Royal death: a mirror into a ruler's life

In both the Islamic and the Western traditions of historical writing, death—and specifically the death of a royal figure—was understood as reflecting upon the person's life, their sins or their high morals. People met the end they deserved. In this perspective, medieval historians paid significant attention to the description of death scenes: after all, the last moments of a ruler—whether pitiful or grandiose—informed the reader about the ruler's character, lifestyle and legitimacy.

Turning to the Islamic tradition first—which is itself inspired by Sasanian and Greek traditions—historical narratives of the medieval period demonstrate a salient interest in describing the way in which notorious men died. The medieval narratives are replete with lengthy and vivid death descriptions imbued with commentary and didacticism for the audiences of the time. One of the main historians of the classical period, al-Ṭabarī (d. 923), is the foremost example of this tendency: his milestone production, Tārīkh al-Rusūl wa al-Mulūk (History of Prophets and Kings)Footnote ¹⁵ abounds with colourful death scenes, often entailing either implicit or explicit commentary. The deaths of Caliphs are a case in point: these events received a great deal of attention by medieval writers. They represented, in the words of Tayeb El-Hibri, “a favourite terrain for the chroniclers to critique the Caliphs”.Footnote ¹⁶

The murders of Caliph ‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān (d. 656)Footnote ¹⁷ and Caliph ‘Alī are significant examples: both murders have been treated with variations by medieval Muslim writers, serving as the basis for commentary on the nature of their political rule and leadership. In the case of the murder of ‘Uthmān, al-Ṭabarī juxtaposes the account of Sayf b. ‘Umar (d. circa 796) and Muḥammad b. ‘Umar al-Wāqidī (d. 823), the first describing the early community as a pious group, while the second emphasised the injustices committed by ‘Uthmān. As Heather Keaney notes, “an author's interpretive and literary construction is most easily detected through focusing on particularly contentious events”, such as the murder of a Caliph deemed illegitimate.Footnote ¹⁸

Another example from a later period is the various portrayals of the death of Sultan Baybars in 1277:Footnote ¹⁹ while some medieval writers described him as having been poisoned (by attempting to poison an enemy and mixing the cups),Footnote ²⁰ others said that he died from over drinking qumz (an alcoholic drink favoured by the Mamlūks), or even that the cause of death was an arrow stuck in his thigh after a battle against the Mongols. The role played by rulers was all the more important since the Islamic tradition emphasised the role of individuals and their behaviours in the state's prosperity or downfall.Footnote ²¹

The medieval Western tradition of historical writing, itself based on the ancient Greek and Roman traditions, shares this fascination for death as a topic of writing. At the time of the Roman Republic, there was an impressive range of execution methods, based on the identity and social status of the person as well as the severity of his/her crime. While some offenders were thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, others were eaten by wild animals in an arena in front of cheering crowds. Vivid and lively descriptions of these deaths were common, testifying to the centrality of the concept of punishment. Punishment, as the Roman philosopher and advisor of Emperor Nero, Lucius Annaeus Seneca (4 bce-65 ce) explained, fulfilled three purposes: retribution, deterrence and prevention.Footnote ²² Political rulers were often described as having had either a grandiose death or a humiliating one, based on their previous actions. The later work by Lactantius (d. circa 325) De Mortibus Persecutorum (On the Deaths of the Persecutors) is a very significant example of this phenomenon. The work describes the deaths of the persecutors of Christians including Nero, Domitian, Decius, Galerius or Maximinus. The deaths are described as punishments from God, with heavy moralising in each anecdote told.

According to the classical Greek writers Thucydides, Herodotus, Isocrates and Polybius (among others),Footnote ²³ rulers who brought about the fall of their own state often suffered the consequences through the fashion of their death. Greek authors highlighted the presence of a pattern of moral decline in which “hubris” (extreme and foolish overconfidence) brought about “nemesis” (downfall). Once a ruler had been in power for some time, he developed arrogance, impiety and greed, which led to his downfall. He would be replaced by another ruler who initially showed ethical qualities and behaviour, but once comforted in his power, the pattern would ensue all the same, according to the rules of the metabolē theory.Footnote ²⁴

In depicting the death of a royal figure, both Islamic and Western medieval historical narratives relied heavily on symbols, and more precisely topoi. Death was a common occasion for deploying topoi, which added a layer of meaning to the stories by referring to previous examples in an implicit manner only understandable to the literate reader, be they a member of the court or the learned elite. Since these traditions of writing relied on a similar set of tools, it is all the more important to analyse their productions in dialogue, through multiple descriptions of the same event. The death of Caliph al-Musta‘ṣim is a case which, I argue, can only be understood when putting these accounts in dialogue, examining both Eastern accounts produced in the Arab and Persian lands, as well as Armenian, Georgian, and West-European accounts. Political relations between, on the one hand, the Mongols, the Armenians, the Georgians, Western Europe and, on the other hand, the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate, loomed heavily over these compositions. The context of the crusades, as we shall see, was an important factor dictating how medieval authors described the Caliph's death.

Let us now turn to the analysis of the multiple deaths that al-Musta‘ṣim received according to the various extant sources: West-European, Armenian, Georgian, Persian/Mongol and Arabic.

Death by starvation: the ultimate punishment for a corrupt leader

A large number of West-European and Armenian sources state that al-Musta‘ṣim died of starvation at the hands of the Mongol ruler Hülegü Khān. Their story seems to find roots in the account attributed to Naṣīr al-Dīn Al-Ṭūsī (d. 1274), the Persian philosopher, astrologer, and Imāmī-Shī‘ī scholar of renown who joined the Mongols when they captured the castle of Alamut in 1256.Footnote ²⁵ His account can be found in an appendix at the end of ‘Aṭā Malik Juwaynī's (d. 1283) Tārīkh Jahān Gushā (The History of the World Conqueror)Footnote ²⁶ composed in Persian. The account has been dated between 1258 and 1265 by G. M. Wickens, based on a terminology analysis of the account and the titles attributed to Hülegü. Al-Ṭūsī's account has been considered significant because of his eyewitness status.

Not only did al-Ṭūsī accompany the Mongols to Baghdad when they conquered the city, but he is also said to have advised them about killing the Caliph. As a leading astrologist, the Mongols consulted him to know whether a catastrophe would ensue if they put the Caliph to death. The Mongols’ main concern was their superstition that royal blood should not be shed nor touch the ground. The Persian and Arabic sources of the period unequivocally mention al-Ṭūsī as the figure who reassured the Mongols on the idea of killing the Caliph: he confirmed that no catastrophe would ensue, just as was the case when previous Caliphs had been killed. Now turning to al-Ṭūsī's account, it is the first to mention an episode during which the Caliph, after being captured by the Mongols, was locked in his palace and given nothing to eat except gold:

Al-Ṭūsī does not indicate, however, that the Caliph was starved to death: “On the fourteenth of Ṣafar (…) the Caliph met his end in that village together with his middle son”.Footnote ²⁸ No further details are added, leaving to the reader's imagination the fashion in which the Caliph was killed. Among the earliest accounts on the death of the Caliph, the starvation episode is absent. It is not to be found in the work of Minhāj-i Sirāj al-Jūzjānī (b. circa 1193),Footnote ²⁹ Ibn al-Sā‘ī (d. 1276),Footnote ³⁰ Ibn al-Fuwaṭī (d. 1323),Footnote ³¹ or the late Ayyūbid chroniclers.

The story is present in two categories of later writings: Ilkhānid (Mongol) accounts (Rashīd al-DīnFootnote ³² and WaṣṣāfFootnote ³³ in particularFootnote ³⁴) on the one hand, and European and Armenian accounts on the other. In the European and Armenian accounts, the story shows an interesting trajectory: not only is it amplified, with the addition of details not found in al-Ṭūsī's work, but the Caliph is made to die by starvation in many of these sources, as a punishment for his greed. This trajectory of the accounts is critical and calls for our attention: why did these European and Armenian sources decide on this death type? What value did it bring to the stories they were crafting?

The first account is one that amplifies the starvation episode, while still explaining that the Caliph died by being kicked. It is to be found in the History of the Nation of the Archers,Footnote ³⁵ by the Armenian Christian cleric Gregory of Akner (d. 1335), also known as Grigor of Akanc.Footnote ³⁶ Gregory of Akner relied on the Armenian cleric Johannes Vanakan, who worked for the Mongols along with Kirakos, his student. His account differs from al-Ṭūsī's on three levels: the addition of details pertaining to the Georgian and Armenian contingent in Hülegü's army, elements added to the starvation story, and changes to the conversation between Hülegü and the Caliph.

We are told by Akner that the Caliph was thrown into captivity for “three days”, with neither “bread nor water”, before the conversation with Hülegü took place. This reference to a three-day fast, absent from previous accounts, is a Christian topos meant for his Christian audience. It is only after these three days of captivity without food that the Caliph is ordered to be “given to the feet of [Hülegü's] troops, and thus [they] slay the Caliph of the Arabs”.Footnote ³⁷ As a Christian cleric, Akner relied on themes and symbols that were meaningful to him and his targeted audiences. Another example of such a symbol is the fact that the Caliph is described as begging for “bread, meat and wine” when exchanging his first words with Hülegü after the three-day captivity. These details—absent from al-Ṭūsī's account—are highly symbolical for his Christian audience. Another critical element in Akner's account is the emphasis that he placed on gold. The account is built around the importance of this metal, found everywhere in the city: “countless gold and silver” was taken by the Mongols, while red gold is what is given to the Caliph as food:

An important element in Akner's account is the focus on gold. The Mongol (Persian) and Western accounts share this focus. The modern reader might ask: why did it matter and why is gold emphasised so strongly in these accounts? In ancient Greek traditions of historical writing, gold was associated with the portrayal of—or rather stereotypes around—Asian rulers. In the Histories of Herodotus for instance, Croesus the King of Lydia (corresponding to Asia Minor, i.e. modern Turkey) was described as possessing enormous amounts of gold. A story recalls that Croesus once showed his treasure to the Athenian statesman Solon who was paying him a visit. After displaying all his gold and artworks, Croesus asked Solon who the happiest man in the world was, expecting Solon to reply that it was surely him. Solon replied however that it was Tellus, an Athenian who had raised a family and fought and died for his country. When asking who the second happiest man was, Croesus was rebuked again with a negative answer. The style and moralising content of the story bears a high resemblance to the accounts on al-Musta‘ṣim's humiliation before his execution. Just like al-Musta‘ṣim, Croesus demonstrated misplaced confidence in his wealth, thinking it would allow him to defeat Persia. Eventually, he was defeated by the King of Persia and died humiliated and having lost his empire. His wealth was proverbial: “as rich as Croesus” one says. While these ancient Greek stories may seem far away to our modern critical eye, it is important to note that medieval writers relied on a repertoire of these symbolic stories and topoi in their writings. The ending line referring to the Caliph of the Arabs does confirm the idea that this text would have been written to cater to a Christian audience, one that viewed the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate negatively.

In later European accounts, the starvation episode becomes the actual cause of death of the Caliph who is made to die from hunger, surrounded by gold and treasures. This development, I would argue, is not linked to a lack of information around the event, or a confusion about the source material. It was a deliberate choice on the part of the writers to highlight a certain view of al-Musta‘ṣim and the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate. The Venetian explorer Marco Polo (d. 1324) was the first writer to mention the Caliph's death by starvation; he certainly influenced other European historians who relied on his account. In many cases, their reliance on his work is clearly attested. In others however, it is not. Before examining two accounts by Marco Polo and the Armenian baron Hayton, both selected for their original additions and legacy, let us look more closely at death by starvation and its meaning in late medieval Europe.

Though it was rare, starvation as an execution method for royals and nobles was considered one of the most humiliating types of death. It was a slow death, meant to inflict physical pain and torture the mind of the victim. More importantly, it was often inflicted on the basis of treason. In medieval Europe, well-known cases of execution by starvation and dehydration include Henry Tyrel in Ireland,Footnote ³⁹ and Maud de Braose and her son William in a dungeon in England.Footnote ⁴⁰ Starvation and immurement were also used as execution techniques in the Greek and Roman world: Livilla was condemned to death by starvation for treason in 31ce; the Roman Emperor Flavius Basiliscus died of starvation with his family while locked in a tower, after being deposed; and the Spartan commander Pausanias during the Greco-Persian wars was accused of treason and contacts with the Persian enemy (he was walled in a sanctuary and starved to death on those grounds). Because of its status as a humiliating death for royals, it is very likely that starvation was consciously chosen by our European writers. We can certainly assume this was the case for Marco Polo, who had travelled extensively in the Mongol Empire and had access to various local sources, all of which present a different story. We know from the extant sources that he had very close relations with the Mongol court. He and his family had particularly close links with Kubilai Khān (d. 1294),Footnote ⁴¹ and the family enjoyed being well received by the Mongol court.

Marco Polo's account can be found in his Travels, completed around 1300. His description of the death of the Caliph goes as follows:

If we compare this account with that of al-Ṭūsī, we notice that Marco Polo made several additions. Polo portrays a Caliph who remains silent during the rebuking of Hülegü, because “he does not know what to say”. His account, just like Akner's, is built around the idea of gold and treasures being of extraordinary quantity, with a tower full of gold, an element which has remained in the collective memory of Europe. Last, the Caliph dies four daysFootnote ⁴³ after being left without food or drink, secluded in his gold tower. These details are not to be found in the Arabic sources of the period. In order to understand his account however, it is important to look at the entire work. Polo's account is imbued with commentary on the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate, which, in the context of his overall work, was seen as an enemy empire, one that caused grief to Christians. The Travels includes several stories describing what he saw as the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate's anti-Christian actions. One example is a story that Polo includes under a section entitled “Of the great miracle of the mountain that occurred at Baudac [Baghdad]” in 1225, during which, we are told, many Christians were threatened with death by the Caliph for not converting to Islam. Polo explains that the Caliph delivered an ultimatum to the Christians of Baghdad using the Gospel of Matthew 17:20 in which Jesus highlights the possibility of moving mountains through prayer.Footnote ⁴⁴

Two important points need to be raised about this episode as it appears in Polo's work. The first is its placement: Polo breaks with chronology, putting this episode, which he argues took place in 1225, right after the fall of Baghdad in 1258. The second point is that not only is this event absent from all the sources of the period, but it is an event that took place in Fatimid Cairo three centuries earlier and known as the “miracle of Muqattam”.Footnote ⁴⁶ Polo used the main skeleton of this story while modifying a variety of details: for instance, while in the Muqattam story it is a Jewish figure, Yaʿqūb ibn Killis, who challenges the patriarch Abraham (also known as pope Abraam) to perform the miracle, in Polo's version it is the Caliph. It would be very difficult to defend the idea that Polo mistakenly attributed this event to have taken place under the ‘Abbāsids. Rather, he used a known and symbolical story in order to emphasise the ‘Abbāsids’ anti-Christian stand. What Polo suggests through his account is that death and destruction at the hands of the Mongols (and the Christians who participated in the army of Hülegü) came as a punishment from God for previous injustices against Christianity. In that context, the Mongols were seen as an ally against Islam.Footnote ⁴⁷ This idea of punishment is central in Polo's account: the fact that the Caliphate received what it had deserved is highlighted in other parts of his work. The literary tools used in the account of the murder of al-Musta‘ṣim are all meant to fulfil this purpose: they are didactic, all the while entertaining the audience with vivid and colourful happenings.Footnote ⁴⁸

The second account is by Hayton of Corycos (d. 1310), who might have used the work of Marco Polo, along with other Mongol sources. Hayton was an Armenian baron who left Armenia in 1305 to become a monk in Cyprus. During a trip to Avignon, he was received by Pope Clement V who asked him to compose his Oriental History with the title Flos Historianum Terre Orientis, originally dictated in Old French, with one Latin translation surviving.Footnote ⁴⁹ In Les Fleurs des Histoires de la Terre d'Orient, the death of the Caliph is described as follows:

Just like Polo's account, Hayton's story comprises embellishments as compared to earlier accounts; these additions were conscientious and deliberate narrative choices, in line with Hayton's political ideas. What we know of Hayton's own biography is helpful for understanding his account. Hayton spent most of his adult life fighting Muslim powers both on the battlefield and diplomatically. His work reflects a Christian point of view on Islam common at the time in Armenia and Western Europe. In other passages of this same work, Hayton explicitly criticises the Caliphate for the blood it had shed, and he rejoices at its destruction by the Mongols. One critical novelty in his work, however, is the fact that the Armenian King is said to have advised Mongke Khān, the Mongol Emperor, to destroy the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate and kill the Caliph. This information is mentioned before the description of the sack of Baghdad: upon their meeting, the King of Armenia presented seven requests to Mongke Khān, one of which was a request to put the Caliph to death. By emphasising this request, Hayton highlights the role played by the Armenian King in the end of the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate. In a sense, credit for the downfall of the Caliph is attributed to the Armenians and their King. The last chapter of Hayton's book ends with proposing a new crusade through an alliance with the Ilkhān.Footnote ⁵¹

Both Marco Polo and Hayton's accounts enjoyed wide circulation from the time that they were produced. Both remained very popular works in Europe for centuries, as attested by the number of extant manuscripts and translations. Marco Polo's book was translated into several vernacular languages, the Latin rendering alone amounting to over fifty extant manuscripts. Hayton's treatise was written in old French in 1307 and translated into Latin the same year by Nicolas Faucon. Over fifty manuscripts have survived, produced in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.Footnote ⁵² This explains why the story of al-Musta‘ṣim dying of starvation became so popular and widely circulated in Europe.

Moreover, the legacy of these works has continued into the modern period. Inspired by The Travels of Marco Polo, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (d. 1882) wrote a poem entitled Kambalu, first published in 1864 under the title “The Kalif of Baldacca”.Footnote ⁵³ The poem further popularised the myth of a Caliph starving to death in a tower symbolically named “the Tower of Gold”, his body looking like a crucified “statue of gold”:

Several conclusions can be drawn from the treatment of the Caliph's death in the accounts examined above. First, we note a degree of proximity between Mongol sources on the one hand, and European and Armenian accounts on the other. The starvation anecdote found in al-Ṭūsī's account was used and expanded in European and Armenian sources of the period. The diplomatic relations between Latin Christendom, Armenia post Mongol invasion, and the Mongols allowed for travel and intellectual exchange. Strengthening these political entities was the fact that they shared a common enemy: Islam and the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate. The Mongol armies of Hülegü included many ArmeniansFootnote ⁵⁵ and Georgians, while the Mongols held close contacts with the Christian West. In addition, the Ilkhāns conducted a considerable intellectual propaganda effort following their conquest of Persia. This is visible in the mass copying of manuscripts including Juwaynī's World History Footnote ⁵⁶ and Rashīd al-Dīn's Jāmiʿ al-Tawārīkh, which also mentions the starvation episode at length, though not as the cause of death.Footnote ⁵⁷

Second, the trajectory of the narrative indicates that Marco PoloFootnote ⁵⁸ was most probably the first writer outside the region to describe the cause of death as starvation. His account demonstrates an acquaintance with the history of the ‘Abbāsid Caliphate, but also a deliberate “manipulation” of dates and events, including the “miracle of Baudac”, examined earlier. This takes us to our next point, which is the fact that for Mongol, European and Armenian historians, al-Musta‘ṣim's death offered an opportunity to reflect on his rule as a sovereign. A low, humiliating death preceded with the admonishment of the Mongol ruler and expression of his own regrets and contrition was a means to delegitimise him as a ruler, and his dynasty; it was also a means to contrast his persona with that of a powerful and dignified Hülegü. For Marco Polo, the starvation episode was a means of expressing and conveying this message to his audiences. His account was written for a Christian audience in Latin Christendom: it focused on the stories and plight of Christian groups in Baghdad and was crafted around the main theme of unjust rule. It is important to note that at this time, conveying a viewpoint and a memory of the Caliphate in this case mattered more for the historian than portraying events exactly as they took place. Symbolism played a large role in these writings. Both Marco Polo and Hayton were certainly exposed to sources describing the death of the Caliph in a different fashion; starvation, however, was a choice they made deliberately because this death type would resonate with their audiences and made for an entertaining, humiliating and moralising story.

Supporting the argument that symbolism and conveying a message to the audience were more important to the historian than accuracy, the work of the Venetian historian Marino Sanudo offers another exuberant description of the death style of the ‘Abbāsid Caliph.

Melted gold poured down the Caliph's throat: punishing thirst for wealth

Marino Sanudo (d. circa 1334)Footnote ⁵⁹ composed The Book of the Secrets of the Faithful of the Cross (Secreta Fidelium Crucis) between 1306 and 1321. The following passage describes melted gold being poured down the Caliph's throat and causing his death:

Sanudo, however, is the only historian who mentioned this story. No other source, whether contemporaneous or later, contains a similar description of the last moments of the Caliph. Where did this story come from? How to explain its presence in Sanudo's account? It is no doubt a transfer from the old and popular story of the Roman general and political figure Marcus Licinius Crassus in 53 bc. Marcus Crassus had amassed a very large fortune composed of assets seized from those whom he declared enemies of the state. He was considered one of the wealthiest men in Roman history. Historians recall that Crassus, driven by his grudge, embarked on a military campaign to Parthia, where he was defeated by the Parthian King Orodes II. According to several accounts that have remained popular, Crassus was taken alive and executed by having melted gold poured down his throat, while being rebuked: “You thirst for gold, gold you must drink”.Footnote ⁶¹ The Parthians were said to have used this method in derision for their victim: it was symbolically meant to satisfy the victim's unquenchable thirst for wealth. This method of execution was also used by the Spanish during the Inquisition, and outside Europe in sixteenth-century Ecuador for instance. Such death was a method of torture, meant to inflict atrocious pain. It ruptured the victim's organs, burnt his lungs and eventually choked him.

Sanudo's book is one of the major literary works of the Middle Ages. It belongs to the genre of “recovery literature”, the purpose of which was to support attempts by the Christian West to reconquer the holy land. The book was written with the purpose of reviving the spirit of the Crusades; the first volume of the three composed was offered upon completion in 1307 to Pope Clement V as a manual to guide crusaders on their struggle to reconquer the holy land. The other two volumes completed between 1312 and 1321 were offered to Pope John XXII in 1321, as well as to the King of France.

The Secreta lays down a plan to reconquer crusading territory in two parts: first, the Muslim territories close to Europe (including Egypt, Syria, Asia Minor, North Africa and Andalusia) through trade restrictions, and second the further parts of the Muslim world including Palestine, up to the Indian Ocean. The double plan relies on help that would be provided by the Mongol allies, in particular the Ilkhāns. Hence, the description of the Mongols and of Hülegü is positive throughout the work, and in the episode of the Caliph's execution, the emphasis is placed on the punishment deserved by al-Musta‘ṣim with no mention of any atrocity or cruelty performed by Hülegü and his men.

To the contrary, the depiction of the death of the Caliph is humiliating, emphasising his greed, but it also entertains this audience by using literary topoi drawn from the Roman tradition. Throughout the work, pejorative references are made to Islam, such as the “filthy Mahumeth” in the passage above. It is no coincidence that Sanudo portrayed the Caliph's death in the manner he did; writing in the early fourteenth century, he must have been aware of previous European accounts of the sack of Baghdad and the death of the Caliph, in particular the work of Marco Polo, fellow Venetian and his predecessor. Among the other sources of his work was the Venetian nobleman Guglielmo Bernardi de Furvo, who had travelled extensively in the Middle East and visited both Baghdad and Tabriz.Footnote ⁶² The choices made when rendering the story of the death of the Caliph emphasise the fact that these accounts were full of symbolism and offered commentary on ‘Abbāsid rule. Let us turn now to another fashion of death: killing by the sword or by Hülegü's own hands.

Death by the sword or by Hülegü's own hands

Georgian sources tell us a different story of the execution of the Caliph. Most Georgian accounts as well as a few Armenian ones mention that the Caliph was killed by Hülegü himself, execution being undertaken by the sword.Footnote ⁶³ An examination of these accounts indicates that they are based on either oral or written sources emerging from the Kingdom of Georgia (which included Georgia proper, Armenia and large parts of the Caucasus),Footnote ⁶⁴ in particular Georgian/Armenian princes or military personnel in Hülegü's armies.

Most of these sources display two significant tendencies: first, they deny the Caliph an “honourable” death based on his status since he is killed violently and with no consideration for his royal descent; second, their portrayal of Hülegü is less lauding than in the Armenian accounts previously examined, since he appears rather cruel and unsophisticated. Slaying the Caliph would have been a most ignominious type of death, since it meant shedding his blood. The accounts, however, are not always precise about how he was slain, and whether he was beheaded for instance.Footnote ⁶⁵

Among these sources are accounts by Kirakos Gandzaketsi (d. 1271) and Vardan Areweltsi (d. 1271), both of which are critical in terms of posterity and showcase differences worth examining. Kirakos provides a detailed description of the fall of Baghdad in his History of the Armenians, Footnote ⁶⁶ started in 1241 and completed in 1265. Chapter eleven along with the subsequent ones are devoted to describing the events of his own day; they are considered the most important part of his work due to the details that they contain. His source was the Armenian Prince Pŕosh Khaghbakian, a participant and eyewitness of the conquest.Footnote ⁶⁷ Kirakos notes in his History that this Armenian lord told him directly about the events surrounding the invasion of Baghdad.Footnote ⁶⁸

This is one of the rare accounts to mention that the Caliph called Hülegü a dog: “You are a dog, a Turk. Why should I pay taxes to you or obey you?” was a reply that he sent to Hülegü who was asking him to submit.Footnote ⁷⁰ The portrayal of Hülegü is of a violent leader acting out of revenge: “now the dog of God shall devour you”, says Hülegü to the Caliph before killing him. These references, I would argue, are indirect criticism of the Mongols. Kirakos and his mentor Vanakan, along with others, were captured by Mongol forces in 1236 following the invasion of Tavush in Armenia. Kirakos and his fellow captees had to serve as secretaries for the Mongols during their imprisonment, and it is doubtful that they did so willingly, but rather had to comply for the sake of their own lives.Footnote ⁷¹ After several months of captivity, Kirakos managed to flee. Kirakos does mention in his work the need to write a history of the Mongols because “the evils caused by the Tatars (Mongols), conquerors of the Universe, surpasses all accounts”.Footnote ⁷² This comment certainly explains the tone of Kirakos’ account, whose work tends not to praise the Mongols. Moreover, the account of the Caliph's death belongs to a section composed after he escaped Mongol captivity, which allowed more leeway to express his opinion on his former tormentor. In his account, both Hülegü and the Caliph are symbolically criticised.

As for the death of al-Musta‘ṣim's sons, Kirakos tells us that one is slain like his father and the other offered as a sacrifice to the Tigris. This last execution method was quite common in the Mongol world and in the Ilkhānate later on: death by drowning was particularly applied for women, as was the case for the wife of the Georgian King David named Gontsa, executed on order of Hülegü.Footnote ⁷³ Kirakos has other sections in his work where he explains that Baghdad ought to be punished for the blood it had shed throughout its history. The ‘Abbāsid dynasty, in his view, was one of perversion, violence, and illegitimate rule:

A contemporary of Kirakos was Vardan Areweltsi (d. 1271), an Armenian cleric and author, who used Kirakos as a source for his own account. Vartan wrote an account in his Hawakumn Patmutean (Historical Compilation), composed soon after 1267.Footnote ⁷⁵ In this account, Vartan explains that Hülegü executed the Caliph with his own hands:

Vardan's account contains a number of errors, in particular dates and the spelling of names. Though he knew of Kirakos’ account,Footnote ⁷⁷ Vardan's narrative is different on several levels: it is shorter, with a different focus, but also less critical of Hülegü. The account contains information on Hülegü's wife and her role as protector of the Christian community of Baghdad during the invasion. The information we have from Vardan's biography is helpful as far as shedding light on the narrative choices that he made in his account. We know that Vardan was a priest and had a close relationship to Hülegü, who even confided to him that he had been a Christian since birth.Footnote ⁷⁸ In addition, Vardan was the confidant and religious adviser of Doquz Khatun, Hülegü's Christian wife, who acted as a patron of East Syria Christianity in the region after the Mongol capture of Baghdad. He was commissioned by HülegüFootnote ⁷⁹ and had the reputation of being a remarkable and very knowledgeable writer.Footnote ⁸⁰ In 1264, he played a significant role as negotiator in Tabriz when brokering an agreement that granted special privileges to Armenians living under the authority of the Mongol Empire, in particular in the field of taxes and levies. Unsurprisingly, the account is focused on the plight of Christians during the fall of Baghdad, drawing attention to their fate, and the fact that they were saved thanks to the intercession of Hülegü's Nestorian wife.

Just as Kirakos and Vardan's accounts differ on certain details, slight differences can be noted among the Georgian accounts of the period. In the Georgian Chronicles (Kartlis Tskhovreba), a collective work written between the ninth and fourteenth centuries, the fall of Baghdad is described in one of the last sections of the work. In this work, Hülegü deals the final blow to the Caliph, although he gave one of his commanders, Ilge Noyan, the order to do so previously.Footnote ⁸¹ The account includes a story of the Caliph attempting to flee by boat, one that is solely found in a Chinese miniature, and has its origins in the work of the Chinese historian and politician Song Lian (d. 1381).Footnote ⁸² More importantly, the account contains several details about the role played by the Georgian contingent in the conquest of the city: they are the ones who “opened the city gates and the Tatars entered”:

Another Georgian account by Gullielmus Adae (Guillaume Adam) explains that it was a Georgian Prince who dealt the blow to al-Musta‘ṣim.Footnote ⁸⁴ A certain status was associated with the person who dealt the final blow, and the fact that it was a Georgian Prince will have enhanced his position in the eyes of the readers. This particular description fits within the patterns of Gullielmus’ work, which has the tendency to highlight the role played by the Georgian troops who fought alongside them. Indeed, the historian often attributes Mongol victories to these Georgian troops.Footnote ⁸⁵

Death by the sword or by Hülegü's own hands—whatever that might involve—had implications in the context of our writers. Indeed, slaying the Caliph, and potentially shedding his blood, was a way of inflicting a highly ignominious death. We can suppose that these historians borrowed from one another and chose to tell a story that reflected an internal perspective on the last moments of the Caliph. Since the Georgian accounts mention eyewitnesses as their source, it is possible that this story was circulated among the Georgian contingent in Hülegü's army, down to our historians. That being said, reliance on a source seems to have been less important than didacticism if we consider the choices made by each of our historians examined here, in particular when it came to the details pertaining to how they described the Caliph, his very last moments, Hülegü, or even the Georgian contingent.

Rolled in a carpet and kicked/trampled to deathFootnote ⁸⁶

Most accounts on 1258 written close to the time of the invasion recall a different kind of execution for the Caliph: in these he was rolled in a sack or a carpet and trampled/kicked to death, either by the feet of soldiers or horses. This type of execution is to be found in most non-Western accounts: almost all Arabic sources of the period (late-ʻAbbāsid and Mamlūk accounts in particular), but also several Persian accounts (mostly written by Persian administrators of the Mongols). While these differ in some of the details given by the writers (whether a carpet or a sack was used, horses or men's feet), the main narrative remains the same.

The earliest extant account to mention this execution style is al-Jūzjānī (1193-?), the Persian historian who fled the Mongol invasions and migrated to the Delhi Sultanate, then the abode of Islam. Al-Jūzjānī 's account is narrated in his Ṭabaqāt-i Nāṣirī, a Persian chronicle composed in 1259-60 and commissioned by the Sultan of Delhi, Nāṣir al-Dīn Maḥmūd (r. 1227-29). On the death of the Caliph he writes:

Not only does Jūzjānī not include the starvation story, but his account includes details not to be found in the previously mentioned accounts. In his narrative, it is Hülegü who is rebuked by the son of the Caliph named Abū Bakr. Abū Bakr reproaches Hülegü for having tricked the ‘Abbāsid court by pretending that he had come to meet the Caliph and convert in person:

All elements in al-Jūzjānī's narrative serve an ultimate purpose: to emphasise that al-Musta‘ṣim died as a “martyr”, while upholding political and religious integrity until his very last moments. This gives him the upper hand on a moral and ethical level, despite his military defeat. The Caliph's portrayal contrasts with the description made of Hülegü and the Mongols: the latter used treachery to take over Baghdad and they never kept their word. The final words of the Caliph's son resonate as a lesson for the readers: though the Caliph and his descendants were killed, they died in dignity, having saved their honour by holding on to the core values of integrity and good leadership, these being absent in the Mongols’ behaviour.

Death by trampling is also described in the works of late Ayyūbid historians, and it is the most common execution in the Mamlūk chronicles. Aside these sources, which were clearly anti-Mongol, it is also to be found in a number of accounts by historians who worked for the Ilkhānid Mongols, including the works of the Christian historian Bar Hebraeus (d. 1286),Footnote ⁸⁹ the Arab historian (pseudonym) Ibn al-Fuwaṭī (d. 1323),Footnote ⁹⁰ the Persian writers Waṣṣāf (d. 1329)Footnote ⁹¹ and Qazvīnī (d. 1349),Footnote ⁹² and Ibn al-Kāzarūnī (d. 1298).Footnote ⁹³ Bar Hebraeus presents a very interesting case because this Syriac historian has two different accounts of the death of the Caliph in two of his works: while his Chronography composed in Syriac mentions that the Caliph was put in a sack and kicked (“they put him in a piece of sackcloth and then sewed it up round about him, and with kicks of their feet they killed him”),Footnote ⁹⁴ his Tārīkh Muktaṣar al-Duwal, addressed to an Arabic-speaking audience, is silent on the method of execution (“on the 14^th of Ṣafar Hulagu moved off from Baghdad; at the first halting-place, at night, he killed the Caliph al-Musta‘ṣim and his middle-son, together with six eunuchs”Footnote ⁹⁵).

Later Mamlūk accounts on the death of al-Musta‘ṣim and the work of Ibn al-Furāt (d. 1405)

Mamlūk historiography is characterised by common features, and there is an overall consensus on the death of the Caliph. He is described as having died trampled, usually as a martyr; the starvation episode is not mentioned. The later Mamlūk historians do not always afford detailed descriptions of the death of the Caliph: for instance, it is mentioned in a rather laconic manner in the works of Ibn Taymiyyah (d. 1328) and Ibn Kathīr (d. 1373). This does not mean that commentary is absent regarding either the event or the person of the Caliph: Ibn Kathīr mentions that the Caliph dies “maẓlūm” (treated unjustly).Footnote ⁹⁶ However, in these later works, commentary on the Mongols and the ‘Abbāsids is included in other sections of them, and so does not specifically have to take place in the account of the Caliph's death.

Among later Mamlūk accounts, the work of the Egyptian historian Ibn al-Furāt (d. 1405) deserves attention. While it does include the trampling execution of the Caliph, Ibn al-Furāt's Tārīkh al-Duwal wa al-Mulūk Footnote ⁹⁷ is the only Mamlūk account that mentions the starvation episode, as well as a conversation between Hülegü and the Caliph's son. Guy Le Strange, in his article ‘The Story of the Death of the Last ‘Abbāsid Caliph, from the Vatican MS of Ibn al-Furāt’,Footnote ⁹⁸ argued that Ibn al-Furāt might have met at the court of the ‘Abbāsids in Cairo people whose grandfathers had fled Baghdad in 1258. Le Strange, hence, proposed that the mention of the starvation episode by Ibn al-Furāt gave more validity to this story, since it had been mentioned in an Arabic chronicle for the first time. However, he also noticed that the account was “full of anecdotes”.Footnote ⁹⁹ Several points need to be made on this argument as this pertains directly to our analysis and the tendency of modern historians to look for facts rather than meaning in the medieval sources.

First, Ibn al-Furāt's mention of the starvation episode should not be interpreted as giving it greater historical validity. Rather, Ibn al-Furāt's work was characterised by its ambition to be comprehensive in scope and in the sources he used and cited. This means that the episodes and events mentioned often include various versions, allowing the audience to get a taste of the plurality of existing views. Ibn al-Furāt's work commonly cites Shī‘ī writers (such as Ibn Abī Ṭayyi’, d. 1228), as well as Christian sources (the Coptic historian Ibn al-‘Amīd, d. 1273, for instance), cited alongside Muslim ones considered more orthodox. Accordingly, I would argue, rather than lending more credibility to the story, the mention of the starvation episode by Ibn al-Furāt was made to demonstrate his own awareness of the story from other foreign sources. Moreover, in his account, the Caliph does not die of starvation: Ibn al Furāt explains that the Caliph and his son Abū Bakr were put in sacks and trampled to death.

A second significant point is that Ibn al-Furāt mentions a second anecdote, which is the immediate cause for the execution of the Caliph and his son. This anecdote, absent from most other sources but inspired by elements to be found in al-Jūzjānī 's work, describes an encounter between Hülegü, the Caliph, and the latter's son. When Hülegü started rebuking the Caliph, his son Abū Bakr interceded by screaming: “How do you address the Commander of the Faithful, oh Enemy of Allah? And he spat in the face of Hülegü”.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ This act immediately led Hülegü to execute both men. Abū Bakr's action is highly symbolical in this context: it redeems the honour of the ‘Abbāsids. Both men die as martyrs and heroes.

Other anecdotes are given by Ibn al-Furāt, all of them stressing martyrdom: a group of men from the Khanqahs, dressed in white, proceeded to the bridge and threw themselves off it, refusing to live after the martyrdom of their Commander. In Ibn al-Furāt's account, the Caliph does not express any regrets, which contrasts with Western and Mongol accounts attributing his death to starvation.

A last anecdote deserves attention: Ibn al-Furāt includes a rather lengthy mention of a white bird that came to roost on the tent where the Caliph was kept captive. This story is not accidental: it is a direct reference to the ḥadīth literature. When the Companion of the Prophet Muḥammad Ibn ‘Abbās (d. 687) died, a white bird is said to have alighted on his shroud and to have disappeared inside it. When the people looked for it, they could not find it. As they stood to pray over Ibn ‘Abbās’ body, they heard a voice saying: “Oh you soul in complete rest and satisfaction! Come back to your Lord well pleased and well pleasing (unto Him)! Enter then among My honoured and enter My Paradise!” These are verses from the Holy Qur'an, chapter al-Fajr, 89:27–30. The presence of the white bird anecdote in Ibn al-Furāt's work is a direct reminder for the reader of the death of Ibn ‘Abbās; since the death of al-Musta‘ṣim symbolised the end of the ‘Abbāsids, it is no surprise that a link was made with the dynasty's ancestor.

The women of the Caliph: rape, suicide, and martyrdom

Supporting our argument that medieval historians made conscious decisions with regard to how they described the Caliph's death and imbued their narratives with symbolism for their audiences, it is important to consider the fate of ‘Abbāsid women in these historical accounts. Upon their conquest of Baghdad, the Mongols not only put the Caliph to death, but they also dealt with his family members including the women of his harem. The sources do not always offer details on the fate of family members, but in some cases they provide information on his sons, daughters, wives, as well as the few who managed to flee to Cairo.

The description of the fate of the Caliph's female entourage is particularly interesting. A sharp contrast can be noted in the sources between accounts that emphasise the dishonour that these women suffered at the hands of the Mongols, and others that present sophisticated stories about how they managed to escape Mongol captivity and rape. For the purpose of the discussion here, I would argue, three groups of sources can be distinguished in relation to the topic.

The first group—composed of pro-Mongol sources written in Persian and more rarely in Arabic (in the case of Ibn al-Ṭiqtaqā)—includes accounts that mention the captivity of ‘Abbāsid women without demonstrating any obvious emotion. An example is the work of Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā in Kitāb al-Fakhrī: when describing the end of the Caliphate, Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā underlines that the Caliph's daughters were all “taken as captives”.Footnote ¹⁰¹ In this pro-Mongol work, Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā is overtly critical of the ‘Abbāsids and considers the end of their dynasty as fortuitous.Footnote ¹⁰² An Iraqi historian of Shī‘ī lineage, he held the title of “naqīb of the ‘Alīds”, just as his father had done before him. He wrote al-Fakhrī, a historical compendium of Islamic history, in which he narrated the events taking place in Baghdad in 1258, under a section entitled “The Caliphate of al-Musta‘ṣim bi-llāh”. Al-Fakhrī was composed in 1302 during his stay in Mosul for its ruler Fakhr al-Dīn ʿIisā b. Ibrāhīm. From his perspective, ‘Abbāsid rule was unjust, and the last Caliph deserved his end; countless examples in his work demonstrate his anti-‘Abbāsid stand, in particular due to the massacre of the Shī‘a by the Caliph's troops in the Karkh quarter of Baghdad in 1256.Footnote ¹⁰³ Highlightling the captivity of ‘Abbāsid women was a way to disgrace the family.

The second group—largely Muslim sources composed in Arabic—mentions that the three daughters of the Caliph—Fāṭimah, Khadījah and Maryam—became captives of the Mongols,Footnote ¹⁰⁴ and expresses various degrees of discontent at their fate. These accounts were composed by Muslim writers who were very critical of Mongol rule. Among these sources many poems by Muslim poets lament the end of the Caliphate and the ignominious tragedy that befell the women of the house of ‘Abbās, most notably their sexual humiliation. The famous elegy of Taqī al-Dīn Ismā‘īl ibn abī al-YusrFootnote ¹⁰⁵ (d. 1273)—mentioned in Dhahabī's Tārīkh al-Islām—asked:

The Persian poet Sa‘dī (d. 1292) expresses similar feelings in his poem on the fall of Baghdad, describing the “tearing apart of the women's veils during captivity”.Footnote ¹⁰⁷

In the face of these atrocities, a third group of writers made the deliberate choice of saving the honour of the ‘Abbāsid women. These are largely pro-‘Abbāsid sources distinguishable from others by the fact that they crafted extraordinary stories of ‘Abbāsid women escaping being harmed by the Mongols. Al-Jūzjānī is a first example of this trend. He expanded his account of the Caliph's martyrdom with a mention of the daughter of the Caliph who escaped rapeFootnote ¹⁰⁸ at the hands of the Mongols. As she was sent to Samarqand with a group of Mongol soldiers, al-Jūzjānī writes that:

This story recalls several Muslim traditions popular in the sub-continent and among both Sufi and Shī‘ī communities that describe the death of pious women who evaded danger and humiliation through martyrdom. The earth would open up and take them into its fold.Footnote ¹¹⁰ The tomb of Ruqaiya, the daughter of ‘Alī (the first imām in Shī‘ī Islam), was allegedly a place where six ladies from the household of the Prophet prayed for divine rescue when they were harassed and threatened by disgraceful treatment. Their collective prayer led the ground to split and they disappeared underground. A piece of cloth (or scarf) is believed to have remained visible for a time.Footnote ¹¹¹ Up to this day, the tomb of Bibi Pak Daman is venerated by Muslims in Pakistan. Another version of the legend relates that it was during the Mongol invasion of Lahore that six chaste and pious sisters (the daughters of Wali Allah Sayyad Ahmed Shah Tokhta) gathered outside the city to pray to Allah to bring about their demise as they feared captivity. An earthquake struck, and the women were buried alive.Footnote ¹¹² The fact that al-Jūzjānī was himself based in the Sultanate of Delhi is probably not a coincidence; he might well have been aware of these popular legends, their symbolic appeal and their likely impact on the reader's imagination.

Ibn al-Kāzarūnī and his student Ibn al-Fuwaṭī (d. 1323) provided further details of how Khadījah, who had been sent to Möngke by Hülegü, was honourably saved from Mongol captivity by her future father-in-law and Ibn al-Fuwaṭī's teacher.Footnote ¹¹³

Several Mamlūk historians included similar stories about women from the house of ‘Abbās being saved from dishonour. Tāj al-Dīn al-Subkī (d. 1370) provides one such story—not to be found in earlier accounts—of the wife of the Caliph being taken captive by Hülegü, who lusted after her. After trying to distract Hülegü with a series of precious objects in the Caliphal palace, she had to devise a trick with her servant in order to save herself from rape. The plot was as follows. The Caliph's wife pulled out a sword belonging to the Caliph and claimed that it was magical and would only inflict harm if used by the Caliph himself. She offered to demonstrate the sword's harmlessness upon her servant, who, as previously instructed, screamed their refusal. The Caliph's wife then asked the servant to try the sword on herself instead; the servant did so and split the Caliph's wife into two. Thus, she died and avoided dishonour. Several elements in the account recall popular stories, such as Scheherazade's trick to avoid being killed by King Shahriar in The Thousand and One Nights, but also ancient Greek narratives such as the fate of Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, who managed to postpone marrying one of her 108 suitors during her husband's absence. One of Penelope's ploys involved weaving a cloth:Footnote ¹¹⁴ “Young men, my wooers, since goodly Odysseus is dead, be patient, though eager for my marriage, until I finish this robe […]”.Footnote ¹¹⁵

Al-Malik al-Ashraf (d. circa 1390), the ruler of Yemen, has a story in which a sister of the Caliph named Sitt al-Sharaf (literally meaning “the lady of honour”) avoided ignominy at the hands of the Mongols. When she heard that the Mongols had set out for Baghdad in 1257, she began fasting and pleading with God that He take her soul so that she would not witness terror under Mongol captivity. Al-Malik al-Ashraf explains that she fell ill and died a few days later, God having answered her supplications.Footnote ¹¹⁶ This account not only redeems the honour of a female member of the ‘Abbāsid family, but also suggests that religiosity can save a person.

What these various accounts make clear is that the fate of ‘Abbāsid women was a significant topic of commentary and concern for historians of the time; it crystallised their historical consciousness. While some medieval historians made it a point to emphasise the debasement of ‘Abbāsid women by the Mongols, others lamented the humiliation generated, while a last group redeemed these women's honour through supernatural stories of female heroes escaping captivity. Such stories are important in so far as they build a memory of these women for audiences of the time as well as subsequent ones. Avoiding rape through supernatural stratagems was a topos in ancient Greek chronicles, and the parallels observed between them and medieval stories by Muslim historians underline the significance of symbolism in these accounts.Footnote ¹¹⁷