WOOD-WORK.
When we remember how little wood grows in Egypt, the extensive use made
of this material in the mosques and houses of Cairo appears very
remarkable. In mosques, the ceilings, some of the windows, the pulpit,
lectern or Korān desk, tribune, tomb-casing, doors, and cupboards, are
of wood, and often there are carved wooden inscriptions, and stalactites
of the same material leading up to the circle of the dome. In the older
houses, ceilings, doors, cupboards, and furniture, are made of wood, and
carved lattice windows, or meshrebīyas, abound. In a cold climate, such
employment of the most easily worked of substances is natural enough;
but in Egypt, apart from the scarcity of the material, and the necessity
of importing it,[41] the heat offers serious obstacles to its use. A
plain board of wood properly seasoned may keep its shape well enough in
England, but when exposed to the sun of Cairo it will speedily lose its
accurate proportions; and when employed in combination with other
pieces, to form windows or doors, boxes or pulpits, its joints will
open, its carvings split, and the whole work will become unsightly and
unstable. The leading characteristic of Cairo wood-work is its
subdivision into numerous panels; and this principle is obviously the
result of climatic considerations, rather than any doctrine of art. The
only mode of combatting the shrinking and warping effects of the sun was
found in a skilful division of the surfaces into panels small enough,
and sufficiently easy in their setting, to permit of slight shrinking
without injury to the general outline. The little panels of a Cairo door
or pulpit may expand without encountering enough resistance to cause any
cracking or splitting in the surrounding portions, and the Egyptian
workmen soon learned to accommodate themselves to the conditions of
their art in a hot climate.
[Illustration: FIG. 32.—CARVED PANEL OF PULPIT (⅑th).
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
Wood is the prevailing material employed for the fittings and furniture
of a mosque. The furniture is, however, of a much more restricted
character than that of a Christian church or cathedral. Where the
ministers and congregation sit cross-legged on the floor, and in a
service where there is no music and therefore no choir or organ, we
cannot look for carved chancel-stalls, _misereres_, choir-screens,
organ-lofts, or other points of decoration in our more ornate churches.
The niche towards Mekka takes the place of our altar, and though it is
sumptuously adorned with marbles and mosaic, it does not afford the
opportunity for wood-carving which is found in our chancels.
Nevertheless, the Mohammadan church has its points of wood-carving.
These are the pulpit, the lectern or Korān desk, the doors of the
recesses or cupboards which contain the various objects required by the
ministers of the mosque; and although there is no choir-screen, in the
splendid sense familiar in our cathedrals, the sanctuary or eastern
arcade of the mosque is sometimes railed off from the court by a turned
wooden screen. And as many of the mosques of Cairo have chapels, where
the founder or members of his family are interred, the Muslim artist
would sometimes employ his skill in carving the wooden casing of the
tomb with elaborate arabesques, arranged in intricate panels.
[Illustration: FIG. 33.—CARVED PANEL OF PULPIT (⅙th).
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
The form of a Cairo pulpit, termed in Arabic منبر _minbar_ (pronounced
_mimbar_), is seen in fig. 34. It represents a pulpit, now in the South
Kensington Museum, which bears the name and titles of the Mamlūk Sultan
Kāït Bey, who reigned in the last third of the sixteenth century, but
the precise mosque from which it came is not known. As one Sultan would
sometimes place a pulpit in the mosque of another, and Kāït Bey was
especially generous in this kind of restoration, it is possible that the
pulpit did not come from any of his own mosques; and the tradition is
that it belonged to that of El-Muayyad, which, however, has a pulpit of
its own, bearing its founder’s name. Wherever it originally stood, the
pulpit is an admirable example of the typical Cairene _mimbar_. It
consists of a staircase, entered through folding doors, and enclosed by
high sides, and terminating at the top in a sort of niche, surmounted by
stalactites and a copper cupola. The position of the pulpit was always
on the left side of the niche, as you look out towards the court, and
the doors were turned to face the congregation. The _mimbar_ is only
required during the Friday (or Muslim Sunday) prayers, when the weekly
sermon is preached by the Imām or Khatīb of the mosque, who is a layman
selected from the people of the neighbourhood, and in no special sense a
priest. Standing on the topmost step but one, and holding in his right
hand a long wooden sword, which is kept for the purpose behind the doors
of the pulpit, he delivers the oration of the Friday Service. The reason
for the position on the second step is rather curious: Mohammad the
Prophet always preached from the top step, and the Khalifs, his
successors, modestly descended each a step lower than the preceding, in
order to reserve the post of honour to the most worthy. But when two or
three steps had thus been descended, it was discovered that the process
if continued long enough would land the preacher in the bowels of the
earth, and it was accordingly decided to reserve the top step for
Mohammad himself, and to preach from the next lower on all future
occasions.
[Illustration: FIG. 34.—PULPIT OF SULTAN KAIT BEY.
Fifteenth Century. (_South Kensington Museum._)]
The ornament of the pulpit is generally elaborate. Some of the more
modern pulpits are indeed very plain, and constructed merely of panelled
and painted wood. On the other hand, one _mimbar_, erected by Kāït Bey
in the mosque of Barkūk, in the eastern burial-ground of Cairo, is of
solid stone slabs, admirably carved with arabesques and geometrical
designs (fig. 16). But most of the pulpits are like that of Kāït Bey,
engraved in fig. 34, and are covered with carving and inlaid with ivory
and ebony. The amount of work involved in the complicated arrangement of
little panels, each of which is supported in a frame of wood beading,
which is itself chiselled and sometimes made in two or three envelopes,
must have been very considerable; and the carving of the panels with
arabesques of varying designs, no two of which are alike, in work of the
best period, must have involved incredible toil and ingenuity. It may be
taken as a rule, which is exemplified in most arts, that the older the
work is, the simpler, freer, and more varied it is; while complexity,
intricacy, and a tendency to repetition, are signs of a later style.
[Illustration: FIG. 36.
FIG. 37.
FIG. 35.
FIG. 38.
CARVED PANELS OF LAGIN’S PULPIT, ONCE IN THE MOSQUE OF IBN-TULUN. A.D.
1296.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
The specimens engraved in figs. 35-43 will convey a fairly complete
conception of the character of this typically Cairene mode of carving.
The panels figs. 35-40 originally formed part of a pulpit which the
Mamlūk Sultan Lāgīn erected in the mosque of Ibn-Tūlūn in the year 1296
A.D., when he undertook the restoration of this ancient mosque. In the
present day there is a very inferior pulpit there, and this must have
been introduced when the fine work of which these panels formed part was
taken away, by whom we do not know. The removal must however have been
effected in comparatively recent times, for when Mr. James Wild, the
present Curator of Sir John Soane’s Museum, was in Cairo, about 1845,
the older pulpit was still standing; and he made a drawing of the
geometrical arrangement of the panels, which is still preserved in his
sketch-books, and which was turned to advantage some years ago, when the
fragments of the pulpit sides were acquired by the South Kensington
Museum from M. Meymar. This sketch shows that the side included one
large circular geometrical arrangement (comprising eight large octagonal
panels, carved alternately with stars and arabesques round a central
star), and four half-systems of the same plan, two of which were placed
so that their diameters coincided with the edge of the balustrade or
border of the pulpit, while the other two touched the back. The
balustrade was of open lattice work, something like the narrow open
panels in the Kāït Bey pulpit engraved in fig. 34, and the length of the
base and back of the triangular portion of the side, occupied by the
carved panels, was 15 feet 9 inches. The doors were filled with carved
geometrical panels, with the usual arrangement of two horizontal panels,
filled with Arabic inscriptions, one above and one below each door, and
a longer inscription on the lintel. The pulpit did not arrive in England
in its original shape, but consisted merely of a collection of loose
panels, which Mr. Wild, with the help of his sketch, arranged in a
square, which now hangs on the walls of the Museum (no. 1051); with the
exception of a few pieces which remained over, and some of the
horizontal panels, two of which contain the name of the Sultan Lāgīn and
the date of the erection of the pulpit, A.H. 696, while others are
filled with scroll-work. Two of these are engraved in figs. 39 and 40;
one has an arabesque scroll, and the other the inscription الملك المنصور
حسام الدنيا والدين لاجين “The victorious king, sword-blade of the State
and Church Lāgīn.” When the Museum acquired the magnificent collection
of M. de St. Maurice, in 1884, I was able to identify the fine panels
which the late owner had fitted into the frame-work of a modern and ill-
proportioned door as portions of the same pulpit, and some of these are
engraved in figs. 37 and 38.
[Illustration: FIG. 39.—ARABESQUE PANEL OF LAGIN’S PULPIT, ONCE IN THE
MOSQUE OF IBN-TULUN.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 40.—PANEL OF LAGIN’S PULPIT, BEARING HIS NAME AND
TITLES.]
The panels of Lāgīn’s pulpit show the Cairene carving in its boldest and
finest style. Later arabesques may be more delicate and graceful, but no
carvers in Egypt excelled those who made this pulpit, in freedom of
design and skill of execution. As is usual in the best Saracenic work,
no two designs of this pulpit are absolutely identical: some fresh turn,
some ingenious variation in the lines of the arabesque, show the
independence of the artist from servile copying. The panels are enclosed
by two thin lines of light-coloured wood inlaid in the darker wood of
the panel, but the borders are not carved in the manner usual in later
work, nor is there any ivory inlay.
The next dated examples are the carved panels from the mosque of El-
Māridāny, a Mamlūk Amīr of the court of En-Nāsir ibn Kalaūn, which was
built in the year 739 of the Hijra, A.D. 1338. These panels are partly
comprised in the top of a French table belonging to the collection of M.
Meymar, now in the South Kensington Museum, and the setting and beading
is modern; but the geometrical panels are fortunately intact. Horizontal
panels, which must have been originally placed above and below the
carved doors of this pulpit, or over the little doors of the side
cupboard (such as is seen open in fig. 34), present the following
inscription twice over:—
ذخر الارامل والمنقطعين | كهف الفقرا والمساكين |
العبد الفقير الى الله تعالى | الطنبغا الساقى الملكى الناصرى |
“Provider for the widowed and destitute, Refuge of the poor and
miserable, The humble servant of God most high, Altunbugha, the cup-
bearer, the [Mamlūk] of El-Melik En-Nāsir,”—which shows that not only
was this Amīr a Mamlūk, or retainer of the Sultan En-Nāsir, but that he
held the office of cup-bearer, which was among the most influential and
coveted posts in the court. The carving of the arabesques on the
geometrical panels of El-Māridāny’s pulpit is more delicate and
intricate than that of Lāgīn’s, and inlaid borders (consisting in a
double ivory line, separated by others ornamented with a scroll pattern)
are enclosed in a series of thin wooden beadings. Like Lāgīn’s carvings,
those of El-Māridāny are executed in two reliefs; the principal lines of
the design being more prominent than the scroll-work of the background,
which, however, is still in sufficient relief.
[Illustration: FIG. 41.—CARVED PANELS FROM PULPIT (OF KUSUN?).
Fourteenth Century. (_South Kensington Museum._)]
Nearly contemporary with the pulpit of El-Māridāny are the panels, figs.
41 and 42, which are taken from one of M. de St. Maurice’s doors in the
South Kensington Museum. In the case of a modern application of the
original panels it is not always safe to assume that all the pieces
belong to the same pulpit; and especially doubtful is the connection
between the geometrical panels and the horizontal inscriptional friezes
above and below, which are more likely to be selected because they fit
the present scale of the door, than because they belonged to the same
pulpit as the geometrical panels they accompany. In the present instance
the horizontal panels give the name of the Sultan Zeyn-ed-dīn Hasan—
النصر الدائم والجاه القائم لمولانا السلطان
الملك العادل الناصر المظفر زين الدين حسن
the peculiarity of which lies in the substitution of the surname _Zeyn-
ed-dīn_ for the Nāsir-ed-dīn, which is invariably applied to Hasan on
his coins and public buildings. The inscription, however, is no forgery,
and there is no other Sultan Hasan to whom it could apply. The only
question is whether it belongs to the geometrical panels in whose
company it is found. If it does not, which I am far from asserting, at
least the geometrical panels belong to a period very nearly coinciding
with the reign of Sultan Hasan (1347-1361). Mr. Wild has preserved a
sketch of the pulpit of the mosque of Kūsūn, now destroyed, which
contained panels of the same curious octagonal shape, with very obtuse
angles, like those in fig. 42.[42] The Amīr Kūsūn was one of the Mamlūks
of En-Nāsir, Hasan’s father, and his mosque was built in 1329. It does
not necessarily follow that the pulpit was set up at once; a temporary
pulpit may have served at first. But the similarity of the panels (fig.
42) to those sketched by Mr. Wild seems to indicate that if the St.
Maurice door is not actually made up from the fragments of the vanished
_mimbar_ of Kūsūn, the pulpit that was thus desecrated undoubtedly
belonged to a period nearly coinciding with the death of that Amīr in
1341. If the panels with Sultan Hasan’s name on them belong to the rest,
the pulpit must have been built after his accession in 1347, in which
case it may have been placed in Kūsūn’s mosque by Sultan Hasan, in
accordance with a not uncommon practice. The work is very like El-
Māridāny’s, but even more delicate, and there cannot be a long interval
between them. It should be stated that the outer beading enclosing both
these and the Lāgīn panels is absolutely modern. It is reproduced in the
engraving only to show the position of the panels towards one another.
The original panels are inlaid with a line of ivory inside which is a
border of dots.
[Illustration: FIG. 42.—CARVED PANELS FROM PULPIT (OF KUSUN?).
Fourteenth Century. (_South Kensington Museum._)]
After the time of El-Māridāny’s carvings, the style of work seems to
have gradually deteriorated. Sheykhū’s pulpit, in his mosque built in
1358, is good, but ordinary; El-Muayyad’s, in 1420, shows a decided
falling off in the execution. With the pulpit of Kāït Bey, fig. 34, we
come to the end of the history of this description of wood-carving in
Cairo, so far at least as dated specimens are within our reach. The art
may have continued for some generations longer, but it had already lost
much of its character and beauty. In form and arrangement, and also in
general effect, the pulpit of Kāït Bey may challenge comparison with
almost any other; but when we come to look closely into the work it
becomes apparent that the art of the carver had undergone a serious
process of deterioration. The designs are mechanical, hard, and prone to
repetition: they will not bear comparison with the panels of Lāgīn or
El-Māridāny. This is no doubt partly due to the substance used. The
wooden panels are merely shells to contain smaller ivory panels of the
same outline, and the latter alone are carved. Ivory is less easily
worked than wood, though capable of even more delicate treatment; but
the artists who were accustomed to work in wood must have found the
ivory difficult to handle in the same flowing lines. Ivory carving of
this type is usually somewhat hard in treatment, as may be seen in the
beautiful but somewhat stiff panels of a mosque door engraved in fig.
69. These, however, belong to a much better period than those of the
Kāït Bey pulpit, as may be seen at a glance; and it is indisputable that
in the time of Kāït Bey the carving had changed character for the worse.
This is the more remarkable, since the reign of this Sultan was famous
for the multitude of admirable architectural works promoted by himself.
The stone carving of the time is perhaps unequalled in any other period
of Cairene art. Perhaps the whole energy of the carvers was absorbed in
stone work, and the softer material was neglected. After the dominion of
the Mamlūks was transferred to the Pashas appointed from Constantinople,
the art of carving pulpit panels seems to have died out. The ordinary
Turkish mosque of Cairo has a painted _mimbar_, of the same shape as its
carved predecessor, but with red-ochre and green painting, of no special
character, in place of the intricate geometrical panelling of the best
period.
[Illustration: FIG. 43.—CARVED PANELS OF THE TOMB OF ES-SALIH AYYUB.
Thirteenth Century.]
The _kursy_, or lectern, a V shaped desk, on which the Korān was placed
for reading, was sometimes constructed, like the pulpit, of
geometrically arranged carved and inlaid panels. An example may be seen
engraved in Prisse, Pl. 18, where the fine carved kursy with open work
at the top belonged to the mosque of Barkūk in the eastern cemetery.
Carved panelling of the same style is also sometimes employed for the
wooden casing of the tombs which occupy the founder’s chapel in a
mosque. The ordinary Muslim tomb is simply an oblong erection of stone,
with a short pillar at each end, one of which has the representation of
a turban carved upon it. Even the graves of the greatest of Mamlūk
Sultans were constructed after this simple model. Such is the tomb of
Kalaūn, the plainness of which is partly concealed by the clumsy lattice
screen of heavy baluster-work which encloses the grave and the relics of
the Sultan. The tombs of Sultan Hasan, Barkūk, and indeed of most of the
sovereigns of Egypt, are of this unpretending character. So long as
there was room inside for the occupant to sit up and say his Catechism
to the examining angels, Munkar and Nekīr, the outside of the grave was
of small consequence. The real tomb of the Sultan was the mosque, with
its glorious dome, which rose above the humble stone grave. But in some
instances the grave itself was a subject for artistic treatment. The
tomb of Es-Sālih Ayyūb, built in 1249, is the earliest example of the
carved panel-work with which we are acquainted.[43] It is fifty years
earlier than Lāgīn’s panels, described above; and evidence of priority,
apart from the known date of erection, is presented in the simplicity of
the arabesque designs, as seen in the cut (fig. 43), which is taken from
a paper squeeze made under my eye in 1883. Another mode of ornamenting a
tomb, which appears to have been usual at an earlier date still, was by
a frieze of wooden planks surrounding the oblong grave at its upper
edge. This is the method employed for the tombs of the members of the
‘Abbāsy family, buried in the chapel behind the mosque of Sitta Nefīsa.
Each grave consists externally of a square stone box, standing about
four feet from the ground, and ornamented only by a band of wood, carved
with inscriptions, about six inches in width, running round the four
sides at their upper edge. The dates of these tombs range from A.H. 640
(A.D. 1242) to A.H. 768 (A.D. 1366).[44] The ornament here is simply
inscriptional. But there is at least one instance of a more elaborate
decoration of a frieze of this kind. The grave of a sheykh, in one of
the cemeteries which surround Cairo, was formerly ornamented by a wooden
frieze, carved not only with inscriptions but with exceedingly soft and
delicate arabesques. One of the sides is represented in fig. 44. It is
made of some soft yet close-textured wood, which has evidently offered
little resistance to the friction of the desert sand, the effects of
which are seen in the singularly soft appearance of the surface, which
looks as though it had been intentionally rubbed with emery paper. Each
side of the frieze is made of four long parallel strips, with
intervening panels of various lengths; and the tenons by which it was
mortised to the next side are seen in the cut. The back of the frieze is
carved with a large bold arabesque design which belongs in style to the
period of Ibn-Tūlūn, or a little later. A Kūfy inscription over the door
of the mausoleum indicates an earlier interment of the year 304 (A.D.
916), and it is safe to assume that the original carving belonged to
this earlier grave. Thus the frieze was carved on materials that had
been seasoned for perhaps three centuries, and this will explain the
somewhat large surfaces having escaped the effects of the sun. The
carving is unusually fine: a border of Korānic inscription at the top is
supported by an exquisite arabesque scroll-border, and the main band of
the frieze is ornamented with panels of arabesques surrounded by
inscriptions in high relief, on a ground of arabesque scrolls. The
inscriptions here are partly from the Korān, partly benedictory to the
deceased, whose name they give, together with the date of his death,
which is legible in the right-hand bottom corner of the engraving, A.H.
613 (A.D. 1216).
[Illustration: FIG. 44.—CARVED PANEL OF A SHEYKH’S TOMB (⅒th).
A.D. 1216. (_South Kensington Museum._)]
Thus far we have seen no Cairo carving that traverses the law of the
Mohammadan religion against the reproduction in art of the forms of
animate creatures: arabesques, and scrolls of endless variety, have been
the staple of the ornament. These are the characteristic features of
Cairo carving. But it would be a mistake to imagine that the prohibition
against the representation of living things was universally observed. We
shall see when we come to discuss the early metal-work of Egypt, and
also the textile fabrics, that figures are at certain periods the rule,
not the exception. So in wood-carving, though not to the same extent, if
one may judge from existing examples, the law about figures was not
always observed. Panels carved with representations of birds exist in
the South Kensington Museum and in the Arab Museum at Cairo. But the
most remarkable example of figure carving in Cairo is found in the doors
of the Māristān, or mosque-hospital of the Mamlūk Sultan Kalaūn, the
father of En-Nāsir Mohammad. M. Prisse d’Avennes fortunately studied
these extraordinary panels when they were better preserved than they are
now, and from the squeezes he then took he was able to restore the
designs to the almost too perfect outlines presented in his plates (nos.
83 and 84), from which the engravings, figs. 46-8, are taken. There are
eight panels altogether, of pine wood, and each is carved with
representations of the sports, amusements, and occupations of the Arab,
or rather of the Persian, for there can be no doubt that the source of
these admirable designs was the art of Mesopotamia, where the traditions
of ancient Persian and Assyrian art still survived in the metal-work of
the artists of Mōsil and other towns.
[Illustration: FIG. 45.—PANEL OF A DOOR FROM DAMIETTA.
(_Cairo Museum._)]
In the centre of the first panel we see on a ground of rather crude
scroll-work a centaur, winged like an Assyrian beast, and wearing a
crown exactly resembling the tiara that is found on similar centaur
huntsmen on the figured metal-work of Mōsil. He has stretched a bow and
is discharging an arrow at a unicorn behind him; a corresponding unicorn
paws the ground on the opposite side. The scene is just what we find
through the whole range of Mesopotamian design, from the oldest Assyrian
bas-reliefs downwards.
[Illustration: FIGS. 46 AND 47.—CARVED PANELS FROM THE MARISTAN OF
KALAUN.
(After Prisse d’Avennes.) Late Thirteenth Century.]
In the second panel a peacock stands in the middle, in a geometrical
figure formed of a lozenge and quatrefoil combined. Large leaf scrolls
winding round form a sort of division in the band of figures, and the
sections thus marked off are filled with (on the left) two running
servants, holding ewers and glasses, and (on the right) a player on the
square lute and a seated figure with drinking-vessels. Simple scroll
borders enclose the central band above and below.
[Illustration: FIG. 48.—CARVED PANEL FROM THE MARISTAN OF KALAUN.]
In the vertical panel, which is divided into various compartments by the
curling lines of the scroll-work which forms the background, is a
kneeling figure in the act of rising, with a slain deer flung over his
shoulders and held in position by one arm thrown round its neck and the
other round its hind-legs. Over this figure two eagles are perched,
breast to breast, but with beaks averted; and on either side of these,
in exaggerated proportions, are two long-tailed cockatoos, fronting
inwards, but with heads averted like the eagles; over the cockatoos are
a corresponding pair of deer, each with an eagle on his back, with wings
spread, having just alighted on his prey; and, to crown the panel, is a
central representation of two combatant ducks,—their webbed feet clearly
visible—beak to beak. These upper designs are matched, below the
cockatoos, by similarly arranged figures: to balance the eagles and
deer, a pair of winged Assyrian monsters or centaurs, resembling that on
the first panel described above, with the same three-pointed crown; and
underneath these, in the centre, to correspond with the ducks, a pair of
long-eared rabbits confronted. These figures are depicted in a spirited
style that has no parallel in Eastern carving, at least in Egypt or
Syria; and they mark a distinct epoch in the history of Cairo art.
[Illustration: FIG. 49.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
As has been already said, there is but one source to which these
remarkable carvings can be traced. The artists who engraved the hunting
scenes, the water-fowl, the drinking-bouts, of the bowls and other
vessels of bronze and brass made at Mōsil or in the neighbouring
cities—the artists, in short, who had inherited the traditions of animal
design from the workmen of the Sassanians, the Parthians, and the
Assyrians, these were the men who inspired, if they did not actually
execute the carved panels of Kalaūn. The birds face to face refer no
doubt to the cockfights which the Persians included among their
favourite sports, and the adoption of the duck instead of the cock has
its explanation in the name of the Sultan for whose hospital these
panels were carved; for Kalaūn was a slave from Kipchak, and his name
means “duck” in his native Tartar tongue. It is strange that so
admirable a style of decoration did not find wider acceptance among the
founders and architects of mosques in Cairo. No near parallel to these
carvings of Kalaūn can be found in any mosque of the period, still less
in any of later date. A few pieces carved with parrots and peacocks have
been noticed, but these, since they are separated from their original
surroundings, may have come from the same source as the panels still
remaining at the Māristān of Kalaūn.
[Illustration: FIG. 50.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
It is perhaps rash to speculate upon the causes which led to the sudden
adoption and as sudden abandonment of a remarkable and characteristic
style of carving; but in the present case there is some evidence that
may help us to an explanation. In the chapter on metal-work we shall
have to describe a similar sequence of adoption and abandonment with
respect to the figured style of Mōsil, which closely resembles the style
of Kalaūn’s carvings. The chased bowls and caskets, covered with
representations of hunting and drinking scenes, beasts of the chase, and
the like, made their appearance in Cairo about the end of the first
quarter of the thirteenth century, so far as existing specimens allow us
to judge. The style was brought from Mesopotamia by the princes of the
family of Ayyūb, of which Saladin was the most celebrated member. The
Ayyūbis passed through the country watered by the Tigris and Euphrates
before they arrived in Syria, or attempted to worm themselves into the
sovereignty of Egypt. Saladin and his kinsmen were the officers of the
great Sultan Nūr-ed-dīn, of Aleppo and Damascus, who came of the stock
of the Beny Zenky of Mōsil. The Beny Zenky had been among the earliest
to adopt the novelty of a figured coinage: they adorned their money with
the saints and holy personages of the Byzantine coinage, or with symbols
taken from Persian astrology, in place of the sternly simple
inscriptions which covered the faces of the coins of the orthodox
Khalifate. These innovations were carried into Syria by Nūr-ed-dīn, who
entertained as few prejudices on the subject of representations of
living things as the rest of the Kurdish and Tartar princes, who now
ruled the best provinces of the Khalifs of Baghdād. Saladin (though a
very pious and orthodox prince) brought the heretical novelty to Cairo,
where he carved his own cognizance, an eagle,[45] on the wall of the
Citadel which he built on a spur of Mount Mukattam. There is a brass and
silver casket of Saladin’s grandnephew in the South Kensington Museum,
covered with figures of huntsmen, &c., which shows that the Ayyūby kings
of Egypt continued to patronize the art introduced by their great
kinsman. So, too, the earlier Mamlūks found no spiritual injury to
result from the representation of men and animals on their cups and
perfume-burners, their trays and bowls. Evidence of this will be found
in the chapter on metal-work; and the lion, the cognizance of Beybars,
the most powerful of the early Mamlūk Sultans, occurring on coins,
doors, and walls, shows that this indifference to a minor regulation of
the Arabian prophet extended to more forms of art than one. Beybars’
lions or chītahs on his coins and bronze mosque doors, Beysary’s eagles
on his perfume-burner, El-Ādil’s hunting-scenes on his coffret, Kalaūn’s
centaurs and drinking-bouts on his hospital doors, all point to a
general acquiescence for awhile in this flagrant disregard of what had
always been held a binding precept in Islām. But with the reign of En-
Nāsir, Kalaūn’s son, a new style of metal-work came into fashion:
rosettes of flowers and leaves, arabesques, and scrolls, and the rest of
the legitimate materials of the Mohammadan artist, obtained a hold on
Cairo work in all branches that was never again lost. At precisely the
same time, the figured carving, which seemed to promise so fine a field
for mosque and palace decoration, was abandoned in favour of the small
carved and inlaid arabesque panels, which have already been examined in
detail. It is not unreasonable to ascribe the change in the wood-work to
the same cause as that which operated in the metal-work; and this seems
to have been natural enough. The barbarous Kurds and Tartars, who had
swarmed over the lands of the Khalifate, and entered Egypt, might for a
while, by dint of sheer imperious insistance, make a form of art popular
which was nevertheless unorthodox; but as the barbarians settled down in
the cities of the Muslims, which they did so much to beautify, they must
have gradually become assimilated to the people they governed, and their
first ignorant indifference about so vital a part of religion as the
prohibition of images of animate things must have given place to a
proper iconoclastic feeling, or at least they must have learned to weigh
more accurately the sentiments of the pious on the subject. Thus the
imported art of figure carving, which was the temporary _protégé_ of the
Tartar princes, before they knew better, gave place to the arabesque and
geometrical ornament which had long before been settled upon as most
consonant with the letter and spirit of Mohammad’s precept. The figure
art was foreign to Cairo; it was heretical; and it was little suited to
the small panelling which was a condition of the carver’s art in so hot
a climate: the large panels of Kalaūn’s doors have suffered severely
from the heat, and the size is against all the precautions of joinery in
hot climates. On the other hand, carved panelling, in small sizes,
worked into intricate geometrical patterns, formed the native art of
Cairo, was exactly adapted to the conditions of climate, and offended no
law of God or man. It was clear that the figure carving had no chance
against so well accredited a rival.
[Illustration: FIG. 51.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 52.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
When we say that the small arabesque carving described in detail, and
illustrated by specimens from numerous pulpits, was a native Egyptian
art, we may be thought to be going too fast. The evidence is certainly
incomplete for so definite an assertion, it will be said; and until we
know something more about early Egyptian carving, say in Fātimy times,
it is hardly reasonable to expect a cautious student to assent to any
proposition about “native” arts in Egypt. But I believe that the
evidence for the indigenous nature of the particular style of carving
referred to is strong enough to warrant the appellation of native art.
It is to be noted that in no other Mohammadan country do we find the
same character of wood carving except in isolated examples, which may be
due to Cairene influences. Damascus carving is absolutely different in
style; it consists in rich flowery decorations in high relief, and not
of arabesques in small geometrical panels and comparatively low relief.
Persia has nothing of the kind, nor, so far as we know, has the opposite
region of Mauritania. The carved panelling of Cairo seems to be peculiar
to Egypt. This is in itself a strong argument for an Egyptian origin of
the art. But there is other evidence, which, if at present not so
complete as could be desired, still offers a considerable presumption as
to the history of the art. The finest specimens of carved geometrical
panelling are found, not in the Mohammadan mosques, but in the Christian
churches of the Copts, in Babylon, near Old Cairo. The screens of these
Coptic churches are often one broad expanse of elaborate inlay and
carving in wood and ivory, arranged like the mosque pulpits in
geometrical panels of small size. The designs are naturally founded more
or less upon the cross, which is also inlaid very frequently in the
screens; but the character of the work is very similar to that of mosque
pulpits, and in some instances, the designs of the carving are as nearly
identical as the originality of the Cairo artist would permit any two
designs to be. A glance at the lectern engraved in Mr. A. J. Butler’s
admirable work on the Coptic churches of Egypt,[46] will show the
identity of the two, and there is every probability that the workmen who
made the Coptic screens and lecterns made also the Muslim pulpits. It is
historically ascertained that the Copts were the most skilful of the
artists of Egypt, and were employed by the Mohammadans to execute some
of their mosques; and when the excellence of the carvings in the Coptic
churches is considered, it is not unnatural to assume that this was
among the arts which the Copts lent to their Muslim masters. The
question of date is not so easily settled. It is of course necessary to
the absolute establishing of this view of the origin of Cairo panel-
carving that examples of Coptic carving should be found earlier than any
in the mosques, but in this respect the evidence is not convincing. Mr.
Butler states, for example, that the screen of the convent of Abu-s-
Seyfeyn, near Cairo, dates from A.D. 927, and the priest of the convent
said that it was nine hundred years old. But Coptic priests are bad
authorities on such a point, and the comparison of style which Mr.
Butler institutes with the restoration pulpit of the mosque of Ibn-Tūlūn
tends to give a thirteenth instead of a tenth century date. But there
are various structural arguments which, in the opinion of Mr. Butler,
who speaks with the highest authority on Coptic art, prove that some of
these carvings go back as far as the tenth century at least, while the
doors at El-Adra, in the Nitrian valley, are stated to be certainly of
the eighth century; and if this be accepted, there can be no further
question as to the origin of the art of panel-carving and inlaying in
Cairo. The Coptic churches are mostly earlier than the tenth century,
and must have had screens from their foundation; and there is no reason
to suppose that the screens have been often renewed, or that it was
impossible to carve as well in the tenth century as in the thirteenth;
indeed the fine stucco designs of Ibn-Tūlūn, which was built by a Coptic
architect in the ninth century, point to a skill in working plaster
ornament even then. It was, moreover, natural that the Copts, the old
inhabitants of Egypt, should have early discovered the method of
defeating the warping tendencies of their hot climate by means of a
minute subdivision into panels. Taking these various considerations, it
is not so rash as it seemed to assume that the art of carving panels in
the style characteristic of Coptic screens and Muslim pulpits was native
to Egypt, and was the special property of the Copts.
[Illustration: FIG. 53.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 54.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 55.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
The Coptic churches also contain some examples of figure carving,
somewhat resembling the hunting figures of Mōsil metal-work. A noble
triforium screen in the church of St. Barbara, and another in the church
of St. Sergius (Abu-Sargah), in Old Cairo, are decorated with warrior
saints and beasts much after the model of the horsemen of Mesopotamian
art. There may of course be a connection between these and Kalaūn’s
panels, described above, but it is not necessary to trace the two to the
same source. There can be no doubt of the Mesopotamian origin of
Kalaūn’s carvings; but those of St. Sergius may not improbably be
directly derived from Byzantine models, with which they show more
affinity than with the Mōsil style. Had these carvings been derived from
the Mesopotamian school, we should expect to find a prevailing hunting
character, interspersed with scenes of festivity, wine-cups, and musical
instruments; instead of which the subjects are principally warrior
saints of the Byzantine style, and the beasts that accompany them may be
due as much to the animal decoration of the Lower Empire as to the
hunting-scenes of Persian art. The St. Barbara carvings, however,
closely resemble Mōsil work, and have even the winged centaur. It is,
after all, merely a question of the immediate source, of the Coptic
figure carvings, for it can hardly be doubted that the Byzantine figures
and beasts were the offspring of the Sassanian and Assyrian style, as
much as the figured metal-work of Mōsil and Cairo and the carvings of
Kalaūn. There is always much that is hypothetical in the attempt to
trace the origin of any special art; many influences combine to form a
style, and it is contrary to experience to ascribe the whole of the
elements that go to make up a style to one source. But whatever may be
the subsidiary influences in Cairo carving, we cannot be wrong in
ascribing the development of arabesque panel-carving to Coptic workmen,
and the employment of figures to the influence of Mesopotamian models,
either directly, or through the medium of Byzantine examples.
[Illustration: FIG. 56.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
The wood-work in the mosques of Cairo is principally of the carved and
panelled style; pulpits, lecterns, doors, are subjects for panel-work,
inlaid and carved, in geometrical patterns; inscriptional friezes, when
of wood, are carved and generally painted or gilt; and the casings of
the tombs, when there are any, are panelled like the pulpits. But there
is another manner of treating wood which is commonly adopted in mosques:
this is the open lattice-work which, from its most familiar application,
in the projecting windows of houses, is commonly known to us as
_meshrebīya_ work. The earlier mosques show us a style of lattice which
is much less graceful than what is usually understood by meshrebīya
work. This oldest lattice consists in a frame of stout quarterings,
divided into compartments of a couple of feet square, each of which is
filled with a number of upright balusters, square in parts and round in
others. The effect of such a screen, as seen in the enclosure of the
tomb of Kalaūn, is clumsy and heavy. A more usual kind of lattice is the
wide open grille, resembling the cross-bars of a prison window, and
having no pretensions to elaboration. The ordinary graceful lattice-work
of the meshrebīyas is not common in mosques, though occasionally the
sanctuary is screened off by such a lattice, and in one of the Coptic
churches a screen of this kind forms a cheap but graceful substitute for
the more elaborate wood and ivory carving.
[Illustration: FIG. 56A.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
It is in the houses of Cairo that this lattice-work is seen in its
greatest profusion and variety. Fig. 12 gives several excellent examples
in a single street. The number of such streets is daily diminishing,
partly in consequence of the dread of fire, which used to leap from
window to window in the old city with frightful rapidity, and partly
because the modern Cairenes are enamoured of the unsightly architecture
and plate-glass of Europe (which is unhappily seen introduced in the
foremost window in fig. 12). The South Kensington Museum is peculiarly
rich in examples of fine lattice-work. The two best are from a single
house in Cairo, which was in course of destruction, after being
condemned by the Ministry of Works as unsafe, when I was in Cairo, in
1883; and I was thus enabled to purchase for the Museum the complete
room (no. 1193), and the meshrebīya (no. 1194), without violating any
standing monument of Cairo art. The lattices of these two windows are of
a fine period, probably the early part of the eighteenth century, and
the small compartments of the larger one are filled with turned lattice
of a singularly delicate character, which gives the effect almost of
lace when viewed from inside with the light shining through. One of
these panels is represented in fig. 49. There are now more than forty
different specimens of lattice-work in the South Kensington Museum, and
most of them present some variety in the design. It would not seem that
there was much opportunity for variety of effect in the mere combination
of short turned bobbins of wood in a lattice screen; but the Cairo
workmen found out an infinity of changes that could be rung on their
simple materials. The engravings, figs. 49-58, which represent ten
different styles in the South Kensington Museum, will show how variously
the component parts of a lattice may be arranged. The essential feature
of the work is a series of oval turned balls connected together by short
turned links, which fit into holes in the balls. It is in the
arrangement and number of these links, of which 2000 are often contained
in the space of a square yard, that the variety of design is effected.
Sometimes the balls are supported by four links or arms forming a cross,
sometimes by six or eight, like a star; and the distance between the
balls may be extended, so as to permit of a smaller nob at the crossing
of the arms, a modification that produces a singularly delicate and
lace-like effect. Sometimes these intermediate balls are so distributed
as to form a pattern upon the ground of the wider design, as in fig. 58,
where the finer interlacing forms the outline of a lamp suspended in the
more open lattice. The lamp is the most usual design in such interlaced
meshrebīyas, but Solomon’s seal and other simple designs are also found,
and sometimes an Arabic inscription is formed by the skilful arrangement
of the lattice. An example of interlacing cypresses may be seen in the
South Kensington Museum, (no. 1471-1871,) and of a Coptic cross formed
by the lattice-work (1492-1871). The meshrebīya no. 140 (1881), has an
interlacing inscription
نصر من الله وفتح قريب وبشر المومنين يا محمد
“Help is from God, and approaching victory, and give glad tidings to the
Faithful, O Mohammad!” The meshrebīya from the St. Maurice collection,
(no. 892-1884,) shows several examples of interlacing designs, Solomon’s
seals, hanging lamps, and the Kūfy inscription [Inscription] (رأس الحكم
مخافة الله) “The chief of wisdom is in the fear of God.” Another piece
of lattice-work, of a finer and more elaborate character than is
commonly seen, has the inscription in fine Kūfy letters, الله وملاىكه
صلى على النبى “God and his angels bless the Prophet,” formed by pieces
of thicker wood, inlaid with ivory lines.
[Illustration: FIG. 57.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 58.—LATTICE-WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
[Illustration: FIG. 59.—FRONT.]
[Illustration: FIG. 60.—BACK.
CARVED AND INLAID LATTICE-WORK.]
This more elaborate style of _meshrebīya_ work deserves special mention.
It is more particularly used for the open panels of the balustrade of
pulpits, of which narrow examples are seen in fig. 34, but it is also
found in the upper panels of the partition screens of mosque
sanctuaries, and in other positions. The principle of construction is
the same as in ordinary lattice-work, but the component parts are
carved, and sometimes inlaid with ivory. A fine example in the St.
Maurice collection is engraved in figs. 59 and 60, in which the front
and back are quite different in treatment and effect. The lattice,
instead of comprising oval balls and round links, is composed of
hexagons joined by triangles and turned links, and the hexagons and
triangles are carved and inlaid. On one side the triangles are inlaid
with carved ebony triangles pointing the opposite way to the triangles
in which they are set, and the hexagons are studded with dark wooden
bosses. On the other side the triangles are carved with trefoils, and
the hexagons with sixfoils, each set in ebony and ivory borders. Work of
this description is uncommon.
Turned lattice-work may unquestionably be included among the native arts
of Cairo, though it was also made elsewhere. According to M. Prisse,
this craft is not practised now in Cairo, and the modern specimens come
from Arabia, notably Jedda. It is unfortunately true that very little of
this work is now done in Cairo, but it is not wholly extinct, and in the
earlier half of the century it was still a considerable industry, though
Lane records that the work was then inferior to the old style. The
Egyptian turner sits cross-legged to his work, and uses a primitive
lathe, which he causes to revolve with a bow, employing his toes as well
as his fingers.
Lattice _meshrebīyas_ form the principal wood-work in a Cairo house; but
there are other uses of wood to be described. The delicate carved and
inlaid panelling which is usual in mosque pulpits is seldom employed in
houses, though probably the old palaces of the Mamlūks, had they been
preserved, would have displayed examples of such work as rich and
elaborate as any in the mosques. The panelling generally seen in the
doors of the wall-cupboards (which surmount the divan in Cairo rooms,
and consist of a central cupboard with double door, surrounded by little
arched recesses for pottery and other ornaments), and also used in the
interior doors of rooms, is of a simple kind, intended more to guard
against the warping effects of the heat than to serve as an ornament to
the room. Nevertheless, the effect is sometimes very pleasing, as in
some of the doors engraved in figs. 61-4, where the panels are
ingeniously arranged in a sort of L pattern, reminding one of some of
the designs of Saracenic metal-work, or in chevrons, or in a hexagonal
figure with a central star, or, finally, with a Coptic cross (fig. 64),
which indicates that the door in question belonged to a Christian house.
[Illustration: FIG. 61.—PANELLED DOOR FROM A COPT’S HOUSE.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
This simple panelling of the door and wall-cupboard, and the fine
lattice-work of the _meshrebīya_, constitute the most conspicuous
ornaments in wood of the ordinary Cairo room; but there is yet another
manner of treating wood, which holds an important place in the better
chambers, and also in the mosques. This is seen in the ceilings, which
are often the most beautiful part of a room, and are elaborately
decorated in both mosques and houses. The coffered ceiling of the finest
class consists of, first, the beams of the roof, which are suffered to
appear in their natural position, with that true appreciation of the
principles of good decoration, in which structural features are turned
to account, instead of being hidden, which characterized the Cairo
architect. The beams are of rough pine trunks, of considerable
thickness, and are either left in their natural round or half-round
shape, or more generally are covered with thin boards, which are
frequently made in a square form. The latter is the common plan in the
mosques, but in houses the round outline of the beams is often preserved
to within a couple of feet of the end, when stalactites mask the
transition to the square. The beams, whether round or square, are
covered with a coating of canvas saturated with plaster, like the
Italian _gesso_, and decorated in colours, generally red and blue, with
gold and white to give light; and the deep hollows between the beams are
divided into small coffers and similarly coated and painted, or the bare
planks are similarly painted, with arabesques and other designs of great
beauty. All this work, Mr. Wild informs me, is done on the ground, and
only put up in its place when finished.
[Illustration: FIG. 62.
FIG. 63.
FIG. 64.
PANELLED DOORS.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
The whole effect of this kind of ceiling,—with its contrasts between the
heavy beams and the delicate patterns between them, and the gleam of
gold in relief against the deep-toned blue and red decoration,—is
exceedingly rich.
[Illustration: FIG. 65.—CEILING OF APPLIQUÉ WORK.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]
Another mode of decorating a ceiling is by nailing thin strips of wood
on the planks that constitute the roof, in a geometrical design, and
covering the whole with a thin surface of plaster, on which various
arabesque and floral ornaments are then squeezed while the material is
soft, and the whole is then painted and gilt. The cut, fig. 67,
represents a ceiling in the St. Maurice collection, acquired by the
South Kensington Museum. The design is raised by means of strips of wood
about half an inch thick, and these strips are gilt, with lines of red
to shade the gold; the intervening arabesques are in plaster, gilt, with
edges of red and blue. The general effect is very handsome. Sometimes
the ceilings are made in this _appliqué_ style with no decoration in the
interstices. Such is the example (fig. 65), which comes from a
comparatively modern and poor class of room. The strips of wood are
nailed on the planks in a geometrical pattern, with a few bosses to form
centres, and the whole is tinted with red ochre. This and the preceding
ceiling (fig. 67) belonged to meshrebīyas, and the style was only
employed for ceilings of small size, where no heavy beams were required,
such as those over meshrebīyas and over the durkā‘as of small rooms. It
should be noticed that a somewhat similar style of _appliqué_ work is
used for the bases, as well as for the ceilings, of meshrebīyas. In the
illustration (fig. 12), the corbelling of the nearest meshrebīya is
covered with rosettes and stalactites, all of which are first cut out
with a chisel and fret-saw, and then nailed on to the window. Fret-work
is also used for the pendentive eave which surmounts all good
meshrebīyas.
[Illustration: FIG. 66.—TABLE (KURSY).
(_Cairo Museum._)]
The furniture of a Mohammadan house is so limited, that it is not
difficult to sum up the chief wooden objects. An ordinary room in Cairo
contains,—beside such structural wood-work as the lattice-window and the
panelled wall-cupboard, and the simple shelf that runs round above the
latter, supported by common gallows-brackets,—nothing but divans,
supported on a frame, which is not ornamented, and perhaps a little
table (_kursy_), and a desk for the Korān. The _kursy_ (which must not
be confounded with the lectern of mosques, also called Kursy) is
generally of inlaid ivory or mother-of-pearl, but some are of turned
wood, as in the engraving fig. 66, which is from a table preserved in
the Cairo Museum. Portions of the stalactites are broken off, but the
design is sufficiently preserved for us to judge of the effect, which is
heavy, and inferior to the mother-of-pearl tables with which we are more
familiar. The reading-desk is of the crossed-leg or camp-stool order,
and is generally inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which covers the greater
part of the surface of the table, and is fixed with glue. The ordinary
Cairo patterns are very simple, and consist in stars and geometrical
designs; but the Syrian tables, of the same shape and material, are
carved with figures on the mother-of-pearl, and touched with red and
green paint. In both kinds the mother-of-pearl is set off by black
wedge-shaped pieces of horn or bituminous composition. Rarer objects are
the thrones or chairs of carved and lattice-work, used formerly for a
bride’s robes. A seat of lattice-work (_dikka_) also stands in the
entrance of many houses for the door-keeper.
The age of the wood-work, other than carved, is not easy to determine.
The meshrebīyas, exposed to the weather, do not seem able to last very
long, and we shall be probably right in assuming none of them to be
older than the seventeenth century. The more elaborate and squarer form
of meshrebīya, used in mosques, is of course older than this, and may
date from the fourteenth century. The ceilings vary in date with the
mosques or houses to which they belong, but they are not found in
mosques earlier than the fourteenth century, and no Cairo houses can be
ascribed with certainty to even that period.
[Illustration: FIG. 67.—CEILING OF A MESHREBIYA.
(_South Kensington Museum._)]