tehran: Muʾassasat al-Ṭibāʿa wa-l-Nashr, 1416/1995), 4:261, §3806, 5:372, §5290;
see also Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad al-Dhahabī (d. 748/1348), Taʾrīkh al-Islām wa-wafayāt
al-mashāhīr wa-l-aʿlām, ed. ʿUmar ʿAbd al-Salām Tadmurī, 53 vols. (Beirut: Dār al-Kitāb al-
ʿArabī, 1987), 51:101–102, § 85. For his studies with al-Abharī, see al-Qazwīnī, Āthār al-bilād
fī akhbār al-ʿibād (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 1960), 463, 536. For more, see Berlekamp, Wonder, 46–
50; von Hees, Enzyklopädie, 56–57, 257.
45 See, for instance, Frank Griffel, “Al-Ġazālī’s Concept of Prophecy: The Introduction of
Avicennan Psychology into Ašʿarite Theology,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 14, no. 1
(2004): 101–144.
46 See Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Ṣafadī (d. 764/1363), al-Wāfī bi-l-wafayāt, ed. Aḥmad al-Arnāʾūṭ and
Turkī Muṣṭafā, 29 vols. (Beirut: Dār Iḥyāʾ al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, 2000), 2:101, §499; Ibn al-
Fuwaṭī, Majmaʿ, 3:356 n. 1. Endress, “Reading Avicenna,” 396, 404–405, 407, 410–416. Ele-
ments of this particular line of transmission of the Ishārāt quoted in al-Ṣafadī are put into
question by Ayman Shihadeh, Doubts on Avicenna: A Study and Edition of Sharaf al-Dīn
al-Masʿūdī’s Commentary on the Ishārāt (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 14–15.
postscript 623

from Prophetic and saintly miracles was not a matter of ontology but a question
of ethics—whether the act is for good or for evil—had been largely routin-
ized across broad swaths of society.47 Al-Qazwīnī merely glosses these points
as accepted facts of nature.
Just before presenting this three-part division of strange phenomena, al-
Qazwīnī refers to the account of how the famed philosopher and Ashʿarī theolo-
gian Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111) sought out assistance to summon jinn.
Elsewhere, al-Qazwīnī identifies Ghazālī’s guide to the world of the unseen as
the occultist and religious authority Abū l-Faḍl Muḥammad al-Ṭabasī (d. 482/
1089). Al-Qazwīnī knew al-Ṭabasī above all for his grimoire, al-Shāmil fī l-baḥr
al-kāmil (“The comprehensive compendium on the entire ocean”), an influen-
tial Arabic handbook of practical magic, which survives in multiple manuscript
copies. It is a collection dedicated to commanding demons, jinn, and angels
largely through incantations (ʿazāʾim) and talismans.48 The centrality of such
practices and beliefs can be measured not only in the high discourses of nat-
ural philosophy and speculative theology or in the continued significance of
karāmāt but also through a growing body of literature dedicated to harnessing
strange or extraordinary powers for various practical ends, at times cloaked in
the language of the Qurʾan and pious invocations to God and other celestial
powers. Here the cognitive and emotive value that conditions the language of
the strange and the wondrous is located in its veridical ontological status, the
“there-ness of the event,” based in empirical observation and scientific real-
ity.49
Al-Qazwīnī’s collection of wonders and rarities is a useful index of the dif-
fusion of these attitudes, as it made available an authoritative body of sci-

47 See, for instance, Travis Zadeh, “Magic, Marvel, and Miracle in Early Islamic Thought,”
in The Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West, ed. David Collins (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 235–267; Frank Griffel, “Muslim Philosoph-
ers’ Rationalist Explanation of Muḥammad’s Prophecy,” in The Cambridge Companion
to Muhammad, ed. Jonathan Brockopp (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010),
158–179; Fazlur Rahman, Prophecy in Islam: Philosophy and Orthodoxy (London: Allen and
Unwin, 1958), 30–91.
48 Al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib, Munich, fol. 7a. The story referred to here is repeated in greater detail in
al-Qazwīnī, Āthār, 406–407. For more on al-Ṭabasī, see Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheim-
wissenschaften, 188, 386–387, 392. See also Travis Zadeh, “Commanding Demons and Jinn:
The Sorcerer in Early Islamic Thought,” in No Tapping around Philology: A Festschrift in
Honor of Wheeler McIntosh Thackston Jr.’s 70th Birthday, ed. Alireza Korangy and Daniel
J. Sheffield (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2014), 131–160, esp. 144–150.
49 A useful parallel with the emotive register of taʿajjub are medieval Latin discourses on
admiratio, for which see Walker Bynum, “Wonder,” American Historical Review 102, no. 1
(1997): 1–26, esp. 24 on facticity and “there-ness.”
624 zadeh

entific learning in a concise and readily transportable form. This natural history
traveled through both courts and madrasas. The countless manuscripts of the
work—both lavish presentations copies for wealthy patrons and modest redac-
tions for more humble readers, as well as the numerous translations in Persian,
Turkish, and Urdu—all signal its status as a canonical collection that continued
to delight and edify, inspiring, in turn, other notable imitations and expansions
over time. The increasing attention that these cosmological collections of won-
ders and rarities pay to the various fields of practical magic is merely another
indication of the central status that the extraordinary sciences commanded.50
The illuminated star catalog that opens the collection is itself tied to talismanic
visual imaginary of astral science.51 And here lies one of the main challenges
when addressing the sciences of extraordinary or paranormal phenomena that
animate classical Islamic learning and authority. While these extraordinary
forces may well be occulted from view, their power to condition the bound-
aries of the possible are visible, located in measurable and qualitative ways in
normative expressions of Islamic learning and piety.

3 Ambiguity, Uncertainty, and Circularity

None of this is to argue that there were not detractors, that the practices and
beliefs associated with occult learning were uniform across time and place, or
that these bodies of knowledge enjoyed equal levels of prominence or accept-
ance. There is much to be said, as Liana Saif and Francesca Leoni note in the

50 On the significant expansions of the text, in both Arabic and Persian, see Julius Ruska,
“Ḳazwīnīstudien,”Der Islam 4 (1913): 14–66, 236–262, esp. 244–251. For more on these trans-
formations, see Karin Rührdanz, “Illustrated Persian ʿAjāʾib al-Makhlūqāt Manuscripts and
Their Function in Early Modern Times,” in Society and Culture in the Early Modern Middle
East: Studies on Iran in the Safavid Period, ed. Andrew J. Newman (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 33–
47. This can also be measured by the inclusion of extensive marginalia, many of them
concerned with the occult sciences. See, for example, al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt,
copied in Lahore in 1270/1854, British Library, MS I.O. Islamic 3243, which contains mar-
ginal treatises on, among other subjects, geomancy, divination, and alchemy, described
in Hermann Ethé and Edward Edwards, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library
of the India Office, 2 vols. (Oxford: Horace Hart and Claredon Press, 1903–1937), 1:369–
374, § 714. For an important Ottoman example, see the partial Turkish redaction by the
courtier Musliḥaddīn Muṣtafā Sürūrī (d. 969/1562), completed in 960/1553, which survives
in several manuscript copies and contains notable continuations in the fields of occult
learning, such as British Library, MS Add 7894 and Library of Congress, Washington, DC,
MS G93.Q3185.
51 See Berlekamp, Wonder, 119–151.
postscript 625

introduction to this volume, about uncertainty and ambiguity. The question of

the probity and veracity of magic and the extraordinary shaped early Islamic
discussions of the occult in taxonomical, juridical, and theological terms.52 As
Saif and Leoni also observe, this ambiguity extends beyond matters simply of
ontology or cosmology, as it also shapes the historical reception of occult learn-
ing itself.53 One of the most important chapters in Islamic history is the spirited
endeavor by Muslim modernists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to
combat “superstition” in all its varieties, taking up the challenge posed by the
punishing discourses of Western rationality. Yet, as with the broader myth of
modern disenchantment, it would be wrong to say that the sustained efforts at
reform—at casting out or at least radically circumscribing the demons, saintly
wonders, and occult forces that have long governed Islamic normativity—were
ever fully or uniformly successful.54 The strategies of containment are no less
interesting, predicated, as they are, on rejecting and occulting from view whole
swaths of history as not authentically Islamic.
As far as these intellectual pathways are concerned, part of the problem is
that much of Western scholarship, which had long been invested in an exotic
image of the Orient as the esoteric font for both enchantment and decep-
tion, also became a willing participant in this project. The numerous orient-
alist writings on Islamic magic, such as those by the scholar Duncan Black
MacDonald (d. 1943) or the Protestant missionary Samuel Marinus Zwemer
(d. 1952), while often peppered with erudition, were profoundly polemical.55 If

52 On ambiguity concerning the reality (ḥaqīqa) of the various branches of the occult sci-
ences in classificatory discussions of knowledge, see, e.g., Ibn Farīghūn (fl. 340/951),
Jawāmiʿ al-ʿulūm, ed. Qays Kāẓim al-Janābī (Cairo: Maktabat al-Thaqāfa al-Dīniyya, 2007),
261–263. For a useful example of the theological rejection of the existence of magic as
nothing but trickery, see the arguments developed by the Muʿtazilī Abū Bakr al-Jaṣṣāṣ
(d. 370/981), Aḥkām al-Qurʾān, ed. Muḥammad al-Ṣādiq Qamḥāwī, 5 vols., reprint (Beirut:
Dār Iḥyā al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, 1992), 1:50–72 (Q 2:102). Large parts of Jaṣṣāṣ’s argument here
feature in the reformist treatment of magic by Muḥammad ʿAbduh (d. 1323/1905) and
Muḥammad Rashīd Riḍā (d. 1354/1935), Tafsīr al-manār, 2nd ed., 12 vols., (Cairo: Dār al-
Manār, 1367–1372/1947–53), 9:45–60.
53 On ambiguity, see Saif and Leoni’s introduction to the present volume.
54 Numerous examples abound. Germane to the present volume are observations by Christi-
ane Gruber in her contribution. Likewise, a productive example of the enduring power of
the occult, as well as an index of how much the scholarship on this topic has changed in
eighty years, is a comparison of Bess Allen Donaldson, The Wild Rue: A Study of Muhamma-
dan Magic and Folklore in Iran (London: Luzac, 1938) with Alireza Doostdar, The Iranian
Metaphysicals: Explorations in Science, Islam, and the Uncanny (Princeton: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 2018).
55 See Samuel Marinus Zwemer, The Influence of Animism on Islam: An Account of Popular
Superstitions (New York: Macmillan, 1920). Also of note is The Moslem World, founded
626 zadeh

the “woman question” was for orientalists and missionaries a cause célèbre for
railing against the putatively illiberal and oppressive manifestations of Islamic
society, the occult offered grounds for repeated efforts at exposing the decad-
ence, decay, and decline that kept Muslims from becoming truly modern. Such
scholarship aimed to reform the “Muslim mind.” This could, as the logic went,
be achieved only through conversion, if not to Christianity then to secular mod-
ernity itself, which, through a mischievous tautology, were largely cotermin-
ous.56
Viewed in this light, Marshall Hodgson’s vocabulary represents a sympath-
etic attempt at seeing Muslims in more nuanced terms, by creating spaces for
orthodoxy and normativity that he deemed authentically Islamic. This entire
conceptual arena, in turn, could be contrasted with all the other accretions that
mounted over time through external contacts, sources, and agents that were
not properly Islamic. Here we can place all the magic that various reformists—
in their debates with orientalists, Christian missionaries, and fellow Muslims—
would hold out as untrue to their religion. Among the abiding strategies in
the course of modern Islamic reform have been the efforts to cordon off the
various branches of magic, astrology, mysticism, divination, etc., as imported
from foreign sources, or to silence them as mere expressions of the backward
folkloric superstitions of women and the ignorant masses antithetical to the
rationalizing, scientific, and modernizing forces of authentic Islam. The pages
of orientalist scholarship dedicated to tracing the ancient Indic, Greek, Persian,
Egyptian, Christian, or Jewish roots of many beliefs and practices nourished the
argument—though for very different ends—that proper Islam must be isol-
ated, for reformist purposes or for positivist pursuits, from foreign influences.

by Zwemer in 1911 and edited by him until 1947. Zwemer dedicated the journal to track-
ing the progress of Christian missions to Muslim lands and published in it numerous
articles focused on exposing Muslim superstitions. The occult is treated extensively in
Duncan Black Macdonald, The Religious Attitude and Life in Islam, Being the Haskell Lec-
tures on Comparative Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1909); much of the
same material is repeated in Duncan Black Macdonald, “Siḥr,” Encyclopaedia of Islam,
1st ed.; also relevant in this context is Duncan Black Macdonald, “Concluding Study,” in
The Vital Forces of Christianity and Islam: Six Studies by Missionaries to Moslems, intro.
Samuel Marinus Zwemer (London: Oxford University Press, 1915), 215–239. Countless
other examples can be adduced.
56 See Gil Anidjar’s syllogistic thesis, based on his reading of Edward Said’s Orientalism, “Sec-
ularism is Orientalism. And Orientalism is Christianity. It is Christian imperialism,” in
Gil Anidjar, “Secularism,” Critical Inquiry 33, no. 1 (2006): 52–77, esp. 66; for a reflection
on this formula touching on the present topic, see Robert Yelle, The Language of Disen-
chantment, Protestant Literalism and Colonial Discourse in British India (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2013), 3–4.
postscript 627

The reductionist assertion that authentic Islam is located solely in scripture

and law, as manifested in the Qurʾan and Sunna, is largely a result of these twin
processes of essentialization.
Ironically, such reifying gestures were only reinforced by Wilfred Cantwell
Smith’s famous formulation that anything that scholars say about Islam as a
living faith is valid only in so far as Muslims consent to it.57 Indeed both Hodg-
son and Smith, influential scholars of Islamic history and society, steeped in
the Religionsgeschichtliche at the time in vogue among North American liberal
Protestants, were reacting, in different ways, to the often offensive and jingo-
istic character of orientalist scholarship, anticipating the sweeping critiques
that Edward Said famously leveled at the entire discursive edifice of orientalism
as a monument to Western supremacy. Yet the notion that “Islam is whatever
Muslims say it is” turns out to be a conceptual cul-de-sac, not only for historical
inquiry but also for social analysis.58 As with all group formations, we are deal-
ing here with discursive processes that are not stable, flat, or homogeneous but
are constantly unfolding and becoming, through contestation and reformula-
tion.

4 Facing Down Demons

When under siege, the stranger is all the more threatening. Much of the defens-
ive posture guiding Muslim reformist discourses on modernization is formed
through the dialogical pressure of Western hegemony. The influential synthesis
of magic and miracle as ontologically equivalent in metaphysical terms ration-
alized the extraordinary as rooted in science and thus licensed a host of prac-
tices and beliefs that went largely unchallenged until the rise of European
colonialism in the nineteenth century. The search for authenticity in the con-
tours of modernity can never reach that vanishing horizon of unadulterated
purity.

57 Wilfred Cantwell Smith, “Comparative Religion: Whither—and Why?,” in The History of

Religions: Essays in Methodology, ed. Mircea Eliade and Joseph Kitagawa (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1959), 31–58, esp. 43–44.
58 See Ahmed, What Is Islam?, 246–297. Here Ahmed builds on, but also challenges, Talal
Asad’s notion of Islam as a discursive tradition; see Talal Asad, The Idea of an Anthropology
of Islam (Washington, DC: Center for Contemporary Arab Studies, Georgetown University,
1986). For an insightful critique of Ahmed’s reading of Asad, see Zareena Grewal, “The
Problem with Being Islamic: Definitional and Theoretical Limits and Legacies,” August 23,
2016, Marginalia: Los Angeles Review of Books, marginalia.lareviewofbooks.org.
628 zadeh

The charge of the “foreign” sticks, for there is much truth behind it, as large-
scale group formations and ideologies are hybrid by nature, products of mixed
parentage. Much of the conceptual vocabulary and epistemic power of the
occult sciences are indeed born of exotic origins. The ṭilasm is from the Greek
telesma, the nīranj is related to the Middle Persian nērang, and the mandal,
which Ṭabasī and others use as a term of art for the sorcerer’s circle, can be
traced to the Sanskrit maṇḍala, signifying both circle and realm. The high
learning of judicial astrology is not only ancient but stretches back and forth
across Asia, Mesopotamia, and the Mediterranean basin. Also cut from foreign
cloth are Galenic medicine, Ptolemaic geography and cosmography, and the
metaphysics of Plato and Aristotle—all of which shape indelibly the course
of Islamic history. The appeal to ancient wisdom, languages of hidden and
secret knowledge, stories of ascension, unveiling, and disclosure, and practices
of summoning celestial hosts, and binding demonic forces find so many com-
monalities across the numerous contact zones that Muslims have historically
shared with others that pointing them out in comparative terms borders on the
banal.
Identifying the ways in which Muslims have long shared in the broad
thought-worlds of others is certainly a humanizing gesture, but arguably more
pressing are the diverse ways that such exchanges and points of contact are
transformed over time and authorized in distinctly Islamic terms. We are con-
fronted here with processes of appropriation, naturalization, and transform-
ation that, like all large-scale social forces, are continually reconstituted and
restated.59 Practices of defining the occult, pinning down its slippery nature
and indeterminacy, represent merely one arena for affirming external bound-
aries while attending to internal divisions, be it in grand cosmological terms or
in more mundane practical matters of daily life. Neither the fields of Islamic
learning, the practices they demanded, nor the vocabulary that shaped them
have been static over time.
Take, for instance, nīranj in Ibn Sīnā’s categorization. His identification of
the word with a body of forces connected to earthly elements echoes dis-
cussions of nērang in the Dēnkard (“The acts of religion”), a compendium of
Mazdean beliefs and practices written in the tenth century CE in Book Pahlavi.
The priestly authors of the compilation treat nērang as a form of ritual spell or
incantation (afsōn) that seeks to activate and harness elemental influences of
water, air, fire, and earth in both the visible (gētīy) and invisible worlds (mēnōy),

59 For an overview of these processes as related to the Abbasid translation movement, see
A.I. Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medi-
eval Islam: A Preliminary Statement,” History of Science 25 (1987): 223–243.
postscript 629

two cosmological planes central to Mazdean dualism. In the visible world, nēr-
ang react with the elements of the body (āmēzišn ī tan), while from the invisible
world they draw on the wondrous acts of the Amahraspands, the divine entities
emanating from the supreme lord Ohrmazd. In addition to propitiating deities
( yazdān) and vexing demons (dēw), the nērang of the Dēnkard are connec-
ted to the movement of constellations (axtar) and planets (abāxtar), as well
as to the conditions of the various regions (kišwarān) on earth.60 The treat-
ment of the elements is refracted through the authority of medicine, shaped
in the Sasanian context and in early Islamic society through the absorption of
the Galenic system of the humors.61 The discussion in the Dēnkard invests nēr-
ang with natural powers to ward off various diseases, to maintain health, and
to serve as an antidote to poisons. Present throughout the valances of nērang is
the association with the efficacious power of ritual recitation from the Avesta,
which functions as a sacred formulary (Avestan mąθra, compare Sanskrit man-
tra). Yet, even in Zoroastrian contexts the semantic value of nērang is by no
means stable across time, as it also takes on several different valences within
the realm of ritual performance.62

60 See Dēnkard, Book III, in DkM = The Complete Text of the Pahlavi Dinkard, ed. Dhanjishah
Meherjibhai Madan, 2 vols. (Bombay: Fort Printing Press, 1911), 1:157–158, 399–400; trans-
lated as Le troisième livre du Dēnkart, trans. Jean de Menasce (Paris: C. Klincksieck, 1973),
158–159, 372–373. For a transcription, translation, and discussion of DkM III, 399–400, see
Harold Bailey, “Iranian Studies III,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies 7, no. 2 (1934):
275–298, esp. 276–283.
61 Richard Payne, A State of Mixture: Christians, Zoroastrians, and Iranian Political Culture
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2015), 89. For a broader discussion of concep-
tions of medicine and the body in the Dēnkard, see Paolo Delaini, Medicina del corpo,
medicina dell’anima: la circolazione delle conoscenze medico-filosofiche nell’Iran sasanide
(Milan: Mimesis, 2013), 155–168. For examples of nērang as earthly amulets in both Pah-
lavi and Pāzand, see Antonio Panaino, “Two Zoroastrian Nērangs and the Invocation to the
Stars and the Planets,” in The Spirit of Wisdom = Mēnōg ī xrad: Essays in Memory of Ahmad
Tafazzoli, ed. Touraj Daryaee and Mahmoud Omidsalar (Costa Mesa: Mazda, 2004), 196–
218; Antonio Panaino, “Magic. i. Magical Elements in the Avesta and Nērang Literature,” in
Encyclopaedia Iranica.
62 See, for instance, the treatment of the nērang ī drōn and the broader use of nērang as a
“ritual direction,” in The Hērbedestān and Nērangestān, ed. and trans. Firoze Kotwal and
Philip Kreyenbroek, 3 vols. (Leuven: Peeters, 1992–2002), 1:84, (§20.2), 2:13–14 (editorial
introduction), 2:62 (§ 10.14), 2:68 (§ 10.28), 3:80 (§ 23). For further variants in usage, see
Mary Boyce, “Padyāb and Nērang: Two Pahlavi Terms further Considered,” Bulletin of the
School of Oriental and African Studies 54, no. 2 (1991): 281–291. Nērangs are often collected
at the end of prayer books of the Khordeh Avesta. In daily ritual performance, the most
common use of nērang by Zoroastrians today is in the nērang ī kustīg, the formula recited
when washing and retying the sacred girdle. My reading of this material has benefited
from conversations with Daniel Sheffield.
630 zadeh

Needless to say, while nīranjāt in early Arabic and New Persian sources echo
a good deal of this discussion, the larger Mazdean cosmography is entirely
suppressed and largely abandoned, as the term takes on a life of its own.63
Undoubtedly, part of the significance originally associated with the category as
adapted and repurposed by early generations of Persian converts lay in its lim-
inal if efficacious power, drawn from the cosmic language and rituals of others.
This is not entirely distinct from, say, the etymology of the word “magic,” from
the Greek mageia, the activity of the magos, coded largely as a derogatory refer-
ence to Zoroastrian priests (Old Persian magu-) and their ritual activities.64 In
this sense, the label “magic” has itself long been a way of infusing the religious
beliefs and practices of outsiders with exotic power.
If, in the case of the nīranj, these pathways of exchange and transform-
ation are readily visible, a contrapuntal example would be the mandal. As
noted above, given its consonantal form and lexical meaning as foremost a
circle (dāʾira), the word is clearly related to the Sanskrit maṇḍala, meaning a
disk, circle, halo, orbit, and, by extension, a region, both cosmic and terrestrial,
connected also to the zodiac and used as a general label for cosmic diagrams
prominent in various Buddhist, Jain, and Hindu ritual practices for summon-
ing deities and astral powers.65 The early Arabic and New Persian accounts that
describe the use of the mandal in incantations (ʿazāʾim) appear, however, to be
several stages removed from any direct discourses or engagement with earlier
Indic theurgic practices. Even al-Bīrūnī, who has a good grasp of nīranj as a
form of sacred incantation practiced by Zoroastrian priests, gives no sense of
the mandal as connected to esoteric diagrams or magical incantations, though
he recognizes in it a cosmological meaning of a celestial realm, explaining the
Sanskrit term at one point as equivalent to wilāya (region, dominion).66

63 For more, see Burnett, “Nīranj,” 38–44, and his chapter in this volume. See also the syn-
chronic description of the word and its meanings in Toufic Fahd, “Nīrandj,” Encyclopae-
dia of Islam, 2nd ed. See further the comments on the Persian origin of the nīranj in
Muḥammad al-Fullānī al-Kashnāwī (d. 1154/1741), al-Durr al-manẓūm wa-khulāṣat al-sirr
al-maktūm, 2 vols. (Cairo: Muṣṭafā l-Bābī l-Ḥalabī, 1961), 1:317–319.
64 On this see, Albert de Jong, The Traditions of the Magi: Zoroastrianism in Greek and Latin
Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 222, 387–413.
65 See Theodor Benfey, A Sanskrit-English Dictionary (London: Longmans, Green, 1866), 677;
cf. John Platts, A Dictionary of Urdu, Classical Hindi, and English (London: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1884), 1074, s.v. mandal; Manfred Mayrhofer, Etymologisches Wörterbuch des
Altindoarischen, 3 vols. (Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1986–2001), 2:294, s.v. máṇḍala-.
66 Abū l-Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī, Kitāb Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, ed. Edward Sachau (London: Trübner,
1887), 196, cf. 219. For his identification of Zoroastrian priests as aṣḥāb al-nīranjāt, see al-
Bīrūnī, Āthār, 266–267 (§§ 11, 17), 273–274 (§ 39), 278–279 (§§51, 57).
postscript 631

Yet, notable for our purposes, references to making maṇḍalas survive in the
fragmentary Sogdian literary corpus from Central Asia.67 Centered in the cities
of Samarqand and Bukhara, ancient Sogdiana sat at the crossroads of Asia and
the Iranian plateau. The religious landscape of the region was notoriously fluid,
with Buddhist, Nestorian, Mazdean, and other indigenous practices and beliefs
existing side by side and often comingling.68 A relevant example is a scroll
discovered in the caves of Dunhuang on the Silk Road, which contains a com-
posite text shaped by Iranian, Indic, and Turkic vocabulary and cosmography.
Often referred to in modern scholarship as a shamanistic manual of magic, the
short tract opens with a description of the use of stones for their apotropaic
and healing powers and concludes with directions for preparing a rainmaking
ceremony that involves the construction of a four-cornered mandala (mntr >
mandal) to be decorated with the images of planets, constellations, and the
zodiac.69 The maṇḍala as a ritual diagram designed to attract deities is also
found in Sanskrit Buddhist materials that circulated in Central Asia, well before
the Arab invasions.70
We must imagine numerous vectors by which the mandal ultimately became
an Islamic technology for harnessing occult forces, particularly in light of the
functional parallels with cosmic diagrams developed and deployed across Asia

67 For the references to the maṇḍala in the surviving Sogdian corpus, see Badr al-Zamān
Qarīb [Gharīb], Sogdian Dictionary, 2nd ed. (Tehran: Farhangān Publications, 1995), 214,
§ 5288, s.v. mntr2.
68 See Étienne de la Vaissière, Histoire des marchands sogdiens, 2nd rev. ed. (Paris: De Boc-
card, 2004); Crone, Nativist Prophets, 96–105.
69 See Émile Benveniste, Textes sogdiens, édités, traduits et commentés (Paris: P. Geuthner,
1940), 66 (P. 3, l. 162), cf. 258 (glossary). Housed in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
Paris (Pelliot Sogd. 3), this scroll has been the subject of extensive scholarship. See
W.B. Henning, “The Sogdian Texts of Paris,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African
Studies 11, no. 4 (1946): 713–740, esp. 726–730. The text has been reedited and translated
by Samra Azarnouche and Frantz Grenet, “Thaumaturgie sogdienne: Nouvelle édition
et commentaire du texte P. 3,” Studia Iranica 39, no. 1 (2010): 27–77, esp. 47, 56; Samra
Azarnouche and Frantz Grenet, “Where Are the Sogdian Magi?” Bulletin of the Asia Insti-
tute 21 (2007 [2012]): 159–177, esp. 172. See also Frantz Grenet, “The Circulation of Astrolo-
gical Lore and Its Political Use between the Roman East, Sasanian Iran, Central Asia, India,
and the Türks,” in Empires and Exchanges in Eurasian Late Antiquity Rome, China, Iran, and
the Steppe, ca. 250–750, ed. Nicola Di Cosmo and Michael Maas (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2018), 235–252, esp. 250–251.
70 See the edition and translation by Seishi Karashima and Margarita Vorobyova-Desyatov-
skaya, “The Avadāna Anthology from Merv, Turkmenistan,” in Buddhist Manuscripts from
Central Asia: The St. Petersburg Sanskrit Fragments, ed. Seishi Karashima and Margarita
Vorobyova-Desyatovskaya, 1:145–523 (Tokyo: Soka University, 2015), 182 (fol. 15r, l. 1), 183
n. 48.
632 zadeh

and the Indian subcontinent in various Tantric traditions. Despite notable

transformations and adaptations over time, the preparation of such ritual dia-
grams often involved the use of sacred invocations, rites of purification, the
kindling of sacred fire, and the burning of incense and other medicinal sub-
stances, all undertaken at auspicious astral moments, with the aim of har-
nessing otherworldly powers.71 These practices have direct corollaries with the
mandal as described in early Arabic and Persian manuals for conjuring astral
spirits, demons, angels, and jinn.
In light of the early history of sustained contacts across Central Asia and
through South Asia, such linguistic and scientific zones of exchange and inter-
action offer numerous routes for the incorporation of the mandal into the
occult repertoire of Islamic incantations. The power of the category lies not
so much in its foreign origin, which can at once be divested of earlier associ-
ations and entirely repurposed in a new idiom through distinct practices and
cosmological concerns. Rather, it is precisely the proven efficacy of these dia-
grams and the rituals associated with them that lends the mandal universal,
scientific authority.
A normative example of the preparation of such diagrams for harnessing
occult powers is found in Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī’s classification of the sciences,
where he offers a detailed description of the various rituals associated with
the science of incantations (ʿilm al-ʿazāʾim).72 Al-Rāzī’s account of this science,
with its diagrams, sacred Qurʾanic recitations, fumigations, and bodily puri-
fications, echoes many of the procedures described by al-Ṭabasī, who, in his
manual of magical recipes and formulas, offers several examples of the mandal
as a set of diagrams that an enchanter (muʿazzim) can use to summon demons
and spirits from the other world in order to subjugate them.73 Throughout this

71 See Gudrun Bühnemann, “Maṇḍala, Yantra and Cakra: Some Observations,” in Mandalas
and Yantras in the Hindu Traditions, ed. Gudrun Bühnemann (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 13–
56; Jeffrey Kotyk, “Buddhist Astrology and Astral Magic in the Tang Dynasty” (PhD diss.,
Leiden University, 2017), 21–54; Ellen Marie Gough, “Making a Mantra: Jain Superhuman
Powers in History, Ritual, and Material Culture” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2015), 1–36;
Marko Geslani, Rites of the God-King: Śānti and Ritual Change in Early Hinduism (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2018), 148, 152–153, 245; Koichi Shinohara, Spells, Images, and
Maṇḍalas: Tracing the Evolution of Esoteric Buddhist Rituals (New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 2014). I thank Phyllis Granoff for offering comparative insights and sugges-
tions.
72 Al-Rāzī, Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm, 438–447. For al-Rāzī’s classification of this branch of learning
within the mathematical sciences (ʿilm al-riyāḍiyyāt), see Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of
One,” 145–146.
73 See, e.g., the diagrams of mandals in al-Ṭabasī, Kitāb al-Shāmil, Berlin, Staatsbibliothek,
MS Or. Fol. 52, 12, 72, 85 (paginated), copied 833/1430; al-Ṭabasī, Princeton University Lib-
rary, Islamic Manuscripts, New Series, no. 160, fols. 14a, 73a–b; al-Ṭabasī, Salar Jung Museum,
postscript 633

literature the mandal is associated with Solomon’s prophetic mastery over jinn,
where it became one of the many techniques in the arsenal for conjuring occult
forces.74
Not only were these diagrams fully naturalized in a distinctly Islamic cosmo-
graphy, but they were often treated in the social imagination as a tested means
of summoning occult forces. A colorful testimonial of the power of the man-
dal is preserved in an autobiographical report by the Ḥanbalī jurist of Baghdad
Abū l-Wafāʾ Ibn ʿAqīl (d. 513/1119), who relates the story of a house in the city
that had been haunted by jinn. In order to expel the evil spirit, Ibn ʿAqīl seeks
to employ an enchanter, who captures the jinn, which has taken the form of a
serpent dangling from the roof. The enchanter does so by reciting verses from
the Qurʾan and casting a mandal (ḍaraba l-mandal) on the ground into which
the jinn falls and is captured.75
In Ibn ʿAqīl’s account, the diagram serves to trap forces from the invisible
world. However, there is general variance over how the actual ceremony of cast-
ing a mandal, its form, and its purpose would proceed. It is often the enchanter
who sits within the diagram itself, where the lines drawn on the ground serve
as a form of protection against the harm of the demons and jinn summoned.76

Hyderabad, MS 2208 (ʿUlūm-i sirriyya, § 12), fols. 9a, 49b. The Salar Jung copy of al-Ṭabasī
is in a collection along with Aḥmad al-Būnī (d. c. 622/1225), Shams al-maʿārif. For a par-
tial Persian translation of al-Ṭabasī’s Shāmil, see Bodleian Library, Oxford University, MS
Walter 91, fols. 63a, 89a.
74 For more on the Solomonic associations in this body of literature, see Anne Regourd,
“Le Kitāb al-Mandal al-Sulaymânî, un ouvrage d’ exorcisme yéménite postérieur au Ve/XIe
siècle?,” Res orientales 13 (2001): 123–128; Anne Regourd, “Images de djinns et exorcisme
dans le Mandal al-Sulaymānī,” in Images et Magie: Picatrix entre Orient et Occident, ed.
Jean-Patrice Boudet, Anna Caiozzo, and Nicolas Weill-Parot (Paris: Honore Champion,
2011), 253–294.
75 Reported in Sibṭ Ibn al-Jawzī (d. 654/1256), al-Juzʾ al-thāmin min Mirʾāt al-zamān, facsim.
reprod., ed. James Jewett (Chicago: University of Chicago University Press, 1907), 53–54; al-
Dhahabī, Taʾrīkh al-Islām, 35:355–356; Badr al-Dīn al-Shiblī (d. 769/1367), Ākām al-marjān
fī aḥkām al-jānn, ed. Aḥmad ʿAbd al-Salām (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, n.d.), 97.
76 See al-Rāzī, Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm, 442. For an early Persian definition of the mandal in sim-
ilar terms, see Abū Manṣūr al-Ṭūsī (d. 465/1073), Lughat-i furs, ed. ʿAbbās Iqbāl (Tehran:
Chāpkhāna-yi Majlis, 1319sh/1940), 322. Similarly useful in the later Mughal context is Mīr
Jamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Injū Shīrāzī (d. 1035/1625), Farhang-i Jahāngīrī, ed. Raḥīm ʿAfīfī, 2nd
ed., 2 vols. (Mashhad: Dānishgāh-i Mashhad, 1980), 2:1904–1905. See also Muḥibb al-Dīn
Abū Fayḍ Murtaḍā al-Zabīdī (d. 1205/1790), Tāj al-ʿarūs min jawāhir al-qāmūs, ed. ʿAlī Shīrī,
20 vols. (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1993), 15:727. The idea of the lines of the mandal as a form of
protection against the forces summoned is treated in Muḥammad al-Fullānī al-Kashnāwī,
Bahjat al-āfāq, al-Maktaba al-Azhariyya, Cairo, MS 37/45594, fols. 212a–213a; al-Kashnāwī
also gives a useful description of the general rules for producing the mandal in his al-
Durr al-manẓūm, 2:317–319. The procedure of drawing a circle (dāʾira) and sitting within
634 zadeh

Regardless of the multiplicity of forms, these diverse practices that are united
by a single name have in common the power of drawing a design, usually
coupled with recitation of sacred speech, as a means of summoning occult
forces. This performance is often accompanied by the preparation of various
natural materials possessing special properties that are activated by fumiga-
tion.
A series of vivid illustrations of the mandal, in the sense of a diagram for har-
nessing spirits from the other world, feature in the Nujūm al-ʿulūm (“The stars
of the sciences”), an illuminated Persian encyclopedia produced for ʿAlī ʿĀdil
Shāh I, the ruler of Bijapur (r. 965–987/1558–1579). A royal copy of this collec-
tion, dated 978/1570, is preserved in the Chester Beatty Library of Dublin. While
the codicological record of the text is lacunose, the surviving manuscripts of
this vast compendium focus largely on occult science. The work draws from
a body of knowledge deeply connected with Indian cosmography, portions
of which appear to have been written by ʿAlī ʿĀdil Shāh himself.77 On display
here is, however, also an entire section ascribed to the learned Ḥanafī scholar
of Central Asia Sirāj al-Dīn Abū Yaʿqūb al-Sakkākī (d. 626/1229), who, like al-
Ṭabasī has long been identified with writings on talismans and incantations
for subjugating occult powers. The Timurid historian Ghiyāth al-Dīn Khwān-
damīr (d. 942/1535) describes al-Sakkākī as a master of the extraordinary sci-
ences and the wondrous arts (ʿulūm-i gharība va funūn-i ʿajība), listing specific-
ally the subjugation of jinn (taskhīr), nīranjāt, the summoning of astral forces
(daʿvat-i kavākib), talismans, and magic and enchantment (siḥr va sīmiyāʾ).78

it in order to conjure astral spirits is described, but without use of the term mandal, in
Maslama b. Qāsim al-Qurṭubī (d. 353/964), Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, ed. Hellmut Ritter (Berlin:
B.G. Teubner, 1933), 298, 299.
77 The Chester Beatty Library in Dublin has two copies of the work, IN2 and IN54, both
of which are incomplete. For a detailed description of their contents, see Linda Leach,
Mughal and Other Indian Paintings from the Chester Beatty Library, 2 vols. (London: Scor-
pion Cavendish, 1995) 2:819–889, 891–903. A third copy is in the Wellcome Institute,
London, Per. MS 373, described in Emma Flatt, “The Authorship and Significance of the
Nujūm al-ʿulūm: A Sixteenth-Century Astrological Encyclopedia from Bijapur,” Journal of
the American Oriental Society 131, no. 2 (2011): 223–244. For more on the historical context
of the Nujūm, see Emma Flatt, The Courts of the Deccan Sultanates: Living Well in the Per-
sian Cosmopolis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), esp. 210–267.
78 For this biographical account of al-Sakkākī as a sorcerer and his ultimate downfall, see
Ghiyāth al-Dīn Khwāndamīr, Ḥabīb al-siyar, ed. Jalāl al-Dīn Humāʾī, 4 vols. (Tehran: Khay-
yām, 1333sh/1954), 3:80–81. Al-Sakkākī was also held out, even in occult literature, as an
object lesson for transgressing the bounds of probity; see, for instance, the opening of
the astrological treatise, Hayʾāt al-aflāk, British Library, MS Or. 5416, fol. 4b. For more, see
Zadeh, “Commanding Demons,” 133–134.
postscript 635

Al-Sakkākī’s Arabic collection takes the same title, al-Shāmil fī l-baḥr al-kāmil,
as al-Ṭabasī’s earlier manual. As with al-Ṭabasī, al-Sakkākī was celebrated as a
skilled enchanter (muʿazzim), hailed as a muftī to both humanity and the jinn,
so it is not a surprise to find their writings collected side by side.79 The surviv-
ing Arabic and Persian writings associated with al-Sakkākī on the occult arts
remain in manuscript form and await detailed study.80
In the Bijapur manuscript, the section ascribed to al-Sakkākī on subjugating
(taskhīrāt) astral and planetary spirits, demons, jinn, and angels, illuminates in
lavish detail what was meant visually by casting a mandal. Here we encounter
several paintings that depict an enchanter, referred to as the master of the sum-
mons or assembly (ṣāḥib-i daʿvat). In the illustrations, the master summons
spirits while seated within a mandal, reciting sacred formulas, having prepared
various recipes to be thrown into a sacred fire, with angels or demons stand-
ing outside the magical boundaries of the diagram waiting to be commanded
for any purpose. These illustrations closely follow the directions provided in
the text itself that are often noted as proven (mujarraba) to be efficacious. In
addition to drawing the mandal in the form of concentric circles or rectangu-
lar patterns, the directions for incantations to bind spirits usually involve the

79 See Bodleian Library, MS Walter 91, an illustrated Persian miscellany produced in India
before 1200/1786, titled on the flyleaf, Majmūʿa-yi nuskha-yi Sakkākī dar ʿilm-i daʿvat, con-
taining: 1) a treatise on jinn and astral talismans, fols. 1b–36a; 2) a treatise by Tankalūshā
(i.e., Teukros), the legendary Babylonian astral authority, fols. 36b–52a; 3) a Persian selec-
tion from al-Ṭabasī’s Shāmil, fols. 52b–101b; 4) the Taskhīrāt of al-Sakkākī, fols. 102a–134b;
5) Persian selections from al-Sakkākī’s Shāmil, fols. 136b–181b; 5) material drawn from a
collection titled Sirr al-asrār, also related to al-Sakkākī’s Shāmil, fols. 182b–211b. Much of
this is repeated in British Library, MS Or. 11041, an illustrated Persian manuscript titled Sirr
al-asrār fī ʿilm al-ṭilasmāt.
80 For Arabic manuscripts of the Shāmil, see British Library, MS Delhi Arabic 1915, fols. 70b–
240a, itself a miscellany that opens with the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm, once held in the Mughal
royal archive in Delhi; John Rylands Library, Manchester, MS 402; School of Oriental and
African Studies, London, MS 46347. In addition to the Persian manuscripts cited above,
see also the Royal Asiatic Society, London, MS Ellis Persian 11, fols. 41b–82b, the Kitāb Miy-
yālāṭīs al-Akbar, a Hermetic treatise on the stations (manāzil) of the moon purportedly
translated for Aḥmad b. Ṭulūn (d. 270/884), included in the Shāmil, MS Delhi Arabic 1915,
fols. 91a–114b. Discussed in Emily Selove and Taro Mimura, “Sex and Trickery in a Sorcerer’s
Encyclopaedia: A Sampling of al-Sakkākī’s Kitāb al-Shāmil wa-baḥr al-kāmil,” (forthcom-
ing). I thank Emily Selove for sharing with me a draft copy of the article. For published Per-
sian materials, see al-Sakkākī, Kitāb Nafāʾis al-funūn, lith. ed. (Bombay: Mīrzā Muḥammad
Shīrāzī, 1892); al-Sakkākī, Khutūmāt va taskhīrāt-i jinn va aʿmāl-i qirṭās va-ʿulūm-i gharība,
photostatic copy of a manuscript (Quetta: Maktaba ʿArabiyya, n.d.). Emily Selove of the
University of Exeter is leading a Leverhulme Trust research project on the work of Sakkākī,
“A Sorcerer’s Handbook,” to create an edition, translation, and literary study of al-Sakkākī’s
Shāmil.
636 zadeh

recitation of various sacred phrases known for their blessings (baraka), taken
from the Qurʾan, the names of God, and other pious supplications, the invoca-
tion of strange demonic and/or angelic names, the sacrifice of various animals,
the fumigation of incense and medicaments (adwiya), the use and placement
of specific tools, and the writing of ciphers and seals (khātam, pl. khawātim),
generally to be conducted at specific astral timings.81 Such is the case with the
incantation designed to subjugate Queen ʿAyna, a demon said to control thou-
sands upon thousands of demons and jinn; she was known in early Islamic
demonology as the daughter of Iblīs, an identification grounded in a theolo-
gical belief that demons were the Devil’s progeny (Figure 14.1).82
Given the clearly Indic context of the production of the Nujūm al-ʿulūm and
much of the character of its contents, which draws freely from various Indic
sources, particularly jyotiṣa traditions of astral science, it is not surprising that
this section on summoning spirits has been read as an example of syncret-
istic engagements with “Hindu” thought and practice, especially in light of the
maṇḍala as a Sanskrit word.83 Leaving aside the categorical problem of syn-

81 Nujūm al-ʿulūm, Chester Beatty, MS IN2, fols. 114a–126b, 221a–226b. The manuscript is both
lacunose and sometimes out of order, this treatise included. The later section (fols. 221a–
226b) is actually the opening of the treatise in question, on conjuring or summoning spirit
beings (iḥḍārāt-i rūḥāniyān), which starts with a general description of the practice of pre-
paring the mandal and opens with directions for summoning the astral spirit of the Sun.
Also notable is a folio that was removed from the manuscript and became a part of the
Edwin Binney Collection, now in the San Diego Museum of Art, 1990.435, the provenance
of which is discussed in Edwin Binney, “Indian Paintings from the Deccan,” Journal of the
Royal Society of Arts 127, no. 5280 (1979): 784–804. The Persian treatise Taskhīrāt cited here
and ascribed to al-Sakkākī, can be found in MS Walter 91, fols. 102a–134b; Kashmir Uni-
versity Library, MS 2746, fols. 1a–31b; Salar Jung, Hyderabad, MS 1529 (ʿUlūm-i sirriyya §13).
82 Nujūm al-ʿulūm, fols. 124b–125b; MS Walter 91, fols. 125b–127a. The spelling ʿAyna is used
here, though the vocalization of the name is uncertain. The figure accompanying the
demon in the illustration is identified explicitly in the directions for the incantation as
a parī seated on a lion with long hair, evidently among the legions of demons and jinn
that ʿAyna controls, referred to in the incantation’s description of her powers. This folio
is described and reprinted in Leach, Mughal and Other Indian Paintings, 845, 851 (9.182),
and in Deborah Hutton, Art of the Court of Bijapur (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
2006), 55, fig. 2.13. Both appear to be unfamiliar with earlier Islamic practices of casting
mandals to summon occult powers. Likewise, Leach’s identification with “Hindu” ele-
ments, echoed by Hutton, is probably not as direct as they imply, given the circulation
of similar material in eastern Iran several centuries earlier. While Iblīs is known to have
other daughters, ʿAyna appears with some frequency. For more examples, see MS Walter
91, fols. 91a, 190b–191b, 202b; MS Delhi Arabic 1915, fols. 141b, 164b, 193b; al-Kashnāwī, al-Durr,
59, 63–64. For the earlier demonology associated with ʿAyna, see al-Ṭabasī, Shāmil, Berlin,
Staatsbibliothek, MS. Or. Fol. 52, 71–74 (paginated). On shayāṭīn (demons) as the offspring
of Iblīs, see al-Rāzī, Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm, 440.
83 See Leach, Mughal and Other Indian Paintings, 2:847; Hutton, Art of the Court, 59.
postscript 637

figure 14.1 An incantation (ʿazīma), requiring the sacrifice of two cocks, performed in
a mandal designed to subjugate the queen demon ʿAyna, accompanied by a
parī mounted on a lion. Nujūm al-ʿulūm, Bijapur, India, dated 978/1570. Ink
and colors on paper. Page 26.1 × 16.9 cm. Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, MS IN2,
fol. 125b
© The Trustees of the Chester Beatty Library, Dublin

cretism,84 it would appear that of the many direct Indic influences on this col-
lection, this is not one of them. Rather, the mandal had long been calibrated in
the language of Islamic cosmography as an efficacious technique for harnessing
spirits, well before Muslim religious authorities crossed the Subcontinent and
reintroduced it into India in a form entirely shaped by discourses on Solomonic
magic and Qurʾanic theurgy. When Muslim authorities in South Asia began to
draw extensively on esoteric dimensions of yoga and tantra, both before and
after the production of such texts as the Nujūm al-ʿulūm, they already possessed
a vocabulary of astral knowledge and occult power that had been drawn from
Indic learning centuries earlier.85

84 See Saif and Leoni’s discussion of syncretism in the introduction to the present volume.
85 For examples, see Kazuyo Sakaki, “Yogico-Tantric Traditions in the Ḥawḍ al-Ḥayāt,” Journal
638 zadeh

As with the flow of people, ideas and practices travel circuitously, often in
ways that obfuscate direct lines of transmission and exchange. In this way, the
metaphor of genealogy, as a means of tracing the linear descent of an idea or
practice back to its source, following all its permutations and ramifications in a
hierarchical taxonomy, can quickly obscure the multiple movements and trans-
formations across time and place. The alchemical condition of language resists
a stable, closed, archive of monogenetic material, which is not fixed but rather
polyvalent and polygenetic.86
As in many other arenas of occult practice and authority, the Islamic vocab-
ulary of the mandal has important afterlives among both Christians and Jews.87
Moreover, the ritual form and content of the mandal are themselves unstable,
even as the word circulates among Muslims through time and place. Particu-

of the Japanese Association for South Asian Studies 17 (2005): 135–156, esp. 148, 152 n. 15,
n. 21. For the mandal and the discourses of taskhīr al-arwāḥ, the subjugation of spirits, in
this context, see Carl Ernst, Refractions of Islam in India: Situating Sufism and Yoga (New
Delhi: Sage, 2016), 208, 227–228 (chart. 10.7), 315 (§ 3.1). I thank Supriya Gandhi for our
conversations about the later Persian reception of Nath Yoga in the Indian subcontin-
ent as a means for harnessing occult power. For earlier currents, see, for instance, David
Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology from Babylon to Bīkāner (Rome: Istituto Itali-
ano per l’Africa e l’ Oriente, 1997), 51–62, 79–90; David Pingree, “The Indian and Pseudo-
Indian Passages in Greek and Latin Astronomical and Astrological Texts,” Viator 7, no. 1
(1976): 141–195; David Pingree, “Some of the Sources of the Ghāyat al-ḥakīm,” Journal of
the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 43 (1980): 1–15; cf. van Bladel, Arabic Hermes, 115–
118.
86 For the classic formulation of the rhizome as a metaphor to collapse epistemic hierarchies,
see Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia,
trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), 3–25; see also
David Greetham, “Phylum-Tree-Rhizome,” Huntington Library Quarterly 58, no. 1 (1995):
99–126.
87 See David Pingree, “Learned Magic in the Time of Frederick II,”Micrologus 2 (1994): 39–56,
esp. 42, 48; Jan Veenstra, “The Holy Almandal: Angels and the Intellectual Aims of Magic,”
in The Metamorphosis of Magic from Late Antiquity to the Early Modern Period, ed. Jan
Bremmer and Jan Veenstra (Leuven: Peeters: 2002), 189–229; Jan Veenstra, “Venerating and
Conjuring Angels: Eiximenis’s Book of the Holy Angels and the Holy Almandal: Two Case
Studies,” in Magic and the Classical Tradition, ed. Charles Burnett and W.F. Ryan (Lon-
don: Warburg Institute, 2006), 119–134; see also the Latin edition, L’Almandal et l’Almadel
latins au Moyen Âge. Introduction et éditions critiques, ed. Julien Veronese (Florence: Sis-
mel, 2012). See the comments by Bernd-Christian Otto, “Historicising ‘Western Learned
Magic,’ ” Aries 16 (2016): 161–240, esp. 195–196 n. 150. Also see Dora Zsom, “A Judeo-Arabic
Fragment of the Magical Treatise Kitāb Dāʾirat al-aḥruf al-abǧadiyya,” The Arabist: Bud-
apest Studies in Arabic 38 (2017): 95–120, esp. 102, 115; and A Fifteenth-Century Manuscript of
Jewish Magic: MS New York Public Library, Heb. 190, ed. Gideon Bohak, 2 vols. (Los Angeles:
Cherub, 2014), 1:166, l. 1 (edited text), 2:166 (facsim., with diagram). My discussion here has
benefited from conversations with Alessia Bellusci.
postscript 639

larly in the west, the expressions ḍarb and fatḥ al-mandal came to be associated
with divinatory practices of scrying, which involve gazing into a goblet, kettle,
or a circle of ink to summon jinn who can then help uncover knowledge of
the unseen. The Syrian alchemist and all-around occultist, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān
al-Jawbarī (fl. 619/1222) has this form of casting a mandal in mind when he
describes the various tricks that enchanters use, often through chemical means,
to swindle the unsuspecting. The British orientalist Edward Lane (d. 1876) wit-
nessed several instances of this form of mandal divination while living in Egypt,
which he referred to as the “Mirror of Ink.” Lane was famously convinced by
the divinatory performances he observed.88 The slippery nature of the sign, as
it moves both within and beyond various communities, reflects how practices
are renamed, reconstituted, and reinvented continually in new discursive sys-
tems.
The fact that such wordplay can extend in countless directions is merely
one indication of the ebb and flow of theories and practices and the con-
cepts and words that condition them. Many of these routes have been obscured
from sight, repurposed and naturalized, often beyond recognition. These pro-
cesses of occultation are often deliberate, as they are tied to mechanisms
for claiming ownership, appropriating, and possessing, while also rejecting
and effacing. Like the word naẓar—which can evoke both the philosoph-
ical language of theoretical observation and the widespread use of amulets
to guard against the evil eye—these currents of human effort move in mul-
tiple directions forward and backward across the globe. Such patterns are not
only part of the diverse landscapes of Islamic intellectual and cultural his-
tory, they continue to abide the world over. Our systems of knowledge are
conditioned by the global movement of bodies, capital, and ideas, which are
invested simultaneously not only in languages of rationalized disenchantment
but also in enduring commitments to the strange and uncanny powers of the
unseen.89

88 ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Jawbarī, Kitāb al-Mukhtār min kashf al-asrār, published as Al-Ǧawbarī
und sein Kašf al-asrār, ed. Manuela Höglmeier (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 2006), 233–235,
§§ 13.1, 3; Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406), al-Muqaddima, ed. ʿAbd al-Salām al-Shaddādī, 4 vols.
(Casablanca: Bayt al-Funūn wa-l-ʿUlūm wa-l-Ādāb, 2005), 2:149–150. For examples, see ps.-
Ibn Sīnā, al-Mujarrabāt al-rūḥāniyya (Beirut: Muʾassasat al-Nūr, 2005), 63, 68–69, 233, 245.
See also Edward Lane, An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians,
ed. Edward Stanley Poole (London: John Murray, 1860), 263–275, 275 n. 1; William Wor-
rell, “Ink, Oil and Mirror Gazing Ceremonies in Modern Egypt,” Journal of the American
Oriental Society 36 (1916): 37–53.
89 See the discussion of market forces driving the production and consumption of amulets
in Gruber’s Chapter 13 in this volume.
640 zadeh

Knowledge production is as much a question of what we decide to tuck

away as what we keep on view. The distinction between archive and canon
can offer an encouraging path, if not out of the labyrinth, then at least further
along its twisting arteries.90 When facing the vast volumes of Islamic literature
and material culture preserved in the archives of modern institutions, we must
recognize that all forms of possession and curation are governed by specific val-
ues and material conditions. The production of memory, of what is preserved
and commemorated communally, is also a curatorial process of leaving out,
ignoring, and even destroying. Such forces have shaped profoundly the study
of Islam in general and the occult sciences in particular. Much of the field has
been hidden by successive generations of forgetting and abandonment. Even
so, the surviving archives are immense, and, despite growing efforts, increased
interest, and important interventions, vast bodies of physical labor and tex-
tual capital remain unrecognized and unexplored, awaiting consideration. To
reconsider what others have abandoned demands that we ask the simple ques-
tion why it has been forgotten at all. The power of our scholarship lies not only
in the ability to name but in our capacity to think otherwise and to do so with
clarity and sympathy. For a host of reasons and motivations—even if unstated,
unrecognized, or posed for radically different ends—the occult has never been
so clearly in view.

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Index

Page references in bold type indicate a more in-depth treatment of the subject.

Aaron 244 Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥasan Ibn al-Haytham see Ibn

Abbasid period/Abbasids (750–1258, 1261– al-Haytham, Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥasan
1517) 72, 134, 140, 181, 232, 253, 255, 390 Abū ʿAlī al-Muḥassin b. Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-
ʿAbbās I (Safavid Shah of Iran, r. 1587–1629) Ṣābiʾ (d. 1010) 107, 131
295, 296, 298, 299, 301, 303–305, Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī (Eyüp, Companion of
303n164, 305n173, 306n178, 307, the Prophet, d. 674) 441, 574
406n71 Abū Bakr (1st Caliph of the Rashidun
ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq b. Qāsim Shīrāzī (Amānat Caliphate, r. 632–634) 477, 488, 499, 505
Khān, d. 1644–1645) 118 Abū Bakr al-Rāzī see al-Rāzī, Abū Bakr
ʿAbd al-Jabbār b. Aḥmad al-Hamadhānī Muḥammad b. Zakariyyāʾ
(d. 1024) 133n185 Abū Dhāṭīs see Anūdāṭish
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī see [al-]Bisṭāmī, Abū l-Faḍl Muḥammad al-Ṭabasī see al-
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Ṭabasī, Abū l-Faḍl Muḥammad
ʿAbd al-Raḥman b. ʿAwf (Companion of the Abū l-Fatḥ ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Khāzinī see
Prophet, d. c. 654) 540 [al-]Khāzinī, Abū l-Fatḥ ʿAbd al-Raḥmān
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī 268 Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī see al-Ghazālī, Abū
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Jawbarī see [al-]Jawbarī, Ḥāmid
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Abū l-Ḥasan b. ʿAlī al-Masʿūdī see al-Masʿūdī,
al-Abharī, Athīr al-Dīn (d. 1264) 622–623 Abū l-Ḥasan b. ʿAlī
Abraham b. Ezra (d. 1165) 99n112 Abū l-Ḥasan (kunya) 131, 133n185
Abraham/Ibrahīm 282–283n74 Abū l-Ḥasan Thābit b. Ibrāhīm b. Zahrūn
as lettrist/relation with letters 241, 244 (d. 976 or 980) 133, 133n185, 134n186
magic squares and 241, 242 Abū l-Ḥasan Thābit b. Sinān (d. 976) 133
millennium and planet of 235, 236 Abū Ḥātim al-Muẓaffar al-Isfizārī see al-
references on talismans/amulets to 540, Isfizārī, Abū Ḥātim al-Muẓaffar
552 Abū Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī 169n22, 194
Abrahamic faiths 213 Abū Hurayra (Companion of the Prophet,
see also Ḥanīfs d. 680) 432
philosophies/religions denying prophet- Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābiʾ (d. 994)
hood vs. 209, 210, 213, 215 134–136, 134n187, 135n188
Abrahamic prophets 110 Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Jarīr al-Ṭabarī see
references on talismans/amulets to 538, [al-]Ṭabarī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Jarīr
541n34, 552, 552n77, 578 Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḥarrānī (d.
revelation and 213, 215, 246 before 978–979) 124tab., 131–142, 132 fig.,
Abū al-ʿAbbās 328 132–133n184, 134–135n188, 143
Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Maghribī see [al-]Maghribī, Abū l-Maḥāsin Muḥammad b. Saʿd b.
Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad al-Nakhjuvānī see Ibn Sāvajī
Abū ʿAbdallāh al-Kūmī see [al-]Kūmī, Abū Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī (d. 787) 105n121, 207,
ʿAbdallāh 351
Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad b. ʿĪsā al-Māhānī Maqāla fī l-aʿdād al-mutaḥābba (“Dis-
see al-Māhānī, Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad course on Amicable Numbers”) 351
b. ʿĪsā Abū l-Muẓaffar Barkiyāruq (Sultan of the
Abū ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Sulamī see al-Sulamī, Seljuk Empire, r. 1094–1105) 124tab.
Abū ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī (d. 950) 607
652 index

Abū Naṣr Manṣūr b. ʿAlī b. ʿIrāq 130n180 references on talismans/amulets to

Abū Nuwās (poet, d. c. 813–815) 329 30, 270, 421, 427, 430, 441, 444, 445,
Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad al-Sīmāwī see al-Sīmāwī, 466n58, 477
Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad Aḥmed Paşa b. Ḫıżır Beğ (d. 1521), Müfti
Abū l-Qāsim al-Ḥijāzī 138, 141 409
Abū l-Qāsim, Amīr (marshall of sayyids of letter of congratulation (tehniyetnāme) to
Nishapur) 281 Selīm I 408, 412
Abū Saʿd Jarrāḥ (Khwārazmshāh prince) ʿĀʾisha bt. Abī Bakr (d. 678) 541–542
124–125tab. ʿajāʾib (“wonders, marvels, natural curiosit-
Abū Sahl al-Kūhī (d. c. 995) 135 ies”), equation with gharāʾib 616–617
Abū Saʿīd Mīrzā (Sultan of the Timurid Ajian Macan Putih (“Incantation of the White
Empire, r. 1451–1469) 269, 405 Tiger,” practice) 485
Abū Sālim ʿAbd Allāh al-ʿAyyāshī see al- Akbar (Mughal Emperor, r. 1556–1605)
ʿAyyāshī, Abū Sālim ʿAbd Allāh 437
Abū Sulaymān al-Sijistānī (d. 985) 135n188 al-Akhlāṭī, Sayyid Ḥusayn (d. 1397) 197, 299,
Abū ʿUthmān ʿAmr b. Bahr al-Jāḥiẓ see al- 396, 401
Jāḥiẓ, Abū ʿUthmān ʿAmr b. Baḥr on lettrism 277
Abū l-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī see [al-]Būzjānī, Abū talismanic operations by 300, 301, 303
l-Wafāʾ works 256, 272, 292, 397
Abū l-Wafāʾ Ibn ʿAqīl see Ibn ʿAqīl, Abū l- AKP (Justice and Development Party, Turkey)
Wafāʾ 31, 573
Abū Yaḥyā Zakariyyāʾ al-Qazwīnī see al- Aksel, Malik 456
Qazwīnī, Abū Yaḥyā Zakariyya alchemy (kīmiyā) 12, 614
Abū Yaʿqūb ibn ʾIsḥāq aṣ-Ṣabbāḥ al-Kindī see aim of 44
al-Kindī, Abū Yaʿqūb ibn ʾIsḥāq aṣ-Ṣabbāḥ as corporeal science 45, 46–48
Aceh-Dutch War (1873–1914) 446–447 definition/term 43, 273–274
action 46 foundations of 45
categories of (Ibn Sīnā) 44–45 magic and 27, 192
observation vs. 608 material ingredients in alchemical recipes
Adam 181, 185 46–47
creation of 239, 243 parallels with sīmiyāʾ 337–338
Hebrew occult texts attributed to 240 purification of 21n70
knowledge of occult sciences 3 role of planets in 47–48
as lettrist/relation with letters 237, 238– spirits and souls in 47–48
240, 241, 336 Aleppo, sack of 235, 257–258, 261, 262
magic squares and 110 Alexander, David G. 438
millennium and planet of 235, 236 Alexander the Great (King of Macedon, r.
references on talismans/amulets to 336–323BC) 241, 425
540 Aristotle and 3, 182–183, 327
Adelard of Bath 27, 49 algorithms 58, 105
ʿAḍud al-Dawla (Buyid Amir of Iraq, r. 978– ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (4th Caliph of the Rashidun
983) 60, 111tab., 124tab., 131, 135, 143 Caliphate, first Imam, r. 656–661) 232,
Agathodaimon 195, 210, 212, 240, 245 238, 271, 425, 439
Agrippa, Henry Cornelius, De occulta philo- see also Dhū l-Fiqār; Lion of ʿAlī calli-
sophia 52 grams
Ahl al-Bayt (“People of the House”) alchemy and 272
devotion to/veneration of 307, 444 devotion to 444, 446, 448, 477
divinatory/intercessory powers and heal- heroic qualities of 462, 464, 477
ing capabilities 273, 448 intercessory powers of 441
index 653

al-Jafr wa-l-jāmiʿa (“Comprehensive Pro- cryptographic 334, 353–354

gnosticon”) 251, 386 origins of 238
as lettrist/relation with lettrism 249– al-Alūsī, Shihāb al-Dīn Maḥmūd (d. 1854)
252, 262, 273, 399 389
as “Lion/Tiger of God” 456, 462, 464, Amahraspands (divine entities, Zoroastrian-
500 ism) 629
magic squares and 111n138, 251–252, 256 Amasya, Treaty of (1555) 445
predictions by 259 amicable numbers 109, 109n133, 351
references/invocations on talismans/ see also awfāq (magic squares)
amulets to 30, 427, 428, 430, 441, 444, ʿĀmilī, Shaykh ʿAlī Minshār (d. 1576) 297
445, 488, 499, 538–539, 555 Amīr b. Khiḍr Mālī 70n38
as successor to the Prophet 236n17, amīr (title) 281–282
463–464 amulets
tomb of 446 see also talismans
use of talismanic weaponry 421 amuletic gadgets vs. devotional objects
ʿAlī ʿĀdil Shāh I (Sultan of Bijapur, r. 1558– 527–528
1579) 634 Arabic script amulets 601–602
ʿAlidism/ʿAlids 28, 250, 268, 269, 271, commercialization of 572, 586n26, 593,
307 595, 599, 600–602
references on talismans/amulets to 25, as encouragement for ethical behavior
445, 477, 555 584
alif (letter) 242, 243, 259, 346 “Islamized” 600–602, 600ill., 601ill.
al-ʿAlīm (name of God) 244, 259 making of 28, 564
ʿAlī Qulī Khān Shāmlū (Safavid military com- popularity of 572
mander, d. 1624–1625) 296 protection in commercial life 583–584
ʿAlī al-Riḍā (8th Shiʿi Imam) in Turkey see blessing cards; eye beads
al-Ṣaḥīfa al-riḍawiyya 270, 271 Ananda (Prince of Anxi, enthroned 1282)
shrine of 271, 303, 303n164, 304–305, 66
305n173,n175, 305–306n176 ʿAnāq (monstrous daughter of Eve) 336
ʿAlī Ṣafī, Fakhr al-Dīn (d. 1532–1533) 267, Anatolia 286, 288n97, 390, 412, 539
307 al-Andalus 125, 191, 259
see also Tuḥfa-yi khānī al-Andalusī, Ṣaʿīd 113tab.
Ḥirz al-amān min fitan al-zamān (“The angelicity/angelic forms, reception of angelic
Amulet of Protection from the Vicis- forms after death 174
situdes of Fate”) 268n5, 292 “angel of illumination” (angel of inspired
ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī, Mīr (d. 1501) 267–268n4, knowledge and names of God) 234–
269, 271, 285 235
Majālis al-nafāʾis 289 angels 173
Allāh see also archangels; spirits/spiritual
see also divine names powers
references/invocations on talismans/ animal fights (Malay peninsula) 497–500,
amulets to 428, 430–431, 438 498ill.
value of name in lettrism 244 animals
Allāh Vīrdī Khān (Safavid military com- attracting animals by magic 167, 183
mander, d. 1613) 296, 299 composite 464, 485
ALM (letter combination), in Qurʾan verses depiction of 473, 503
386n21, 403, 405n70 Ankara 574
alphabets 237, 354 aṅkayantra (numerical tantric diagrams,
Arabic alphabet 4, 237 northern India) 69, 75
654 index

al-Anṣārī, Muḥammad b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 1336– Arabo-Persian occult sciences, scholarship
1337), Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī ʿilm al-firāsa and 381, 401, 403
(“Book of Politics of the Science of Aratus 195
Physiognomy”) 332–333 Arberry, Arthur J. 325
al-Anṭākī, Abū l-Qāsim ʿAlī (d. 987) 130 archangels, references on talismans/amulets
Kitāb tafsīr al-Arithmāṭīqī (“Comment- to 499, 508, 548, 552
ary on the Arithmetical”) 111tab., 131, Archimedes/Arshimīdis (d. 212BCE) 110,
140 111n138, 128, 248–249
al-Anṭākī, Dāwūd (d. 1599), Tadhkirat ūlī Ardabil 286, 287
l-albāb (“Memorandum for Men of Intelli- Ardabīlī, Shaykh Ṣadr al-Dīn Mūsā (d. 1391–
gence”) 344 1392) 286
anthropomorphic scripts 458 Aristotelianism 5, 81, 135n188, 187, 195
Antichrist 241, 253, 261 Aristotle 195, 325, 628
see also Timūr see also pseudo-Aristotle
Antinoupolis, letter square from 63 Alexander the Great and 3, 182–183, 241,
anti-occultist rhetoric 6, 7, 19n62, 263, 396, 327
402 Brethren of Purity and theology of
see also Ibn Khaldūn 177
Anūdāṭīsh (Abū Dhāṭīs) Kitāb Kunūz al-muʿazzimīn fī asrār al-
Kitāb Muṣḥaf zuḥal (“Book of the codex ḥurūf […] (“The book of treasures of
of Saturn”) 325 the conjurers”) 320
Muṣḥaf al-qamar 340 Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī aḥkām al-riʾāsa (“Book
Anwār al-jawāhir wa-l-laʾāliʾ fī asrār manāzil of politics concerning the rules of gov-
al-maʿdan al-ʿālī (“The Glow of Jewels and ernment”) 320
Pearls over the Secrets of the Stations of natural philosophy of 81
the Sublime Metal,” Anonymous) 194 Arithmetical Introduction (Nichomachus of
Anxi, Prince of, palace 66 Gerasa) 62, 138, 140
apocryphal magic 353 arms and armor 25
Apollonius of Tyana (d. c. 100) 78, 79, see also body armor; daggers; swords;
80n63, 110, 274, 349 talismanic weaponry
apotropaic devices see amulets; talis- definition 420
mans talismanic nature of 29–30, 420–
Aqquyunlu Empire (tribal confederation) 421
29, 396, 403 Arsūmāmandarūs 335
lettrist imperialism/universalist claims artefacts 20–21, 22
404 Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (Washington), Fal-
Timurid Empire vs. 403–406 nama: The Book of Omens (exhibition,
Aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya (“Division of the 2009–2010) 9
Intellectual Sciences,” Ibn Sīnā) 3–4, artificial trickery (siḥr ṣināʿī)
43–44 see also illicit magic
aqṭāb (“Poles”), mujaddidūn as 236, 254 true magic (siḥr ḥaqq) vs. 178–179
Arabica (journal) 15–16 ascent
Arabic language and script 239 planetary 210–211, 224
see also calligrams of the soul 177
lettrism and 238 asceticism 223, 225, 226, 227, 277
as tool for legalizing of dubious activities Aṣḥāb al-Kahf (“People of the Cave,” “Seven
31 Sleepers of Ephesus”) 462n38
translation of occult works into 240, protection in seafaring and trade by
255, 279 554ill., 554n85
index 655

references on talismans/amulets to 421, astral vital agents 172–173

434, 438–439, 448, 462 astrology 168
on blessing cards/magnets 575, see also astral magic
580 astral influences and magic squares 81–
in calligrams 471, 478, 507, 553–554, 84, 86, 90, 91–94, 95, 96, 98, 99–102,
554ill., 555n87 108, 108n130, 143, 302
on stamped talismans 548, 553–554, astrological conditions for making talis-
554ill. mans 50, 83–84, 98
Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology elective/electional 50, 91, 98, 141, 167,
(University of Oxford) 20–21 182, 267
Islamic Occultism in Theory and Practice eschatological meaning of 174, 176–177
(conference, 2017) 1, 2 as foundation of talismanry 174
Power and Protection (exhibition, 2016– institutionalization at courts 380, 385,
2017) 9–10, 23n76, 455–456 404, 412, 412n89
Ashmole, Elias 20–21 interrogational 54, 54n29
Asian Civilisations Museum (Singapore) judicial 628
488, 492n165 lettrism and 403, 406, 412, 412n89
al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā (“most beautiful Names of as magic 171–174, 183
God”) 432–434, 502, 536, 538, 548, 575, mathematics and 172, 411
583 scholarship on 381
see also divine names as science 3, 46, 53
Asrār-i qāsimī (“Qāsimian secrets,” Kāshifī) works on 351
28, 268, 342 astronomical observations 127, 143
additions/interpolations in Safavid period astronomical tables (zīj) 127, 135, 143,
293–298, 307 351
dating/authorship 298–306 astronomy/astronomers 45, 177
Bombay lithograph editions 293, mathematical 125, 126, 128, 135–136, 143,
293n120 302n161, 411
cipher 291 al-Aṭʿānī, Muḥammad b. Aḥmad (d. 1405)
circulation 291, 293 236n17, 254, 262
identity of “Qāsim”/patron 274, 280–291 Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal (d. 1938) 584,
manuscripts 274n32, 279n52, 293, 598n52
293n119 Atlagh, Ridha 13
scope of 273–278 ʿAṭūfī (d. 1541) 409n84
simplified version see Tuḥfa-yi khānī Aubin, Jean 287
sources of inspiration 278–280, 285– Avesta (primary collection of religious
286, 296 Zoroastrian texts) 629, 629n62
Astarābādī, Faḍlallāh (d. 1394) 243, 278 Avicenna see Ibn Sīnā
astral idolatry see planetary idols Avicennism 210, 215, 222
astral magic (hīmiyā) 28, 183, 274, 293, Sabianism and 210
294n125, 341–342, 345, 384 awfāq literature 27, 59–60, 268
see also planets; [al-]Sirr al-maktūm see also Diwān al-ʿadad al-wafq
Sabian 207–227 from Buyid Baghdad 60, 86, 111tab.,
astral-prophetic cycles 232, 234, 235, 236, 124tab., 131–132, 143
249–250, 261, 262 early awfāq literature (pre-7th/13th c.)
astral rituals 105n121, 114–126
meditation and 226 earliest author of 131, 132–136
Sabians 208–209, 213–214, 215, 216, 223– overview of authors 111–113tab., 124–
224 125tab.
656 index

manuscripts Moon’s influence on 90, 92, 93, 94, 96,

British Library, Add. MS 7713 (Anon. 100–102, 108n130, 301, 350
Pers. BL) 105n121, 114 music and 91, 94
British Library, Delhi Arabic 110 116– Neopythagoreanism and 62, 79, 140
126, 123ill. occult properties (khawāṣṣ) of 80, 82,
Princeton University Library, Third 84, 86, 87, 88–89, 88n81, 95, 103, 105,
Series, no. 591 118 114, 120, 143
mathematical texts 70, 71, 87–94, 105– orders and types of 58n2, 86, 92, 96, 99
106 3 × 3 wafq 58n2, 61, 62, 63, 63–65, 65,
medical texts 71–86, 87, 92 68–69, 71–105, 74–75ill., 77ill., 79ill.,
Psalms in 75, 78, 80, 101 82–83ill., 87–88ill., 90–91ill., 97–
rise of 106–114 98ill., 100–101ill., 103ill., 110, 122, 138,
from Seljuk Isfahan and Marw 60, 72, 140, 142, 348–350
113tab., 124–125tab., 126–128, 130, 131, 4 ×4 wafq 58n2, 61, 65, 68, 122, 138,
143 300, 301
talismanic texts 71 5 ×5 wafq 58n2, 122, 299
awfāq (magic squares) 27 6 ×6 wafq 66–67, 67ill., 67n27, 138,
see also awfāq literature; lettrism; sīm- 241, 299n145
iyāʾ 7 ×7 wafq 122
ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib and 251–252, 256 9 ×9 wafq 65, 92
astral influences/astrological principles 10 ×10 wafq 65, 99
81–84, 86, 90, 91–94, 95, 96, 98, 99–102, 19 ×19 wafq 137n195
108, 108n130, 143, 302 28 ×28 wafq 122
construction (techniques) 96, 302 100×100 wafq 109n134, 110, 110n137–
balanced mixture (al-mizāj al- 138, 111n138, 241, 248, 251, 256
muʿtadil, construction technique) adorned wafq 137
137 bordered wafq 136, 138
definition 57–58 of mixed composition 137
failure/possible limited potential of 80– other forms/shapes 114
84 unique/rare bordered wafq 136
harmonious relationship between num- planets associated with 86, 92, 96,
bers and figure 91–94 98n108, 99, 102, 108, 108n130
healing power of 80, 102, 143, 241 pre-Islamic
history/origins 59–70, 109–111, 137, 140, China 61, 63–67, 67ill., 67n27, 70, 71
142–143, 241, 242, 252 Greece 62–63, 79–80, 109–110, 252
“Indian letters” 346–350 India 61, 68–69, 70, 71
Islamicate 70–106, 74ill, 75ill., 114 references from Holy Scripture in 75–76
hubs of awfāq activity 126–128, 131– talismanic use of 59, 61, 71, 114, 120, 143
132 bladder problems of horses 76–78,
Jewish 99n112 77ill.
letters in/letter squares/relation with for childbirth (eutotic wafq) 68–69,
lettrism 71, 83, 89n81, 101, 102, 106, 71–76, 74–75ill., 79–105, 79ill., 82–
114, 144 83ill., 85ill., 90–91ill., 97ill., 98ill.,
magic constant 88n80, 89, 95, 109n134, 100–101ill., 103–104ill., 348–350
122, 139 for destruction and depopulation
mathematics of 27, 58–59, 70, 71, 105– 96n89, 97ill., 98ill.
106, 105n121, 120 determining proportions of ingredi-
see also awfāq literature; Dīwān al- ents 68
ʿadad al-wafq multiple talismanic functions 96, 101
index 657

release of prisoners 100ill., 101, 101ill. Bahāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad, Shaykh (Shaykh
seafaring 100ill., 101, 101ill. Bahāʾī, d. 1621) 295, 295n130, 296, 297,
for winning favors of kings 96n89, 298–300, 298n136–137, 303–306,
97ill., 98ill. 306n179
Awrangzīb (ʿĀlamgīr, Mughal emperor, r. Bahāʾ al-Dīn Naqshband (d. 1389) 287,
1658–1707) 118 288n97
awṣiyāʾ (“delegates,” s. waṣī) Baḥīrā (Christian monk) 587
see also mujaddidūn Bain, Alexandra 562
assignment of millennia to 235, 236, Balkans 539
236n17, 249, 252 calligrams in 456, 466
āyat al-kursī (Throne Verse) 431, 435, 438, Balkh 113tab., 124tab., 125tab., 127, 305
580, 582, 599, 600ill., 601 banners
Aydın, Hilmi 590 Cirebon banner 482–487, 483ill., 490,
ʿAyna, Queen (demon) 636, 636n82, 637ill. 503, 507
al-ʿAyyāshī, Abū Sālim ʿAbd Allāh (d. 1679) curative powers of sacred 486–487
390n31 functions of 484, 486
Riḥla (“Travelogue”) 389–393 talismanic motifs/symbols on 441,
Azhār al-afkār fī jawāhir al-aḥjār (“The 442ill., 446–447
Blooms of Thoughts on Precious Stones,” al-Bāqī, Maḥmūd ʿAbd (d. 1600), Divān 442,
al-Tīfāshō) 30, 422–423 443ill.
Azimat Singa (“Talisman of the lion”) barābī, alphabet of the 354
498ill., 499 baraka (blessing power), Prophetic 582,
Azrael/ʿIzrāʾīl (archangel) 499, 508 584, 585–595
Barbarossa, Khayreddīn/Ḥayreddīn (Otto-
Baʿalbakī, Risāla-yi khavāṣṣ al-ḥurūf (“Treat- man admiral, d. 1546) 441, 445
ise on the Properties of Letters”) 280 barong (type of sword) 446
Babad Talaga, Majalengka (“Chronicle of Bashir, Shahzad 230, 231
Talaga, Majalengka”) 490–492, 492ill. Basım, Kabe 588, 589ill.
Babad tanah Sunda/Babad Cirebon (“Chron- basmala (“In the name of God […]”) 326,
icle of the land of Sunda/Cirebon”) 480 582
Bāb al-Tibn Observatory (Baghdad) 111tab., references on talismans/amulets to 601
124tab., 135 on blessing cards/magnets 575, 580,
Bâburî, Sâqib 105n121 581ill., 582
Babylon 184 in calligrams 483, 511
Babylonian knowledge/scholars 195, Basra 112tab., 124tab.
273n27, 340, 635n79 Batara Gana see Gaṇesá
Badr, Battle of 251, 550 batik 446, 471, 482–483, 483ill., 509ill.
Badr al-Dīn, Shaykh (Bedreddīn, d. 1420) bāṭin (“the hidden”), ẓahir (“the manifest”)
397, 397n44 vs. 459, 610–611
Wāridāt (“Inspirations”) 397n44 Battle of Badr 251, 550
Baffioni, Carmela 162 Battle of Chaldiran (1514) 381, 385, 394,
Baghdad 408
awfāq literature from Buyid 60, 86, battlefields, (semi-)precious stones/metals
111tab., 124tab., 131–132, 143 used on 423
fall of 65, 67, 446 Battle of Karbala 271, 290
Harranian Sabian community in 131– Battle of Kaybar (628) 464
134, 132 fig., 140, 141, 141n209, 142 Battle of Marj Dābiq (1516) 393n33
Bahāʾ al-Dawla (Buyid Amir of Iraq, r. 988– Battle of Muş (1467) 405
1012) 134 Battle of Otlukbeli (1473) 405, 409
658 index

Battle of Raydāniyya 388–389 al-Bisṭāmī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān (d. 1454) 29,

Battle of the Trench (627) 421 106, 197–198, 231–233, 397–398,
Battle of Uḥud (625) 439, 496 407n73–74, 410, 412–413
Bausani, Alessandro, L’enciclopedia dei Fra- see also Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-
telli della Purità 162 mulūk
Bāyezīd II (Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, r. Durrat tāj al-rasāʾil (“The Crown Jewel of
1481–1512) 110, 380–381, 404, 405, the Epistles”) 197, 406
406n70, 411–412 lettrism in lifetime of 252–260, 262
Bayhaq 268 Miftāḥ al-jafr al-jāmiʿ (“Key to the Com-
al-Bayhaqī, Ẓahīr al-Dīn (d. 1169) 127 prehensive Prognosticon”) 398,
Bayram (national holiday) 579 399
Bāysunghur b. Shāhrukh (d. 1434) 402n56 Shams al-āfāq fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq
Bedreddīn see Shaykh Badr al-Dīn (“The Sun of Horizons on the Science
Bektāshī Sufi (crypto-Shiʿi order) 444, of Letters and Magic Squares”) 197–
445 198, 233, 240, 248, 252, 256, 258, 262, 331
Lion of ʿAlī calligrams in 466, 467ill., Bisṭamiyya Sufi order 254, 257
490 bladder problems, magic squares for horses’
references on talismans/amulets to 76–78
549ill., 551, 552ill., 553 blessing cards (bereket kartelası, Turkey) 31,
Bengal 470 572, 575, 576ill., 577ill., 581ill., 586ill.,
Bennett, James 473, 490 589ill.
benzoin, smoking of sacred objects with accumulation for optimal talismanic
478, 502 effect 580–584, 581ill.
bereket kartelası see blessing cards contents/depictions on 575–578, 580,
bewitchment 186 585–595
bewitchment of reason see sīmiyāʾ format 575
Beyoğlu (neighbourhood, Istanbul) 580– as gifts of celebration of religious festivit-
584 ies 579–580
Bidlīsī, Idrīs (d. 1520) 403, 404, 406, 407, origins of 575, 577, 579
408, 412 as “radiant document” of the Prophet
Hasht bihisht (“Eight Paradises”) 404– 577–578, 577ill., 585
406, 412 rise in production 585
Biggs, Norman L. 63 use in commercial life 583–584
“The Roots of Combinatorics” 62 in restaurants 580–584, 581ill.
Bijapur 634, 635 use in everyday life 578–580
Binbaş, Evrim 256 blessing power (baraka), Prophetic 582,
al-Bīrūnī, Abū l-Rayḥān (d. c. 1048) 130n180 584, 585–595
Kitāb al-ʿAjāʾib al-ṭabīʿiyya wa-l-gharāʾib blessings, from sacred objects and sites
al-ṣināʿiyya (“Book of Natural Wonders (tabarruk) 562
and Amazing Arts”) 618 Blochmann, Henry Ferdinand 115–116,
Kitāb al-jamāhir fī maʿrifat al-jawāhir 115n154
(“Book of Collections on the Know- body
ledge on Precious Stones”) 29–30, see also nīranjāt; talismans
422–423, 425 operation of body on body 43, 45, 53
on mandal 630 operation of body on spirit 43, 53
Maqāla fī istikhrāj al-awtār fī l-dāʾira body armor 420
(“Treatise on the Derivation of the mail shirts 429ill., 430–434, 433ill.
Chords in a Circle”) 107–108 orientation of talismanic motifs on
bissu (gender-transcendent priests) 510 428–434, 429ill., 433ill.
index 659

quranic verses and divine names on Sirr al-ḥikam wa-jawāmiʿ al-kilam (“The
430–434, 433ill. Secret of Judgments and the Compila-
reference to Dhū l-Fiqār on shirts 444 tion of the Sentences”) 325
talismanic shirts (under mail shirts) as as source of inspiration/influence of 16,
extra protection 444 59–60, 71, 194, 197, 198, 232, 233, 299,
Boné (South Sulawesi) 508 410, 459
botany 21n69 Burma see Myanmar
Brahma Tirta Sari (batik studio, Yogyakarta) Burnett, Charles 12, 27
509ill. Bursa 28, 233, 408
Brahmins 209, 219 al-Būṣīrī, Qaṣidat al-burda (“The Mantle
Brethren of Purity (Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ) 234, Ode”) 561
277–278, 334, 395n39 al-Bustānī 349–350
see also Epistle of Magic; New Brethren of Buton (sultanate) 507–508
Purity; Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ Buyid period/Buyids (934–1062) 169n22
esotericism of 168, 170, 175, 180, 184 awfāq literature from 60, 86, 111tab.,
identity and self-image of 86, 185, 194– 124tab., 131–132, 143
195 al-Būzjānī, Abū l-Wafāʾ 124tab., 130n180, 135
Neopythagorean cyclical theory of history Kitāb fī tartīb al-ʿadad al-wafq fī l-
401n55 murabbaʿāt (“Book on the Arrange-
Bright Hall (Mingtang, palace of Zhou dyn- ment of the Harmonious Number in
asty emperors) 64 Squares”) 111tab., 131, 137, 139
British Museum 22n73, 538 Byzantium/Byzantines 359, 369, 382, 405–
Buddhism 631 406n70
calligrams in 472–473
tiger imagery in 474, 475 Cairo 256, 257, 277, 389, 403, 406, 407, 497
Buddhist rituals 630 awfāq literature from 112tab., 124tab.
Buddhist Tai communities 475, 508 conquest of (1517) 380, 386, 386–393,
Budong-Budong (West Sulawesi) 486 394, 398, 399, 407, 408n77, 412
Buhlūl (“the madman of Kufa”) 340 see also Kemālpaşazāde Aḥmed
Bukhara 467, 631 as occult-scientific capital of the Islamic-
al-Bukhārī (hadith compiler, d. 870) ate world 385, 393, 395, 396, 411
587 Cai Yuanding 64
bull- and buffalo-fighting 478, 497–500, calendars
498ill., 507 calendrical reform 127, 235
Bulletin d’ études orientales, “Sciences Jalālī calendar 127
Occultes et Islam” 13 reconciliation of 235
al-Bulqīnī (d. 1403), Sirāj al-Dīn 254, Rejang divinatory calendar 474
257n92 caliphate (khilāfa), intellectual magic of
Būnīan corpus, on awfāq (magic squares) 180–182
59–60, 336, 350 caliphs
al-Būnī, Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad (d. c. 1225) see also Rightly Guided Caliphs
111n138, 196 cursing of 445
see also Shams al-maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al- Callataÿ, Godefroid de 164, 168n19, 191, 196
ʿawārif calligrams 24, 454–456
on divine names 249, 538 see also Lion of ʿAlī calligrams; Macan Ali
Laṭāʾif al-ishārāt (“The Secret of Signs”) calligrams
193, 234, 239 as alternative for depicting living beings
lettrism of 106, 144, 231, 232, 243, 250, 457–459
340, 390n31, 397, 398 in Buddhism 472–473
660 index

dating of 465, 468–469, 472 Central Asia 65, 115, 118, 456, 466n57, 631,
definition 454 632
functions and meanings 455, 461 Centre National de la recherche scientifique
images/shapes/forms 455, 461, 462 (CNRS, Paris) 8n19
human body and face 466n58 centuries, epicycles of religious and civiliza-
Seven Sleepers/ship-shaped 471, 478, tional renewal 232, 234, 236, 249–250,
507, 553–554, 554ill., 555n87 261
textual content vs. gestalt 463 Chagatai khanate 66
language/script 454, 472, 481, 502 Chaghatay (Timurid princes and military
lettrism and 459–460 elite) 289
local adaptation of 473 chains of transmission 270, 270n15
media used 454, 480 Chaldeans 222
pre- and non-Islamic 472 Chaldiran, Battle of (1514) 381, 385, 394,
on stamped talismans 553–555, 554ill. 408
Sufi doctrine and 455, 459 charlatanism 7, 276
talismanic properties/magical properties childbirth, eutotic wafq (magic squares) for
of 455, 457, 459–463 facilitating 68–69, 71–76, 74–75ill., 79–
calligraphy 455n2, 464, 471 105, 79ill., 82–83ill., 85ill., 90–91ill.,
see also calligrams; ḥilya; Lion of ʿAlī calli- 100–101ill., 103–104ill., 348–350
gram China 324
figural 459, 468, 472, 473, 479, 480, 513– calligrams in 454, 468
514 magic squares in 61, 63–67, 67ill., 67n27,
zoomorphic 456, 457, 458, 471n79, 472, 70, 71
480 production of eye beads in 598, 599
Canaan, Tewfik 11, 19n64, 543n41, 564n119 Chinese lion imagery 482
Candi Jago (Java), Hindu-Buddhist temple Chittick, William 260n104
474 Christianity/Christians 575, 626
Cangking (West Sumatra) 471 esoteric writings 610
carnelian (precious stone) 422–423 Islam vs. 22n71, 587
categorization of magic see classification/cat- mandal and 638–639
egorization of magic occult/occult sciences and 6, 324, 382,
causality, volitional 172, 192, 199 384, 385, 439
Çelebi, Evliyā (d. after 1685) 563 Philippines 508
Seyāḥat-nāme (“Book of Travels”) 435 Christy, Henry 22n73
Çelebi, Kâtip see Ḥājjī Khalīfa Cirebon (Java) 480, 490
celestial powers calligrams in 457, 468, 471, 472, 480–
see also planets; spirits/spiritual powers 482, 481ill.
in earthly objects vs. own person 223– Cirebon banner 446, 482–487,
224 483ill., 490, 493, 507
celestial spheres Macan Ali (“Tiger of ʿAlī”) calligrams
see also planets 476, 480, 481ill., 482, 483, 483ill.,
mimesis of 218 485–486, 487, 488, 489ill., 490–491,
production of letters and 231n4 492ill., 493ill., 494–495, 495n174,
celestial spirits/intermediaries see spir- 513
its/spiritual powers in manuscripts 490–492, 491–492ill.
celestial-sublunary connections 208 Masjid Agung (“Great Mosque”) Sang
celestial world, governance/authority of sub- Cipta Rasa 478, 492–495, 493ill.
lunary and terrestrial world 173, 211, wood panels 480, 481–482, 481ill.,
216–217, 221 487–490, 489ill., 492–495, 493ill.
index 661

civilizational renewal, epicycles of 232, 234, copper 47, 49

236, 249–250, 261 Córdoba 113tab., 189, 367
civilizational transformation 28 Coromandel Coast (India) 470
Classic of Changes (Yijing) 64, 65 corporeal action 44
classification/categorization of magic 31, corrupt magic see illicit magic
608–610, 614–615 cosmic diagrams 630, 631–632
classification of knowledge 607–608 cosmic superiority of rulers see lettrist imper-
classification of (occult) sciences 3–4, 26, ialism
26n80, 31, 53, 171, 273, 273n27, 407n73– cosmos, parameters of 237
74, 408n79, 410n86, 608, 610, 615 Coulon, Jean-Charles 19n63, 28, 193, 336
history 406–407 La magie en terre d’Islam au Moyen Age
semantics 609–619 16–17
classification of strange/extraordinary cows, artificial generation of 353
(gharīb) phenomena 620–623 Crucq, Karel Christiaan 482, 488
Clement IV (pope, 1265–1268) 45 cryptographic alphabets 334, 353–354
CNRS (Centre National de la recherche scien- cycles see epicycles
tifique, Paris) 8n19 cypresses, on stamped talismans 548,
Codex Vindobonensis (collection of Viennese 549ill.
paintings of Ottoman officials) 445
coins/coin-shaped amulets 425–426, 426ill. daggers, talismanic motifs and precious
colonialism, European 411 stones/metals on 423, 427–428
colonialist outlook on occult sci- Dai De, Record of Rites by Dai the Elder 64
ences/practices 22, 31, 382, 394, 609 Damascus, conquest of 394, 398, 400,
combinatorics 58 407
commercialization of talismanic objects/ dangerous magic see illicit magic
amulets 572, 586n26, 593, 595, 599, 600– al-Dashtakī, Sayyid Ṣadr al-Dīn 297n135
602 Davānī, Jalāl al-Dīn (d. 1502) 403, 405, 406,
see also blessing cards; eye beads 412
communal transformation/reform 28 Yazdī vs. 403–404
Companions of the Prophet, reference on Dawlatshāh b. ʿAlāʾ al-Dawla Bakhtīshāh
talismans/amulets to 441, 540, 558 al-Ghāzī al-Samarqandī, Tadhkirat al-
composite animals 464, 485 shuʿarāʾ 288–289
concoction 186, 194 Day of Judgment 253
magical concoctions for attracting anim- references on talismans/amulets to
als 167, 188 549ill., 551
organic 170 days 230, 236–237
Conjunction, Lord of the (ṣāḥib-qirān, astro- see also time
logical title) 403, 405, 408 end of days of the world 259–260
conjurations 164–168 De aluminibus et salibus (pseudo-Rāzī) 46–
conjuring, science of (rīmiyā) 28, 274, 278, 47
279, 293, 294n124, 305n173, 342, 633 De anima in arte alchemica (pseudo-
see also Asrār-i qāsimī Avicenna) 48
definition/term 275–276, 276n38 Dee, John (d. 1609) 385
Constantinople, conquest of 260, 263, 441, De imaginibus (Thābit b. Qurra) 27, 108
574 Delhi 60, 69, 115
Constitutional Revolution (Iran, 1905–1911) Delhi Collection see Dīwān al-ʿadad al-
6 wafq
conversion to Islam 479, 480, 626 Deliverer from Error (al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl
Copernican Revolution 411 wa-l-muwaṣṣil ilā dhī l-ʿizza wa-l-jalāl, al-
662 index

Ghazālī), on awfāq (magic squares) Dhū l-Qarnayn 241

102–106 diamonds, in talismanic weaponry 424ill.,
Delos, altar of 111n138 425, 426ill.
Demak Sultanate (Java) 480 al-Dimashqī, ʿAlī b. Muḥammad al-Lakhmī
demons 614 al-Ishbīlī al-Maghribī (d. after 1517),
duʿāʾ (“supplication”)/summoning 542– al-Durr al-muṣān fī sīrat al-muzẓaffar
545, 614 Salīm Khān (“The Preserved Pearl: On the
mandal for protection against/expulsion Career of the Victorious King Selīm”)
of 633 408n77
Dēnkard (“Acts of Religion,” Encyclopedia of Dioscorides 237
Mazdaism) 628, 629 al-Dayrabī, Aḥmad, Kitāb al-Mujarrabāt
De occulta philosophia (Agrippa) 52 545n57
depiction of living beings 457–459, 473, disconnected letters 250–251
478, 494, 503, 513–514 divination 167, 170
descendants of the Prophet see Ahl al-Bayt; science of 63
sayyids in state administration and military mat-
destructive magic 192 ters 182
see also illicit magic; prohibited magic as type of magic 174
devils 167 divine inspiration 246–247
see also demons; jinn; Satan/Iblīs divine law see sharīʿa
devotion divine names 231, 239, 243, 307
merger with magic 528, 542–545, 549– al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā (“most beautiful Names
550, 563–564, 574–575, 584–585 of God”) 432–434, 502, 536, 538, 548,
see also eye beads; stamped talismans 575, 583
vernacular forms of/popular Islamic hadith on 432–433
devotion 574, 575, 585, 597 ḥisāb al-jummal (numerical values of
devotional objects 563–565 prophet’s names and correlations with
see also prayer manuals; relics; sacred divine names) 232, 234, 235, 243–
seals 245, 256, 259, 386, 392
amuletic gadgets vs. 527–528 lettrism and 234–235
role of Sufism in development of 563 manipulation of 268
Dhū l-Fiqār (mythical bifurcated sword of references on talismans/amulets to 441,
ʿAlī) 421 444
association with ʿAlī 439–441 on blessing cards/magnets 575,
healing power of 486–487 581ill., 582–583
as intercultural/interreligious symbol of in calligrams 502
solidarity 447, 448–449 on stamped talismans 536, 538, 550
on merchandise 495, 495n174 on talismanic weaponry 432–434,
name 439 433ill., 446
references on talismans/amulets to 30, divine sciences 175
438, 439, 441–447, 443ill., 477 divine speech/sayings
appearance in conjunction with Lion relation with manifest existence 230
of ʿAlī 446, 470, 476, 483–484, see also lettrism
486–487, 495, 511 on stamped talismans 536, 538
on arms and armor 421, 427, 434, divine throne, day of the 236–237
436ill., 438, 440ill., 444, 446 divinity, delusion of 216–218, 219
on banners 441–442, 442ill., 446–447 Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq (“Collection of the
on stamped talismans 549ill., 550– Harmonious Number”) 60–61, 115, 116,
551 123ill., 131, 143
index 663

see also Abū l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal al- elixers, science of creating see alchemy
Ḥarrānī Elizabeth I (Queen of England and Ireland, r.
authorship 128–130 1558–1603) 385
description, provenance and date 117– emancipation of the soul (al-tajrīd, occult
119 science) 3
structure 121–122, 129 emerald, in talismanic weaponry 424ill.,
text 120–126 425–426, 426ill., 448
authors of awfāq treaties mentioned Emmanuel the Dayān 73n44
in 124–125tab., 136 enchantment of reason see sīmiyāʾ
Donaldson, Bess Allen 11 end of time and history 232, 235, 249, 253,
Doutté, Edmond 11, 527 259–260
Dozy, Reinhart Pieter Anne 327 Enlightenment/post-Enlightenment mindset
Duʿāʾ Kumayl 251 5, 6, 10, 19n62, 21
duʿāʾ (protective prayer, supplication), on Enoch 240
stamped talismans 540–541, 540n33, envy 595–596
542–544 Epicureanism 195
Dunhuang caves (Silk Road) 631 epicycles, of religious and civilizational
Durmish Khān Shāmlū (Qizilbash com- renewal 232, 234, 236, 249–250, 261
mander) 291, 291n111–112 Epistle on Magic (52b, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ,
al-Durr al-muṣān fī sīrat al-muzẓaffar Salīm Brethren of Purity) 162, 273n27, 334
Khān (“The Preserved Pearl: On the see also magic
Career of the Victorious King Selīm,” al- on astrology/astrological theory in 171–
Dimashqī) 408n77 174, 187
Durrat tāj al-rasāʾil (“The Crown Jewel of the authorship 190, 191
Epistles,” al-Bisṭāmī) 197, 406 fable of ailing king and vizier in 174–176,
dynastic cycling 401–402 184
influence on and parallels with other
edged weapons 420, 424 works 189–198
see also daggers; swords manuscripts
talismanic motifs on 427 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Atif Efendi 1681
Egypt 125, 392 164n10, 168–169, 169, 187
lettrist imperialism in 412 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Esad Efendi
lion imagery in 464–465 3638 166tab., 169, 170
magical papyri from 461 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Feyzullah 2131
Ottoman conquest of 29, 381, 383, 385, 166tab., 169
386–393, 389n26, 394, 398, 399, 407, 412 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Köprülü 870
see also Fetḥ-i Mıṣır ḥaķķında īmā ve 167tab., 170
işārāt Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Ragip Pasha
talismanry in 246 839 165n10, 166tab.
writing tablet from 63 Istanbul, Süleymaniye, Ragip Pasha
Egyptian knowledge 195 840 165n10, 166tab.
Egyptian religion, ancient 245–246, 626 London, British Library, Or. 2359
Ekhtiar, Maryam 23, 29 164n10
El-Bizri, Nader, The Occult Sciences in Pre- London, British Library, Or. 4518
Modern Islamic Cultures 17 165n10
elective/electional astrology 50, 91, 98, 141, London, Sotheby’s Lot 27, p. 26,
167, 182, 267 Sotheby’s Arts of the Islamic World
elephants, in calligrams 485, 487–490, 165n10, 167tab., 169
489ill., 502 Oxford, Bodleian, Laud Or. 260 169
664 index

Oxford, Bodleian, Marsh 189 167tab., Eusebius of Caesarea 79

169 eutotic wafq see childbirth
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, 6.647– Eve 336
6.648 166tab., 170 evil eye 187, 220, 573
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Arabe see also eye beads
2303 167tab., 169 hadith on 596–597
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Arabe Qurʾān verses on 536, 580, 582, 596
2304 167tab., 170 execution, talismans for protection from
scholarship and (un)critical editions 300–301
162–164 exegesis, esoteric 175–176, 307
Beirut (1957) 163, 164, 170, 186 exhibitions 9–10, 23n76, 420, 455–456
Bombay (1887–1889) 163 extraordinary (gharīb) phenomena, classific-
Cairo (1928) 163 ation of 620–623
shorter version (52a) vs. 154, 164, 165n10, eye beads (nazar boncuğu) 31, 572–573, 580,
168–169, 168n19, 170, 187–188, 198–199 581ill., 595–600, 596ill., 600ill.
sources of inspiration 335 see also evil eye
structure of 163 boom in 573
title 164, 165tab. “Islamized” 599–600, 600ill.
Epistles of the Brethren of Purity see Rasāʾil (mass) production of 598–599
Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ as souvenirs 595, 599
era see millennia Turkish variety 597–598
Erdoğan, Recep Tayyip 602 Eyüp (Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, d. 674) 441,
Erginbaş, Vefa 444 574
eschatological narratives, fable of ailing king Eyüp (city, Turkey) 574
and vizier (Epistle on Magic, Brethren of Eyüp tomb complex (Istanbul) 572, 573ill.,
Purity) 174–176, 184 574–575, 576ill., 588, 591–592
eschatology Ezekiel, as lettrist/relation with letters 242
eschatological predictions 241
meaning of astrology in 176–177 fables
meaning of magic in 174–176, 184 ailing king and vizier (Epistle on Magic,
esoteric, categorization of 609, 610–611 Brethren of Purity) 174–176, 184
esoteric exegesis, of Qurʾan 175–176, 307 of the physician (Epistle 44, Brethren of
esotericism 25 Purity) 185
of Brethren of Purity 168, 170, 175, 180, Faḍlallāh Astarābādī (d. 1394) 243, 278
184 Fahd, Toufic 13
Islamic 5, 7, 78, 250, 252, 254, 271, 513, Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad 118, 119
610 fāʾ (letter) 244
Western 2, 6, 19, 19n62, 610, 611 Falnama: The Book of Omens (exhibition,
ethics 267, 607, 608, 623 2009–2010, Arthur M. Sackler Gallery) 9
encouragement of ethical behavior 584 al-Fāsī, Muḥammad al-Ḥajwī al-Thaʿālibī
Ettinghausen, Richard 463 (d. 1956), al-Fikr al-sāmī fī taʾrīkh al-fiqh
Euclid 128, 138 al-islāmī (“High Intellection: on the His-
Elements 141 tory of Islamic Jurisprudence”) 389
Europe 27, 394, 411, 468 fatalism, Muslim 261
awfāq (magic squares) in 61, 62 Fatḥ-nāma-yi humāyūn (Yazdī) 401n52
European colonialism 22, 31, 383, 394, 411, Fatḥ-nāma-yi ṣāḥib-qirānī (Yazdī) 401n52
609 Fatih (district, Istanbul) 593
European scholarship 7–8, 61, 328 Fāṭima bt. Muḥammad 477
see also Western scholarship references on talismans/amulets to
index 665

in awfāq (magic squares) 85, 86 Foucault, Michel 461

on banners 445 Four Seasons and Five Elements (Chinese
“hand of Fāṭima” (khamsa) 30, 441, philosophy) 64
444, 548–550, 549ill., 552ill. Franks, Arthur W. 22n73
in Lion of ʿAlī calligrams 510–511 Frères de la Purité, pythagoriciens de l’Islam,
on stamped talismans 555 Les (Marquet) 163, 181, 188
Fatimids 254 fumigation/suffumigation 194, 208, 216,
Fazlıoğlu, İhsan 384 275, 332, 344, 345, 347, 352–353, 361,
felines see lion imagery; tiger imagery 365, 632, 634, 636
female occultists 317, 324, 331n43 sense-altering 171
see also Sharāsīm/Ishrāsīm al-Hindiyya of talismans and sacred objects 48, 50,
fengshui (form of geomancy) 63, 63–64n15 478, 502, 564n119
Fereydūn (Persian mythical king) 110, 137 awfāq (magic squares) 96, 98
fermentations (taʿāfīn) 194 futuvvat orders 271
Fetḥ-i Mıṣır ḥaķķında īmā ve işārāt (“Allusions
as to the Conquest of Egypt,” Kemāl- Gabriel/Jibrāʾīl (archangel) 282, 282–
paşazāde Aḥmed) 380, 383–384, 400, 283n74, 499, 508
407, 411, 412, 413 Galata Tower (Istanbul) 600
analysis of Q 21:105 29, 383, 386 Galenic medicine 628, 629
lettrist arguments for conquest in 29, Galen of Pergamon (d. 210) 99n112, 142, 186,
385–393, 412 274, 617–618
manuscripts, Konya, MS Mevlana Müzesi Gallop, Annabel 496
2315 385 Gaņesá (Batara Gana, elephant-headed
scholarship on 383 Hindu god)
Fī ʿadād al-wafq (“On the Numbers of Har- identification of 490
mony,” Ibn al-Haytham) 112tab. Lion of ʿAlī and 487–490, 489ill.
Fierro, Maribel 169n22, 191 Gardiner, Noah 15, 19n63, 26n80, 28, 71n40,
figural calligraphy 459, 468, 472, 473, 479, 297, 385
480, 513–514 garlic 583, 583–584n22, 585
figurines, nīranjāt and 51 gematria 232, 244, 386, 392
al-Filāḥa al-nabaṭiyya (“The Nabatean Agri- see also ḥisāb al-jummal
culture,” Ibn Waḥshiyya) 191 geomancy (science) 54, 63, 63–64n15, 64,
Fīrūz Shāh Tughluq (Delhi sultan, r. 1351– 302
1388) 68n30 geometry 45, 87, 89n81, 94, 95, 106, 135, 136,
flags 484, 486 409
see also banners see also awfāq (magic squares)
Lion of ʿAlī on state flags 502–504, 508– combination of numbers and form 87–
511, 509ill. 89, 91
sacred 510–511 Gereformeerde Zendingsbond 509n216
Fleischer, Cornell 261, 383, 384, 398 Gezi uprisings (Turkey, 2013) 583, 602
Flügel, Gustav 190 Ghadīr Khumm 169n22
Fodor, Alexander 240 “ghāmiḍa” (“obscure”) 2, 615, 615n24
foot- and sandalprints (of the Prophet), on gharāʾib, equation with ʿajāʾib (“wonders,
talismanic objects 585, 588, 589ill., 590– marvels, natural curiosities”) 616–617
594, 592ill. al-gharība, al-ʿulūm (the unusual, rare, or
Forbes, Andrew 472–473 difficult sciences) 2, 2n2, 615–616,
form 615n23–24, 621
combination of number and 87–89 gharīb (adjective)
harmonious relationships 91–94 classification of 620–623
666 index

term/definition 619–620 Great Resurrection (qiyāma) 177

equation between “occult” and 615– Greece, awfāq (magic squares) in 62–63,
616 79–80, 252
Ghassemi, Shawn 456 Greek knowledge/sciences 273n27
Ghāyat al-ḥakīm (“The Goal of the Sage,” al- transmission into Islamic domain 8, 16,
Qurṭubī) 27, 53, 196, 328, 352 195, 628
authorship 190, 191, 196 Greek philosophers, awfāq (magic squares)
on awfāq (magic squares) 84, 86, 94–96, and 109–110, 248, 249
348, 350 Greek religion, ancient 626
on conjuring astral spirits 634n76 Greeks 245
on divisions of magic 43, 55 astral idolatry of 223n47
influence of and parallels with Epistle on Gril, Denis 231n4
Magic (Brethren of Purity) 189–192, Gruber, Christiane 31, 428n29
197, 198, 199 guilds, seal-makers’ 563, 563n115–116
on nīranjāt 51, 52 Gujarat 470
on scorpions 549–550 Günther, Sebastian, Die Geheimnisse der
on “seal of Solomon” 550 oberen und der unteren Welt 17–19
on sīmiyāʾ 339, 341, 342, 343
sources of inspiration 334 Hacı Bayram mosque complex (Ankara)
ghayb (“the unseen”), equation between ʿilm 574
al-ghayb and occult sciences 610 hadith 270
al-Ghazālī, Abū Ḥāmid (d. 1111) 14, 236n17, on divine names 432–433
253, 623 on evil eye 596–597
al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl (“Deliverer from on final hour 260
Error”) 102–106 on gharīb 616
Tahāfut al-falāsifa (“The Incoherence of on ḥilya 541–542, 579
the Philosophers”) 4 on imbuing body with apotropaic bless-
al-Jīlanī, Qandīl Nūranī Sayyid Muḥyī al-Dīn ings 434
ʿAbd al-Qādir (d. 1166) 537ill., 539 on magic 184
on stamped talismans 549ill., 551, 552, on mujaddidūn 252–253
552ill. on spiritual beings/angels 221
glass-paintings, Lion of ʿAlī calligrams in on stamped talismans (ḥadīth qudsī)
511–512 536
gnōsis, parallels between ʿirfān (wisdom) and Hādūs 3
611 Hagar 555
gnosticism, categorization of 611 “hajj goods” shops (Turkey) 572, 591
God, worship through intermediaries/medi- Ḥājjī Khalīfa
ation 210, 216–217 Kashf al-ẓunūn ʿan asāmī l-kutub wa-l-
God’s Beautiful Names see [al-]asmāʾ al- funūn (“Removing Uncertainty as to
ḥusnā the Titles of Books and Disciplines”)
Golconda (India) 470 43, 298n141, 322, 327, 410
gold 44, 47, 67n27, 127, 241, 299, 300 al-Ḥākim bi-Amr Allāh (Fatimid caliph, r.
Golem 242 996–1021) 112tab., 124tab.
Goncingngé/Gontjang-e (“The scissors”) flag al-Ḥalabī, Buṭrus b. Diʾb (Pierre Dipy) 323
(Luwuq) 510 hāʾ (letter) 243
Gonzalez, Valérie 461n34 Halflants, Bruno 164
good deeds, on blessing cards/magnets 575 Ḥall al-mushkilāt (“The resolution of diffi-
Great Mosque (Surakarta, Central Java) culties,” Ibn Sāvajī 294–296
494 Hallum, Bink 26n80, 27, 57
index 667

Halūk Perk Müzesi Museum (Istanbul) 455, illusory magic (wahm) and 169
531ill. Lion of ʿAlī calligrams/tiger spirit and
Hamdani, Abbas 162 475, 478, 483ill., 486–487
Hamès, Constant, Coran et talismans 15 Qurʾan verses and 496, 548, 575, 581
Hammond, Timur 574 sandals 591
al-Ḥamūya/Ḥamūʾī, Hibatallāh b. Yūsuf b. sayyids and 273
Ibrāhīm 270n15 stamped talismans and 553, 563
al-Ḥamūya, Ṣadr al-Din Abū l-Majāmiʿ stones and 631
Ibrāhīm (d. 1322) 270n15 helmets, talismanic motifs on 428
Hanafi Sunnism 268, 269 Herat 268–269, 270, 286, 286n88, 287,
“hand of Fāṭima”/“hand of ʿAbbās” (khamsa), 287n96, 289, 292
references on talismans/amulets on 30, Safavid takeover of 291, 291n111, 307
441, 444, 548–550, 549ill., 552ill. Herbelot, Barthélémi d’ (d. 1695) 322, 324
Ḥanīfs, Sabians vs. 216–218, 226 Hermann of Carinthia (fl. 1138–1143) 27,
al-Ḥarālī (master of al-Būnī, d. 1240) 340– 53
341 Hermes Trismegistus 182, 195, 210, 212, 237,
Haravī, Mīr ʿAlī (d. 1544–1545) 467 274, 294, 327, 335, 351
Haris, Tawalinuddin 484, 494 Idrīs-Hermes-(Enoch) identification with
harmonious numbers 109, 109n134, 139 Idrīs 240, 245, 246
see also awfāq (magic squares) al-Kitāb al-maknūn fī asrār al-ʿulūm al-
harmonious relationships between num- khafiyya (“The Well Guarded Book on
bers and forms 91–94 the Secrets of the Occult Sciences”)
Harranians 188, 195, 273n27 3, 335
Harranian/Sabian community (Baghdad) on perfected inner nature 246
131–134, 132 fig., 140, 141, 141n209, 142 Hermetica (pseudo-Aristotle) 3, 108, 182,
al-Ḥarrānī, al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit see Abū 187–188, 191, 193, 194, 197
l-Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḥarrānī heterodoxy 5
Hārūn al-Rashīd (Abbasid caliph, r. 786–809) the hidden (bāṭin), the manifest (ẓāhir) vs.
340, 328–329, 334, 338, 354 459, 610–611
in Arabic magical literature 329 Hijaz 238, 392, 393n33, 562
servants of 328–329, 338 hijra (Prophet’s emigration to Medina) 496
Hārūt and Mārūt 175–176, 184, 336, 340 Hikayat Muhammad Hanafiah (“The Tale of
Ḥasan ibn ʿAlī 86, 441 Muḥammad b. al-Ḥanafiyya”) 470
see also Ahl al-Bayt ḥilye/ḥilya (physical description of the
references on talismans/amulets referring Prophet) 458, 572, 587n29
to 444, 445, 555 hadith on 541–542, 579
Hasht bihisht (“Eight Paradises”, Bidlīsī) prophylactic power of 579
404–406, 412 on talismanic objects 541–542, 578
Hathaway, Jane 447 blessing cards/magnets 575, 577–
ḥawqala (“There is no power nor strength 579, 582, 585
except by Allah”), in calligrams 483, hīmiyā see astral magic
488 Hindu rituals 630, 636, 636n82
Ḥaydar Mīrzā (Safavid prince, d. 1595) 442, Hindus, conversion to Islam 479, 480
443ill. hippiatric treatises 76, 76n57, 87
headgear, on stamped talismans 552 Ḥirz al-amān min fitan al-zamān (“Amulet of
healing/healing power 10 Protection from the Vicissitudes of Fate,”
awfāq (magic squares) and 80, 102, 142, ʿAlī Ṣafī) 268n5, 292
241 ḥirz Marjāna/ḥirz al-ghāsila (“Marjāna’s/
Dhū l-Fiqār and 486–487 washerwoman’s talisman”) 329
668 index

ḥisāb al-jummal (numerical values of Iblīs/Satan 181, 636, 636n82

prophet’s names and correlations with Ibn ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, Muḥammad (d. 1792),
divine names) 232, 234, 235, 243–245, Kitāb al-tawḥīd 5, 561
256, 259, 386, 392 Ibn Abī Uṣaybiʿa (d. 1270), ʿUyūn al-anbāʾ
historiography, Neopythagorean 400–408, fī ṭabaqāt al-aṭibbāʾ (“The Sources of
410, 412 Information about the Generations of
history Physicians”) 351
as (occult) science 401, 406–407 Ibn al-Ādamī (c. 9th/10th c.) 351
as revelation 261 Ibn Akhī Ḥizām, The Book of Horsemanship
History of the Royal Society of London (Sprat) and Horses’ Marks 76–78, 87, 94
21n70 Ibn ʿAqīl, Abū l-Wafāʾ (d. 1119) 633
Hoca, Cübbeli Ahmet (Turkish Muslim Ibn ʿArabī, Muḥyī l-Dīn (d. 1240) 60, 196,
preacher) 593 237, 400n50, 402
Hodgson, Marshall 612, 626, 627 al-Insān al-kāmil (“the Perfect Man”)
Hogendijk, Jan 108 399
Holmyard, Eric John 190 on divine names 244
Holy Scripture, references in awfāq (magic al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyya (“The Meccan
squares) 75–76 revelations”) 230, 234, 259, 341
holy sites, destruction of 562 Kitāb al-ʿiqd al-manẓūm fī khawāṣṣ al-
horoscopes, pairing with lettrist analysis of ḥurūf (“Book of the Arranged Neck-
names and events 403, 405 lace on the Properties of Letters”)
horses, awfāq (magic squares) for bladder 320
problems 76–78, 77ill. Kitāb Tashnīf al-asmāʿ fī taʿrīf al-ibdāʿ
Hūd (prophet) 111n138 (“Book of the Ear Pendants of the
Ḥulal-i muṭarraz dar fann-i muʿammā va Auditions on the Knowledge of the
lughaz (Yazdī) 272n20 Creation”) 320
human beings lettrism of 71, 144, 232, 233, 250, 260,
see also soul, human 261, 289, 390n31, 394, 394n35, 397, 398,
noetic connection with spiritual beings 399–400, 409, 412, 459
208, 212–213, 223–224, 225, 226, 227 Neoplatonic-quranic mystical philosophy
human civilization, evolution and progress of 394n35
21 patron saint of Ottoman Empire 398,
humanity, definition 214 407
Hū (name of God) 243 Quṭb al-aqṭāb (“Pole of the Poles”)
Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq (d. 873) 141, 142, 352 399
Ḥurūfiyya movement 243, 278, 286 on recitation of God’s names 239
Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī (d. 680) 86, 242, 441 on sīmiyāʾ 341
see also Ahl al-Bayt on time 230, 231
martyrdom of 307 Ibn ʿAṭāʾ (d. 922) 239
references on talismans/amulets to 444, Ibn al-Athīr 233
445 on mujaddidūn 253
cloak 290–291 Ibn Barrajān 259
on stamped talismans 555 Ibn Daqīq al-ʿId (d. 1302) 236n17, 253
works 271, 272, 273 Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī (d. 1449), Nukhbat al-
hydrostatics/hydrostatic balance 127–128 fikr fī muṣṭalaḥ ahl al-athar (“Selection of
hypnotic states see illusions Thoughts Concerning the Traditionists’
Terminology”) 116
Iamblichus 62, 109n133, 140 Ibn al-Ḥajj al-Tilimsānī (d. 1524), Shumūs al-
Iberia, lettrism/kabbalah in 413 anwār (“The Suns of Light”) 278, 329
index 669

Ibn Ḥallāj 278–279 Ibn Turka (d. 1432) 272, 272n21, 277, 282n71,
Ibn al-Haytham, Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥasan (d. 1039) 292, 394n35, 399, 400, 410n86, 412,
124tab., 125, 130 412n89
Fīʿadad al-wafq (“On the Numbers of Har- attempt on Shāhrukh’s life 287
mony”) 112tab. lettrist oeuvre 397–398, 397n44
Ibn Kamāl see Kemālpaşazāde, Aḥmed Munāẓara-yi bazm u razm (“Debate of
Ibn Kathīr 253 Feast and Fight”) 402n56
Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406) 14, 19 Risāla-yi ḥurūf 284n82
see also Muqaddīma Suʾl al-mulūk (“Query of Kings”) 403
“science of civilization”/dynastic cycling see also New Brethren of Purity
401–402 Ibn Waḥshiyya 16
Yazdī vs. 401–402, 411 al-Filāḥa al-nabaṭiyya (“The Nabatean
Ibn al-Khaṭīb, Lisān al-Dīn (d. 1375) 343 Agriculture”) 191
Ibn al-Nadīm (d. c. 995), Kitāb al-Fihrist Shawq al-mustahām fī maʿrifat rumūz al-
(“The Repertory”) 107, 141, 334, 351, 614 aqlām (“The Desire of the Distraught:
Ibn al-Qifṭī (d. 1248) 107, 131 the Knowledge of the Symbols of the
Kitāb Ikhbār al-ʿulamāʾ bi-akhbār al- Alphabets”) 353–354
ḥukamāʾ/Tāʾrīkh al-ḥukamāʾ (“The Ibn al-Zarqālluh 61, 125, 143
Storybook on Scholars with the Anec- Maqāla fī ḥarakāt al-kawākib al-sayyāra
dotes of the Sages”) 107n126, 351 (“Treatise on the Movements of the
Ibn Rabban al-Ṭabari see al-Ṭabarī, ʿAlī b. Sahl Wandering Stars”) 96–98, 99, 101,
Ibn Sabʿīn (d. 1269) 191 105, 113tab.
Ibn Sāvajī (Abū l-Maḥāsin Muḥammad b. Ibrāhīm ʿĀdilshāh II (Deccani ruler, r. 1579–
Saʿd b. Muḥammad al-Nakhjuvānī) 295– 1629) 437, 438n67
296n131–132, 296 al-Īḍāḥ fī asrār al-nikāḥ (al-Tabrīzī) 325
Ḥall al-mushkilāt 295–296 ʿĪd al-Fiṭr (“Feast of Breaking the Fast”)
Ibn Sīnā (Avicenna, d. 1037) 27, 207, 220, 579–580
607 idiotētes arrētoi (indescribable properties),
De anima in arte alchemica (pseudo- medicine and 617–618
Avicenna) 48 idiotētes (physical qualities/properties influ-
Aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya (“Division of encing other forms of matter) 617
the Intellectual Sciences”) 3–4, 43– idolatry
44 Indians/Indian religion 219
al-Ishārāt wa-l-tanbīhāt (“Pointers and planetary idols (of Sabians) 195, 216–
Reminders”) 213, 621–623 217, 222–223, 227
Metaphysics 44 Idrīs
Risāla fī al-fiʿl wa al-infiʿāl (“On Action and Idrīs-Hermes-(Enoch) identification
Passion”) 44–45, 52 240, 245, 246
theory of imaginational prophethood Kanz al-asrār wa-dhakhāʾir al-abrār fī ʿilm
213, 225, 227 al-ḥurūf 240
Ibn al-Tāj, Shaykh Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad as lettrist/relation with letters 240,
389–390, 390n31 241
Ibn Ṭalha (d. 1254) 259 millennium and planet of 235, 236
Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1318) 5, 194–196, 197 on perfected inner nature 246
Bayān talbīs al-jahmiyya 195 İhsanoğlu, Ekmeleddin 107
al-Nubuwwāt (“Prophecy”) 195 ijāza (authorization to transmit) 270
Ibn Tūmart (d. 1130), Kanz al-ʿulūm wa-l-durr Ikhtiyārāt al-nujūm/Lavāyiḥ al-qamar (work
al-manẓūm […] (“The Treasure of Science on elective astrology, al-Kāshifī) 267
of the Well Arranged Pearls […]”) 342 Ikhwān al-Ṣafā see Brethren of Purity
670 index

Īlkhānid Khanate/Īlkhānid period 65–66, talismanic objects/symbols

255, 295, 396 awfāq (magic squares) and “Indian
illicit magic 175, 184, 192, 528n4, 584, 614, letters” 61, 68–69, 70, 71, 72, 346–
620, 622–623 350
Illuminationist philosophy 248, 294, calligrams 468, 470, 473, 490
394n35, 398 Dhū l-Fiqār 441
illusionism (ʿilm-i khayālāt) 28, 275 talismanic weaponry 420, 421, 424ill.,
illusions/illusory magic (wahm) 168, 170, 426ill., 427, 428, 429ill., 433ill.,
186–187, 225 436ill., 438n69, 448
healing power of 169 “Indian letters” (numbers) 346–350
in Indian religion 168–169, 209, 219– see also awfāq (magic squares)
220 Indian occult knowledge 8, 28
soul-enabled magic vs. 187 Indian Ocean
ʿilm al-ghayb (knowledge of the unseen) Ottoman-Portuguese rivalry 447
610 transregional network 470, 471
ʿilm-i khayālāt see illusionism Indian religion
imaginal entities, science of see sīm- al-Shahrastānī on 218–220
iyāʾ illusions/illusory magic (wahm) 168–
imaginational prophethood 213, 225, 169, 209, 219–220
227 Indian subcontinent 539
imamate, intellectual magic of 180–181 Indic cultures 208, 209
Imamism, occult sciences and 271, 272 Indic religions 626, 636–637
Imamophilia 25, 28 Indic vocabulary 631
Imams 270 Indonesia 448
see also mujaddidūn artistic interconnections between Otto-
assignment of millennia to 235, 236, man Empire and 447
236n17, 249, 252 Dutch occupation of 446–447, 486
as privileged repositories of occult know- talismanic motifs in 441, 446
ledge 307 (Lion of ʿAlī) calligrams 468, 471
Shiʿi 5, 444 ingredients, mixing and processing see nīran-
imperial ambitions, use of lettrism for see jāt/nīranj
lettrist imperialism inscriptions, textual content vs. gestalt 463
imperial historiography 401 Institut du Monde Arabe (Paris), Un art
imperialism secret (exhibition, 2013) 9
see also lettrist imperialism Intellect 172, 177, 179, 196, 215
kabbalist scientific 385 intellectual magic (siḥr ʿaqlī)
occult-scientific 380, 381, 394, 396 of caliphate 180–182
post-Mongol 410 soul-enabled magic vs. 179–180, 182,
in Quran verses 386 185–186, 195
imprisonment, talismans for protection from intercession (tawaṣṣul)
300–301 of ʿAlī/Ahl al-Bayt 441, 448
incantations, (science of) see nīranjāt of the Prophet and his relics 31, 541, 588,
incense see fumigation/suffumigation 594
India/Indians 6, 219, 324, 392 of spirits 211, 212–213, 227
astral rituals and meditation 226 of talismans/amulets 460, 539, 553, 560,
authors 331 562, 588, 594
see also Kanakana/Kankah al-Hindī; interrogational astrology 54, 54n29
Ṣaṣah al-Hindī; Sharāsīm/Ishrāsīm Intikhāb-i Ḥall al-mushkilāt (“Selections from
al-Hindiyya; Ṭumṭum al-Hindī The resolution of difficulties”) 295
index 671

Introduction to the History of Science (Sarton) reform/rationalization 5–7, 560–561,

62, 62n9 625–627
Introduction to the Thought of the Brethren of Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia (Kuala Lum-
Purity (Netton) 162 pur) 505, 506ill.
Iran 118, 125, 267, 412 Al-Tibb (exhibition, 2018) 10
Islamic reform 6 Islamicate occult sciences see occult sci-
Safavids in 286, 307, 404, 445 ences
talismanic motifs/symbols in 441, “Islamicate” (term) 612–613
465 Islamic esotericism 5, 7, 78, 250, 252, 254,
arms and armor 420, 421, 424ill., 271, 513, 610
426ill., 427, 428, 430, 436ill., 438n69, see also Brethren of Purity
448 Islamic learning/scholarship 609–610,
(Lion of ʿAlī) calligrams 454, 628
456, 466–468, 466n57, 468n65, “Islamic Occultism in Theory and Practice”
473 (conference, 2017, University of Oxford)
Iranian vocabulary 631 1, 2
Iraq 125, 191, 292 Islamic reform 5–7, 560–561, 625–627
conquest of 390–391, 446 “Islamic” (term), “Islamicate” vs. 613
al-ʿIrāqī see [al-]Sīmāwī, Abū l-Qāsim Ismāʿīl I (Safavid shah, r. 1501–1524) 296,
Aḥmad 297n135
ʿirfān (wisdom), parallels between gnōsis and Ismail (Kelantan sultan, r. 1920–1944) 503–
611 504
iron 47, 66, 67 fig., 67n27, 80, 420, 429 fig., Ismail (prophet) 555
430, 436, 500, 620. Isou, Isidore (d. 2007) 396n42
Irwin, Robert 402n59 Istanbul 110, 442
Isfahan 298, 305 blessing cards in restaurant 580–584,
awfāq literature from Seljuk 60, 113tab., 581ill.
124–125tab., 126–128, 131, 143 Eyüp tomb complex 572, 573ill., 574–
Iṣfahānī, Fażl Allāh Khunjī see Khunjī Iṣfa- 575, 576ill., 586ill., 588, 589ill., 591–592,
hānī, Fażl Allāh 592ill.
Iṣfahānī, Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka see Ibn Turka Naqshbandiyya order in 561
al-Isfarāʾīnī (d. 1027–1028) see al-Isfizārī souvenir shops in 572, 591, 600, 601ill.
al-Isfizārī, Abū Ḥātim al-Muẓaffar 113tab., tourism in 602
124tab., 126–128, 130, 253 Izmir 598
Isḥāq b. Ḥunayn (d. c. 910) 141, 141–142
al-Ishārāt wa-l-tanbīhāt (“Pointers and Jābir b. Ḥayyān (d. c. 815) 16, 78, 196, 272,
Reminders,” Ibn Sīnā) 213, 621–623 274, 347
Ishtar 330–331, 331n42 Jābirian Corpus 87, 91, 94
Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae 43 Kitāb al-khawāṣṣ al-kabīr (“Great Book of
Iskandar Beg, Tārīkh-i ʿālamārā-yi ʿabbāsī Occult Properties”) 81–84, 86
306n178 Kitāb al-mawāzīn al-ṣaghīr (“Small Book
Iskender (pseud. for restaurant holder) of Balances”) 78–80, 99n112, 109–110,
583–584 347, 349
Islam Kitāb al-nukhab (“Book of Selections”)
Christianity vs. 22n71, 587 84–86, 95
Islam proper vs. non-authentic Islam Kitāb ikhrāj mā fī l-quwwa ilā l-fiʿl (“Book
613, 625–627 of the Passage of Potentiality into
mystification and orientalization 382 Actuality”) 80–81
purification of 561, 594, 625–627 Jacobs, Adam 269n12
672 index

jade, in talismanic weaponry 423, 424, al-Mukhtār fī kashf al-asrār (“The

436ill., 438n69 Selected Pieces on the Unveiling of
Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (6th Shiʿi Imam, d. 765) 272, Secrets”) 330–331, 334, 340
399, 425 al-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm fī ʿilm al-rūḥāniyya
Jafr khāfiya 272 wa-ṣināʿat al-tanjīm (“The Right Way
jafr see letter divination in the Science of Spiritual [Forces] and
Jafr-i abyaḍ (work) 272 the Art of Astrology”) 330
Jafr-i aḥmar (work) 272 al-Jazūlī, Dalāʾil al-khayrāt (“Guides to Hap-
Jahāngīr (Mughal Emperor, r. 1605–1627) piness”) 557
430n34, 437 Jeremiah, as lettrist/relation with letters
al-Jāḥiẓ, Abū ʿUthmān ʿAmr b. Baḥr (d. 868– 242
869) Jerusalem 259, 389
Kitāb al-awfāq wa-l-riyāḍāt (“Book of Jesus/ʿĪṣā 259
Awfāq and Mathematics”) 106–107, as lettrist/relation with letters 242, 244
106n124, 142 millennium and planet of 235, 236
Kitāb al-tarbīʿ wa-l-tadwīr (“Book of Circ- Jewish writings/literature 99n112, 610
ling and Squaring”) 106 Jews 245, 252, 626
Jainism 69, 630 mandal 638–639
Jakarta 446 al-Jīlanī, Qandīl Nūranī Sayyid Muḥyī al-Dīn
Jalāl al-Din ʿAlī b. Naṣīr see Qāsim-i Anvār ʿAbd al-Qādir (d. 1166) 537ill., 539
Jalālī calendar 127 on stamped talismans 549ill., 551, 552,
Jalāl Munajjim Bāshī (Jalāl al-Din ʿAlī b. Mun- 552ill.
ajjim Yazdī, court astrologer, d. 1619–1620) al-Jildakī, ʿIzz al-Dīn Aydamir (fl. 14th c.)
301–306 274
Tārīkh-i ʿabbāsī yā Rūz-nāma-yi Mullā Kitāb Durrat al-ghawwāṣ […] (“Book of
Jalāl 305 the Pearl of the Diver […]”) 328–
Tuḥfat al-munajjimīn (“The Gift of the 329
Astrologers”) 302 al-Jīlī, Kitāb ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq […] (“Book of
James Reinish Gallery (New York), Divine Pro- True Sources […]”) 324–325
tection: Talismanic Art of Islamic Cultures jinn 167, 614
(exhibition, 2019) 456 duʿāʾ (“supplication”)/summoning 542–
Jāmiʿa (“Compendium”) 272–273 545, 614
Jāmī, Nūr al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān, Nafaḥāt mandal for protection against/expulsion
al-uns 288n97–98, 294n124 of 633
Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm (al-Rāzī) 632 jism see body
Janissary corps (elite corps of Ottoman John of Seville 49
infantry) 444, 445 John Tradescant the Elder 20n67
jargon, as linguistic strategy to affirm sci- Johor (Malaysia) 513–514
entific authority 613 Jonah/Yūnus, relation with letters 244
jasad see body Joseph/Yūsuf 241
jasper 423 relation with letters 244
jātaka tales (Buddhism) 474 Judgment, Day of 253
Java 457, 468 references on talismans/amulets to
see also Cirebon 549ill., 551
shahāda in 479 judicial astrology 628
Javāhir al-tafsīr li-tuḥfat al-Amīr (“The Jewels Jupiter 223n47
of Qurʾan Exegesis Presented as a Gift to assignment to Idrīs 235
the Amir,” al-Kāshifī) 267, 285 Justice and Development Party (AKP, Turkey)
al-Jawbarī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān (d. 1222) 639 31, 573
index 673

al-Juwaynī, ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn (Ilkhanid statesman, Kashf ḥaqāʾiq al-asrār […] (“Revelation of the
d. 1283) 620n38 Truths […]”, al-Tustarī) 75n54, 105n121,
jyotiṣa (Hindu tradition of astral science) 636 110, 114
Kashf al-ẓunūn (Ḥājjī Khalīfa) 4n7, 43,
Kaʿba 240, 540 298n141, 322, 327, 410n86
references on talismans/amulets to Kāshgharī, Mawlāna Mīrzā Jān (unidentified)
535ill., 555–556, 556ill., 578 301
Kabbalah 29, 242, 381, 384, 385, 396n42, Kāshgharī, Saʿd al-Dīn (Naqshbandī Sufi mas-
413, 459 ter, d. 1456) 268, 286n88
Kad kalacan Singa Baruang Dwajalullah al-Kāshifī, Fakhr al-Dīn ʿAlī b. Ḥusayn Wāʿiẓ
(“The Singa Barong is the Emblem of the see ʿAlī Ṣafī, Fakhr al-Dīn
Flag of God”) 485 al-Kāshifī, Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Wāʿiẓ
Kajen (Central Java) 494 (d. 1504–1505) 267, 284, 291, 298, 307,
Kamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad b. Yūnus (d. 1242) 342
70n38 see also ʿAlī Ṣafī, Fakhr al-Dīn; Asrār-i
Kamāl b. Jalāl (son of Jalāl Munajjim), Zub- qāsimi
dat al-tavārīkh 306n178 confession 268–271, 307
Kamummuqé/Kamoemoe-e (“The purple Futuvvat-nāma-yi sulṭānī 271, 289n104,
one”) flag (Luwuq) 510, 511 290
Kanakana/Kankah al-Hindī 331, 350–352, Ikhtiyārāt al-nujūm/Lavāyiḥ al-qamar
354 (work on elective astrology) 267
Kitāb Asrār al-mawālīd (“Book of Secrets of Javāhir al-tafsīr li-tuḥfat al-Amīr (“The
Nativities”) 351 Jewels of Qurʾan Exegesis Presented as
Kitāb fī l-ṭibb (“Book on Medicine”) 351 a Gift to the Amir”) 267, 285
Kitāb al-Namūdār fī l-aʿmār (“Book of the Marṣad al-asnā fī istikhrāj al-asmāʾ al-
Namūdār for the Ages”) 351 ḥusnā (treatise on manipulation of
Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-kabīr (“The Great Book of Divine Names) 267–268
Conjunctions”) 351 Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya (“Gifts presented to
Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-ṣaghīr (“The Small Book ʿAlī”) 268n4, 285–286, 307
of Conjunctions”) 351 Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ (“The Garden of
Kangjeng Kyai Paré Anom (“The green and the Martyrs”) 268, 269n12, 271, 272,
yellow one,” banner) 487 307
Kangjeng Kyai Tunggul Wulung (“The al-Risāla al-ʿaliyya 286
blue-black banner,” royal banner of Risāla dar ʿilm-i aʿdād (treatise on numer-
Yogyakarta) 487 ology and magic squares) 268
Kanz al-asrār wa-dhakhāʾir al-abrār fī ʿilm Sabʿa-yi kāshifiyya (septet on astrology)
al-ḥurūf (Idrīs) 240 267
Kanz al-asrār wa-lawāqiḥ al-afkār (“The Tuḥfa-yi ʿaliyya (treatise on lettrism)
Treasure of Secrets and Fertile Ideas,” 268, 292
al-Ṣanhājī) 341 al-Kāshī, Ḥājjī b. Jamāl al-Kātib 118
al-Kanz al-bāhir fī sharḥ ḥurūf al-malik al- Kashmir 488
Ẓāhir (al-Kūmī) 251, 256 al-Kashnāwī, Muḥammad al-Fullānī
Kanz al-ʿulūm wa-l-durr al-manẓūm […] 633n76
(“The Treasure of Science of the Well Kaywān see Saturn/Kaywān
Arranged Pearls […],” Ibn Tūmart) Kedah (Malaysia) 513
342 Kelantan (peninsular Malaysia) 468, 471,
Karbala 446 472n80, 485, 496–497
Battle of 271, 290 Lion of ʿAlī calligrams from 497–506,
Kashan 301 504ill., 506ill.
674 index

Kemālpaşazāde, Aḥmed (d. 1534) 29, 380, Zīj for Sanjar (al-Zīj al-muʿtabar al-
391–393, 398, 405, 406, 407, 411, 413 Sanjarī) 129
court appointment in Istanbul 383, al-Khiḍr (patron of the Sufis) 241, 245, 251,
383n9, 386 477
as imperialist Neopythagorean historian khilāfa see caliphate
408–409 Khunjī Iṣfahānī, Fażl Allāh (d. 1521) 403,
lettrist call for conquest of Cairo see Fetḥ-i 405, 407, 412
Miṣir ḥaķķinda īmā ve işārāt Tārīkh-i ʿālam-ārā-yi amīnī (“Aminian
scholarship on 384 World-Adorning History”) 404
works 409 Khurasan 104, 125, 286, 287, 292, 458
Risāla fī l-Ṭāʿūn (plague treatise) al-Khuttulī, Abū Yūsuf Muḥammad b. Yaʿqūb
409, 409n81 b. Akhī Ḥizām see Ibn Akhī Ḥizām
Tevārīḫ-i āl-i ʿOsmān 400, 406, 409 Khūzānī, Faḍlī Beg, Afḍal al-tavārīkh
treatise on talismans and astral magic 305n173
384, 409 Khvāfī, Majd al-Dīn Muḥammad (Timurid
Kepler, Johannes (d. 1630) 411 vizier) 267n3
“khafiyya” (“hidden”) 615 Khvāja ʿUbaydallāh Aḥrār 288n96–97
Khafrī, Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad (d. 1535) Khwāndamīr, Ghiyāth al-Din (d. 1535) 634
297n136 Kılıç, Mustafa 383, 385
Khaĭretdinova, N. 108n130 kīmiyā see alchemy
Khalīfa, Ḥājjī, Kashf al-ẓunūn 298n141, 322, al-Kindī, Abū Yaʿqūb ibn ʾIsḥāq aṣ-Ṣabbāḥ
327 (d. c. 873) 16
Khalili Collection (London) 532ill. On the rays/The Book of Magical Theory
see also stamped talisman (Khalili collec- 54
tion) Kipchak (Golden Horde) Khanate 65–66
Khāliṣa (servant of Hārūn al-Rashīd) 329– al-Kirmānī, Tāj al-Dīn ʿAlī b. ʿUmar al-Turka
330 270n15
Khaljī dynasty (1290–1320) 69 Kitāb ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-
Khalvatiyya Sufi order 287 mawjūdāt (“The Wonders of All Creation
Khalvatī, Ẓahīr al-Dīn 287n96 and the Rarities of All Existence,” al-
khamsa see “hand of Fāṭima”/“hand of Qazwīnī) 619–624
ʿAbbās” categories for strange phenomena in
Khānaqāh-i Jadīdī 287n96 620–621, 622, 623
al-Kharaqī, Jamāl al-Zamān (d. 1138–1139), circulation of 624
Talkhīṣ fī l-ʿadad al-wafq (“Epitome on the on gharīb 619
Harmonious Number”) 113tab., 130 Kitāb al-Akhbār al-dākhila (“Book of Internal
Kharjird-i Jām 289 Reports”) 141
khawāṣṣ (occult properties, mysterious Kitāb al-Iʿdād fī wafq al-aʿdād (“Book of
forces) 169 Numeration on the Harmony of Num-
of awfāq (magic squares) 80, 82, 84, 86, bers,” Anon.) 112tab., 114
87, 88, 88n81, 95, 103, 105, 114, 120, 143 Kitāb al-Ishārāt wa-l-maqālāt fī ʿilm al-sīmiyāʾ
equation of term with idiotētes 617 (“The Book of Clues and Speeches in the
Khaybar, Battle of (628) 464 Science of Sīmiyāʾ”) 344
al-Khayyāmī al Nīsābūrī, ʿUmar b. Ibrāhīm Kitab al-Khawāṣṣ al-kabīr (“Great Book of
(d. c. 1123) 125tab., 126–128 Occult Properties,” Jābirian Corpus) 81–
al-Khāzinī, Abū l-Fatḥ ʿAbd al-Raḥmān (d. 84, 86
after 1130–1131) 125tab., 126–129, 139, 142 Kitāb al-Mawāzīn al-ṣaghīr (“Small Book of
Kitāb Mīzān al-ḥikma (“Book of the Bal- Balances,” Jābirian Corpus) 78–80,
ance of Wisdom”) 127–128 99n112, 109–110, 347, 349
index 675

Kitāb al-Milal wa-l-niḥal (“The Book of Reli- Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de

gions and Sects,” al-Shahrastānī) 27, 208 France, Arabe 2634 322–323, 372–
on delusion of divinity 216–218, 219 373tab.
on idolatry 216–217, 222 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de
on imitation of spiritual beings/mimesis France, Arabe 2635 323–324, 372–
213–214, 215 373tab.
on Indians/Indian religion 218–220 tables of contents of 372–373tab.
on meditation 219–220 overview of discourses (maqāla) in 345
on perfection of the soul 214 parallels with ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq 332
on Sabians 209–218, 226, 227 on properties of letters and numbers
Kitāb al-Namūdār fī l-aʿmār (“Book of the (“Indian letters”) 346–350
Namūdār for the Ages”) 351 on sīmiyāʾ 336–354
Kitāb al-Nukhab (“Book of Selections,” as source for Medieval Arabic texts
Jābirian Corpus) 84–86, 95 330–334, 354
Kitāb Asrār al-mawālīd (“Book of Secrets of sources of inspiration 345–354
Nativities”) 351 Kitāb Sirr al-asrār (unidentified) 280
Kitāb Firdaws al-ḥikma (“Book of the Para- knowledge (ʿilm) 8
dise of Wisdom,” al-Ṭabarī) 71–76, 80, classification of 607–608
87, 88n81, 91, 94, 101, 142, 348–349 ʿilm al-ghayb (knowledge of the unseen)
Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-kabīr (“The Great Book of 610
Conjunctions”) 351 occult 28, 220–221, 255
Kitāb al-Qirānāt al-ṣaghīr (“The Small Book production of 640
of Conjunctions”) 351 propaedeutic 171, 175, 344–345
Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya (“Book of Shar- rational vs. irrational 5
āsīm the Indian,” Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya) of the stars see astrology; astronomy
28–29, 194, 317, 327, 331 theoretical vs. practical 31, 607–608
associations with Kitāb al-Uṣṭūṭās 327, Kraton Kanoman (“Junior Palace”) 495
331, 335, 353 Kraton Kasepuhan (“Senior Palace,” Cirebon)
conclusion (text) 364–371 481, 481ill., 485, 488, 489, 489ill., 493
on cryptographic alphabets 334, 353– Kraus, Paul 12
354 Kuala Besut (Terengganu) 505
dating 334–335 Kuala Lumpur 497
full-text of introduction 356–363 Kufic script 547
on fumigations 353 al-Kūmī, Abū ʿAbdallāh (d. early 15th c.)
manuscripts 354 al-Kanz al-bāhir fī sharḥ ḥurūf al-malik
Cambridge, University Library, Or. al-Ẓāhir 251, 256
25 321–322, 326, 356, 364, 372– Risālat al-Hū 243
373tab. Kurdistan 17
Dublin, Chester Beatty Library, 4353 Kusodono (Indonesian artist) 495, 495n171
325–326, 332, 372–373tab.
Istanbul, Hacı Beşir Aǧa 659 319–321, labor see childbirth
326, 356, 364, 372–373tab. La Galigo Museum (Makassar) 511n222
Istanbul, Hamidiye 189 317–319, 326, lām-alif ligature 242–243
356, 364, 372–373tab. Lane, Edward 11, 639
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de languages
France, Arabe 2577 353 lettrism and 237–238
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de origins of 238
France, Arabe 2595 324–325, 326, Lārī, Muḥyī al-Dīn, Futūḥ al-ḥaramayn (“Rev-
332, 339–340, 364, 372–373tab. elations of the Two Sanctuaries”) 557
676 index

al-Laṭīf (name of God) 244 lettrist imperialism

Latin-European occult sciences, scholarship production of letters 231n4
on 381–382 Prophets and the 238–245
leadership, use of magic for 180–184 quranic prognostication and lettrist ana-
Lemay, Richard 13, 16 lysis 386–393
Leoni, Francesca 1, 20n66, 23, 30, 456, 624–625 relation with awfāq 71, 83, 89n81, 101,
Lesser Sunda Islands 457, 468 102, 114, 144
letter divination ( jafr) 251, 271, 272–273, scholarship on 234n10
386, 390n31, 398 as science of saints 289, 341
letter magic see lettrism talismanic motifs and 446, 547–548,
letters/letter combinations 547ill.
alif 243 temporality and 231–233, 260
ALM 386n21, 403, 405n70 ummat al-ḥukamāʾ (sages, philosophers)
Arabic 346 and 242, 245–249
association with lunar mansions 346– Western 396–397, 396n42
348 works on 240, 267, 267–268n4, 292
disconnected letters 250–251 lettrist imperialism 25, 29, 385, 393, 396,
distribution of 347 401n55, 403, 412
fāʾ 244 Aqquyunlu 404
hāʾ 243 fusion of astrology and lettrism 403,
“Indian letters” 346–350 406, 412n89
lām-alif 242, 243 Mamluk 255–257, 398
muqattaʾāt (unique letter combinations) Mughal 413
259 Ottoman 397, 398, 405, 407
nūn 259 Safavids 406n71
power of see lettrism Timurid 397, 398, 403
properties (hot, cold, wet, dry) of 346– Lettrist International 396, 396n42
347 Leverhulme Trust 20n66
qāf 259 Levi, Eliphas 2
lettrism (science of letters, ʿilm al-ḥurūf ) Liber Theysolius 53
4–5, 28, 59, 88–89n81, 196, 230, 232, licit magic (siḥr ḥalāl) 178, 179, 184, 584, 614,
243, 271, 307 622–623
see also awfāq (magic squares); [al- ligatures 242–243
]Bisṭāmī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān; [al-]Būnī, līmiyā see talismans, science of
Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad; Fetḥ-i Miṣir ḥaķ- linguistic strategies, jargon used by scholars
ķinda īmā ve işārāt; ḥisāb al-jummal; 613
Ibn ʿArabī, Muḥyī l-Dīn; lettrist imperi- Lion of ʿAlī calligrams 24, 30, 454, 463–468,
alism; sīmiyāʾ 467ill.
astrology and 403, 406, 412, 412n89 from Cirebon 478, 480–495, 489ill.,
in al-Bisṭāmī’s life time 252–260, 262 492ill., 493ill., 503, 513
calligrams and 459–460 composed of shahāda 457, 478, 479–
definition 275, 459–460 495, 496, 505, 507, 511
languages and 237–238 composed of Sūrat al-Ṣaff (Q 61:13) 30,
Neopythagoreanism and 4, 29, 384, 395, 457, 476, 478, 495–512
399, 410n87 dating of 465, 468–469
opponents of see Ibn Khaldūn disconnection with ʿAlī in Southeast
origins, history and rise of 71, 71n40, Asian context 457, 476–477
238–240, 242, 243, 396 from Rote/Roti (Lesser Sunda Islands)
for political and military purposes see 506–508
index 677

function and use of 477–478 lion imagery 462, 464–465, 467ill., 474, 484,
for bull- and buffalo-fighting 478, 513, 558
497–500, 498ill., 507 Chinese lion 482
for healing 475, 478, 483ill., 486–487 European coats of arms 504
protection against misfortune 500– tiger vs. lions (in calligrams) 473–476,
502, 501ill. 484, 499, 500, 513
identity of animal (lion vs. tiger) 30, Lisān al-Dīn b. al-Khaṭīb see Ibn al-Khaṭīb
457, 473–476, 499, 500, 503, 509, 511– living beings, depiction of 457–459, 473,
512, 513 478, 494, 503, 513–514
see also Macan Ali; Sima Ngali Lombok 494
from Kelantan (peninsular Malaysia) Lord of the Conjunction (ṣāḥib-qirān, astro-
496, 498ill., 501ill., 506ill. logical title) 403, 405, 408
language/script 481, 488 Lory, Pierre 13, 164, 298n143
from Luwuq (Sulawesi) 508–511, 509ill. lunar mansions 168, 169, 193–194, 198, 335
origins of 465–466, 469 association of letters with 346–348
from Patani (southern Thailand) 497, talismans of 187, 189, 192
500, 501ill., 502, 505, 506ill. Luo River Chart (Luoshu) 64
in present times 495 Luwuq (Bugis kingdom, Sulawesi) 468, 485
smoking of 478, 502 flag of 508–511, 509ill.
text 462–463
transmission into Southeast Asia 24, 30, Macan Ali (“Tiger of ʿAlī”) calligrams 476,
468–473, 469ill. 480, 481ill., 482, 483, 483ill., 485–
ways of appearance/media used 456, 486, 487, 488, 489ill., 490–491, 492ill.,
477–478 493ill., 494–495, 495n174, 513
in conjunction with Dhū l-Fiqār 446, see also Lion of ʿAlī calligrams
470, 476, 483–484, 486–487, 495, 511 Macangngé/Matjang-e (“The tiger”) flag
in conjunction with Gaṇeśa 487– (Luwuq) 508–511, 509ill.
490, 489ill. MacDonald, Duncan Black (d. 1943) 625
on flags and banners 482–487, McDonald, Peta 461–462
483ill., 490, 502–504, 507, 508–511, Macrocosmic Man 180
509ill. madrasas 621, 624
in glass-paintings 511–512 mages 186, 196, 197
on Meḥmed II scroll (1458) 457, 465– Maghrib 392, 539
466 lettrism/kabbalah in 413
on merchandise 495, 495n174 al-Maghribī, Abū ʿAbdallāh 278, 279, 282,
in mosques 478, 492–495, 493ill. 294
over doorways/on doorway hangings Siḥr al-ʿuyūn (“The Bewitchment of the
505–506, 506ill. Eyes”) 278, 282, 284–285
paired mirror forms 504–506, 504ill., al-Maghribī, Aḥmad b. ʿIwaḍ, Qaṭf al-azhār fī
506ill. khaṣāʾiṣ al-maʿādin wa-l-aḥjār […] (“The
in Qurʾan 490, 491ill., 494 Picking of Flowers on the Properties of
on talismanic shirts 506–508 Minerals and Stones […]”) 333–334
variations in iconography, motif and magical formulas
style 462, 475–476, 490–492 combination with pious/religious texts
on wood panels 480, 481–482, 481ill., 528
487–490, 489ill., 492n165, 504–505, see also stamped talismans
504ill. magical images, performative vs. talismanic
from Turkey 467ill. 461–463
from Yogyakarta 468, 479, 511–512 magical papyri, Greek 461–462, 462n40
678 index

magical scripts/writing 194, 275, 460, 547 Magic Squares in the Tenth Century (Sesiano)
see also calligrams; lettrism 58–59, 111–113tab.
Magic and Divination in Early Islam (Savage- magnets, amuletic 580, 581ill., 582, 601ill.
Smith) 15, 14n43 Mahābhārata 479
magicians, saints vs. 527–528 al-Māhānī, Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad b. ʿĪsā
“Magic and the Occult in Islam and Beyond” (d. 888) 139, 141
(conference, 2017) 8n19 Mahdī, coming of the 253, 259
magic (siḥr) 16 mail shirts (armor) see body armor
see also Epistle on Magic (Brethren of Majālis al-muʾminīn (Shushtarī) 298
Purity); sīmiyāʾ Majālis al-nafāʾis (ʿAlīshīr Navāʾī) 289
apocryphal magic 353 Majd al-Dīn al-Amīr b. Abī Naṣr Manṣūr b.
astral magic 28, 183, 207–227, 274, 294, Muḥammad b. ʿAlī (d. early 12th c.)
294n125, 341–342, 345, 384 124tab., 129–130n180
astrology as 171–174, 183 al-Majlisī, Muḥammad Bāqir (d. 1699) 425
classification/categorization of 31, 608– al-Majrītī, Maslama (d. 1007) 190, 191, 196,
610, 614–615 274
colonialist outlook on occult sciences and makara (sea monster) 494
31, 382, 394, 609 al-Mālaqī, Abū al-Walīd (d. 1135) 125, 143
definitions/different meanings 170–171, The Treatise on the Existence of the Cause
174, 178, 189, 198–199, 207n2 of Amicable Numbers and Square
disciplines unrelated to 341–342 Figures with Numerical Planes […]
divisions of 27, 43, 53 99–102, 105, 111
eschatological meaning of 174–176, 184 Malay literature 470, 474
illusory magic 168, 186–187, 225 Malay peninsula, Lion of ʿAlī calligrams in
intellectual vs. soul-enabled magic 179– 457, 468
180, 182, 185–186, 195 Malay society
letter magic see lettrism tiger spirit in 474–475
licit vs. illicit magic 178, 179, 184, 528n4, veneration of sacred figures from other
584, 614, 622–623 traditions 477
as medicine 184–186 al-Malik al-Ashraf (d. 1296), Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī
merger with devotion 528, 542–545, ʿilm al-nujūm 192–193
549–550, 563–564, 574–575, 584– al-Malik al-Masʿūd (Arṭuqid ruler, r. 1222–
585 1232) 330
see also eye beads; stamped talismans al-Malik (name of God) 244
modern scholarship on 609, 631 Malikshāh I (Jalāl al-Dīn Malikshāh, Great
naturalization of 621, 622 Seljuk sultan, r. 1073–1092) 60, 113tab.,
place in religious and legal discourse 18, 124–125tab., 127, 143
19 al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq (Mamluk sultan, r.
polemicization of 19, 19n62 1382–1389/1390–1399) 255–257, 395–396,
political implications of 180–184 402, 412
prohibited magic 188–189 Mamluk Empire/Mamluks 29, 262
of prophets vs. sages 178–180, 182, 186, see also Egypt
195 lettrist imperialism 398
relevance to medieval physics and meta- al-Maʾmūn (Abbasid caliph, r. 813–833) 241,
physics 27 254–255, 257
as salvation 174–178, 184 mandal/máṇḍala (“[sorcerer’s] circle”)
term/etymology 630 637ill.
women at origin of 336 Arabic and Persian writings on/use of
magic squares see awfāq (magic squares) 630, 632, 635
index 679

attraction of deities and spirits 631, London, British Library, Delhi Arabic 110
636–637 116–126, 123ill.
creation and directions of use 631–632, see also Dīwān al-ʿadad al-wafq
633–634, 635–636 London, British Library, Delhi Collection
expulsion of jinn 633 115–116
history/origins 631–632, 636–637, London, Nasser D. Khalili Collection,
636n82, 638 MSS 1179 529ill., 533–534, 535ill.,
in incantations/nīranj 630, 632 537ill., 547ill., 549ill., 552ill., 554ill.,
in Indic religions 630, 631, 636–637 556ill., 557ill.
Qurʾan verses in 636 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
Sogdian writings 631 Arabe 2577 335, 353
term/etymology 628, 630, 638–639 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
Mangkunegaran (Central Javanese prince- Arabe 2595 324–325, 332, 339–340,
dom) 486–487, 487n149 364, 372–373tab.
Mangkunegaran Palace (Surakarta, Java) Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
505–506 Arabe 2596 193–194
Mangqala (Prince of Anxi, enthroned 1272) Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
66 Arabe 2634 322–323, 372–373tab.
the manifest (ẓahir), the hidden (bāṭin) vs. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France,
610–611 Arabe 2635 323–324, 372–373tab.
al-Manṣūr (Abbasid caliph, r. 754–775) Princeton University Library, Third Series,
351 no. 591 118
manuscripts Sumedang, Prabu Geusan Ulun Museum,
Cambridge University Library, Or. no. I2 490, 491ill., 494
25 321–322, 326, 356, 364, 372– Surakarta, Mangkunegaran Palace, MS
373tab. Reksa Pustaka I 8 505–506
Dublin, Chester Beatty, 4353 325–326, Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Kütüphanesi,
332, 372–373tab. MS 1597 233
Dublin, Chester Beatty, IN2 634, 634n77, Maqāla fī l-aʿdād al-mutaḥābba (“Discourse
636n81, 637ill. on Amicable Numbers,” Abū Maʿshar)
Dublin, Chester Beatty, IN54 634, 351
634n77 Maqāla fī ḥarakāt al-kawākib al-sayyāra
Epistle on Magic (Brethren of Purity) (“Treatise on the Movements of the Wan-
164, 165–167tab., 168 dering Stars,” Ibn al-Zarqālluh) 96–98,
Istanbul, Haci Beşir Aǧa 659 319–321, 99, 101, 105, 113tab.
326, 356, 364, 372–373tab. Maqāla fī istikhrāj al-awtār fī l-dāʾira (“Treat-
Istanbul, Hamidiye 189 317–319, 326, ise on the Derivation of the Chords in a
356, 364, 372–373tab. Circle,” al-Bīrūnī) 107–108
Istanbul, MS Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Arşivi Maqāla fī wujūd ʿillat al-aʿdād al-mutahābba
E. 4796 408 […] (“The Treatise on the Existence of the
Konya, MS Mevlana Müzesi, 2315 385 Cause of Amicable Numbers and Square
Kuala Lumpur, Perpustakaan Negara Figures […],” al-Mālaqī) 99–102, 105, 111
Malaysia, MSS 2778 500–502, 501ill. Maqālāt (“Statements,” al-Suhravardī) 280
Kuala Lumpur, private collection 497– Maqālāt-i sīzdahgāna (“The Thirteen
500, 498ill. Chapters,” al-Rāzī) 280
Leiden, University Library, CB 141 490– al-Maqrīzī, Taqī l-Dīn (d. 1442) 402
492, 492ill. marcasite 333
London, British Library, Add. MS 7713 Maritime Museum (Istanbul), silk banners in
(Anon. Pers. BL) 105n121, 114 441
680 index

Marjāna (legendary servant of Hārūn al- Mavāhib-i ʿaliyya (“Gifts presented to ʿAlī”,
Rashīd) 329, 330 al-Kā̄shifī) 268n4, 285–286, 307
Marj Dābiq, Battle of (1516) 393n33 Mazdaism see Zoroastrianism/Zoroastri-
Markiewicz, Christopher 401 ans
Marquet, Yves 164 Māzyār b. Qārīn (governor of Tabaristan)
Les Frères de la Purité, pythagoriciens de 72
l’ Islam 163, 181, 188 Mecca 111n138, 303, 389, 463, 471, 497
La philosophie des alchimistes et l’ alchimie awfāq (magic squares) 241
des philosophes 163 representations of 557
La philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ 163, mediation 210
179–180 see also intercession
Mars 67n27, 170, 223n47, 224 medical treatises, awfāq literature 71–86,
alchemy and 47 87, 92
assignment to Noah 235 medicine 3, 46, 53
Marṣad al-asnā fī istikhrāj al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā Galenic 628, 629
(treatise on manipulation of divine idiotētes arrētoi (indescribable properties)
names, al-Kāshifī) 267–268 and 617–618
Martin Hernández, Raquel 461 spiritual medicine/magic as 184–186,
Marw, awfāq literature from 60, 72, 113tab., 344
125tab., 126–128, 130, 131, 143 works on 72, 617
Maryam (mother of Jesus) 85, 86 Medina 389, 390, 463, 471, 497
Mary the Jewess 331, 331n43 Prophet’s migration to 496
Masjid Agung (“Great Mosque”) Sang Cipta Prophet’s Mosque in 588, 589ill.
Rasa (Cirebon) 478, 492–495, 493ill. representations of 557
Masjid al-Ḥarām (Sacred Mosque, Mecca), meditation ( fikr) 209, 219–220, 226
on stamped talismans 535ill., 540, 555– Meḥmed II (Fātiḥ Meḥmed, Ottoman sultan,
556, 556ill. r. 1444–1446) 110, 405, 405n70
al-Masjid al-Nabawi (Prophet’s Mosque, Meḥmed scroll (1458) 457, 465–466
Medina) 588, 589ill. Melville, Charles 304
Mashhad 268, 271, 303, 305n175 Melvin-Koushki, Matthew 1, 15, 26n80,
al-Masʿūdī, Abū l-Ḥasan b. ʿAlī, Murūj al- 29, 71n40, 274–275, 287, 292,
dhahab (“The Fields of Gold”) 195 302n161
al-Maṭālib al-ilāhiyya fī mawḍūʿāt al-ʿulūm al- merchandise
lughawiyya (encyclopedia on linguistic see also blessing cards; eye beads
sciences, Mollā Lüṭfī) 405, 408 amulet-inspired 572, 586n26, 593, 595,
material culture, intellectual history and 599, 600–602
23, 25–26 Dhū l-Fiqār on 495, 495n174
mathematical astronomy 125, 126, 128, 135– Lion of ʿAlī calligrams on 495, 495n174
136, 143, 302n161, 411 Mercury 223n47, 247, 248, 359
mathematics 58, 59 alchemy and 47
see also awfāq literature; awfāq (magic assignment to Jesus 235
squares) Mesopotamia 207, 628
astrology and 172, 411 messiah 259
mathematics of awfāq (magic squares) see also Jesus/ʾĪṣā; Mahdi
27, 58–59, 70, 71, 105–106, 105n121, metals, magical/esoteric/medicinal proper-
120 ties of 422
matter 212, 215 metaphysics, relevance of magic to medieval
Mauchamp, Émile, La sorcellerie au Maroc 27
16 Metaphysics (Ibn Sīnā) 44
index 681

Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York) Mollā Lüṭfī (d. 1494) 409–410, 410n84, 411
29 al-Maṭālib al-ilāhiyya fī mawḍūʿāt al-ʿulūm
Iznik ceramic vessel in 445 al-lughawiyya (encyclopedia on lin-
Power and Piety (exhibition, 2016–2017) guistic sciences) 405, 408
9, 420 Risālat Taḍʿīf al- (“On the Doubling of the
silk banners in 441, 442ill. Altar”) 110, 409n84
talismanic weaponry in 424–427, 424ill. Mongol Empire/Mongols 65–67, 255
barong (type of sword) 446 Mongol invasions 65, 390–391
helmets 428 monotheism 216
mail shirts 429ill., 430–434, 433ill. pure vs. compromised 222
patch boxes 439 Moon 186, 223n47, 303, 635n80
swords in 424–427, 424ill., 426ill., alchemy and 47
436ill. assignment to the Prophet 235
M.I.A. (British rapper) 607 influence on magical squares 90, 92, 93,
Michael/Mikāʾīl (archangel) 499, 508 94, 96, 100–102, 108n130, 301, 350
Michot, Yahya 194 lettrism and 348
micrography (ghubār) 455n2, 458 twenty-eight mansions of 335, 346, 365
Middle East, lion imagery in 464 Morgan, David 463
Miftāḥ al-jafr al-jāmiʿ (“Key to the Compre- Morimoto, Kazuo 273
hensive Prognosticon,” al-Bisṭāmī) 398, Moschopoulos, Manuel 63
399 Moses/Mūsā
Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-miṣbāḥ al-siyāda (“Key lettrism of/relation with letters 241, 244
to Felicity and Lamp to Mastery,” Ṭashkö- millennium and planet of 235, 236, 252
prüzāde) 4n7, 410n86 references on talismans/amulets to 425,
Mihailović, Konstantin (d. c. 1501) 445 540, 548
military matters Mosque of Jamhuriah (Kuala Besut, Tereng-
see also talismanic weaponry ganu) 505
use of occult sciences/magic/divination Mosque of Kajen (Central Java) 494
in 182, 380, 381 mosques
millennia Ayl al-Bayt imagery in Ottoman imperial
see also astral-prophetic cycles; mujad- 445
didūn Lion of ʿAlī calligrams in 478, 492–495,
ruling planets/major prophets for earth’s 493ill.
seven 232, 235–236 Moureau, Sébastien 191, 196
mimesis 213–214, 215, 227 al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit al-Ḥarrānī see Abū l-
miniature painting 458 Khaṭṭāb al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḥarrānī
miracles, see also licit magic al-Mufaḍḍal b. Thābit b. Qurra 131
miracles, Prophetic 225, 284n79 Mughal Empire/Mughals 29, 393, 396
see also Kitāb ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa- lettrist imperialism 413
gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt Mughal Imperial Library (Delhi) 115, 118, 119
juxtaposition with magic 4, 163, 178, 185, al-Muhallabī, Abū Muḥammad (vizier,
186, 195, 241, 527, 620, 623, 627 d. 963) 124tab., 134, 136, 141
naturalization of 327, 621, 622 Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb see Ibn ʿAbd
Mīr Dāmād (d. 1631) 413 al-Wahhāb
mirror writing 455n2, 458, 466, 502, 552 Muḥammad al-Bāqir (5th Shiʿi Imam, d. 732)
modernists 6, 625–626 236n17, 254
modern scholarship Muḥammad Beg Māklū 301
on lettrism 231, 232 Muhammad II (Sultan of Kelantan, 1838–
on magic 609, 631 1886) 497n183
682 index

Muḥammad b. Isḥāq al-Nadīm see Ibn al- hadith on 252–253

Nadīm nature and identity of 253–254
Muhammad IV (Sultan of Kelantan, r. 1899– ruler-mujaddid vs. scholar-mujaddid
1920) 502–503, 504 253–260
Muḥammad al-Mahdī (12th Shiʿi Imam, occ. ruler’s status as 404
874) 441 see also lettrist imperialism
Muḥammad (the Prophet, d. 632) 66, 238, al-Mukhtār fī kashf al-asrār (“The Selected
250, 405n70 Pieces on the Unveiling of Secrets,” al-
awfāq (magic squares) and 103 Jawbarī) 330–331, 334, 340
blessing power (baraka) of 582, 584, Müller, Friedrich Max 607
585–595 al-Munāẓarāt (al-Rāzī) 209
descendants of see Ahl al-Bayt; sayyids Munāẓara-yi bazm u razm (“Debate of Feast
Dhū l-Fiqār and 439, 470, 549ill., 550– and Fight,” Ibn Turka) 402n56
551 al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl wa-l-muwaṣṣil ilā dhī
intercessory powers of 31, 541, 561–562, l-ʿizza wa-l-jalāl (“Deliverer from Error”,
588, 594 al-Ghazālī) 102–106
as lettrist/relation with letters 242, 243, Muqaddīma (“Prolegomena,” Ibn Khaldūn)
250, 252, 262, 273 54, 263, 276, 390n31, 396
migration to Medina 496 on evil eye 597
millennium and planet of 235, 236, influences of and parallels with Epistles
236n17 on Magic (Brethren of Purity) 196–
physical description of (ḥilya) 541– 197, 198
542, 545, 572, 575, 577–579, 580, 585, on “lion seals” 465
587n29 on rīmiyā 276n38
prognosticative powers of 252, 260 on sīmiyāʾ 275n34, 336, 343–344
references/invocations on talismans/ Muqaddima (Yazdī) 401n52
amulets to 31, 427 muqaṭṭaʿāt (disconnected quranic letters)
on arms and armor 428, 430, 434, 259, 307
441, 444 Murād V (Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, r.
on blessing cards/magnets 577–579, 1876), sword of 424, 424ill.
577ill., 581ill., 582, 585–594 Murshid Qulī Khān Ustajlū (Safavid military
in calligrams 456 commander, 1632) 296
foot- and sandalprints 561, 582, 585, Murūj al-dhahab (“The Fields of Gold,” al-
588, 589ill., 590–594, 592ill. Masʿūdī) 195
“seal of prophecy” and “noble seal” Muş, Battle of (1467) 405
458, 563, 572, 577ill., 578, 585–587, Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern
586ill., 586n26, 588 Territory (Darwin) 509ill.
on stamped talismans 538, 540, Museum of Asian Arts (Kuala Lumpur)
549ill., 552, 552ill. 504–505, 504ill.
relics 541n37, 561–562, 563, 572, 585, 588 museum exhibitions 9–10, 23n76, 420, 455–
(semi-)precious stones and 422–423, 456
425 Museum Nasional Indonesia (Jakarta) 506
use of talismanic weaponry 421 Museum of National History (Oxford) 21
Muḥyī l-Dīn 398 Museum Tekstil (Jakarta) 446, 482, 483ill.
Muʿizz al-Dawla (Buyid amir, r. 945–967) Muṣḥaf-i Fāṭima (“The codex of Fatima”)
124tab., 134 272
mujaddidūn (renewers [of religion]) Muṣḥaf al-qamar (Anūdāṭīsh) 340
in epicycles of religious and civilizational music, magical squares and 91, 94
renewal 236, 236n17, 238, 249–250 Muslim fatalism 261
index 683

Muslim scholarship 609–610, 628 on divine names 244–245

al-Muṣṭafā 242 introduction 234–238
al-Muʿtaṣim (Abbasid caliph, r. 833–642) 72 on lettrism and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib 249–252
al-Mutawakkil (Abbasid caliph, r. 847–861) on lettrism in al-Bisṭāmī’s lifetime 252–
72 260, 262
Muʿtazilīs 254 on lettrism and the prophets 238–245
al-Muṭīʿ (Abbasid caliph, r. 946–974) 134 on lettrism and the ummat al-ḥukamāʾ
Myanmar (sages, philosophers) 245–249
calligrams in 472 on nature and identity of mujaddidūn
tiger imagery in 475 253–260
mysticism, categorization of 611 sources of inspiration 231–232, 234, 237,
mythical creatures, depiction of 494 248, 253
Near East 65, 539
nād-i ʿAlī 30, 466–468 lion imagery in 464
Nafaḥāt al-uns (“Fragrances of Intimacy,” necromancy 53, 189
Jāmī) 288n97–98, 294n124 neo-Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ see New Brethren of Purity
nafs (soul, psyche) 44 neo-Ottomanism 573, 594–595
see also soul, human Neopythagorean cosmology 408, 410n87,
nāga serpent 494 411
Najaf 446 Neopythagoreanism
names of God see divine names see also Brethren of Purity; New Brethren
names of prophets, numerical values and of Purity
correlations with divine names 232, 234, awfāq (magic squares) and 62, 79, 140
235, 243–245, 256, 259, 386, 392 Islamic (occultist) 395n39, 401, 409n84,
Naqshbandiyya Sufi order 268, 287, 288n96, 413
561 lettrism and 4, 29, 384, 395, 399, 410n87
Nārāyaṇa Paṇḍita, Gaṇitakaumudī 69 naturalized lettrist 410n87
Naṣāʾiḥ-i shārukhī (“Advice for Shāhrukh,” renaissance of 407n74, 408n79, 413
Jalāl al-Dīn al-Qāyinī) 270–271 Neopythagorean(-occultist) historiography
al-Nāṣir Muḥammad b. Qalāwūn (Mamluk 400–408, 410, 412
sultan, r. 1294, 1299–1309, 1309–1340) see also Kemālpaşazāde, Aḥmed
255–256 Nepal 488
naturalistic psychology 213 nērang see nīranjāt
natural magic (siḥr ṭabīʿī) see soul-enabled Nestorianism 631
magic Netherlands, occupation of Indonesia 446–
natural philosophy 17, 27, 71n40, 72, 81, 226, 447, 486
227, 619, 621, 623 Netton, Ian, Introduction to the Thought of the
natural sciences 3–4, 43, 45, 341, 354, Brethren of Purity 162
410n86 New Age practices 7
al-Nawbakhtī, al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā (d. between New Brethren of Purity 197, 198, 256, 395–
912 and 922) 139, 141 399, 397n44, 400, 406
Nawbakht (Persian astrologer, fl. 8th c.) 141 see also [al-]Akhlāṭī, Sayyid Ḥusayn; [al-
Nazarköy (“village of eye beads,” Turkey) ]Bisṭāmī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān; Ibn Turka;
598–599 Yazdī, Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī
naẓar (term) 639 Newton, Isaac (d. 1727) 411
Naẓm al-sulūk fī musāmarat al-mulūk (“Reg- Nichomachus of Gerasa 352n105
ulation of Conduct: On the Edification of Arithmetical Introduction 62, 138, 140
Kings,” al-Bisṭamī) 28, 232–233, 262–263 Niʿmatallāhiyya Sufi order 287
contents and style 233–234 Nimrod 218, 283n74
684 index

Nine Directions of space (Chinese philo- numerology 268, 351

sophy) 64 nūn (letter) 259
“nine-palace diagram” ( jiugong tu, 3 × 3
magic square) 64 observation 608–609
nīranj/nīranjāt (incantation/ritual for- action vs. 608
mula/magical procedures) 27, 50–52, “the occult,” definition 610
54, 170, 188, 620, 621 occultism 2, 7, 394, 396, 401, 410
see also fumigation/suffumigation “occultist” (adjective) 2, 60, 144, 189, 193,
aim of (science of) 44, 52, 632 197, 231, 256, 271–272, 276, 278, 281,
body vs. spirit in 44, 45, 52, 54 286–292, 296, 298, 307, 381, 384, 385
categorization of 628–630 395–396, 400, 402, 406, 409–412, 425,
figurines 51 621, 623, 639
for making rulers favorable 51–52 occult knowledge 220–221
mandal and 630, 632 occult learning see occult sciences
procedures being 51–52 occult objects
term/definition 43, 52, 628–630 exoticization and vilification of 22
in Zoroastrianism (nērang) 628–630 functioning of 22–23, 24
Nishapur 268, 281 occult properties (khawāṣṣ) 29, 59, 78, 241,
Njoto, Hélène 494 292, 318, 320, 321, 329, 341, 427, 431, 591,
Noah 222 617
as lettrist 240–241 of awfāq (magic squares) 80, 82, 84, 86,
millennium and planet of 235, 236 87, 88–89, 88n81, 95, 103, 105, 114, 120,
reference on talismans/amulets to 143
540 occult sciences 408
Noble, Michael 27 ambiguity and uncertainty in prominence
“noble seal” see sacred seals and acceptance 2, 5, 25, 28, 624–627
noetics, noetic connection between human beneficiaries of 292
and spiritual beings 212–213, 223–224, classification/categorization of 3–4, 26,
225, 226, 227 26n80, 28, 31, 53, 273, 273n27, 407n73–
North Africa 15, 54, 539 74, 408n79, 410n86, 608–610, 615
North America 8 semantics 609–619
al-Nubuwwāt (“Prophecy,” Ibn Taymiyya) colonialist outlook on 31, 382, 394, 609
195 definition/term 2, 273
Nujūm al-ʿulūm (“The Stars of the Sciences,” history/origins 273n27, 628, 638
Persian encyclopedia) 634–637, 634n77, interpolations of works on 297–298, 381,
636n81, 637ill. 383–385
Nukhbat al-fikr fī muṣṭalaḥ ahl al-athar manuals on, see also Asrār-i qāsimī
(“Selection of Thoughts Concerning the material dimensions 19–20, 21, 23, 28,
Traditionists’ Terminology,” Ibn Ḥajar al- 29
ʿAsqalānī) 116 meaning in Islamicate context 3–7
numbers social dimensions 25
see also awfāq (magic squares) suppression/marginalization/denunci-
amicable 109, 109n133, 351 ation of 5–6, 11, 15, 21, 196, 197
combination of number and form/figure theory vs. practice in 31, 607–608
87–89 visual dimensions 19–20
harmonious relationships 91–94 Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic Cul-
harmonious 109, 109n134, 139 tures, The (El-Bizri and Orthmann) 17
“Indian letters” 346–350 occult-scientific imperialism 8, 380, 381,
properties of 348–350 394, 396
index 685

occult soteriology 207, 208, 209 Papus (Gérard Encausse) 2

see also salvation papyri, Greek 461–462, 462n40
Oe Laba (settlement, Rote) 507 paranormal causation 621
Ohrmazd (Supreme Lord, Zoroastrianism) Parikh, Rachel 23, 29
629 Patani region (Malay peninsula, now Thail-
On the rays/The Book of Magical Theory (al- and) 472n80, 496–497
Kindī) 54 calligrams in 468, 471, 472–473, 478
orientalism/orientalists 11, 14, 16, 261, 322, Lion of ʿAlī calligrams from 497, 500,
382, 625–627, 639 501ill., 502, 505, 506ill.
Orthmann, Eva 18 patch boxes, Solomonic/talismanic motifs on
The Occult Sciences in Pre-Modern Islamic 438, 439
Cultures 17 Pazarlama, Semazen 593
Osman, Hafez (d. 1698) 541 pearls, in talismanic weaponry 424–425,
Osman, Mohd. Taib 477 424ill.
Otlukbeli, Battle of (1473) 405, 409 pedestal/divine footstool, day of the 236–
Otto, Bernd-Christian 18, 19 237
Ottoman culture People of the Cave see Aṣḥāb al-Kahf
arabicization and mediterraneanization Pepela (settlement, Rote) 507
of 393–394 performative images, talismanic vs. 461–
revival of 573, 594–595, 602 463
Ottoman Empire/Ottomans 260, 262, 396, perfume, awfāq (magic squares) to determ-
468 ine proportions of ingredients 68
conquest of Egypt/Cairo 29, 381, 383, Peripatetic philosophy 45, 394n35, 397–398
385, 386–393, 389n26, 394, 398, 399, see also Aristotelianism
407, 412 Perk, Halûk 534n15
imperialism/imperial ideology 29, 381, Persianate scholarship 410, 410n86
401, 407, 410, 412 Persian culture, influence on Southeast Asian
lettrist imperialism 397, 398, 405, 407, societies 469–470
408, 412 Persian language 454
occult scholarship at court 381, 383– translation of occult-scientific works into
385, 404 279
Persian historiography of 400, 404– see also Asrār-i qāsimī
406 Persian Neopythagorean-occultist histori-
relations with Southeast Asia 447, 470– ography 400
472 Persian occult knowledge 8
Safavids vs. 381, 444, 445 Persians 238, 246, 357, 359
talismans from 471, 532ill. personal transformation, occult sciences for
Turkish historiography of 406 28
Ottoman scholarship 381, 383–385, 404, Peta Naṣr (“Drawing of Naṣr”) 499–500
410n86 Peter the Great (Tsar of Russia, r. 1682–1725)
382
pagan cultures Pharaoh 244
see also Sabians divine pretentions and tyranny of 216,
learned 207, 209 217–218, 217n30, 219
Pajajaran (Hindu kingdom, 1482–1579) 480, Philippines 441, 446
485 talismanic motifs in 441
Pakistan 468, 490 philosophers
Pañcatantra (“Five Topics/Books,” India) see also sages; scholars/scholarship
474 lettrism and 242, 245–249
686 index

(soul-enabled) magic of 178–180, 182, Plessner, Martin 189–190

185–186, 195 Plotinus, Enneads 176–177
Philosophie des alchimistes et l’ alchimie des pneuma 186
philosophes, La (Marquet) 163 see also soul, human
Philosophie des Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʿ, La (Marquet) pneumatic magic see illusory magic
163, 179–180 political predictions
philosophy 102–103 in Qurʾan 403
classification of philosophical sciences see also Qurʾan verses, 30 (al-Rūm)
3–4 political theory
prophecy and 178, 621 occult-scientific modes of sovereignty
physical action 44 395–396
physicians, magic and 185, 186 post vs. pre-Mongol 394
physiognomomy ( firāsa) 332 politics
Picatrix see Ghāyat al-ḥakīm occult sciences and 380, 381
picture-poems (mudabbajāt) 458 political implications of magic 180–184
Pielow, Dorothee 18 popular/vernacular forms of devotion 574,
Die Geheimnisse der oberen und der 575, 585, 597
unteren Welt 17–19 Porter, Venetia 23, 538, 554n85
piety post-Enlightenment see Enlightenment/post-
superstition vs. 527–528, 574–575, 584– Enlightenment mindset
585, 594 potions 91, 92, 93, 185, 275, 276, 292
see also eye beads pottery, for talismans 74, 75, 79, 90
pilgrimage 305, 392, 560, 574 power
Pingree, David 12, 16, 188, 351 see also blessing power; healing/healing
pious texts power; rulers
combination with magic formulas 528 influence of magic on exercising 180
see also stamped talismans talismans for achieving and maintaining
Pitt Rivers Museum (Oxford) 21 48–49, 255, 295, 299, 305n175, 307
planetary ascent 210, 223–224 Power and Piety (exhibition, 2016–2017, Met-
planetary idols 195, 216–217, 222–223, 227 ropolitan Museum of Art) 9, 420
see also Sabians Power and Protection (exhibition, 2016–2017,
planetary spheres, days of 236–237 Ashmolean Museum) 9–10, 23n76, 455–
planets 456
see also Sabians practical knowledge, theoretical knowledge
association of awfāq (magic squares) with vs. 31, 607–608
86, 92, 96, 98n108, 99, 102, 108, 108n130 prayer manuals 562–563
astral rituals to imitate 213–214 prayers
influence on microcosm 173 on blessing cards/magnets 575, 580
power of the 274 protective prayers see duʿāʾ
role in alchemy 47–48 talismans and 48, 49, 50
ruling planets for earth’s seven millennia precious stones see stones, precious and
232, 235–236 semi-precious
worship of (Sabians) 195, 216–217, 219, predictions 259–260
222–223, 227 lettrism and 259–260
Plato 109, 248, 249, 274, 354, 628 political 403
see also pseudo-Plato see also Qurʾan verses, 30 (al-Rūm)
Timaeus 53 Preserved Tablet 260
“Platonic Orientalism” 247–248, 249, 262 prestidigitation (shuʿbada) 28, 189, 275
Platonism 195 primitivism, non-European 22, 609
index 687

prisoners protective commodities/objects see talis-

awfāq (magic squares) for release of mans
100ill., 101, 101ill. protective prayers see duʿāʾ
talismans for protection from imprison- Psalms, in awfāq literature 75, 78, 80, 101
ment 300–301 pseudo-Aristotle
prohibited magic 188–189 Hermetica 3, 108, 182, 187–188, 191, 193,
see also illicit magic 194, 197
propaedeutic sciences/knowledge 171, 175, Kitāb al-Isṭimākhīs 183, 331
344–345 Kitāb al-Ustūṭās/Ashnūṭās 182–183,
prophecy 187–188, 193, 327, 331, 335, 353
see also licit magic Kitāb al-Hādīṭūsh 331
magic vs. 195 Kitāb al-Malāṭīs 331
philosophy and 178, 621 Kitāb al-Siyāsa fī tadbīr al-riyāsa (“The
prophetic(-astrological) cycles 232, 234, Book of Governance on Managing
235, 236, 249–250, 252, 261, 262 Leadership”) 183
al-Rūm prophecy (Q 30) 386, 403, 405, Theology of Aristotle 177, 178, 180
405–406n70 pseudo-Avicenna, De anima in arte alchemica
prophethood 48
denial of 209, 210, 215 pseudo-Plato, Kitāb al-Nawāmīs (“The book
imaginational 213, 225, 227 of laws”) 280, 335, 352–353, 354
“seal of prophethood” 458 pseudo-Rāzī, De aluminibus et salibus 46–
prophetic(-astrological) cycles 232, 234, 47
235, 236, 249–250, 252, 261, 262 Ptolemy 628
prophetic revelation (waḥy) see revelation punishment, talismans for protection from
prophetic traditions see hadith 303–304
prophets purification of Islam 561, 594, 625–627
see also Abrahamic prophets; Muḥammed Pythagoras 109n133, 194, 248, 410n87
(the Prophet) Pythagoreanism 195
encounters with prophets of the past see also Neopythagoreanism
245
inheritance of sanctity from 244–245 Qābūs b. Wushmgīr (Ziyārid ruler, r. 978–
(intellectual) magic of 178–180, 185, 186 1012) 135
see also licit magic Qādiriyya Sufi order 539
lettrism and the 238–245 qāf (letter) 259
major prophets for earth’s seven millen- Qajar period (1789–1925), calligrams in 456,
nia 232, 235–236 468
miracles of 4, 163, 178, 185, 186, 195, Qalfaṭīr alphabet (Filaqṭīr) 354
225, 241, 284n79, 527, 620, 621, 623, Qānṣūh al-Gawrī (Sultan of Egypt, r. 1501–
627 1516) 390–393, 393n33
monopoly of prophecy/knowledge of Qarmatian revolts 254
unseen world 210, 215 Qaṣidat al-burda (“The Mantle Ode,” al-Būṣīrī)
names of 232, 234, 235, 243–245, 256, 561
259, 386, 392 Qāsim, Amīr Sayyid (commissioner of Asrār-i
overviews of 238 qāsimī), identity of 274, 280–291
Sabian divines’ vs. prophets’ procedure Qāsim b. Ḥasan (d. 680) 290
for revelation 210, 213, 215 Qāsim-i Anvār (Jalāl al-Dīn ʿAlī b. Naṣīr,
sages/philosophers/scholars vs. 178– d. 1433) 267, 281, 283n74–75, 283–
180, 182, 186, 195 284n75–77, 285, 286–291, 289n104,
prophylactic devices see talismans 289–290n106
688 index

Divān 288 3 (Āl ʿImrān, “The House of Imran”), 3:119

qāsimī (Sufi garment with torn collar) 290– 277
291 5 (al-Māʾida, “The Table”), 5:21 387
Qaṭf al-azhār fī khaṣāʾiṣ al-maʿādin wa-l- 6 (al-Anʿām, “Cattle”) 562n107
aḥjār [...] (“The Picking of Flowers on the 6:38 391
Properties of Minerals and Stones [...],” 6:103 484
al-Maghribī) 333–334 7 (al-Aʿrāf, “The Battlements”)
al-Qawī (name of God) 244 7:127 387
al-Qāyinī, Jalāl al-Dīn (d. 1434–1435) 270, 7:137 387
270n15, 271 7:180 538
Naṣāʾiḥ-i shārukhī (advice to Shāhrukh) 11 (Hūd), 11:88 548
270–271 12 (Yūsuf, “Joseph”)
al-Qāyinī, Nūr al-Dīn Aḥmad b. Muḥammad 12:55 387
271 12:56 387
al-Qayyūm (name of God) 244 12:80 388
Qāzān Khān (Khan of the Chagatai Khanate, 13 (al-Raʿd, “Thunder”), 13:61 548
r. 1343–1346) 255 17 (al-Isrāʾ, “The Night Journey”), 17:82
Qazvin 299 548, 581
al-Qazwīnī, Abū Yaḥyā Zakariyyāʾ b. 18 (al-Kahf, “The Cave”) 438–439, 490
Muḥammad (d. 1283) 110 18:1–8 490
Kitāb ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib 18:9–26 438–439, 553n81
al-mawjūdāt (“The Wonders of All 20 (Ṭāʾ Ḥāʾ), 20:105–107 397n44
Creation and the Rarities of All Exist- 21 (al-Anbiyāʾ, “The Prophets”), 21:105
ence”) 619–624 29, 383, 386, 391–392
Qiṭmīr (dog of Aṣḥāb al-Kahf/Seven Sleep- 24 (al-Nūr, “The Light”), 24:44 277
ers) 438, 462, 462n38, 548 27 (al-Naml, “The Ant”) 435, 437
Qizilbāsh (Shiʿi militant groups) 404 27:18–19 434n54, 437n64
Quantum Mysticism 7 27:29–31 437n65
Qubilai Qaghan (Khan of the Mongol 28 (al-Qaṣaṣ, “The Story”)
Empire, r. 1260–1294) 66 28:5 387
Queen ʿAyna (demon) 636, 636n82, 28:6 387
637ill. 28:19 388
Queen of Sheba 437 30 (al-Rūm, “The Greeks”) 386, 403, 405,
Qūnavī, Ṣadr al-Dīn (d. 1274) 398 405–406n70, 408, 409
Qurʾan 30:1–4 406n70
Lion of ʿAlī calligrams in 490, 491ill., 30:1–5 403
494 33 (al-Aḥzāb, “The Confederates”), 33:38
predictions in 259 393
see also Qurʾan verses, 30 (al-Rūm) 36 (Yāʾ Sīn) 488
quranic prognostication, lettrist analysis and 40 (Ghāfir, “The Forgiver”), 40:36–37
386–393 217
Qurʾan verses 259 41 (Fuṣṣilat, “Distinguished”), 41:53
1 (al-Fātiḥa, “The Opening”), 1:102 184 260
2 (al-Baqara, “The Cow”) 431, 539 48 (al-Fatḥ, “Victory”) 435
2:20 539–540 48:1 551, 555
2:30 180–181 48:3 405n70
2:102 336, 340 48:7–11 435n61
2:255 (Throne Verse) 431, 435n63, 55 (al-Raḥmān, “The All-merciful”) 424
580, 580n14, 582, 599, 600ill. 55:21–22 424n16
index 689

61 (al-Ṣaff, “The Ranks”) 431, 432, 435, Ramadan festivities 579–580, 590
457, 496 Raphael/Isrāfīl (archangel) 499, 508
61:13 30, 431n41, 435n62, 457, 476, Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (“Epistles of the
478, 484, 495–512, 555 Brethren of Purity”) 3, 27, 131, 334,
68 (al-Qalam, “The Pen”) 536 395n39
68:51 536, 580, 582, 596 see also Epistle on Magic
79 (al-Nāziʿāt, “The Pluckers”), 79:24 authorship 46, 190, 191–192, 196
217n30 on awfāq (magic squares) 86–87, 86–94,
83 (al-Muṭaffifīn, “The Stinters”), 83:26 94, 101, 105, 349–350
162 dating of 334
85 (al-Burūj, “The Constellations”) 543 Epistle on Geometry 87–94, 94, 95, 136
85:10 543 Epistle on Music 91, 92, 94, 350
109 (al-Kāfirūn, “The Unbelievers”) Epistle on Talismans and Incantations
430–431, 432 90, 92
109:1–3 431n36 on medicine 53
110 (al-Naṣr, “Help” “The Conquest”) 431, on monotheism 619
432 on prophetical cycles 235–236
110:1–3 431n40 as source of inspiration for al-Bisṭāmī’s
112 (al-Ikhlāṣ, “Sincerity”) 430, 432, 434, Naẓm 231–232, 234, 237, 238, 253
484 Rastika (Indonesian artist, d. 2014) 495,
112:1–4 430n35 495n172
113 (al-Falaq, “Daybreak”) 431, 432, 434 rationalization of religion 21–22
113:1–5 431n41 Islam 5–7, 626
114 (al-Nās, “Mankind”) 431, 432, 434 Rawḍat al-shuhadāʾ (“The Garden of the
114:3–6 431n39 Martyrs,” al-Kāshifī) 268–272, 307
esoteric exegesis of 175–176, 307 Raydāniyya, Battle of 388–389
on evil eye 536, 580, 582, 596 al-Rāzī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyāʾ
healing power and 496, 548, 575, 581 (Rhazes, d. 925 or 932) 280, 280n61, 618
on imperialism 386 Maqālāt-i sīzdahgāna (“The Thirteen
lettrist analysis of prophecies in 386 Chapters”) 280
references on talismans/amulets to al-Rāzī, Fakhr al-Din (d. 1210) 236n17, 253,
on blessing cards/magnets 575, 580– 407n74, 615
582, 581ill. see also al-Sirr al-maktūm
in calligrams 495–512, 513 on classification of gharīb 621–622
on eye beads 599–600, 600ill. Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm 632
in mandal 636 al-Munāẓarāt 209
on stamped talismans 536, 538, 539– on science of incantations 632
540, 543, 545, 548, 551, 552ill., 553, reason
554 enchantment of see sīmiyāʾ
talismanic weaponry 430–432, 435– magic operating by see intellectual magic
437, 496 superstition vs. 5, 11, 22
Qurra family 131, 132 fig. recipes 320, 323, 632, 635
al-Qurṭubī, Maslama b. Qāsim (d. 964) 16, alchemical 46–47
191, 196, 634n76 for fumigations 332, 353
see also Ghāyat al-ḥakīm; Rutbat al-ḥakīm for natural amulets 188
Qūshjī, ʿAlī (d. 1474) 110, 409, 410n84, 411 Record of Rites by Dai the Elder (Dai De) 64
reform, Islamic 5–7, 560–561, 625–627
al-Raḥīm (name of God) 244 regalia, Luwuq 509–510
rainmaking ceremonies, mandal for 631 Regourd, Annick (Anne) 13
690 index

Rejang divinatory calendar 474 Rightly Guided Caliphs 439, 463

relics, Prophet’s 541n37 references on talismans/amulets to
on blessing cards/magnets/amulets 572, 441–442, 442ill., 445, 476–477, 488,
585, 588, 589ill. 499, 502, 505, 538
intercessory power of 588, 594 rīḥānī alphabet 354
religion 5–7, 21–22, 575, 578, 591, 593, 596, Riḥla (“Travelogue,” al-ʿAyyāshī) 389–393
609, 613, 626, 627 rīmiyā see conjuring, science of
see also devotion al-Risāla al-ʿaliyya (al-Kāshifī) 286
religiosity see piety Risāla dar ʿilm-i aʿdād (treatise on numero-
religious innovation logy and magic squares, al-Kāshifī) 268
see also mujaddidūn Risāla fī al-fiʿl wa al-infiʿāl (“On Action and
unwarranted 236, 253 Passion,” Ibn Sīnā) 44–45, 52
religious life, vernacular forms of 574, 575, Risāla fī l-Ṭāʿūn (plague treatise, Kemāl-
585, 597 paşazāde) 409, 409n81
religious renewal Risālat al-Hū (al-Kūmī) 243
see also mujaddidūn Risāla-yi kanz al-tuḥaf dar mūsīqā (“Treat-
epicycles of 232, 234, 236, 249–250, 261 ise of the Treasure of Gifts Concerning
religious texts Music”) 70n38
combination with magical formulas 528 Risālat Taḍʿīf al-madhbaḥ (“On the Doubling
see also stamped talismans of the Altar,” Mollā Lüṭfī) 110, 409n84
Renaissance Risāla-yikhavāṣṣal-ḥurūf (“Treatise on the
of Islam, awfāq (magic squares) in 131, Properties of Letters,” Baʿalbakī) 280
143 Risāla-yi ḥurūf (Ibn Turka) 284n82
Latinate 29, 302n161, 384, 394 Ritter, Helmut 189–190
of Neopythagoreanism 407n74, 408n79, rituals
413 see also nīranjāt
occult 610 astral 208–209, 213–214, 215, 216, 223–
Renaudot, Eusèbe 324 224
renewal (tajdīd) of Islam see Islamic reform; planetary ascent ritual 210, 224
religious renewal preparatory diets 136, 208, 212, 220, 223
renewers of religion see mujaddidūn violating moral and social taboos 224
research see scholars/scholarship Roberts, Alexandra M. 136
restaurants (Turkey), blessing cards in Roger Bacon 27
580–584, 581ill. Opus maius 45
revelation Rome 259
by Abrahamic prophets 213, 215, 246 “Roots of Combinatorics, The” (Biggs) 63
history as 261 Rosenfeld, Boris A. 107–108
Sabian divines’ vs. prophets’ procedure roses, on blessing cards/magnets 578
for 210, 213, 215 Rote/Roti (Lesser Sunda Islands, Indonesia)
Rhazes see [al-]Rāzī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad 468
b. Zakariyyāʾ talismanic shirt from 506–508
Riḍā, Rashīd 5 Royal Society (London) 21
Rifāʿī, Sayyid Aḥmad (d. 1181) 537ill., 539, Rudolf II (Holy Roman Emperor, r. 1576–1612)
552 382
references to Rifāʿī and tomb on stamped rūḥāniyya/rūḥāniyyāt see spirits/spiritual
talismans 535ill., 545, 549ill., 551, powers
552–553, 552ill., 557–560, 558 rulers
Rifāʿiyya order 539, 545, 552 see also lettrist imperialism
on stamped talismans 549ill., 551, 552ill. as mujaddid 253–260, 404
index 691

nīranj for making rulers favorable 51–52 on blessing cards 572, 577ill., 578, 585–
occult-philosopher rulers 381–382 587, 586ill., 588
see also Selim I “seal of the eye upon God” 563
talismans and awfāq (magic squares) “seal of the Great Name of God” 563
of/for 48–49, 255, 295, 299, 305n175, “seal of Prophecy”/“noble seal” 458, 563,
307 572, 577ill., 578, 585–587, 586ill., 588,
Rum 288n97 586n26
Ruqiyā/Rūqiyāʾīl (name/term) 328 “seal/ring of Solomon” 435, 438, 441,
Rutbat al-ḥakīm (“The Rank of the Sage,” al- 446, 448, 483, 486, 550
Qurṭubī) 45, 194, 196, 199 on stamped talismans 50, 550
authorship 191, 196 Saʿd Allāh b. Ṣadr al-Dīn 111n138
influence of and parallels with Epistle on Saʿd b. Waqqāṣ (Companion of the Prophet,
Magic (Brethren of Purity) 190–192 d. 674) 540
on sīmiyāʾ and alchemy 337–339 Safari, Achmad Opan 485
Safavid Empire/Safavids (1501–1736) 30,
Saadetüʾd-Dareyn 594 267, 287, 393, 396, 404
sabers see swords see also Asrār-i qāsimī
Sabians, Sabeans (astrolatrous religious calligrams in 456, 466
group) 136, 207–227, 238, 240, 245, 246, lettrist imperialism 406n71
273n27 occult sciences in 292
on ascent 210–211 see also Tuḥfa-yi khānī
Avicennism and 210 Ottomans vs. 381, 444, 445
belief and practice 210–214 Persian historiographies 406n71
angelo-astrolatrous belief 210 Ṣafaviyya Sufi order 286
denial of prophethood 209, 210, Ṣafī al-Dīn, Shaykh (d. 1334) 286
215 sages
naturalistic psychology 210, 213 see also philosophers; scholars; ummat
delusion of divinity 210, 216–218 al-ḥukamāʾ
Ḥanīfs vs. 216–218, 226 lettrism and 242, 245–249
Harranian-Sabian community (Baghdad) prophetic status of ancient 249
131–134, 132 fig., 140, 141, 141n209, prophets vs. 178–180, 182, 195
142 (soul-enabled) magic of 178–180, 182,
magic and rituals of 188, 195 185–186, 195
astral/planetary ascent rituals 208– Said, Edward 627
209, 210, 213–214, 215, 216, 223– Saʿīd b. Yazīd (Companion of the Prophet)
225 540
noetic connection between human and Saif, Liana 1, 23, 27, 624–625
spiritual beings 212–213, 223–224, Saint Germain des Prés (monastry and lib-
225, 227 rary) 324
on perfection and angelic nature of soul saints
214, 215, 221, 222 see also Sufi saints/sainthood
al-Rāzī on 220–227 encounters with saints from the past
al-Shahrastānī on 209–218, 226, 227 245
worship of planets/planetary idols 195, in epicycles of religious and civilizational
216–217, 219, 222–223, 227 renewal 232, 234, 236, 249–250
Sabzavar (town, Bayhaq) 268 inheritance of sanctity from prophets
sacred images, interaction with 556–557 244–245
Sacred Mosque (Mecca) see Masjid al-Ḥarām magicians vs. 527–528
sacred seals wonders 620
692 index

al-Sakkākī, Sirāj al-Dīn Abū Yaʿqūb (d. 1229) assignment to Adam 235
634–635, 634n78 influence on magical squares 96, 98,
al-Shāmil fī l-baḥr al-kāmil (“The Compre- 108n130
hensive Compendium on the Entire Savage-Smith, Emilie 19n64, 23, 528n4
Ocean") 635 Magic and Divination in Early Islam 14–
see also al-Ṭabasī 15, 14n43
Salafism 5, 594 Savory, Roger 287
Ṣāliḥ (Prophet) 243–244 Sayf Khān (Mughal officer) 430n34
Salleh, Nik Mohamed Nik Mohd. 497, sayyids (descendants of the Prophet) 270,
498ill. 271, 272, 273, 281–282, 289
salvation see also Qāsim-i Anvār
see also soteriology scholars/scholarship 7–19
magic as 174–178, 184 see also philosophers; sages
Samarqand, Samarkand 110, 411, 631 Arabo-Persian 381, 401, 403, 410, 410n86
Samarkand Observatory 411 Babylonian 195, 273n27, 340, 635n79
Samarra 72 change in scholarship 13, 14, 26
Sām Mīrzā (Safavid prince, d. 1566) 291n111 international mobility of scholar-
al-Samnūdī, Shaykh Ibrāhīm (d. 1897), Kitāb occultists 396
Saʿādat al-dārayn […] (“The Bliss of the modern scholarship on magic and
two Abodes […]”) 594 lettrism 231, 232, 609, 631, 640
Ṣamṣām al-Dawla (Buyid amir, r. 983–987) Muslim 609–610, 628
124tab., 135 Ottoman 381, 383–385, 404, 410n86
sanctity (soul-enabled) magic of scholars 178–
see also saints; Sufi saints/sainthood 180, 182, 185–186, 187, 195
inheritance of 244–245 Western/European 7–8, 14, 61, 328, 410,
of writing 476 609–610, 611, 625
sanctuaries, on stamped talismans 540, science of cosmic cycles, lettrism and
555–556, 556ill., 557ill. 231n4
sandalprints (of the Prophet), on talismanic science of heavenly bodies, lettrism and
objects 582, 585, 588, 589ill., 590–594, 231n4
592ill. science of letters see lettrism
al-Ṣanhājī, Azammūr ʿAbd al-Raḥmāb b. Saʿīd science of properties 345
(d. 1392), Kanz al-asrār wa-lawāqiḥ al- sciences, classification of see classification of
afkār (“The Treasure of Secrets and Fertile (occult) sciences
Ideas”) 341 scientific authority, through use of jargon
Sanjar (Great Seljuk sultan, r. 1118–1157) 60, 613
113tab., 125tab., 127, 129 scorpions, on stamped talismans 549–550
Sanskrit literature/writings 351 seafaring, awfāq (magic squares) for 100ill.,
on awfāq (magic squares) 61, 68, 69, 72, 101, 101ill.
75 seal-makers (guild) 563, 563n115–116
on mandal making 631 seals (as talismanic motifs/symbols) see sac-
Sanskrit terms 474, 628, 629, 630, 636 red seals
Sarandīb (Sri Lanka) 175 seals (tool)
Sarton, George, Introduction to the History of see also stamped talismans
Science 62, 62n9 for application of stamps on talismans
Ṣaṣah al-Hindī 331, 331n45 532–533, 532ill., 533ill., 534–536, 535ill.,
Satan/Iblīs 181, 636, 636n82 538
Saturn/Kaywān 223n47 secret of nature see sīmiyāʾ
alchemy and 47 secret of wisdom see sīmiyāʾ
index 693

Sefer ha-razim (“Book of Secrets”) 240 Seyāḥat-nāme (“Book of Travels”, Evliyā

self-transformation 174, 209 Ç elebi) 43
fable of ailing king and vizier (Epistle on Sezgin, Fuat, Geschichte des arabischen
Magic, Brethren of Purity) 174–176, Schrifttums 11–12
184 Shaanxi History Museum (Xi’an) 66n25
Selīm I (“the Grim,” Sultan of the Ottoman shadow puppets (wayang kulit) 459n22,
Empire, r. 1512–1520), see also Kemālpaş- 461, 475–476, 503
ade, Aḥmed; lettrist imperialism al-Shāfiʿī (jurist, d. 820) 236n17, 253
Selīm I (“the Grim”, Sultan of the Ottoman shahāda (“There is no god but God. Muḥam-
Empire, r. 1512–1520) 382n5, 404, 408, mad is the messenger of God”) 30
411, 425 references on talismans/amulets to
astrology and lettrism at court of 29, on blessing cards 587
380–381, 385, 412, 413 in Lion of ʿAlī calligrams 476, 478,
conquest of Cairo 381, 383, 386–393, 479–495, 496, 505, 507, 511
389n26, 394, 398, 399, 400, 407, 412 on stamped talismans 548, 552, 553–
conquest of Damascus/Syria 385, 390– 554
391, 394, 398, 400, 407 special powers of 479, 487
defeat of Safavids at Chaldiran 381, 385, Shāh Jahān (Mughal emperor, r. 1628–1658)
394, 408 60, 118, 119, 430
reliance on occult scientists for strategic Shāh Maḥmūd Nishāpūrī album (c. 1560)
purposes 381–382, 385, 391 467
Selimiye mosque (Edirne) 445 al-Shahrastānī, Muḥammad Ibn ʿAbd al-
Seljuk Empire, awfāq literature from 60, Karīm (d. 1153) 27, 208, 209–220
113tab., 124–125tab., 126–128, 131, 143 see also Kitāb al-Milal wa-l-niḥal
semantics, categorization and conceptualiza- Shāhrukh b. Temür/Tīmūr (Timurid ruler, r.
tion of (occult) learning and 609–624 1405–1447) 270, 278, 286, 287, 401n52,
semi-precious stones see stones, precious and 403
semi-precious shāh (title) 282
Şen, Ahmet Tunç 384 al-Shajara al-nuʿmāniyya fī l-dawla al-
serpents, on stamped talismans 558, 559 ʿUthmāniyya (“The Crimson Tree: On
Sesiano, Jacques 60, 63, 109, 114, 125, 130, 131 Ottoman Glory,” cryptic jafrī text) 398,
Magic Squares in the Tenth Century 58– 399
59, 111–113tab. Shāmil-i akbar (“The Great Comprehensive
“Une Compilation Arabe” 113tab., 130 Book”) 280
Seth/Shīth al-Shāmil fī̄ l-baḥr al-kāmil (“The Compre-
identification with Agathodaimon 240, hensive Compendium on the Entire
245 Ocean,” al-Sakkākī/al-Ṭabasī) 623, 632,
identification with Zoroaster 246 634–635
as lettrist/relation with letters 240, 241 Shams al-āfāq fī ʿilm al-ḥurūf wa-l-awfāq
Sifr Shīth 240 (“The Sun of Horizons on the Science
seven planets of Letters and Magic Squares,” al-Bisṭāmī)
see also planets 197–198, 233, 240, 248, 252, 256, 258,
association of awfāq (magic squares) with 262, 331
86, 92, 96, 99, 102, 108, 108n130 Shams al-maʿārif al-kubrā see Shams al-
in Islamicate literature 86 maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al-ʿawārif
operation of the 299–300 Shams al-maʿārif wa-laṭāʾif al-ʿawārif (“The
spiritual essence (rūḥāniyya) and enslave- Sun of Knowledge and the Secrets of
ment (istikhdāmi-hā) of 345, 361 Gnosis,” [pseudo-]al-Būnī) 290n107,
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus see Aṣḥāb al-Kahf 328
694 index

authorship 19n63, 102, 193n128, 297 Sifr Ādam 240

lunar mansion list 193, 198 siḥr see magic
Shani, Raya 456 Siḥr al-ʿuyūn (“The Bewitchment of the Eyes,”
Sharaf al-Dawla (Buyid amir, r. 983–988/9) al-Maghribī) 278, 282, 284–285
111tab., 124tab. Siliwangi, Prabu (King of Pajajaran, West
Shaʿrānī, Āyatallāh Ḥājj Shaykh Abū l-Ḥasan Java, r. 1482–1521) 485
269–270 silver 44, 47, 101–102, 127
Sharāsīm/Ishrāsīm al-Hindiyya 317 Sima Ngali (“Tiger of ʿAlī”) calligram 476,
see also Kitāb Sharāsīm al-Hindiyya 511–512
identity and status 328–330, 333, 334, al-Sīmāwī, Abū l-Qāsim Aḥmad (al-ʿIrāqī)
338, 354 279, 291, 294, 324
importance in medieval Arabic texts/ see also Asrār-i qāsimī
occult sciences 330–334 ʿUyūn al-ḥaqāʾiq wa-īḍāḥ al-ṭarāʾiq (“The
name 327–328 Sources of Truths and the Exposition
sharīʿa 102, 240, 561 of the Methods”)/Kitāb Ibn Ḥallāj
Shaṭṭāriyya Sufi order 490 278, 282, 284–285, 291, 325, 326, 332,
Shawq al-mustahām fī maʿrifat rumūz al- 344
aqlām (“The Desire of the Distraught: The sīmiyāʾ (classical occult science) 28, 29,
Knowledge of the Symbols of the Alpha- 274–280, 293, 298, 305n173, 321, 322,
bets,” Ibn Waḥshiyya) 353–354 328–331, 325, 336–345, 354, 363
Sheba, Queen of 437 see also Asrār-i qāsimī; Kitāb Sharāsīm
Shïbani Khan (Uzbek leader, r. 1500–1512) al-Hindiyya; lettrism
404 condemnation of 276, 343–344
Shick, İrvin Cemil 458 definitions/term 336–345, 354
Shiʿi imagery, in Sunni talismanic objects “enchantment/bewitchment of
444–445, 447, 448 reason” 29, 336, 337, 339
Shiʿi Imams 5, 444 enhanced type of illusionism 275,
see also Imams 278
Shiʿism/Shiʿis 269–270 magic related to knowledge of Qurʾān
mitigation of boundaries between other 340–341
denominations 182n82 “science of imaginal entities” 274
position of ʿAlī among 463 “science of magical letters and
Shiʿi-Sunni divide see Sunni-Shiʿi divide squares” 343
Shīrāzī, Maḥmūd Dihdār (fl. 1576) 297 “secret of nature” 336, 337, 338, 341
Shīrāzī, Mīr Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr al- “secret of wisdom” 336, 337
Dashtakī (d. 1542) 296–297 identification of/association with
Shīrāzī, Mīrzā Muḥammad 207n2 lettrism 274–275, 275n34, 277–278,
shirts, talismanic 340, 342–344
Dhū l-Fiqār on 444 Sufis 343–344
Lion of ʿAlī calligrams on 506–508 talismanic art 343
shops of devotional goods (Turkey) 572, 591 a woman 336
shrines operations and formulas 275
see also Eyüp tomb complex (Turkey) origins 279
on stamped talismans 540, 555–560, parallels with alchemy (kīmiyāʾ) 337–
556ill., 557ill. 338
Shumūs al-anwār (“The Suns of Light,” Ibn parallels with conjuring (rīmiyā) 276
al-Ḥajj al-Tilimsānī) 278, 329 practitioners of 276–277
Shushtarī, Qāḍī Nūrallāh (d. 1610–1611), as propaedeutic science 344–345
Majālis al-muʾminīn 298 spiritual vs. terrestrial sīmiyāʾ 340
index 695

talismans as means of action of 29, 338– Solomonic motifs on talismanic weapon-

339 ry 421, 434–439, 436ill., 448
works on 278–279 Umm Ṣubyān and 542, 543n44
Sinān (imperial architect, d. 1588) 445 Sorcellerie au Maroc, La (Mauchamp) 16
Sind 351 sorcerer’s circle see mandal/maņḍala
singa barong/singhabarwang (elephant/lion/ sorcery/sorcerers 196, 197
eagle composite animal) 485 Quraʾnic denunciation of 184
sīn (letter) 244 soteriology, occult 207, 208, 209
al-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm fī ʿilm al-rūḥāniyya wa- soul-enabled magic (sīḥr nafsī)
ṣināʿat al-tanjīm (“The Right Way in the illusory magic vs. 187
Science of Spiritual [Forces] and the Art intellectual magic vs. 179–180, 182, 185–
of Astrology,” al-Jawbarī) 330 186, 195
Sirr al-asrār (“The Secret of Secrets,” dia- in state administration 182–183
log between Aristotle and Alexander the soul, human
Great) 327 see also spirits/spiritual powers
Sirr al-ḥikam wa-jawāmiʿ al-kilam (“The ascent of 177, 210–211
Secret of Judgments and the Compilation illnesses of the 185
of the Sentences,” al-Būnī) 325 intellectual potential of 215
al-Sirr al-maktūm (“The Hidden Secret,” al- perfection and angelic nature of 214,
Rāzī) 27, 207–227, 274, 621–622 215, 221, 222
on creating talismanic idols 224 science of emancipation of (al-tajrīd) 3
on illusions (wahm) 220, 225 training for mediation with God 210
on Indians/Indian religion 226–227 transformation of the 180
on noetic connection with spiritual South Asia 454, 456
beings 213, 223–224, 225 Southeast Asia
on occult knowledge 220–221 influence of Persian culture on 469–
on planetary ascent ritual 210, 223– 470
224 integration with rest of Islamicate world
on Sabians 220–227 513
sources of inspiration 207, 209 relations with Ottoman Empire 447,
on talismanic magic 224–225 470–472
Siyāqī Niẓam (d. 1603), Futūḥāt-i humāyūn smoking of sacred objects in 478, 502
(“Imperial Conquests”) 406n71 Sunnism 476–477
Sloane, Sir Hans 22n73 talismanic motifs 448, 472
Smaradahana (“Burning of Smara,” Old see also Lion of ʿAlī calligrams
Javanese poem) 484–485 on arms and armor 420
Smith, J. Kristen 462n40 calligrams 454, 461, 473–478
Smith, Marian B. 19n64 Dhū l-Fiqār in 441, 446
Smith, Wilfred Cantwell 627 souvenirs
smoking of sacred objects see fumiga- talismanic items as 572, 600–602
tion/suffumigation see also blessing cards; eye beads
Socrates 50 Spat, Claas 510
Sogdania 631 Speculum astronomiae 54n29
Sogdian literature, on mandal construction Spiritism 7
631 spirits/spiritual powers (rūḥāniyya/rūḥān-
Solomon 184, 434–435 iyyāt) 54–55
prophetic mastery over jinn 633 see also nīranjat/nīranj; planets
“seal/ring of” 435, 438, 441, 446, 448, in alchemy 47–48
483, 486, 550 astral vital agents 172–173
696 index

authority over/governance of/interac- see also stamped talisman (Khalili collec-

tion with sublunary/terrestrial world tion)
173–174, 211–212, 216–217, 221 healing power of 553, 563
celestial powers 223–224 protective signs 548–550, 549ill., 551,
conjuring/summoning/invocation of spir- 552ill.
its 633–634 seals/stamps 532–533, 532ill., 533ill.,
with mandal 631, 636–637 534–536, 535ill., 538
eschatological return 214 Stapleton, H.E. 62
hierarchy of spiritual beings 211 stars, knowledge of the see astrology
imitation of/mimesis 213–214, 215 star worshippers 246
intercessory power 210, 211, 212–213, 227 state administration, use of magic and divin-
noetic connection of humans with spirits ation in 182–183
212–213, 223–224, 225, 227 statues, vivification of 53
operation of spirit on body 43, 53 Steingass, Francis Joseph 327
operation of spirit in/on spirit (niranj) Stern, S.M. 191
43, 52, 54 stones, precious and semi-precious
references to archangels in talis- magical, healing and protective proper-
mans/amulets 499, 508, 548, 552 ties of 29, 333, 422, 423–424, 424ill.,
terrestrial spirits vs. celestial spirits 337 448, 631
spiritual beings see spirits/spiritual powers in talismanic weaponry 423, 424–427,
spiritual discipline see asceticism 424ill., 426ill., 448
spiritual medicine/magic as medicine 184– strange (gharīb) phenomena, classification
186, 344 of 620–623
Sprat, Thomas, History of the Royal Society of sublunary world
London 21n70 see also terrestrial world
stamped talisman (Khalili collection, Lon- authority/governance of spiritual beings
don) 23, 30, 528–533, 529ill. over 173, 211, 216–217, 221
analysis of contents 533–536, 560 Subrahmanyam, Sanjay 382
impressions with calligrams 553– Subtelny, Maria 28
555, 554ill. suffumigation see fumigation/suffumigation
impressions combining letters and Sufi saints/sainthood 25, 104, 289, 552,
numbers 547–548, 547ill. 553
impressions combining text and depiction of saints 489–490
images 548–553, 549ill., 552ill. (invisible) hierarchy of 236, 236n17, 250,
impressions with sanctuaries and 254
shrines 540, 555–560, 556ill., Sufis/Sufism
557ill. see also lettrism
impressions with text only 536–547, association with lettrism 343–344
537ill. guilds 563, 563n115–116
context of appearance 560–565 in Ottoman Empire 30, 445
dating of 530, 530n8, 560 position of ʿAlī among 464
efficacy of 560 references on talismans/amulets to
nature, producers, application and use of calligrams 455, 459
545–547 on stamped talismans 539, 553
production and media used 533–534 role in realization of devotional products
seal marks 534–536, 535ill. 563
Sufi content in 564 al-Suhravardī, Shihāb al-Dīn (d. 1191) 248,
stamped talismans 430, 432–434, 433ill., 280, 293–294, 294n124
528, 529ill., 530–533, 531ill. Maqālāt (“Statements”) 280
index 697

al-Sulamī, Abū ʿAbd al-Raḥmān (d. 1021) supplications see duʿāʾ

236n17, 242 Surakarta (Java) 468
Sulawesi 457, 468 suras see Qurʾan verses
Sulaymān I (Safavid shah, r. 1666–1694) Sür, Mahmut 598–599, 600
437, 437n67 Sürūrī Musliḥaddīn Muṣtafā (d. 1562)
Suleman, Fahmida 456 624n50
Suléngkaé (“The kitchen tripod”) flag Suter, Heinrich 108
(Luwuq) 510 al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn 543n41
Süleymān I (Ottoman sultan, r. 1520–1566) Sweeney, Amin 460n25
381, 398, 411, 425, 437, 437n67, 438, 441 swords
astrology and lettrism at court of 412 of Murād V 424, 424ill., 426ill.
Süleymaniye complex (Istanbul) 445 talismanic motifs/symbols on 427–428
Suʾl al-mulūk (“Query of Kings,” Ibn Turka) Dhū l-Fiqār 438, 440ill., 446
403 Quranic inscriptions 435–437
Sultān-Ḥusayn-i Bayqara (Timurid sultan, r. (semi-)precious stones/metals 423,
1469–1506) 269, 271 424ill., 426ill.
Sumatra 471 Solomonic symbols/inscriptions
Sumedang (Java) 468, 490, 494 435–437, 436ill., 448
Sun 223n47 Syria 255, 262, 286
alchemy and 47 Ottoman conquest of 385, 390–391, 394,
assignment to Abraham 235, 236 400, 407
association with awfāq (magic squares) Syriac language/script 133, 237, 239, 323,
67n27, 108n130 324, 349, 367
talisman of the (ʿamal-i shams) 299 Syriac texts 74, 80, 141, 183, 349
Sunan Abī Dawūd (hadith) 252
Sunan Gunung Jati (Syarif Hidayatullah, Sufi al-Ṭabarī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Jarīr
saint, d. 1570) 446, 479, 480 (d. 923), Taʾrīkh al-rusul wa-l-mulūk (“The
Sunni-Shiʿi divide 25, 28, 270, 444 Annals of the Prophets and Kings”) 464
blurring of 30, 476–477 al-Ṭabarī, ʿAlī b. Sahl (d. 850) 71–72, 78, 80,
talismanic motifs/iconography and 30, 233, 236n17, 254
421, 444–445, 448 Kitāb Firdaws al-ḥikma (“Book of the
Sunnism/Sunnis 269–270, 271, 444 Paradise of Wisdom”) 71–76,
Hanafi 268, 269 80, 87, 88n81, 91, 94, 101, 142, 348–
on mujaddidūn 236, 250 349
Ottoman 444, 445 al-Ṭabarī, Rabban Sahl (father of ʿAlī b. Sahl
pro-amulet position 593, 594, 595 al-Ṭabarī) 72
in Safavid period 307 Ṭabaristan 72
in Southeast Asia 476–477 tabarruk (obtaining blessings from sacred
talismanic motifs objects and sites) 562
imagery evoking Dhū l-Fiqār 441 al-Ṭabasī, Abū l-Faḍl Muḥammad (d. 1089),
Shiʿi imagery in talismanic objects al-Shāmil fī l-baḥr al-kāmil (“The Com-
444–445 prehensive Compendium on the Entire
superstition Ocean”) 280n58, 623, 632, 634–635
categorization of 608–610 al-Ṭabasī, Tāj al-Dīn Ibrāhīm b. ʿUmar al-
piety vs. 527–528, 574–575, 584–585, 594 Qaṣṣāʿ 270n15
see also eye beads Tabriz 73n44, 272, 286, 305n175, 396, 404
reason vs. 5, 11, 22 al-Tabrīzī, Jalāl al-Dīn Abū l-Najīb ʿAbd al-
Supplementary History (al-Taʾrīkh al-mulḥaq) Raḥmān b. Naṣr b. ʿAbdallāh al-Shirāzī,
141 al-Īḍāḥ fī asrār al-nikāḥ 325
698 index

Tadhkirat al-shuʿarāʾ (Dawlatshāh) 288– physical and metaphysical protection of

289 421–422
Tadhkirat ūlī l-albāb (“Memorandum for (semi-)precious stones in 423, 424–427,
Men of Intelligence,” al-Anṭākī) 344 424ill., 426ill., 448
Tahāfut al-falāsifa (“The Incoherence of the talismans (ṭilasm)
Philosophers,” al-Ghazālī) 4 see also (awfāq) magic squares; bless-
Tahānsarī, ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz Shams-i, Tarjuma-yi ing cards; calligrams; eye beads;
kitāb-i Barāhī 68n30 stamped talismans; talismanic
Tahmāsp I (Safavid shah, r. 1524–1576) 296, weaponry
297n135, 297n137, 445 aim of 44
Taj Mahal 118, 410n87 body vs. spirit in 48, 49, 50
al-tajrīd (science of emancipation of the commercialization of 572, 586n26, 593,
soul) 3, 215, 273n27 595, 599, 600–602
Taksim Square (Istanbul) 583 construction of 24, 48–50, 92, 93, 96,
taksīr al-ḥurūf 89n81, 298, 298n141, 167, 185, 187, 224, 564, 564n119
386 astrological conditions 50, 83–84, 98
Talḥa b. ʿUbaydallāh (Companion of the materials used 74, 75, 79, 90, 101–102,
Prophet, d. c. 657) 540 421, 422–427
talismanic arts/operations/practices 15, efficacy of 560, 563
185, 302–303, 345 formulas and motifs 30–31, 49
association of sīmiyāʾ with 343 individual interventions and interac-
boom in 573 tion 23, 27
clients/targets of letter and number symbolism in 114,
courtiers and power elite 299, 300– 275
301 lions in 465
rulers (achieving/maintaining power) orientation of motifs 427–434, 447–
48–49, 255, 295, 299, 305n175, 307 448
wider audience 295 performative vs. talismanic images
talismanic garments 444, 506–508 461–463
talismanic magic theory (al-Rāzī) 225 talismanic vocabulary 30, 421, 447
talismanic scrolls 531ill. history/origins/foundation 28, 174,
talismanic weaponry 23, 29–30, 420, 420– 273n27, 293
421 intercessory power of 539, 553, 560, 562,
see also body armor 588, 594
coins in 425–426, 426ill. invoking Allāh/Prophet/pious figures
history/origins 421–422 427, 428, 430
invoking Allāh/Prophet/pious figures for love and friendship 48, 49–50
427, 428, 430 of lunar mansions 187, 189, 192
materials used 421, 422–427 as means of action of sīmiyāʾ 29, 338–
motifs/symbols/references on 339
Ahl al-Bayt imagery 445 prayer and 48, 49, 50
ʿAlīd references on 445 printed talismans 478, 502, 527–565,
orientation/placement of protective 529ill., 531ill., 574–595, 576ill., 577ill.,
inscriptions/motifs 421, 427–434, 581ill., 586ill., 589ill. see also blessing
447–448 cards
Quran verses 424, 430–432, 435–437, prohibition of use 594
496 protective properties 427, 449
Solomonic symbols 434–439, 436ill., protection at battlefield see talismanic
448 weaponry
index 699

science of (līmiyā) 44, 294–296, 342 De imaginibus 27, 108

categorization of 27, 46, 621 Epistle on the Harmonious Number (Risāla
socio-political/cultural/religious signific- fī lʿadad al-wafq) 107–108
ance 444–446, 448, 449 Thai culture, influence of 497
survived talismans 24 Thailand
talisman of the sun (ʿamal-i shams) 299 calligrams in 468, 472, 478
term 43, 628 tiger imagery in 475
vivification of 53 Ṭhakkura Pherū, Gaṇitasārakaumudī 69
for women’s spells 328–329 Thales of Miletus 109, 109n134, 111n138, 137
Talkhīṣ fī l-ʿadad al-wafq (“Epitome on the awfāq (magic squares) and 248–249
Harmonious Number,” al-Kharaqī) lettrism and 248–249
113tab., 130 thaumaturgy/thaumaturgical power 209,
Tamil region (India) 488 225, 226
Tan, Huism 505 Theology of Aristotle 177, 178, 180
Tankalūshā al-Bābilī (Teucros) 331–333, Theon of Smyrna 62
635n79 theoretical knowledge, practical vs. 31,
Tanman, M. Baha 557 607–608
tantra/tantric traditions (India) 69, 632, Third Way (anti-sectarian religio-political
637 reform, Brethren of Purity) 182n82
Taşköprīzāde/Taşköprüzāde, Aḥmed b. “three” books (Qurʾan, human soul and
Muṣṭafā (d. 1561) 4n7, 89n81, 405n70, world) 260–261, 263
407n73, 408n76, 410n86 Throne Verse (āyāt al-kursī, Q:255) 431,
Miftāḥ al-saʿāda wa-miṣbāḥ al-siyāda 435, 435n63, 438, 580, 580n14, 582, 599,
(“Key to Felicity and Lamp to Mas- 600ill.
tery”) 4n7, 89n81, 410n86 Al-Tibb (exhibition, 2018, Islamic Arts
tawaṣṣul see intercession Museum Malaysia) 10
taʿwīz (using images for talismanic and aus- al-Tīfāshī (d. 1253), Azhār al-afkār fī jawāhir
picious purposes) 562, 564 al-aḥjār (“The Blooms of Thoughts on
taxonomy see classification of (occult) sci- Precious Stones”) 30, 422–423
ences al-Tiflīsī, Rabbi Yosef 72n44
temporality 230, 231–232 tiger imagery
lettrism and 260 see also Macan Ali, Sima Ngali and “Tiger
Tengku Bongsu Bachok bin Tengku Temeng- of God” calligrams
gung Long Tan (d. 1887) 497n183 on banners and flags 484, 485, 487, 503,
Terengganu (peninsular Malaysia) 468, 505 509, 510
terrestrial world, governance by celestial divination and power of tigers 474–
world 173, 211 475
Tevārīḫ-i āl-i ʿOs̱mān (“Annals of the Ottoman lion vs. tigers (in calligrams) 30, 473–
House”, Kemālpaşazāde) 400, 406, 409 476, 484, 499, 500, 513
textiles, talismanic motifs/symbols on 441, magical associations with tigers 30,
442ill., 444, 446, 447, 471, 475, 477–478, 474–475
482–487, 483ill., 495, 502–511, 506ill., as talismanic designs 475
509ill. white tiger 485, 487
Thābit b. Qurra (Abū l-Ḥasan Thābit b. Qurra time (dahr)
al-Ḥarrānī, d. 901) 48, 53, 107, 109, 131, see also days
132 fig., 133, 133n185, 134, 134n186, 139, Ibn ʿArabī on 230, 231
140, 142, 352n105 Islamic 230–231
Book on Amicable Numbers (Kitāb al-aʿdād Timurid Empire/Timurids 28, 29, 396
al-mutaḥābba) 109 Aqquyunlu Empire vs. 403–406
700 index

lettrist imperialism/universalist claims Ṭumṭum al-Hindī 219n35, 226, 274, 295, 296,
397, 398, 401, 403 299–300, 331, 332
occult sciences in 267 Kitāb Ṭumṭum 325
see also Asrār-i qāsimī Tunis 256
princes and military elite (Chaghatay) Tunisia 15
289 al-Ṭūqātī, Luṭfullāh see Mollā Lüṭfī
Tīmūr/Temür (founder of the Timurid turbans 301, 438n67, 490, 552
Empire, r. 1370–1405) 235, 257–258, turban hats (kufis) 592–593, 592ill.
261, 262, 287n96, 401, 401n52, 405, Turco-Muslim culture 588
406n70 Turkey 7n17, 31, 462n38, 572
al-Tirmidhī (hadith scholar, d. 892) 433, see also blessing cards; eye beads
587, 587n29 basmala in present day 582
Tokat 405n70 imagery evoking Dhū l-Fiqār from 441,
Toledo 113tab. 442ill., 443ill.
Topkapı Palace 233, 234n12, 408, 444, islamization of public sphere 573, 602
457n11, 465n53, 562n105, 587n29, 590, production of eye beads 598–599
592 talismans from 527–565, 529ill.,
traces of the Prophet see foot- and sandal- 531ill.
prints calligrams 454, 456, 466, 466n57,
transformation 467ill., 473
external 174 talismanic weaponry 420, 421, 424ill.,
self- 174 426ill., 427, 428, 436ill., 438n69,
of the soul 180 440ill.
transmission chains 270, 270n15 Turkish language/vocabulary 454, 631
Transoxania 209, 287n96 Turko-Persianate imperial lettrist histori-
Treatise on the Existence of the Cause of Amic- ography 407
able Numbers and Square Figures with al-Ṭūsī, Muḥammad b. al-Muẓaffar, Risāla
Numerical Planes […], The (al-Mālaqī) fīʿilm al-wafq (“Treatise on the Science of
99–102, 105, 111 Harmony”) 57, 57n1
Treaty of Amasya (1555) 445 al-Ṭūsī, Naṣīr al-Dīn (d. 1274) 70n38, 196
Trench, Battle of the (627) 421 al-Ṭūsī, Shams al-Din Muḥammad (d. 1166),
trickery 181, 189, 275–276 Kitāb ʾAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wagharāʾib al-
see also illicit magic; necromancy; presti- mawjūdāt (“The wonders of all creation
digitation and the rarities of all existence”) 617,
true magic vs. artificial 178–179 618–619
true magic (siḥr ḥaqq), articifical trickery vs. al-Ṭūsī, Sharaf al-Dīn al-Muẓaffar b. Muḥam-
178–179 mad (d. 1213) 57n1
Tughluq dynasty (1320–1413) 69 al-Tustarī, Ḥasan b. ʿAlī b. Abī al-Karam (fl.
tughrā (official signature of Ottoman sul- 14th c.), Kashf ḥaqāʾiq al-asrār […] (“Rev-
tans), as talismanic motif 471 elation of the Truths […]”) 75n54,
Tuḥfa-yi ʿaliyya (treatise on lettrism, al- 105n121, 110, 114
Kāshifī) 268, 292 Twelver Shiʿism 28, 268, 269, 307, 413, 441
Tuḥfa-yī khānī (“A Gift for the Khān”, ʿAlī Ṣafī) tyranny 226–227
274, 281 of Pharaoh 216, 217–218, 217n30, 219
see also Asrār-i qāsimī
manuscripts 292n115 ʿUbayd Allāh b. al-Jarrāh (Companion of the
patron/dedicatee 291–292 Prophet, d. 639) 540
Tuḥfat al-munajjimīn (“The Gift of the Astro- ʿUbayd Allāh Khan (Uzbek ruler, r. 1534–1539)
logers,” Jalāl Munajjim) 302 404
index 701

Ūghrī ʿAbbās (demon), on stamped talismans University of Exeter 8n19

537ill., 543–544, 543n47 University of London 8n19
Uğur (glassmaker) 599 University of Oxford 1, 9–10
Uḥud, Battle of (625) 421, 439, 496 University of South Carolina 8n19
Ujjain (India) 68, 68n29 ʿUthmān b. Affān (3rd Rashidun caliph, r.
Ullmann, Manfred 19n63, 328–329 644–656) 477, 488, 499
Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im ʿUyūn al-anbāʾ fī ṭabaqāt al-aṭibbāʾ (“The
Islam 11, 162, 325 Sources of Information about the Genera-
Ulugh Beg observatory (Samarkand) 110, tions of Physicians”, Ibn Abī Uṣaybiʿa)
411 351
Ulugh Beg (Timurid Sultan and scientist, r. ʿUyūn al-haqāʾiq wa-īḍāḥ al-ṭarāʾiq (“The
1409–1449) 411 Sources of Truths and the Exposition of
al-ʿulūm al-gharība (occult sciences) 2, 2n2, Methods,” al-Sīmāwī) 278, 282, 284–285,
31, 615–616, 615n23–24 291, 325, 326, 332, 344
equation with occult sciences 615–616 see also Asrār-i qāsimī
synonyms 615 parallels with Kitāb Sharāsīm 332
al-ʿulūm al-khafiyya (occult sciences) 2, Uzbeks 305, 305n173, 393, 404
2n2, 3 Uzun Ḥasan (ruler of Aqquyunlu Empire, r.
Ūmahris 195 1457–1478) 403–404, 405, 405n70
al-ʿulūm al-nāmūsiyya wa-l-sharʿiyya (Part IV
of the Rasāʾil concerned with divine and Valī, Shāh Niʿmatallāh (d. 1431) 272, 287,
legal laws) 171 287n96
ʿUmar b. al-Khāṭṭāb (2nd Caliph of the Vaṛāhamihira (Indian astronomer), Great
Rashidun Caliphate, r. 634–644) 110, Compilation (Bṛhatsaṁhitā) 68
477, 488, 499, 505 Venus 70n38, 223n47, 224, 331n42, 348
ʿUmar II (8th Caliph of the Umayyad alchemy and 47
Caliphate, r. 717–720) 253 assignment to Moses 235
ʿUmar Khayyām see [al-]Khayyāmī al Nīs- vernacular forms of devotion 574, 575, 585,
ābūrī, ʿUmar b. Ibrāhīm 597
ummat al-ḥukamāʾ (sages, philosophers) victory, (semi-)precious stones/metals secur-
232, 238 ing 423
lettrism and 242, 245–249 Vinel, Nicolas 62–63, 140
Umm Ṣubyān (female demon, “child-witch”), volitional causality, universe governed by
on stamped talismans 537ill., 542–543, 172, 192, 199
545, 545n57 Vṛnda (Indian physician) 91
al-umūr al-gharība (“strange phenomena”) Siddhayoga (Sanskrit Ayurvedic medical
see strange phenomena compendium) 68, 69, 75
Un art secret (exhibition, 2013, Institut du
Monde Arabe) 9 wafq
“Une Compilation Arabe” (Sesiano) 113tab., see also awfāq (magic squares)
130 term 94
UNESCO 598 Wahhabi Islam/Wahhabism 5, 561–562,
universalist imperialism 398–399 594, 595
see also lettrist imperialism wahm see illusions/illusory magic
Universal Soul 173, 179 waḥy (prophetic revelation) see revelation
universe, governance by volitional causality walāya/wilāya, intellectual magic of 180–
172, 192, 199 181, 182n82
Université Catholique de Louvain, “Speculum Walbridge, John 247–248
Arabicum Project” 8n19 Walker, Paul E. 169
702 index

Wallace Collection (London), talismanic Xu Yue, Memoir on Some Traditions of the

weaponry in 438, 440ill. Mathematical Art (Shushu jiyi) 64
Warburg Institute (London) 8n19
warfare see arms and armor; lettrist imperial- Yaḥyā b. al-Biṭrīq 183
ism; talismanic weaponry Yahya, Farouk 1, 24, 30
Wāridāt (“Inspirations,” Badr al-Dīn) yāʾ (letter) 244, 346
397n44 Ya Hafeth Ya Ameen (exhibition, 2016, Widad
waṣī (“delegate”) see awṣiyā; mujad- Kawar Home for Arab Dress) 10
didūn Yale University 8n19
Wasit 622 Yang Hui, Continuation of Ancient Mathem-
al-Wāthiq (ʾAbbāsid caliph, r. 842–847) atical Methods for Elucidating the Strange
72 (Xugu zhaiqi suanfa) 65, 67, 67n27
Wawacan Sunan Gunung Jati (“Narrative Yasūf b. Aḥmad Ḥallāj 278–279, 280n62
poem of Sunan Gunung Jati”) 479 Yazdegird III (Sassanid Shah, r. 632–651) 110
wāw (letter) 244, 346, 472 Yazdī, Jalāl al-Dīn Munajjim see Jalāl Mun-
weapons see arms and armor; talismanic ajjim Bāshī
weaponry Yazdī, Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī (d. 1454) 197, 272,
West Africa 15, 17, 454 277, 287, 397n44, 400–403, 401n55,
Western early modernity, historiography of 407, 412, 412n89
411 cyclical theory of history 401–402
Western esotericism 2, 6, 19, 19n62, Davānī vs. 403–404
611 Fatḥ-nāma-yi humāyūn 401n52
Westernization of occult sciences 7 Fatḥ-nāma-yi ṣāḥib-qirāni 401n52
Western magic 18, 19 on history as an (occult) science 401–
Western occultism 2, 2n3, 7, 410–411n87 403
Western scholarship 7–8, 14, 61, 328, 410, Ḥulal-i muṭarraz dar fann-i muʿammā va
609–610, 611, 625 lughaz 272n20
white tiger imagery 485 Ibn Khaldūn vs. 401–402, 411
Wicca 7 Muqaddima 401n52
Widad Kawar Home for Arab Dress (Am- Second Maqāla 401n52
man), Ya Hafeth Ya Ameen (exhibition, Ẓafarnāma (“Book of Conquest”) 401,
2016) 10 403, 404
wisdom, classification of 3–4 yellow amber 333
women occultists 317, 324, 331n43 Yemen 15, 238, 392
see also Sharāsīm/Ishrāsīm al-Hindiyya Yin and Yang 64
women’s magic 186, 187, 336 yoga 637, 638n85
women’s spells, talismans used for 329– Yogyakarta (Java)
330 Brahma Tirta Sari batik studio 509ill.
wonders see miracles glass-painting 511–512
wood panels, Lion of ʿAlī on 480, 481– Lion of ʿAlī calligrams from 468, 479,
482, 481ill., 487–490, 489ill., 492n165, 511–512
493ill., 504–505, 504ill. sacred royal banner of 487
writing, sanctity of 476 Yudhiṣṭhira (character in Mahābhārata)
479
Xi’an (Shaanxi Province, China) 66 Yürekli, Zeynep 444, 445
Xugu zhaiqi suanfa (“Continuation of
Ancient Mathematical Methods for Elu- Zadeh, Travis 8n19, 31
cidating the Strange,” Yang Hui) 65, 67, Ẓafarnāma (“Book of Conquest”, Yazdī) 401,
67n27 403, 404
index 703

Ẓāhirī Revolt (1386) 256 zoomorphic calligraphy 456, 457, 458,

ẓāhir (“the manifest”), bāṭin (“the hidden”) 471n79, 472, 480
vs. 459, 610–611 see also calligrams; Lion of ʿAlī calligrams
Zahrūn family 131, 132 fig., 133 Zoroaster/Zarādasht 240, 246, 248
Zamzam Well (Mecca) 555n88 identification with Seth 246
Zarcone, Thierry 456 Zoroastrianism/Zoroastrians 618, 631
Zhou dynasty (1046–771 BCE) 64 nērang in 628–630
zīj (astronomical tables) 127, 135, 143, 351 Zosimos 331n43
Zīj-i Malikshāhī (astronomical observations Zubayr b. al-ʿAwām (Companion of the
of al-Isfizārī and al-Khayyāmī) 127 Prophet, d. 656) 540
al-Zīj al-muʿtabar al-Sanjarī (“Zīj for Sanjar,” Zubdat al-tavārīkh (Kamāl b. Jalāl) 306n178
al-Khāzinī) 129 Zwemer, Samuel Marinus (d. 1952) 625,
Zīj al-Sindhind 68n29, 351 626n55