THE PROPHET
be his last. Every detail of his actions on this occasion was carefully
noted and imitated by his disciples: the rites and ceremonies which
he had endorsed by his example and presence became standard
Muslim practice. He was now over sixty years of age, and his
health was failing. On his return to Medina, he fell ill and
requested Abu Bakr to lead the prayers in his place. On June 8,
632, he died in the house of A’isha, the best loved of his wives. The
faithful were stricken with grief and incredulity, and the violent and
impetuous Omar threatened to cut off the hands and feet of anyone
who dared assert that the Prophet was dead. This wild ranting was
rebuked by the calm good sense of Abu Bakr, who told the people:
If anyone worships Muhammad, Muhammad is dead, but if anyone
worships God, he is alive and dies not.’ As the Prophet left no son
or any obvious heir, the question at once arose: who was now to
lead his community? An attempt by the Ansar to elect one of their
number was forestalled: Omar seized the hand of Abu Bakr and
called on the people to obey the man whom the Prophet had
appointed to lead the prayers in his absence, and the venerable
friend of Muhammad, who had rarely left his side, was saluted as
the khalifa (caliph), vicar or successor of the Apostle of God.
To delineate the character of this extraordinary man is a task
of extreme difficulty. No contemporary descriptions have reached
us, and the oldest portraits which have survived are hagiographical
in tone. We are told that the Prophet had a stately and
commanding figure, with sad and piercing eyes, that his manner
was normally kind and gentle, that he loved children and animals,
that his habits were so simple that even in his last days in Medina,
when he governed Arabia, he mended his own clothes and cobbled
his own sandals. His piety was sincere and unaffected, and his
honest belief in the reality of his call can be denied only by those
who are prepared to assert that a conscious impostor endured for
ten or twelve years ridicule, abuse and privation, gained the
confidence and affection of upright and intelligent men, and has
since been revered by millions as the principal vehicle of God’s
revelation to man. He disclaimed all pretension to sinlessness and
miracle-working (when asked for a sign, he pointed to the Koran
as the greatest miracle), discouraged superstitious veneration for his
person, and insisted, insofar as was compatible with his claim to
be the Apostle of God, that he was but a man amongst men.
35
THE PROPHET
Yet it would be idle to deny that the Arab prophet has never
been viewed with sympathy and favour by Christians whose ideal
has naturally been the milder and purer figure of Jesus. The losses
which Islam inflicted on Christendom and the propaganda
disseminated during the Crusades were not conducive to an
impartial judgment, and down almost to recent times Muhammad
has been portrayed in controversial literature as a lying deceiver
and a shameless lecher. Absurd stories were circulated and long
believed, such as that he trained a dove to pick seeds of corn from
his ear so as to persuade the people that he was receiving
communications from the Holy Ghost, and that his iron coffin at
Mecca (he was really buried at Medina) was suspended in midair
by the action of powerful loadstones! To the charges that he
‘induced’ revelations to suit his purposes, that he propagated his
creed by the sword, and that he used religion as a cloak for the
satisfaction of his sensual desires, reasonably convincing answers
may be returned. Our modern psychologists, who have explored
the dark recesses of the human mind or rather of the unconscious,
are slow to question the integrity of men of the type of
Muhammad. Notwithstanding his war with Mecca, which was in
the ancient tradition of Arab tribal conflict, he never countenanced
the forcible conversion of Christians or Jews, and laid it down as
a principle that ‘there is no compulsion in religion,’ in consequence
of which Islam has been, on the whole, one of the most tolerant
of creeds. The fiercest censure has been reserved for his sexual
conduct, but it may be observed that so long as Khadija lived, he
took no other wife, and that of the ten or twelve women he
subsequently married, the majority were widows whose husbands
had fallen in his cause and for whom he might feel obliged to
provide. The four lawful wives permitted to the Muslim believer
is, in fact, a restriction on the licence of pagan Arabia, which set
no legal limits of polygamy. Yet his love of women is not denied
by his biographers, and his personal preferences are artlessly
revealed in the Koranic picture of a paradise where the pious
faithful are refreshed with delicious fruits and caressed by huris,
black-eyed girls of eternal youth and beauty.
The religious system which he constructed was the purest and
most uncompromising monotheism. Islam rests upon ‘five pillars,’
the shahada, or profession of faith, ‘There is no god but God and
36
THE PROPHET
Muhammad is his Apostle,’ the salat, or daily worship, ultimately
fixed at five prayers, the sawm, or fast of Ramadan, the zakat, or
alms, one-tenth of the believer’s income being payable to charitable
purposes and the hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca, to be undertaken
taken at least once in a lifetime. His God is an almighty Creator,
an arbitrary though merciful despot, who has revealed himself to
man successively through the Tawrat, or law of Moses, the Zabur,
or psalms of David, the Injil, gospel or evangel of Jesus, and finally
and completely through the Koran of Muhammad. Allah, the
embodiment of mighty will rather than of moral righteousness,
demands no sacrifice or atonement for sin; no mediator, redeemer
or saviour interposes between him and man, and Islam knows no
sacraments or priesthood. Jesus is venerated as a noble prophet,
miraculously conceived and endowed with the power of raising the
dead to life, but the crucifixion is a myth, a substitute having been
nailed to the cross in his place, and on the Day of Judgment he will
repudiate those who have perversely treated him as divine.
At Medina Muhammad was, like Moses, at once prophet, prince
and legislator. The distinction between civil and religious authority
was unknown in the Semitic East, and the Koran is both a body of
doctrine and a code of regulation. The life of the Muslim, like that
of the Jew, was guided by the Law (shari’a, or path), which being
divinely revealed, could never be repealed or modified, and the
reforms which the Prophet enacted in the name of Allah in seventhcentury
Arabia, are now, thirteen centuries later, a hindrance to the
progress of the Muslim nations. The withdrawal of liberty of divorce
from women and the use of the veil might be calculated in their day
to raise the level of public morality, but they have survived into a
different age, along with such ancient institutions as concubinage and
slavery, which also received the sanction of the Koran.
The inquirer who seeks an explanation of the great revolutions
of history is often driven to attach almost equal weight to the
personalities of the leading actors and the peculiar circumstances of
their time, which favoured the fullest deployment of their talents, and
he may well accept the conclusion, that vast changes are produced
neither by the operation of blind forces nor by the genius and will
of great men, but by a subtle and unpredictable combination of the
two. Without Muhammad, there would have been no Arab Empire;
yet in a different age and situation, the Prophet of Islam might have
Showing posts with label Sejarah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sejarah. Show all posts
Friday, 21 June 2013
Sejarah Abadi
wawoo
which can be rendered as “medical master,” and tölgechin with pu-jen,
“diviner” or “soothsayer.”3 As Roná-Tas rightly concludes, bö’e is the generic
term for shaman, while tölgechin designates the more specialized diviner. The
difference between the two is substantial: the bö’e/shaman conducts his business
by means of spiritual quests or trips, and the tölgechin/diviner through a
search for signs provided by burnt bones, bird flights, dreams, or even dice.4
Of the two, the bö’e enjoyed the higher status in Mongolian culture, but
both were extensively used by all segments of the populace. They of course
treated the sick, but are most often encountered divining.5 Their ability to
foretell the future was greatly prized and a crucial element in Mongolian political
culture. Future events, the rise of Chinggis Qan, the outcome of battles
were divined by anomalies of nature, reading stalks and, most frequently, by
scapulmancy: reading cracks on the burnt shoulder blades of sheep.6 Chinggis
Qan himself, according to Muslim tradition, read sheep bones during his campaigns
in India.7 Indeed, government business at large was conducted by such
methods. In the testimony of Rubruck, policy initiatives and the placement of
new encampments were in the hands of diviners.8
At one point, early in his career, Chinggis Qan had a chief shaman,
Kököchü, or Teb Tenggeri, who “revealed secrets and future events” and who
reported “heavenly foretokens” about future political developments.9 He soon
ran foul of the Mongol leader because of interference in family matters. He
was killed in 1206 and there seems to have been no replacement; very likely
Chinggis Qan and his successors preferred second opinions, alternative visions
of the future.
At first glance, this apparent reliance on divination may seem surprising for
so successful a political enterprise. But this is a modernist misunderstanding.
In Moore’s words, divination has a “positive latent function, that is, even
though magic fails to achieve its manifest ends, except by accident or coincidence,
it serves its practitioners and/or their society in other critically important
ways.”10 These other ways have been clearly delineated by Park:
printing
printing
largely confined to the chung-t’ung bills, since he began his embassy to the Ilqans
sometime after 1283.
A few details on the production of ch’ao in China are reported in the
sources. According to the Yuan shih, paper money was printed by wood blocks
until 1275, when they shifted to bronze (t’ung).14 One such bronze plate has
survived, as have a very few specimens of chung-t’ung and chih-yuan bills.15
From the timing of this shift it is apparent that Bolad was probably familiar
with both methods of printing ch’ao. For our immediate purposes,
however, the more important question is how chaw was produced in Iran. In
describing the preparation of paper money, Rashıd al-Dın uses a number of
terms: Geikhatu orders “that they complete [tamum kunand] it rapidly”; amırs
are sent to Tabrız “for the issuance [ba-jihat-i ijra¨] of chaw”; and when they
arrived there the amırs “arranged for [tartıb kardand] much chaw.”16 There is,
then, in this wording no hint of the underlying technology, no reference to
“stamping,” much less to “printing.”
It is certain, however, that chaw was produced by block printing, since no
other method was possible or feasible. Moreover, Rashıd al-Dın was fully
informed about the Chinese technique. In the introduction to his History of
China he describes in detail the procedure: first, he says, they copy a page of a
book on plates (lawh-ha); second, the transfer is corrected by scholars; third,
engravers cut out the characters; fourth, each block is numbered and placed
in a bag secured with a seal; last, whenever someone desires a copy “they bring
out the plates of the book and, as [in minting] gold money, they impress the
plates on leaves of paper [awraq-i kaghaz].”17 Elsewhere in his writings Rashıd
al-Dın records that the plates are of wood and that the paper was made from
the bark of mulberry bushes.18
These passages, it deserves to be stressed, constituted, in their own day, and
for some time thereafter, the fullest and most detailed statements about the
methods of Chinese printing in any language,
includingChinese!19 Naturally,
the origin of Rashıd’s very accurate information is of interest.While in neither
case does he cite a source, we can confidently invoke Bolad once again. Not
only did he inform the Il-qan court about ch’ao, but the Chinese sources indicate
that he was an enthusiastic supporter of printing. In 1273 Bolad, as
Grand Supervisor of Agriculture, and Liu Ping-chung memorialized the
Printing 179
14 YS, ch. 93, p. 2370, and Schurmann, Economic Structure, p. 139.
15 L. Carrington Goodrich, “A Bronze Block for the Printing of Chinese Paper Currency,”
American Numismatic Society Museum Notes 4 (1950), 127–30; V. N. Kazin, “K istorii Kharakhoto,”
Trudy gosudarstvennogo Ermitazha 5 (1961), 282–83; and Rintchen, “A propos du
papier-monnaie mongol,” AOASH 4 (1954), 159 and 163. 16 Rashıd/Jahn I, p. 87.
17 Rashıd al-Dın, Die Chinageschichte, folio 393r, tafel 4, Persian text, and p. 24, German translation.
For a full English translation, taken from the history of Banakatı, Tarıkh, pp. 338–39,
who repeats Rashıd’s description word for word, see Browne, Literary History of Persia, vol.
III, pp. 102–3.
18 Rashıd al-Dın, Tanksuq-namah, pp. 36–37, and Jahn, “Some Ideas of Rashıd al-Dın on
Chinese Culture,” 145–46. 19 Tsien, in Needham, SCC, vol. V, pt. 1, pp. 306–7
largely confined to the chung-t’ung bills, since he began his embassy to the Ilqans
sometime after 1283.
A few details on the production of ch’ao in China are reported in the
sources. According to the Yuan shih, paper money was printed by wood blocks
until 1275, when they shifted to bronze (t’ung).14 One such bronze plate has
survived, as have a very few specimens of chung-t’ung and chih-yuan bills.15
From the timing of this shift it is apparent that Bolad was probably familiar
with both methods of printing ch’ao. For our immediate purposes,
however, the more important question is how chaw was produced in Iran. In
describing the preparation of paper money, Rashıd al-Dın uses a number of
terms: Geikhatu orders “that they complete [tamum kunand] it rapidly”; amırs
are sent to Tabrız “for the issuance [ba-jihat-i ijra¨] of chaw”; and when they
arrived there the amırs “arranged for [tartıb kardand] much chaw.”16 There is,
then, in this wording no hint of the underlying technology, no reference to
“stamping,” much less to “printing.”
It is certain, however, that chaw was produced by block printing, since no
other method was possible or feasible. Moreover, Rashıd al-Dın was fully
informed about the Chinese technique. In the introduction to his History of
China he describes in detail the procedure: first, he says, they copy a page of a
book on plates (lawh-ha); second, the transfer is corrected by scholars; third,
engravers cut out the characters; fourth, each block is numbered and placed
in a bag secured with a seal; last, whenever someone desires a copy “they bring
out the plates of the book and, as [in minting] gold money, they impress the
plates on leaves of paper [awraq-i kaghaz].”17 Elsewhere in his writings Rashıd
al-Dın records that the plates are of wood and that the paper was made from
the bark of mulberry bushes.18
These passages, it deserves to be stressed, constituted, in their own day, and
for some time thereafter, the fullest and most detailed statements about the
methods of Chinese printing in any language,
includingChinese!19 Naturally,
the origin of Rashıd’s very accurate information is of interest.While in neither
case does he cite a source, we can confidently invoke Bolad once again. Not
only did he inform the Il-qan court about ch’ao, but the Chinese sources indicate
that he was an enthusiastic supporter of printing. In 1273 Bolad, as
Grand Supervisor of Agriculture, and Liu Ping-chung memorialized the
Printing 179
14 YS, ch. 93, p. 2370, and Schurmann, Economic Structure, p. 139.
15 L. Carrington Goodrich, “A Bronze Block for the Printing of Chinese Paper Currency,”
American Numismatic Society Museum Notes 4 (1950), 127–30; V. N. Kazin, “K istorii Kharakhoto,”
Trudy gosudarstvennogo Ermitazha 5 (1961), 282–83; and Rintchen, “A propos du
papier-monnaie mongol,” AOASH 4 (1954), 159 and 163. 16 Rashıd/Jahn I, p. 87.
17 Rashıd al-Dın, Die Chinageschichte, folio 393r, tafel 4, Persian text, and p. 24, German translation.
For a full English translation, taken from the history of Banakatı, Tarıkh, pp. 338–39,
who repeats Rashıd’s description word for word, see Browne, Literary History of Persia, vol.
III, pp. 102–3.
18 Rashıd al-Dın, Tanksuq-namah, pp. 36–37, and Jahn, “Some Ideas of Rashıd al-Dın on
Chinese Culture,” 145–46. 19 Tsien, in Needham, SCC, vol. V, pt. 1, pp. 306–7
sejarah kuno
sejarah kuno
between Chinese and Muslim astronomers all across Eurasia – in China,
Tibet, central Asia, and Transcaucasia – but was there exchange and borrowing?
This, as usual, is not easily answered; clearly, there is no general formula
that accurately describes the situation. It is best, therefore, to look at specifics.
To begin with the Muslim scientific literature deposited in the Imperial
Library Directorate, there is no indication that these works had any appreciable
influence on Chinese astronomy or mathematics. Further, during the
Yuan at least, there is no evidence to suggest that they were translated in part
or in whole into Chinese. They seem to have formed the working library of
Jamal al-Dın and his West Asian associates who made their calculations and
observations along traditional Hellenistic and Islamic lines. In short, these
works were not intended to “inform” Chinese scientists and so far as we know
no Chinese scholar of the period showed any interest in them.65
As regards instrumentation, it has been suggested by Needham that among
Kuo Shou-ching’s instruments there was an equatorial mounting. This he
believes was stimulated in part by a Muslim and European instrument known
as a torquedum. Kuo’s version was called the “simplified instrument” in
Chinese because it eliminated the ecliptic components and retained, following
Chinese tradition, the system of equatorial coordinates. This, Needham and
others have argued, anticipates Tycho Brahe and the equatorial mountings of
modern telescopes.66
On the whole, however, Needham detects little of Muslim influence on
Chinese astronomy either in instrumentation, system of coordinates, methods
of computation, or the Ptolemaic planetary model. He does leave open the
possibility of Muslim influence on Chinese techniques of calendar computation.
67 But, even here, there is not much evidence in hand to make such a case.
The official calendar of the Yuan was the Shou-shih li, “Calendar for F ixing
the Seasons.” This was compiled by Kuo Shou-ching with the aid of a large
team of observers and specialists. The calendar was promulgated in 1281 and
remained the official calendar of China until the end of the Ming. The consensus
opinion of historians of Chinese science is that this calendar betrays
no obvious foreign influence and appears to have been compiled on the basis
of traditional Chinese methods.68
While I cannot address these issues on a technical level, it is certainly
beyond dispute that the Ming dynasty, which followed the Mongols, exhibited
a lively and sustained interest in Muslim astronomy, astrology, and calendars.
The legacy was therefore mainly institutional rather than scientific or
technological.
In the first place, the Ming continued the Institute of Muslim Astronomy
172 Cultural exchange
65 Cf. the discussion of Peter M. Engelfriet, Euclid in China (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), pp. 73–75.
66 Joseph Needham, “The Peking Observatory in AD 1280 and the Development of the
Equatorial Mounting,” Vistas in Astronomy 1 (1955), 67–83. See also the comments of M. C.
Johnson, “Greek, Moslem and Chinese Instrument Designs in the Surviving Mongol
Equatorials of 1279 AD,” Isis 32 (1940), 27–43. 67 Needham, SCC, vol. III, pp. 372–82.
68 Ho Peng-yoke, “Kuo Shou-ching,” in de Rachewiltz
between Chinese and Muslim astronomers all across Eurasia – in China,
Tibet, central Asia, and Transcaucasia – but was there exchange and borrowing?
This, as usual, is not easily answered; clearly, there is no general formula
that accurately describes the situation. It is best, therefore, to look at specifics.
To begin with the Muslim scientific literature deposited in the Imperial
Library Directorate, there is no indication that these works had any appreciable
influence on Chinese astronomy or mathematics. Further, during the
Yuan at least, there is no evidence to suggest that they were translated in part
or in whole into Chinese. They seem to have formed the working library of
Jamal al-Dın and his West Asian associates who made their calculations and
observations along traditional Hellenistic and Islamic lines. In short, these
works were not intended to “inform” Chinese scientists and so far as we know
no Chinese scholar of the period showed any interest in them.65
As regards instrumentation, it has been suggested by Needham that among
Kuo Shou-ching’s instruments there was an equatorial mounting. This he
believes was stimulated in part by a Muslim and European instrument known
as a torquedum. Kuo’s version was called the “simplified instrument” in
Chinese because it eliminated the ecliptic components and retained, following
Chinese tradition, the system of equatorial coordinates. This, Needham and
others have argued, anticipates Tycho Brahe and the equatorial mountings of
modern telescopes.66
On the whole, however, Needham detects little of Muslim influence on
Chinese astronomy either in instrumentation, system of coordinates, methods
of computation, or the Ptolemaic planetary model. He does leave open the
possibility of Muslim influence on Chinese techniques of calendar computation.
67 But, even here, there is not much evidence in hand to make such a case.
The official calendar of the Yuan was the Shou-shih li, “Calendar for F ixing
the Seasons.” This was compiled by Kuo Shou-ching with the aid of a large
team of observers and specialists. The calendar was promulgated in 1281 and
remained the official calendar of China until the end of the Ming. The consensus
opinion of historians of Chinese science is that this calendar betrays
no obvious foreign influence and appears to have been compiled on the basis
of traditional Chinese methods.68
While I cannot address these issues on a technical level, it is certainly
beyond dispute that the Ming dynasty, which followed the Mongols, exhibited
a lively and sustained interest in Muslim astronomy, astrology, and calendars.
The legacy was therefore mainly institutional rather than scientific or
technological.
In the first place, the Ming continued the Institute of Muslim Astronomy
172 Cultural exchange
65 Cf. the discussion of Peter M. Engelfriet, Euclid in China (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), pp. 73–75.
66 Joseph Needham, “The Peking Observatory in AD 1280 and the Development of the
Equatorial Mounting,” Vistas in Astronomy 1 (1955), 67–83. See also the comments of M. C.
Johnson, “Greek, Moslem and Chinese Instrument Designs in the Surviving Mongol
Equatorials of 1279 AD,” Isis 32 (1940), 27–43. 67 Needham, SCC, vol. III, pp. 372–82.
68 Ho Peng-yoke, “Kuo Shou-ching,” in de Rachewiltz
astronomi
astronomi
Built on a leveled-off hill to the south of Tabrız, the complex contained numerous
buildings, a library, and an astronomical observatory equipped with
various instruments, a quadrant, armillary sphere, etc. Funded in part by vaqf
revenues, the observatory also served as a training center for astronomers.11 Its
first director, Nasır al-Dın Tusı, and his associates also received generous stipends
and “shares.”12 Often seen as the apex of Islamic observatories,
Maraghah had a long life because Hülegü’s successors maintained some interest
in its work.13 When its operations ceased is not known precisely but it was
still active when Öljeitü visited the site in 1304.14
Assembled at Maraghah were scientific works in diverse languages and scientists
from many parts of Eurasia. All the educational and scientific work at
the observatory was under the direction of the famed mathematician and
astronomer Nasır al-Dın Tusı, whom Hülegü “rescued” from the Isma¨ılıs.15
And, most important from our perspective, Hülegü ordered Tusı to collaborate
with the Chinese astronomers he had brought from the East. More particularly,
Tusı and his Chinese colleague Fum.njı were to teach one another
their respective astronomical traditions and techniques. Tusı, according to
Rashıd al-Dın, rapidly mastered Chinese astronomy.16
The major by-product of this compelled collaboration was the famous Zıji
Il-khanı, “Astronomical Tables of the Il-qans.” According to the Persian
sources the Zıj was compiled by a team of Muslim scholars, which included,
in addition to Tusı, Mu¨ayyad al-Dın ¨Arudı, Fakhr al-Dın Akhlatı, and
Najm al-Dın Qazvını.17 No Chinese are named but it is clear that Fum.njı and
associates were deeply involved in the project.18 This is evident from Tusı’s
extensive knowledge of the Chinese calendrical system. In the treatment of
this system the Zıj makes extensive use of Chinese technical vocabulary. For
example, the three cycles of the sexagenary system are properly called “upper
beginning [shang v.n, Chinese shang-yuan],” “middle beginning [jung v.n,
Chinese chung-yuan],” and “lower beginning [kha v.n, Chinese hsia-yuan].” A
longer period of time is called a v.n, which answers to the Chinese wan,
“10,000.” Further, the Zıj gives the Chinese names for the ten celestial stems
and twelve earthly branches that make up the sexagenary cycle. For example,
the year 1203 is designated as kuı khaı, the Chinese kuei-hai.19
The purpose of the Chinese material was the preparation of conversion
Astronomy 163
11 The best history of Maraghah is Sayili, The Observatory in Islam, pp. 187–223.
12 Rashıd/Jahn I, p. 8. 13 Ibid., p. 75. 14 Qashanı/Hambly, p. 41.
15 Bar Hebraeus, pp. 2 and 451.
16 Rashıd al-Dın, Chinageschichte, folio 392r, tafel 2, Persian text, and p. 22, German translation.
17 Hamd-Allah MustawfıQazvını, The Ta©rıkh-i Guzıdah or “Select History,” ed. by E. G. Browne
and R. A. Nicholson (Leiden: E. J. Brill, and London: Luzac, 1913), pt. II, p. 143.
18 The introduction to the Zıj notes that Tusı assembled scholars and books from many lands to
prepare the tables. See John A. Boyle, tr., “The Longer Introduction to the Zıj-i Ilkhanı of
Nasir-ad-dın Tusı,” Journal of Semitic Studies 8 (1963), 246–47.
19 Rashıd al-Dın, Chinageschichte, folio 393v, tafel 5, Persian text, and pp. 22–23, German translation,
and Boyle, “The Longer Introduction to the Zıj-i Ilkhanı,” p. 248, Persian text, and
pp. 250–51, English translation.
Built on a leveled-off hill to the south of Tabrız, the complex contained numerous
buildings, a library, and an astronomical observatory equipped with
various instruments, a quadrant, armillary sphere, etc. Funded in part by vaqf
revenues, the observatory also served as a training center for astronomers.11 Its
first director, Nasır al-Dın Tusı, and his associates also received generous stipends
and “shares.”12 Often seen as the apex of Islamic observatories,
Maraghah had a long life because Hülegü’s successors maintained some interest
in its work.13 When its operations ceased is not known precisely but it was
still active when Öljeitü visited the site in 1304.14
Assembled at Maraghah were scientific works in diverse languages and scientists
from many parts of Eurasia. All the educational and scientific work at
the observatory was under the direction of the famed mathematician and
astronomer Nasır al-Dın Tusı, whom Hülegü “rescued” from the Isma¨ılıs.15
And, most important from our perspective, Hülegü ordered Tusı to collaborate
with the Chinese astronomers he had brought from the East. More particularly,
Tusı and his Chinese colleague Fum.njı were to teach one another
their respective astronomical traditions and techniques. Tusı, according to
Rashıd al-Dın, rapidly mastered Chinese astronomy.16
The major by-product of this compelled collaboration was the famous Zıji
Il-khanı, “Astronomical Tables of the Il-qans.” According to the Persian
sources the Zıj was compiled by a team of Muslim scholars, which included,
in addition to Tusı, Mu¨ayyad al-Dın ¨Arudı, Fakhr al-Dın Akhlatı, and
Najm al-Dın Qazvını.17 No Chinese are named but it is clear that Fum.njı and
associates were deeply involved in the project.18 This is evident from Tusı’s
extensive knowledge of the Chinese calendrical system. In the treatment of
this system the Zıj makes extensive use of Chinese technical vocabulary. For
example, the three cycles of the sexagenary system are properly called “upper
beginning [shang v.n, Chinese shang-yuan],” “middle beginning [jung v.n,
Chinese chung-yuan],” and “lower beginning [kha v.n, Chinese hsia-yuan].” A
longer period of time is called a v.n, which answers to the Chinese wan,
“10,000.” Further, the Zıj gives the Chinese names for the ten celestial stems
and twelve earthly branches that make up the sexagenary cycle. For example,
the year 1203 is designated as kuı khaı, the Chinese kuei-hai.19
The purpose of the Chinese material was the preparation of conversion
Astronomy 163
11 The best history of Maraghah is Sayili, The Observatory in Islam, pp. 187–223.
12 Rashıd/Jahn I, p. 8. 13 Ibid., p. 75. 14 Qashanı/Hambly, p. 41.
15 Bar Hebraeus, pp. 2 and 451.
16 Rashıd al-Dın, Chinageschichte, folio 392r, tafel 2, Persian text, and p. 22, German translation.
17 Hamd-Allah MustawfıQazvını, The Ta©rıkh-i Guzıdah or “Select History,” ed. by E. G. Browne
and R. A. Nicholson (Leiden: E. J. Brill, and London: Luzac, 1913), pt. II, p. 143.
18 The introduction to the Zıj notes that Tusı assembled scholars and books from many lands to
prepare the tables. See John A. Boyle, tr., “The Longer Introduction to the Zıj-i Ilkhanı of
Nasir-ad-dın Tusı,” Journal of Semitic Studies 8 (1963), 246–47.
19 Rashıd al-Dın, Chinageschichte, folio 393v, tafel 5, Persian text, and pp. 22–23, German translation,
and Boyle, “The Longer Introduction to the Zıj-i Ilkhanı,” p. 248, Persian text, and
pp. 250–51, English translation.
peradaban sejarah
1. Years and seasons 14. Destruction of pests
2. Water, land, and weather 15. Domesticated fowl
3. Types of cultivation, their timing 16. Domesticated and wild animals
and method 17. Honeybees
4. Canals and irrigation 18. Crop failures and their
5. Dams and their construction . prevention
(missing in the Arabic text) 19. Storing of seed, cereal,
6. Seeds and roots . wine, etc.
7. Seed plants and root crops 20. Construction of houses,
8. Trees, local and foreign . forts, etc.
9. Tree grafting 21. Construction of ships,
10. Fertilizer . bridges, etc.
11. Melons, vegetables, and herbs 22. Qualities of different animals
12. Wheat, barley, and cereals 23. Methods of mining
13. Cash crops, cotton, etc. 24. Properties of metals and gems
As it has come down to us, however, the Athar va Ahya© includes only the
purely agricultural sections; those on construction, irrigation, mining, architecture,
and animal husbandry are missing.17
From our perspective, of course, what is most interesting is that in the surviving
portions of the text the data on Chinese agriculture is so extensive and
so detailed that it invites the suspicion that Rashıd al-Dın had access, albeit
indirect, to the vast Chinese literature on agronomy.
The Yuan dynasty, founded by nomads, was, somewhat ironically, rich in
agriculturalmanuals. Two of them, the Nung-shu of WangChen, issued in 1313,
and the Nung-sang i-shih ts’uo-yao of Lu Ming-shen, issued in 1314, are obviously
too late, sinceRashıd al-Dın’smanualwas begun in Ghazan’s reign.18 The
most likely candidate for the agricultural information is the Nung-sang chi-yao,
“Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture,” issued in 1273 by the Office of the
Grand Supervisor of Agriculture. It was compiled by a committee of Chinese
officials who drew heavily on earlier manuals, especially the Ch’i-min yao-shu
of AD 535, to which they added a small amount of new data based on
recent experience. For the most part t
2. Water, land, and weather 15. Domesticated fowl
3. Types of cultivation, their timing 16. Domesticated and wild animals
and method 17. Honeybees
4. Canals and irrigation 18. Crop failures and their
5. Dams and their construction . prevention
(missing in the Arabic text) 19. Storing of seed, cereal,
6. Seeds and roots . wine, etc.
7. Seed plants and root crops 20. Construction of houses,
8. Trees, local and foreign . forts, etc.
9. Tree grafting 21. Construction of ships,
10. Fertilizer . bridges, etc.
11. Melons, vegetables, and herbs 22. Qualities of different animals
12. Wheat, barley, and cereals 23. Methods of mining
13. Cash crops, cotton, etc. 24. Properties of metals and gems
As it has come down to us, however, the Athar va Ahya© includes only the
purely agricultural sections; those on construction, irrigation, mining, architecture,
and animal husbandry are missing.17
From our perspective, of course, what is most interesting is that in the surviving
portions of the text the data on Chinese agriculture is so extensive and
so detailed that it invites the suspicion that Rashıd al-Dın had access, albeit
indirect, to the vast Chinese literature on agronomy.
The Yuan dynasty, founded by nomads, was, somewhat ironically, rich in
agriculturalmanuals. Two of them, the Nung-shu of WangChen, issued in 1313,
and the Nung-sang i-shih ts’uo-yao of Lu Ming-shen, issued in 1314, are obviously
too late, sinceRashıd al-Dın’smanualwas begun in Ghazan’s reign.18 The
most likely candidate for the agricultural information is the Nung-sang chi-yao,
“Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture,” issued in 1273 by the Office of the
Grand Supervisor of Agriculture. It was compiled by a committee of Chinese
officials who drew heavily on earlier manuals, especially the Ch’i-min yao-shu
of AD 535, to which they added a small amount of new data based on
recent experience. For the most part t
Geography and cartography 113
Geography and cartography 113
the grid system, and that the next was the map included in Hafiz-i Abru’s treatise
of 1420. The earliest grid, however, goes back to the beginning of the thirteenth
century and is found on a map prepared by Muhammad ibn Najıb
Bakran, a native of Tus, in 1208. This map was composed on cloth and its data
derived from old astronomical tables which Bakran, by his own testimony,
says he carefully collated to eliminate errors.40 The map itself is lost but
Bakran describes its character and techniques in great detail in his Jahann
amah or “World Book.” He begins by explaining the different colors and
symbols used to indicate boundary markers, cities, rivers, seas, deserts, mountains,
and climes (aqalım). He then states that the “many red lines, some
[running] from the east to the west and some from the north to the south, these
are the lines [khutut] of longitude [tul] and latitude [¨arz],” and adds that the
“great advantage” of his map is that “by means of longitude and latitude the
location of each city can be determined.”41 Thus, 130 years before Mustawfı,
Muslims used the graticule and this of course fatally undermines the theory
that this was a uniquely Chinese technique that flowed west to Iran under the
Mongols. Or, to put it another way, the map Jamal al-Dın presented to the
throne in 1267, with its color code and grid system, had a well-established
precedent in the Muslim world.42
The issue of transfer of technique aside, exchange of geographical knowledge
between China and Iran had a lasting legacy. Kwon Kun’s map of 1402
established a most interesting tradition in Korea; henceforth there was a widespread
popularity of maps and atlases in Korean culture which from the inception
always had a “global” dimension.43 More consequentially, as Adshead
has argued, one of the most important contributions of the Middle Ages to
the creation of the modern world system was the diffusion and “integration of
geographical information,” a body of knowledge that once in existence
became a “permanent” feature of the new world order.44 And, undeniably, the
Mongolian Empire played a critical role in the promotion, creation, and circulation
of such knowledge. Sometimes this rapid extension of horizons is
linked exclusively to the famous travelers, Marco Polo and Ibn Battutah, as
well as to a legion of lesser figures who accompanied innumerable commercial,
diplomatic, and religious missions across Eurasia under Pax Mongolica.
Reichert, for example, has recently calculated that between 1242 and 1448,
over 126 individuals or embassies, all from Eastern and Western Christendom,
Geography and cartography 113
the grid system, and that the next was the map included in Hafiz-i Abru’s treatise
of 1420. The earliest grid, however, goes back to the beginning of the thirteenth
century and is found on a map prepared by Muhammad ibn Najıb
Bakran, a native of Tus, in 1208. This map was composed on cloth and its data
derived from old astronomical tables which Bakran, by his own testimony,
says he carefully collated to eliminate errors.40 The map itself is lost but
Bakran describes its character and techniques in great detail in his Jahann
amah or “World Book.” He begins by explaining the different colors and
symbols used to indicate boundary markers, cities, rivers, seas, deserts, mountains,
and climes (aqalım). He then states that the “many red lines, some
[running] from the east to the west and some from the north to the south, these
are the lines [khutut] of longitude [tul] and latitude [¨arz],” and adds that the
“great advantage” of his map is that “by means of longitude and latitude the
location of each city can be determined.”41 Thus, 130 years before Mustawfı,
Muslims used the graticule and this of course fatally undermines the theory
that this was a uniquely Chinese technique that flowed west to Iran under the
Mongols. Or, to put it another way, the map Jamal al-Dın presented to the
throne in 1267, with its color code and grid system, had a well-established
precedent in the Muslim world.42
The issue of transfer of technique aside, exchange of geographical knowledge
between China and Iran had a lasting legacy. Kwon Kun’s map of 1402
established a most interesting tradition in Korea; henceforth there was a widespread
popularity of maps and atlases in Korean culture which from the inception
always had a “global” dimension.43 More consequentially, as Adshead
has argued, one of the most important contributions of the Middle Ages to
the creation of the modern world system was the diffusion and “integration of
geographical information,” a body of knowledge that once in existence
became a “permanent” feature of the new world order.44 And, undeniably, the
Mongolian Empire played a critical role in the promotion, creation, and circulation
of such knowledge. Sometimes this rapid extension of horizons is
linked exclusively to the famous travelers, Marco Polo and Ibn Battutah, as
well as to a legion of lesser figures who accompanied innumerable commercial,
diplomatic, and religious missions across Eurasia under Pax Mongolica.
Reichert, for example, has recently calculated that between 1242 and 1448,
over 126 individuals or embassies, all from Eastern and Western Christendom,
Geography and cartography 113
peradaban yunani
drag
This assessment, though certainly effusive, was very probably the opinion held
by most contemporaries, including Ghazan, the sitting monarch, who prided
himself on his extensive knowledge of tribal history and genealogy. He, too,
praised Bolad, who instructed his sovereign on the finer points of early
Mongolian history.11
This reliance on native sources and informants meant, of course, that the
Collected Chronicles are best seen as a composite work, the by-product of a
large and diverse research team coordinated by Rashıd al-Dın. Moreover,
since he was a very busy minister of state, and because he did not command
all the foreign languages involved, the basic compilation of raw data was frequently
delegated to others. Bolad, naturally, made the preliminary reconnaissance
in the Mongolian sources and then provided Rashıd with Persian
renderings or summaries. And if we are to believe a later tradition, preserved
in Abu’l Ghazı, a seventeenth-century historian, Bolad’s own busy schedule
was such that he, too, needed assistants: “five or six persons who knew the Old
Mongolian language” to help run down data for the project.12
Thus, this vast historiographical enterprise was undertaken and executed by
Rashıd al-Dın with the aid of a hierarchy of research assistants and committees
who provided access to the literary traditions of the principal cultures and
civilizations of Eurasia, from China to Latin Europe. This method of compilation
also explains why in the years after Rashıd al-Dın’s death, one former
committee member, Qashanı, advanced a very unconvincing claim that he was
the real author of the Collected Chronicles and that the deceased minister
falsely took credit and reaped the financial rewards for another’s work.13
According to Rashıd al-Dın’s testimony, it was Ghazan who initiated and
patronized this remarkable enterprise; fearful that the Mongols in Iran were
forgetting their glorious past, he commissioned Rashıd to provide a detailed
summary of the rise and expansion of the Mongolian Empire. This, the core
of the Collected Chronicles, is organized into four long sections: the first treats
the Mongolian and Turkic tribes; the second, the life and times of Chinggis
Qan; the third, his successors from Ögödei to Temür Qaghan; and the last, the
Hülegüids in Iran. These volumes, particularly the first three, together with the
separately produced History of China, contain a vast amount of data on East
Asia and constitute a quantum leap in Muslim knowledge of the region. They
also reveal very clearly the character and extent of Rashıd al-Dın’s intellectual
partnership with, and indebtedness to, Bolad.
In many ways the section on the tribes is the most remarkable in the
Collected Chronicles. It covers all of the nomadic peoples of Inner Asia from
the Oyirad in southern Siberia to the Qipchaqs in the western steppe. For most
Historiography 85
11 Rashıd/Jahn II, pp. 142 and 172.
12 Aboul Ghazı Behadour Khan, Histoire des Mongols et des Tatares, trans. by Petr I.
Desmaisons, repr. (Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1970), p. 35. There is no contemporary confirmation
of Bolad’s research assistants, but Abu’l Ghazı’s data are quite plausible.
13 Qashanı/Hambly, pp. 54 and 240. For further comments see David O. Morgan, “Rashıd al-Dın
and Ghazan Khan,” in Aigle, Iran, pp. 182–84.
This assessment, though certainly effusive, was very probably the opinion held
by most contemporaries, including Ghazan, the sitting monarch, who prided
himself on his extensive knowledge of tribal history and genealogy. He, too,
praised Bolad, who instructed his sovereign on the finer points of early
Mongolian history.11
This reliance on native sources and informants meant, of course, that the
Collected Chronicles are best seen as a composite work, the by-product of a
large and diverse research team coordinated by Rashıd al-Dın. Moreover,
since he was a very busy minister of state, and because he did not command
all the foreign languages involved, the basic compilation of raw data was frequently
delegated to others. Bolad, naturally, made the preliminary reconnaissance
in the Mongolian sources and then provided Rashıd with Persian
renderings or summaries. And if we are to believe a later tradition, preserved
in Abu’l Ghazı, a seventeenth-century historian, Bolad’s own busy schedule
was such that he, too, needed assistants: “five or six persons who knew the Old
Mongolian language” to help run down data for the project.12
Thus, this vast historiographical enterprise was undertaken and executed by
Rashıd al-Dın with the aid of a hierarchy of research assistants and committees
who provided access to the literary traditions of the principal cultures and
civilizations of Eurasia, from China to Latin Europe. This method of compilation
also explains why in the years after Rashıd al-Dın’s death, one former
committee member, Qashanı, advanced a very unconvincing claim that he was
the real author of the Collected Chronicles and that the deceased minister
falsely took credit and reaped the financial rewards for another’s work.13
According to Rashıd al-Dın’s testimony, it was Ghazan who initiated and
patronized this remarkable enterprise; fearful that the Mongols in Iran were
forgetting their glorious past, he commissioned Rashıd to provide a detailed
summary of the rise and expansion of the Mongolian Empire. This, the core
of the Collected Chronicles, is organized into four long sections: the first treats
the Mongolian and Turkic tribes; the second, the life and times of Chinggis
Qan; the third, his successors from Ögödei to Temür Qaghan; and the last, the
Hülegüids in Iran. These volumes, particularly the first three, together with the
separately produced History of China, contain a vast amount of data on East
Asia and constitute a quantum leap in Muslim knowledge of the region. They
also reveal very clearly the character and extent of Rashıd al-Dın’s intellectual
partnership with, and indebtedness to, Bolad.
In many ways the section on the tribes is the most remarkable in the
Collected Chronicles. It covers all of the nomadic peoples of Inner Asia from
the Oyirad in southern Siberia to the Qipchaqs in the western steppe. For most
Historiography 85
11 Rashıd/Jahn II, pp. 142 and 172.
12 Aboul Ghazı Behadour Khan, Histoire des Mongols et des Tatares, trans. by Petr I.
Desmaisons, repr. (Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1970), p. 35. There is no contemporary confirmation
of Bolad’s research assistants, but Abu’l Ghazı’s data are quite plausible.
13 Qashanı/Hambly, pp. 54 and 240. For further comments see David O. Morgan, “Rashıd al-Dın
and Ghazan Khan,” in Aigle, Iran, pp. 182–84.
histori
histori
to a long and distinguished career, in fact two careers, one at either end of
Eurasia.
We first hear of Bolad in 1248 when Qubilai, still a prince, ordered Chang
Te-hui (1197–1274), a noted scholar, “to tutor his eldest son [Dorji] and Po-lo
and others.”3 At this juncture Bolad was probably a child of seven or eight
serving as a cadet in Qubilai’s guard/household establishment. In any event, it
appears that young Bolad was an attentive pupil with a talent for languages.
This is borne out by documents preserved in the Yuan-tien chang, a collection
of administrative and legal precedents compiled in 1320–22. We learn from
this source that in 1269 the General Secretariat (Chung-shu sheng) heard
“Bolad’s [Po-lo’s] hurried and rough oral translation [ch’uan]” of an imperial
rescript regulating burials in the vicinity of the capital. Two years later,
another document in the same collection reports that Bolad prepared for the
General Secretariat “a written translation [wen-tzu i]” of an imperial rescript
prohibiting construction in cemetery grounds.4 As a Mongol who knew
Chinese well, Bolad’s services would always be in demand.
While there is no information on Bolad’s activities in the 1250s, it is clear he
rose steadily in Qubilai’s entourage, which, it should be remembered, was a
most cosmopolitan body, recruited as it was from among Mongols, Muslims,
Uighurs, Chinese, and many other ethnic and communal groups. Once Qubilai
assumed the throne in 1260 he naturally formed his own imperial guard (wei)
and Bolad was one of its rising young officers. On one occasion the emperor
charged Bolad with the task of preparing Tieh-ko, a member of a distinguished
Kashmiri Buddhist family, for service in the guard.5 At this time, too,
Bolad received his first active military command when in 1264 he led a contingent
against “rebels” in the city of T’ung-shih in Shantung. He successfully
suppressed the uprising and then on the emperor’s orders took charge of pacifying
and rehabilitating the region.6
Obviously, he carried out these and other duties to his sovereign’s satisfaction,
for his next assignment propelled him into the realm of high politics. In
1264, following Ariq Böke’s submission to Qubilai, the qaghan, in the words
to a long and distinguished career, in fact two careers, one at either end of
Eurasia.
We first hear of Bolad in 1248 when Qubilai, still a prince, ordered Chang
Te-hui (1197–1274), a noted scholar, “to tutor his eldest son [Dorji] and Po-lo
and others.”3 At this juncture Bolad was probably a child of seven or eight
serving as a cadet in Qubilai’s guard/household establishment. In any event, it
appears that young Bolad was an attentive pupil with a talent for languages.
This is borne out by documents preserved in the Yuan-tien chang, a collection
of administrative and legal precedents compiled in 1320–22. We learn from
this source that in 1269 the General Secretariat (Chung-shu sheng) heard
“Bolad’s [Po-lo’s] hurried and rough oral translation [ch’uan]” of an imperial
rescript regulating burials in the vicinity of the capital. Two years later,
another document in the same collection reports that Bolad prepared for the
General Secretariat “a written translation [wen-tzu i]” of an imperial rescript
prohibiting construction in cemetery grounds.4 As a Mongol who knew
Chinese well, Bolad’s services would always be in demand.
While there is no information on Bolad’s activities in the 1250s, it is clear he
rose steadily in Qubilai’s entourage, which, it should be remembered, was a
most cosmopolitan body, recruited as it was from among Mongols, Muslims,
Uighurs, Chinese, and many other ethnic and communal groups. Once Qubilai
assumed the throne in 1260 he naturally formed his own imperial guard (wei)
and Bolad was one of its rising young officers. On one occasion the emperor
charged Bolad with the task of preparing Tieh-ko, a member of a distinguished
Kashmiri Buddhist family, for service in the guard.5 At this time, too,
Bolad received his first active military command when in 1264 he led a contingent
against “rebels” in the city of T’ung-shih in Shantung. He successfully
suppressed the uprising and then on the emperor’s orders took charge of pacifying
and rehabilitating the region.6
Obviously, he carried out these and other duties to his sovereign’s satisfaction,
for his next assignment propelled him into the realm of high politics. In
1264, following Ariq Böke’s submission to Qubilai, the qaghan, in the words
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