Black Death on the Black Sea


This is a rescues post: a Twitter thread salvaged as Twitter goes under, an essay I meant to extend. Better here, as is, than hidden in my files.

I remain concerned about how new work on the origins of the Black Death is going to set medievalists and other people talking about Mongol history. We know what happens when diseases are associated with foreigners. But, as with the turn towards the Global Middle Ages, Mongol history can also flower under new attention.

Incident at Caffa: Mongols lobbing plague dead into the enemy? Not likely

First, my Twitter thread on the incident at Caffa. Context — the murder of a Mongol:

The most serious episode, which ushered in a long period of hostilities between Genoese and Venetians on one side and Janibeg Khan (r. 1342-57) on the other, occurred in 1343 as a consequence of the Venetian refusal to deliver to Mongol authorities a Venetian nobleman, Andreolo Civran, who had been found guilty of having ambushed and slain a Mongol with whom he had previously had an altercation. The subsequent turmoil all but wiped out the Italian presence on the Black Sea, forcing the Franks (that is, the Italians) to flee Tana to save their lives and seek refuge in Caffa. Caffa, however, was attacked, besieged, and nearly taken by the army of Janibeg. This episode is famously known for the connection between the Mongols bombardment of Caffa with infected corpses and animal carcasses and the spread of the Black Death that ravaged Europe.

— Nicola Di Cosmo, ‘Black Sea emporia and the Mongol Empire: A reassessment of the Pax Mongolica’


me on a Twitter rant:

[searches Twitter for ‘Mongols’ + ‘Black Death’] We so need to dislodge the factoid ‘first recorded use of biological warfare’ from people’s heads. The one source is a complaint full of rhetorical flourish from a stay-at-home lawyer in Italy. Consider his ignorance and prejudice.
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We need to be source-critical and not just re-tell a grisly tale for the same reason Gabriele de’ Mussis told it: for the shock-horror, to appease readers’ cravings and transmit our own texts on the back of a grisly story. We need to do lit-crit on de Mussis in our history books.
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But instead, historians themselves (Mongolists not excluded) revel in the war-and-gore tale and only want to tell it again to the kids.
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It matters because ‘first recorded use of biological warfare’ is lodged in heads, all over the internet, accepted in reputable books, and one of the basic factoids people ‘learn’ [in quote marks] about Mongol history. While it doesn’t stand up to any source criticism at all…
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Even May (found in agreement with Dr Green’s new work on marmots, Issyk Kul origins & plague as a factor in the collapse of Mongol states) — in an otherwise excellent chapter on ‘Mongols and Plague’, licks his lips at this story and dives in. He calculates body splatter range.
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Instead of interrogating Gabriele de’ Mussis and his prose-poem of blame for the plague.
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Such sensationalism is *exactly what we have to avoid* now that Dr Green’s stellar work has made Mongols and the Black Death an inevitably big talking-point and, once again, a main way into Mongol history. We don’t want a ‘Mongol plague’ language now — after de Mussis’ Tartars.
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I can see the talking-points about Mongols eating rodents. Wet markets, anyone?
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So let’s at least avoid historians’ disgust when discussing Mongol eating habits. It’s easy to express disgust in that not-so-neutral, not-so-measured historians’ style. We have to try not to replicate attitudes of 13thC European travelers on rat-eating, even while we quote them.
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Like, it’s easy to write without disgust or a laugh on what historical Mongols ate and why. But writers seem to find it easy to imagine eating marmot or rats, screw up their faces and smirk in collusion with the reader. Don’t do that? Write straight-faced. Imagine historically.
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Download Dr Monica H. Green’s The Four Plagues. For the moment, still read Timothy May on The Mongols and Plague, which stands up well enough after Dr Green (but ask questions — always).
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Dr Barker lays our meme to rest. A reconstruction of Caffa from Byzantine, Genoese, Venetian, Mamluk residents and travelers. ‘Laying the Corpses to Rest: Grain, Embargoes, and Yersinia pestis in the Black Sea, 1346–48’ Hannah Barker, Speculum 96.1 Jan 2021

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Yesterday-today have read Dr Barker. Along with Dr Green’s intervention, it’s conclusive. Ends: ‘Plague’s movement across the Black Sea was certainly not a matter of bioterrorism during the siege of Caffa. Instead, it was an unintended consequence of peace.’
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[end thread]

 

What was lost to plague? or, a lament for the Pax Mongolica and its other, forgotten Marco Polos

The Black Death of 1347-50 began on the Black Sea, for Europe. Before the great pestilence, Genoese were the most heavily involved of Europeans with the Mongol world beyond the Black Sea. This essay looks at Italian contacts with farther Asia, and the effects of the plague on these contacts. Mongol states suffered in the plague and lost their ability to facilitate trade; for Italian merchants, who had travelled with unprecedented freedom through this world, farther Asia was again cut off. Cultural interchanges were lost, and even knowledge of them was often lost to sight in a post-plague world, except as preserved in popular romances. Italian art also testifies to an engagement with farther Asia in the later thirteenth and the early fourteenth centuries, before the plague. Thus we need to turn to paintings and romance, in order to see the before and after, and assess the effects of the plague. This very trade between the Italian merchant republics and the Mongols was understood to be the agent of transmission of the plague to Europe; the Genoese feature in chronicles as shipping plague from port to port. It is a sad end to a story of exchange and openness between Asia and Europe in the medieval age.

For a century before the great plague of 1347-50, the Pax Mongolica was in effect. The whole Mongol world was open for trade, into farther Asia – that is, beyond what touches the Mediterranean and Black Seas. Previous states in these areas, running on principles of settled peoples, had not allowed foreigners to travel freely in their interiors, and they had their own merchants whose commercial interests to protect. Not so Mongols, who took every means possible to attract foreign merchants and facilitated their travel through the vast spaces in which they had demolished borders.1 The four khans’ territories were loose-knit; the Ilkhans in Iran and the khans of the Golden Horde above the Black and Caspian Seas were political rivals, at times at war. Nevertheless, neither government let this disrupt the transit trade, or punished each other through trade access as is usual for non-nomad states. Trade was of the first concern to Mongols. Janet Abu-Lughod has seen in this century, A.D. 1250-1350, an emergent ‘world system’ of trade connections; Roxann Prazniak, who studies Italian-Asian contacts, talks of a ‘Mongol world century’ with these same dates.2 It ends around the date of the Black Death.

Italians moved confidently in the Mongol world. They negotiated with Mongol governments, made treaties, stood up for their rights, quarrelled with Mongols and entered into armed conflict.3 They are found as individuals in service at the court of the Ilkhans; in a Genoese Quarter in the Ilkhans’ capital Tabriz; a brother and a sister, guessed to be Genoese, have tombstones in the port city of Zayton (Quanzhou) in China, where lived a Latin community.4 Genoa had won a struggle with Venice for the lion’s share of trading opportunities in the Mongol world. Its operations on the Black Sea can be described as a partnership or a symbiosis with the Golden Horde Mongols – the ‘closest recorded working relationship’ between a European and an Asian state in the medieval age.5 Unfortunately, the far-travelled Genoese left few records of their activities, in part due to commercial secrecy and a preference for oral information.6 None of these exploratory merchants and adventurers met the accidents that led the Venetian Marco Polo to divulge his experiences. Other reasons for the quiet of the records have been adduced: vital to Genoa’s trade arrangements between the Golden Horde and Egypt was the shipping of slaves to be mamlukes from one to the other. This service, a necessity for the Dawla al-Turkiyya (‘The State of the Turks’) in Egypt and its Mongol ally, was not a matter for the European go-betweens to boast of; if merchants chose to major in this trade, they did not keep the accounts they did for other merchandise.7

The plague coincided with and in part caused the close-down of trade with farther Asia and the end of the Pax Mongolica. The Golden Horde had been over a diplomatic barrel; the khans in Saray had often displayed a reluctance to export their own population, but strategy required they satisfy this unique need of Egypt for new slave soldiers from the steppe, in order to keep Egypt as an ally against their rival Ilkhans.8 Plague depopulated the Golden Horde and this sacrifice of people became unconscionable for the Saray khans.9 Plague, at the same time, helped the descent of the Ilkhans’ state into chaos, which ended the diplomatic triangle, and the Golden Horde’s attitude towards its Genoese trading partners on the Black Sea underwent a change. It did not have to do business with them in the old ways, and resentments over the slave trade became evident.10

As Nicola di Cosmo observes, the Genoese on the Black Sea in fact had a strengthened hand against a debilitated Golden Horde after the plague, and their colony cities gained in sovereign rights.11 However, farther Asia was cut off, as Mongol states in Iran (1340s onwards) and China (the two decades up to 1368) collapsed – both, it has been argued, victims of the plague.12 There is a distinction to be made between Genoa’s government and its private merchants: the government had never pursued opportunities to extend its activities east; even Mongol offers for diplomatic exchange were not taken up.13 The Genoese government was content to exploit the immediate Black Sea surrounds, that had been familiar European places for trade and slave acquisition since the Greek colonies in ancient times.14 Ventures into farther Asia had been of private initiative. Privately led and funded enterprises were a mark of Genoese ways of doing business; Benjamin Kedar contrasts the traits ascribed to Genoese and Venetians in the contemporary view, with the Genoese individualistic and resistant to state control.15 Indeed, Genoese resident on the Black Sea were known to disobey the home government when its orders interfered with trade.16 These differences can help explain Genoa’s deeper engagement with Asia. It was individual exploits, self-organised, that struck out beyond the purview of the Genoese state. After the plague on the Black Sea, the more conservative trade interests of Genoa’s government held sway: just as in post-plague Europe, trade became localised and distance trade suffered. Di Cosmo lists the retained merchandise from local sources: fish, caviar, timber, hides – not the conspicuous ‘Tartar cloth’, or nasij in the Mongol world, gold-embroidered brocades.17 In Kedar’s study of Genoese and Venetian merchant mentalities in the fourteenth-century depression, the evidence indicates retrenchment, safe bets, low aims.18 Steven Epstein writes similarly in his history of medieval Genoa: he farewells ‘the earlier, heroic age of merchant entrepreneurs’ for a risk-averse climate after the plague: ‘the Genoese do seem collectively to have lost their intrepid spirit… nothing would be heard of China for a long time.’19

To see what was lost in the post-plague world, we need a view of the world before the plague: so Kedar reasons when he sets out to assess the fourteenth-century depression.20 This is true of Italy’s engagement with the east. With the interruption of the plague and the closure of farther Asia, knowledge too went into retrenchment, and the engagement of Italy with Asia was lost sight of – even into the scholarship today. Art history is one road to rediscovery of how close these worlds once were. Fourteenth-century Italian painting has been plumbed for evidence of Asian influence.21 Most strikingly, Roxann Prazniak has detected in the paintings of Ambrogio Lorenzetti of Siena, on the eve of the Black Death in the 1340s, a direct imitation of art styles in Tabriz, the ‘world historical’ city of the Ilkhans, as well as an intelligent commentary on Mongol conditions in one work set at a Central Asian court.22 Meanwhile, art historians of the period of Mongol rule in Iran trace Italian influences there.23 Prazniak’s ongoing investigations are at the forefront of Italian-Mongol cultural links.

After the plague, there is also reminiscence in romance. That ‘heroic age’ of mercantile Genoese before the post-plague depression is captured in romance, which in the thirteenth century took a turn to Asia, as known through merchant travellers. Michael Murrin, in his book Trade and Romance, argues that the new Asian settings, first inspired by Marco Polo, continued to be fuelled by the experiences, the real adventures – and the interests – of non-aristocratic travellers for commerce, even though the heroes remained knights.24 Chaucer set his Squire’s Tale in Saray, capital of the Golden Horde. This tale has proven to be well-informed about the Mongol world, with its most extravagant fantasies anchored in actual events, historical stories, material items.25 Murrin posits that Chaucer heard tales of the Golden Horde from Genoese merchants, in the later decades of the fourteenth century.26 Inexplicable, otherwise, is his idealisation of Chinggis Khan (Cambyuskan) as an exemplary monarch – a portrait matched elsewhere only by Marco Polo’s eulogy on Chinggis.27 Marco Polo took a Mongol view of things and may scarcely have felt European. Residents among the Mongols were open to this foreign world: the Squire’s Tale, written on Genoese intelligence, stands as proof. It contrasts with a view from home: the doges of Genoa and Venice, in correspondence with each other in 1345, ‘vent their real feelings’ on the Tartars – insulting and estranged.28 In a later reminiscence, from 1495, Matteo Maria Boiardo’s Italianised Roland makes friends with a Tartar king whose characterisation also invokes (good) qualities told of Chinggis Khan.29 Boiardo’s open Asia is more that of the Pax Mongolica than of his present-day; while the Squire’s Tale envisages a golden age in the Golden Horde. These are the memories of merchants, preserved in romance; an evidence not to be neglected.

Within Europe, the picture is quite different. The alliterative Morte Arthure, with a date close to the Squire’s Tale at the end of the fourteenth century, has King Arthur slay a baby-spitting giant from Genoa.30 The Genoese in Europe lived in disrepute, very often – this is the theme of David Wallace’s study of Genoa as a place in the imagination, then and now.31 Now, in the historical imagination: Abu-Lughod notes the ‘inequal treatment in the literature’ of Venice and Genoa, when these were equivalent in importance in the thirteenth century.32 Genoa’s connections with the little-understood Tartars, with the slave trade, with ambivalently-seen wealth from the east, must have fed into this unsavoury image. Then, they were blamed for shipping the plague. Its very transmission to Europeans was located at Genoese Caffa on the Black Sea, besieged by Tartars in a quarrel over a murder. The tale of Gabriele de’ Mussis in his Historia de Morbo need not be taken at face value: both shamanists and Muslims had ways to dispose of dead, which didn’t include lobbing them at the enemy; in the khan’s plague-stricken army despair might have set in, over religious concerns.33 Whether true or not, this is the tale that went around, with the declamation of de’ Mussis: ‘Speak, Genoa, of what you have done.’34 Next, Genoese ships feature in chronicles around the coasts of Europe as bringers of the terrible disease. ‘Tartars’, ‘Caffa’, ‘ships of Genoa’ recur as Europe records its history of transmission of the plague in the year 1347.35 Of the course of the plague in Genoa itself, Epstein finds absolutely no local records.36 But Genoese, and their eastwards trade with Tartars, acquired the ill-fame of afflicting Europe with the great pestilence known as the Black Death. There seems to be a split view, of Genoese as of Tartars: a golden age, a Pax Mongolica, remembered by the merchants involved; and the scapegoating of these Europeans who had truck and traffic with such a foreign world – before the plague.

The Black Death, from a European perspective, began on the Black Sea, an unfortunate contact between the adventurous Genoese merchants and the Mongol world that welcomed them. It must be seen against the contacts that existed in a world before the plague, where Italians travelled into Mongol Iran and Mongol China. They left few records – Marco Polo is a stand-out – and the evidence of them often lies in cultural exchanges, in Italian art influenced by art styles in Tabriz, in romances that know the Mongol world through the tales of these travellers. The great pestilence of 1346-50 interfered with trade, helped reduce the Mongol states to chaos, and left affairs on the Black Sea to the more conservative Genoese government, instead of private, exploratory ventures farther into Asia. The trade itself, the connection of Genoa and the Mongols, was seen as the agent of this catastrophic disease. The closest cooperation between Europe and Asia, in the medieval period, was over.

Further reading

My blog post Mongols and the Plague: mostly about Mongol understandings of disease and contagion.

My blog post Chaucer Goes to the Golden Horde: on the Squire’s Tale and its Mongol knowledge.

Roxann Prazniak, often mentioned in this essay, has since published a book about the interconnected Mongol world. Here’s my review for the Asian Review of Books.

My review of Jo Ann Cavallo’s The World Beyond Europe in the Romance Epics of Boiardo and Ariosto, where I get excited about meeting a sympathetic Mongol khan in Italian romance; and of Michael Murrin’s Trade and Romance, for when romance changed from the ‘Celtic fantastic’ to the ‘marvelous real’, whose tutelary spirit was Marco Polo.

 

Bibliography and footnotes

Abu-Lughod, Janet L., Before European Hegemony: The World System A.D. 1250-1350, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1989.

Allsen, Thomas T., Commodity and Exchange in the Mongol Empire: A Cultural History of Islamic Textiles, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Blair, Sheila, ‘The Religious Art of the Ilkhanids’, in The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256-1353, eds. Linda Komaroff and Stefano Carboni, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 2002, pp. 104-33.

Braud, David, ‘The Slave Supply in Classical Greece’, in The Cambridge World History of Slavery, Volume 1: The Ancient Mediterranean World, eds. Keith Bradley and Paul Cartledge, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2011, pp. 112-33.

Cavallo, Jo Ann, The World Beyond Europe in the Romance Epics of Boiardo and Ariosto, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 2013.

Childs, Wendy, ‘Anglo-Italian Contacts in the Fourteenth Century’, in Chaucer and the Italian Trecento, ed. Piero Boitani, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1983, pp. 65-87.

Ciocîltan, Virgil, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, trans. Samuel Willcocks, Leiden, Brill, 2012.

Di Cosmo, Nicola, ‘Black Sea emporia and the Mongol Empire: A reassessment of the Pax Mongolica’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, vol. 53, iss. 1-2, 2009, pp. 83-108.

Di Cosmo, Nicola, ‘Mongols and Merchants on the Black Sea Frontier in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries: Convergences and Conflicts’, in Mongols, Turks and Others: Eurasian Nomads and the Sedentary World, eds. Reuven Amitai and Michal Biran, Leiden, Brill, 2005, pp. 391-424.

Epstein, Steven A., Genoa and the Genoese, 958-1528, Chapel Hill and London, University of North Carolina Press, 1996.

Epstein, Steven A., Purity Lost: Transgressing Boundaries in the Eastern Mediterranean, 1000-1400, Baltimore, The John Hopkins University Press, 2006.

Ho, Colleen, ‘Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century European-Mongol Relations’, History Compass, vol. 10, iss. 12, 2012, pp. 946-68.

Horrox, Rosemary, The Black Death, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1994.

Jordan, Carmel, ‘Soviet Archeology and the Setting of the Squire’s Tale’, The Chaucer Review, vol. 22, iss. 2, 1987, pp. 128-9.

Kedar, Benjamin Z., Merchants in Crisis: Genoese and Venetian Men of Affairs and the Fourteenth-Century Depression, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1976.

Korobeinikov, Dimitri, ‘A Broken Mirror: The Kipchak World in the Thirteenth Century’, in The Other Europe in the Middle Ages: Avars, Bulgars, Khazars, and Cumans, ed. Florin Curta, Leiden, Brill, 2008.

Lach, Donald F., Asia in the Making of Europe, Volume 1: The Century of Discovery, Book One, Chicago and London, University of Chicago Press, 1965.

May, Timothy, The Mongol Conquests in World History, London, Reaktion, 2012.

McKee, Sally, ‘Domestic slavery in Renaissance Italy’, Slavery & Abolition: A Journal of Slave and Post-Slave Studies, vol. 29, iss. 3, 2008, pp. 305-326.

Murrin, Michael, Trade and Romance, Chicago & London, University of Chicago Press, 2014.

Peleggi, Maurizio, ‘Shifting alterity: The Mongol in the visual and literary culture of the late Middle Ages’, The Medieval History Journal, vol. 4, iss. 1, 2001, pp. 16-33.

Piacentini, Valeria Fiorani, ‘The Golden Age of Genoa’s eastwards trade (13th-15th centuries)’, The Journal of Central Asian Studies, vol. 19, iss. 1, 2010, pp. 25-40.

Prazniak, Roxann, ‘Siena on the Silk Roads: Ambrogio Lorenzetti and the Mongol Global Century, 1250-1350’, Journal of World History, vol. 21, iss. 2, 2010, pp. 177-217.

Prazniak, Roxann, ‘Tabriz on the Silk Roads: Thirteenth-century Eurasian cultural connections’, Asian Review of World Histories, vol. 1, iss. 2, 2013, pp. 169-188.

Wallace, David, Premodern Places: Calais to Surinam, Chaucer to Aphra Behn, Malden MA, Blackwell, 2004.

1 Mongol attitudes to trade are well explained in Virgil Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, trans. Samuel Willcocks, Leiden, 2012, pp. 1-36; see also Timothy May, The Mongol Conquests in World History, London, 2012, pp. 109-29.
2 Janet L. Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony: The World System A.D. 1250-1350, Oxford, 1989; Roxann Prazniak, ‘Siena on the Silk Roads: Ambrogio Lorenzetti and the Mongol Global Century, 1250-1350’, Journal of World History, vol. 21, iss. 2, 2010, pp. 177-217.
3 See Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade, which throughout gives the impression of confident, at times assertive engagement; also Valeria Fiorani Piacentini, ‘The Golden Age of Genoa’s eastwards trade (13th-15th centuries)’, The Journal of Central Asian Studies, vol. 19, iss. 1, 2010, pp. 25-40.
4 Colleen Ho, ‘Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century European-Mongol Relations’, History Compass, vol. 10, iss. 12, 2012, pp. 949-50.
5 Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade, p. 281.
6 Nicola Di Cosmo, ‘Black Sea emporia and the Mongol Empire: A reassessment of the Pax Mongolica’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, vol. 53, iss. 1-2, 2009, p. 103.
7 I take the Egyptian state’s name for itself from Dmitri Korobeinikov, ‘A Broken Mirror: The Kipchak World in the Thirteenth Century’, in The Other Europe in the Middle Ages: Avars, Bulgars, Khazars, and Cumans, ed. Florin Curta, Leiden, 2008, p. 379; for slave traders’ record-keeping, see Sally McKee, ‘Domestic slavery in Renaissance Italy’, Slavery & Abolition: A Journal of Slave and Post-Slave Studies, vol. 29, iss. 3, 2008, pp. 314-5.
8 Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade, pp. 165, 201.
9 Ibid., p. 201.
10 Ibid., 206-7.
11 Di Cosmo, ‘Black Sea emporia’, pp. 104-5.
12 May, The Mongol Conquests in World History, p. 209.
13 Di Cosmo, ‘Black Sea emporia’, p. 105; again, ‘Mongols and Merchants on the Black Sea Frontier in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries: Convergences and Conflicts’, in Mongols, Turks and Others: Eurasian Nomads and the Sedentary World, eds. Reuven Amitai and Michal Biran, Leiden, 2005, pp. 394-5.
14 David Braud, ‘The Slave Supply in Classical Greece’, in The Cambridge World History of Slavery, Volume 1: The Ancient Mediterranean World, eds. Keith Bradley and Paul Cartledge, Cambridge, 2011, pp. 112-33.
15 Benjamin Z. Kedar, Merchants in Crisis: Genoese and Venetian Men of Affairs and the Fourteenth-Century Depression, New Haven and London, 1976, pp. 9-11.
16 Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade, p. 213.
17 Di Cosmo, ‘Black Sea emporia, p. 25; for nasij, see Thomas T. Allsen, Commodity and Exchange in the Mongol Empire: A Cultural History of Islamic Textiles, Cambridge, 1997.
18 Kedar, Merchants in Crisis, pp. 85-97.
19 Steven A. Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 958-1528, Chapel Hill and London, 1996, ch. 5, last paragraph (unpaginated ebook).
20 Kedar, Merchants in Crisis, pp. 2-3.
21 Donald F. Lach, Asia in the Making of Europe, Volume 1: The Century of Discovery, Book One, Chicago and London, 1965, pp. 71-3; Ho, ‘Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century European-Mongol Relations’, pp. 951-3; Maurizio Peleggi, ‘Shifting alterity: The Mongol in the visual and literary culture of the late Middle Ages’, The Medieval History Journal, vol. 4, iss. 1, 2001, p. 27-33.
22 Prazniak, ‘Siena on the Silk Roads’; for Tabriz as a ‘world historical city’, Roxann Prazniak,‘Tabriz on the Silk Roads: Thirteenth-century Eurasian cultural connections’, Asian Review of World Histories, vol. 1, iss. 2, 2013, pp. 169-188.
23 Sheila Blair, ‘The Religious Art of the Ilkhanids’, in The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256-1353, eds. Linda Komaroff and Stefano Carboni, New Haven and London, 2002, p. 112.
24 Michael Murrin, Trade and Romance, Chicago & London, 2014, pp. 9-26.
25 Carmel Jordan, ‘Soviet Archeology and the Setting of the Squire’s Tale’, The Chaucer Review, vol. 22, iss. 2, 1987, pp. 128-9.
26 Murrin, Trade and Romance, pp. 43-62; for Chaucer’s Italian contacts, see also Wendy Childs, ‘Anglo-Italian Contacts in the Fourteenth Century’, in Chaucer and the Italian Trecento, ed. Piero Boitani, Cambridge, 1983, pp. 65-87.
27 Marco Polo, The Travels of Marco Polo: The Complete Yule-Cordier Edition, eds. Henry Yule and Henri Cordier, 2 vols, New York, 1993, i, pp. 238, 245.
28 Steven A. Epstein, Purity Lost: Transgressing Boundaries in the Eastern Mediterranean, 1000-1400, Baltimore, 2006, p. 122.
29 Jo Ann Cavallo, The World Beyond Europe in the Romance Epics of Boiardo and Ariosto, Toronto, 2013, pp. 45-61.
30 The Alliterative Morte Arthure: A Critical Edition, ed. Valerie Krishna, New York, 1976, lines 840-85.
31 David Wallace, Premodern Places: Calais to Surinam, Chaucer to Aphra Behn, Malden MA, 2004, pp. 181-202.
32 Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony, p. 131, endnote 1.
33 For usual disposal of the dead, see May, The Mongol Conquests in World History, p. 202.
34 De’ Mussis, quoted in Rosemary Horrox, The Black Death, Manchester, 1994, p. 19.
35 Ibid., primary sources on the spread of the plague in continental Europe, pp. 14-61.

36 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, ch. 5, section ‘How the plague changed society and the economy’.

Images from

Cross-faith conferences: Mongols and Mughals

Lorenzetti_Ambrogio_martyrdom-of-the-franciscans-This post looks at Mongol China and Mughal India: the reigns of Khubilai Khan (1260-94) and Jalal al-Din Muhammad Akbar (1556-1605). These figures were conscious innovators in the old worlds of China and of India. Khubilai introduced a universal script, Akbar a universal religion; neither invention is thought to have outlived its sponsor, but even so, these remain great experiments in change. I want to focus on a tradition of cross-faith conferences staged at Mongol courts, transported into Khubilai’s China, and culminating in Akbar’s House of Worship: it seems to me that this might well be an inheritance, where Akbar built his house on foundations from his steppe ancestors.

Khubilai and Akbar have commonalities. They were the main establishers of post-nomad states in the great cultural worlds of China and of India. Akbar was more distanced from his Mongol background, but a few scholars have directed attention to Central Asian influences in the Mughal state.[1] Self-consciously, the two were unifiers: although Khubilai was frustrated in his claim to the world-kingship of the Mongols, he returned the north and south of China to unity, which Chinese dynasties had tried and failed to do since Tang; while Akbar united large areas of India that had not been one before. Religious pluralism was important to their politics, and this they had in common with other Inner Asians in custody of settled territory – not only the Qaraqorum Mongols before Khubilai, but the Qara Qitai before them, in Central Asia. Akbar introduced diversity into his government by employment of Rajputs and other Hindus; Khubilai staffed a poly-ethnic government, in resistance to pressures to become fully Confucian.

Iqtidar Alam Khan traces a general Mughal tolerance, as against the persecutory Islam seen in the Delhi Sultanate before them, back through Timurid traditions to the yasa (legal code) of Chinggis Khan, from whom Babur descended on his mother’s side. The thirteenth-century Persian historian Juvaini, employed by the government of Mongol Iran, gives in ideal terms Chinggis’ edict on the coexistence of religions.[2] Even after the Mongols took on world religions in Iran and China, their policy of religious pluralism was never altogether abandoned, although it became inconsistent – Mirza Haydar Dughlat relates bloody conversion tales among the Mughals’ cousins in Moghulistan, with a prince executing his unconverted entourage.[3]

The objective of religious pluralism in the Mongol world is often misunderstood. It had a history in Inner Asia, and was practiced similarly by the shamanist and Buddhist Qara Qitai in their poly-religious khanship just prior to the Mongols in Central Asia.[4] To see this policy as merely state pragmatism – or worse, a crudity of mind – is to neglect the indigenous religiosity. Of help here is a book on Mughal religiosity: A. Azfar Moin explains Akbar’s ‘participatory acts’ in a way that sheds light on the Mongols’ participation in the rituals and the gestures of religions they did not profess, as orthodox adherents understood profession.[5] Akbar’s sense of religion was ‘embodied’, ‘local’, centred on holy persons rather than on doctrine.[6] Shamanist peoples, Mongols and others, had a preference for Sufis, and this, along with the disruption of the Mongol invasions, aided a shift in religious weight and sentiment from the ulama to Sufis.[7] In Devin DeWeese’s study of the transition to Islam in the Golden Horde, the closeness, even the conflation, of shaman and Sufi, can be seen in depth.[8] Jesuits felt themselves led on by Akbar, and experienced disillusionment when they realised he wasn’t serious: this happens again and again at Mongol courts, and the Jesuit complaint is uncannily alike to the revolving feelings recorded by the missionary friar William of Rubruck, in the account I look at next.[9] Neither Akbar nor the potential converts Rubruck meets were cynical or exploitative, nor did they have simply state concerns in mind. Religious pluralism, as a policy, was certainly pragmatic for the Mongols, but it also made religious sense to them. Both these motives are evident in the religious debate at Grand Khan Mongke’s court in (or near – they were nomads) Qaraqorum.

This debate is a precursor to Khubilai’s debates, and is a cultural heritage behind Akbar’s House of Worship (‘Ibadat Khana). Our witness is Friar William of Rubruck, who gives us our closest view of a court-led interfaith discussion among the Mongols. Its purposes can be ascertained, in spite of Rubruck’s misconstructions. The debate was announced a few days after an incident of hostilities between Christians and Muslims in front of the khan’s brother Arigh Boke, who intervened to stop the exchange of insults. Arigh Boke had met the Christian group, of whom Rubruck was one, with a sign of the cross: here is a ‘participatory act’, that led to rumours he was Christian. Later, the quarrel became physical, with a monk answering Muslim taunts with his whip; Rubruck’s party was reprimanded by being told to make camp not beside the khan’s tent as hitherto, but with the other foreign envoys. Clearly, the debate, an opportunity to air conflicting views, with orders from the khan for no ‘provocative or insulting remarks’, no ‘commotion that might obstruct these proceedings,’ is a response to these unseemly incidents.

It is also clear that the other participants in the debate understood the khan’s purposes better than did Rubruck. First, a ‘tuin’ – probably a Buddhist – attempts to tell him that instead of there being one God, there are evidently gods for regions of the world just as these regions have their kings. This is to phrase another way what Mongke himself says to Rubruck in an audience the day after the debate: ‘God has given ways and religions to man as there are different fingers on one hand.’[10] Thus the khan draws his lesson to the visiting friar. Rubruck and his party have been the most volatile contenders at the debate; the opposition ceases to dispute him, but quietly hears him out. Rubruck believes he has reduced them to silence by his arguments, but it is more likely that they are acquainted with Mongke and behave in a manner that might meet with his approval. They do not clash. They allow Rubruck to air his views, and next day, Mongke expresses to Rubruck what he hoped to achieve: not a win by one religion or another, but coexistence. Mongke’s sentence has the feel of an old saying, although unattested (in this largely oral culture): it is a neat formulation of an Inner Asian religious outlook.

Mongke’s debate was held in 1254. Four years on, in 1258, he assigned his brother Khubilai to adjudicate between Buddhists and Taoists in north China, again for conflict resolution – this time serious disorders. It is frequently said that Khubilai was predisposed to the Buddhist side and did not judge objectively.[11] However, these unprecedented conflicts were caused by his grandfather Chinggis Khan, and he presumably felt a duty to undo the damage. Chinggis had evinced a personal respect for Qui Chuji, head of the Taoist Quanzhen sect, and from the distance of Central Asia granted him a general ‘superintendency’ of religions in north China.[12] As a result Taoism enjoyed a short-lived heyday; a contemporary said that a fifth of the population joined the sect in Mongol favour.[13] By the time of Khubilai’s interfaith court case, Taoists had severely encroached on Buddhist rights and property, and the situation in north China had devolved into violence against religious precincts and personnel.[14] Khubilai redressed the imbalance.

There were further Buddhist-Taoist hearings and debates, but Khubilai, when khan in China, did not pursue the idea of the wide interfaith conference, in spite of the several faiths in his officialdom. Khans in Iran held debates on a reduced scale, often, seemingly, to indulge the curiosity of the prince himself; there is no sense in Mongol Iran that cross-religious discussions were staged for the harmony of the realm – in fact scholars tend to talk of them as a sports-like entertainment.[15] Mongke’s debate had public ends and he himself did not attend, although well-informed by his ‘umpires’, three secretaries of different faiths. Participants had included Catholic and Nestorian Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, shamanists and quite possibly others that Rubruck cannot identify. Nothing like that range is seen until Akbar’s House of Worship, where there gathered ‘Sufi, philosopher, orator, jurist, Sunni, Shia, Brahman, Jati, Siura (Jains), Carbak (the Charvaka school), Nazarene, Jew, Sabi (Sabians – a Gnostic tradition), Zoroastrian, and others.’[16]

Still, Khubilai, frustrated in his claims to universal khanship, increasingly a khan of China, kept a diversity of ethnic make-up in his government. The one thing he did not accede to from Confucian-minded advisors was to reinstate the examinations for civil service entry: he was determined to draw on a wider range of talents than those shaped by study of the Confucian classics.[17] In the China he took over, even diplomats were not thought to need another language; hence his reliance on a ‘steppe intelligentsia’ with language facility, Uighurs, Khitan, Tanguts, Central Asians, employed as interpreters and translators.[18] Linguistic skills were critical for Khubilai; while Akbar attempted to amalgamate religions, Khubilai, instead, tried to introduce a universal script. As outsiders, they were innovators, across cultures. Chinese officials had been previously dismayed by Khubilai’s insistence on colloquial Chinese, for ease of access; there was much hostility towards the universal script, in spite of its effectiveness.[19] Here we see innovations, attempted changes, that were defeated by traditional ways. It is worthwhile to ponder for a moment what might have come had a universal script been successfully introduced for government affairs. Change consists of failed experiments too, not only in the official halls of China; abandoned innovations testify to new ideas. Khubilai’s bold stroke of a universal script in which to write every language was a possibility open to an outsider, a result of the meeting of cultures. It should not be lost to view because it failed. Recent discoveries have proved that the script – named Phagspa after its Tibetan creator – was far more widely and persistently used than has been assumed: this is a caution not to let the master narrative erase changes, as if they never took place.[20] Chinese official histories cannot be expected to pay attention to the Phagspa script. The compiler of the Yuan history (Yuan shi), indeed, was staunchly a Chinese classicist in an essay he wrote on art – no friend to Mongol-era deviation.[21]

For Akbar, the master narrative has been the intellectual tradition – doctrinal, legal; political philosophy and ethical tract – by light of which we write our histories of statecraft and government in Islam: this is the argument of A. Azfar Moin, who writes instead an ethnographic history with eyes on the acts and practices of kings, not the prescriptive literature.[22] Akbar’s religious experimentation then falls into place with Safavid Iran and Timurid Central Asia in an age when kings and messiahs fused. Religious curiosity on Akbar’s part, even his personal quest, cannot be cleanly separated from an ideal wish to resolve or harmonise ‘the confusion of religions and creeds.’[23] His House of Worship was on a grander scale than any conference held by a Mongol prince, but these are a possible transmission line. The House was interrupted by a rebellion, after which Akbar only resumed religious inquiry in his private quarters. By the accounts of both Abul Fazl and Bada’uni, discussion at the House of Worship caused acrimony, uproar, wrangles and hostilities;[24] Akbar’s subsequent Religion of God or Divine Religion (Din-i Ilahi) took a different approach towards universalism. He sought to unify religiosity in a discipleship to himself: this transcended, rather than amalgamated teachings.[25]

As an example of continuity with ways of religion on the steppe, there is the Jesuit ordeal at Akbar’s court. It was Akbar himself, Moin persuasively argues, who urged a display or spectacle of a fiery trial by ordeal between Jesuits and Muslim ascetics.[26] He need not have heard of the judicial ordeal in Europe, as was the Jesuit explanation, or if he did, he might well have recognised a consonance: in the Golden Horde, Sufis and shamans competed against one another in just such physical ordeals, wherein they were to conquer fire.[27] It was a language both sides understood. The Jesuits did not feel themselves such wonder-working saints and declined the contest, with difficulty.

Akbar, in the spirit of the age, transcended dogma in a saintly discipleship centred on his person – not an option open to Khubilai in China. Both Akbar and Khubilai were invaders, and brought potential for change, with themes of unity and universality, of diversity and pluralism, running through their governments. They faced different fates in the cultural worlds of China and of India, but we see the persistence of a shared heritage. The interfaith debate, used to specific purpose in Khubilai’s China, went into decline as Mongols entered the spheres of world religions; but Akbar, for a few years, made an institution of it.

Image  Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Martyrdom of the Franciscans (1342), from the Commons. This intriguing Italian painting deserves a post to itself. But in short, the scene is set at an unidentified Central Asian court under Mongol rule, and this time tolerance has broken down; the visiting friars are killed. Roxann Prazniak has explored this artist’s Mongol contacts; she points to the disbelief or dismay in the reactions of the court, who are presented as poly-ethnic. Lorenzetti is commenting on religious coexistence, both at home in Siena and in the Mongol world he knew. For more, see:

Prazniak, Roxann, ‘Siena on the Silk Roads: Ambrogio Lorenzetti and the Mongol
Global Century, 1250-1350’, Journal of World History, vol. 21, iss. 2, 2010, pp.
177-217.

Footnotes
[1] Books on this theme include Lisa Balabanlilar, Imperial Identity in the Mughal Empire: Memory and Dynastic Politics in Early Modern South and Central Asia, London and New York, 2012. However, she treats strictly the Timurid legacy, without attention to any memory of the Chinggisid Mongols. Another is Richard C. Foltz, Mughal India and Central Asia, Oxford, 1999, which I have not been able to consult.
[2] Iqtidar Alam Khan ‘Akbar’s Personality Traits and World Outlook: A Critical Reappraisal’, Social Scientist, vol. 20, iss. 9/10, 1992, pp. 17-18; Juvaini, Genghis Khan: The History of the World Conqueror, trans. J.A. Boyle, Manchester, 1958, p. 26.
[3] Dughlat, A History of the Khans of Mogulistan, trans. Wheeler M. Thackston, London, 2012, p. 21.
[4] Michal Biran, The Empire of the Qara Khitay in Eurasian History: Between China and the Islamic World, Cambridge, 2005, pp. 171-201.
[5] A. Azfar Moin, The Millennial Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and Sainthood in Islam, New York, 2012, p. 151.
[6] Ibid., pp. 130-69.
[7] Johan Elverskog, Buddhism and Islam on the Silk Road, Philadelphia, 2010, p. 201.
[8] Devin DeWeese, Islamization and Native Religion in the Golden Horde: Baba Tukles and Conversion to Islam in Historical and Epic Tradition, Pennsylvania, 1994.
[9] For Jesuits, see Moin, The Millennial Sovereign, pp. 146-52; Rubruck, The Mission of Friar William of Rubruck: His Journey to the Court of the Great Khan Mongke, trans. Peter Jackson, Indianapolis and Cambridge, 1990; see p. 224 onwards.
[10] Ibid., p. 236. In order to bring out the sententious quality I alter the translation, that has been through Rubruck’s Latin too.
[11] For example, Morris Rossabi, Khubilai Khan: His Life and Times, Berkeley, 1988/2009, p. 41; George Lane, ‘Khubilai (Qubilai) Khan’, entry in Berkshire Dictionary of Chinese Biography, 3 vols, Great Barrington, MA, 2014, ii, pp. 827-8.
[12] F. W. Mote, Imperial China, Cambridge, MA and London, 1999, p. 500.
[13] Yao Tao-chung, ‘Buddhism and Taoism under the Chin’ in China Under Jurchen Rule: Essays on Chin Intellectual and Cultural History, eds. Hoyt Cleveland Tillman and Stephen H. West, New York, 1995, p. 154.
[14] Rossabi, Khubilai Khan: His Life and Times, p. 36.
[15] George Lane, ‘Chingiz Khan: Maker of the Islamic world’, Journal of Qur’anic Studies, vol. 16, iss. 1, 2014, p. 143.
[16] Abul Fazl, The Akbarnama, 3 vols, trans. H. Beveridge, Calcutta, 1897-1939, iii, chapter 95.
[17] Morris Rossabi, ‘The reign of Khubilai Khan’ in The Cambridge History of China, Volume 6: Alien Regimes and Border States, eds. Herbert Franke and Denis Twitchett, Cambridge, 1994, p. 416, 418, 427.
[18] Ibid., p. 416; for Chinese diplomats, see the Introduction by the editors, p. 20; ‘steppe intelligentsia’ is from Igor de Rachewiltz, Hok-lam Chan, Hsaio Ch’i-ch’ing and Peter W. Geier, eds, In the Service of the Khan: Eminent Personalities of the Early Mongol-Yuan Period, Wiesbaden, 1993, pp. xiv-xv.
[19] Rossabi, ‘The reign of Khubilai Khan’, pp. 466-7.
[20] Shane McCausland, The Mongol Century: Visual Cultures of Yuan China, London, 2014, pp. 231-2.
[21] Ibid., pp. 238-9.
[22] Moin, The Millennial Sovereign.
[23] Abul Fazl, The Akbarnama, iii, chapter 100.
[24] Ibid., iii, chapter 95; Bada’uni, Selections from Histories, 3 vols, trans. George S.A. Ranking, Sir Wolseley Haig and W.H. Lowe, Calcutta, 1884-1925, ii, chapter 69.
[25] Moin, The Millennial Sovereign, pp. 138-46.
[26] Ibid., pp. 148-9.
[27] DeWeese, Islamization and Native Religion in the Golden Horde, pp. 167, 243-56.

from the Great Mongol Shahnama – 2

Simply pages from the Great Mongol Shahnama. Who needs an excuse? For a quick introduction to this most splendid example of book art from Mongol Iran, see my 1st post so titled. These pages are over half a metre high.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As ever, click to enlarge

 

“Breadth of conception and sheer physical size, historical focus, astonishing imagination combined with extraordinary material veracity, and a high quality of style and execution: these are among the fundamental differences between what survives of the Great Mongol Shahnama and any of the other illustrated fourteenth-century copies of Firdawsi’s epic.”

– Eleanor Sims, ‘Thoughts on a Shahnama Legacy of the Fourteenth Century’ in Beyond the Legacy of Genghis Khan, editor Linda Komaroff, Brill, 2006.

from the Great Mongol Shahnama – 1

Bahram Gur Fighting a Wolf, from a page of the Great Mongol Shahnama (Book of Kings), Iran, 1330s. Ink, paint and gold on paper.

In Mongol Iran, book art exploded, and became the major art: patronage changed and this was the call, answered with a “redeployment of artistic energies”.

The Great Mongol Shahnama is an unfinished royal copy of the Persian epic. Big in scale, with a work space of 16×12 inches on the page, and 200 paintings intended, of which 57 survive. Nothing this ambitious had been tried. “Since Shahnama iconography was… in its infancy, the painters had no models for scores of the projected images… The… pressure to be innovative propelled the painters into unfamiliar territory in search of fresh inspiration.”

More to come on this spectacular book, and others, and how under the Mongols Chinese art met Persian. But here’s a sample: innovative? I believe him – those trees, that horse. Click to enlarge.

Quotes from ‘The Arts of the Book in Ilkhanid Iran’ by Robert Hillenbrand in The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256-1353, editors Linda Komaroff and Stefano Carboni, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 2002.