American Obelisks and Ottoman Calligraphy
guest contribution by ZOE GRIFFITH, Brown University
[1] Commemorative Plaque commissioned by Sultan Abdülmecid I, 1853 Washington Monument, Washington D.C. US National Parks Service. |
[2] View of the Washington Monument (const. 1848-84), with the White House in the background. US Navy |
What better way to mark the recent re-opening of
the U.S. government than with a blog post about the historic Ottoman stamp on
that great nation’s capital? (Well, one could just squint into the mid-distance
and shake one’s head slowly in wordless disbelief, but a blog post is a decent
alternative.) The Washington Monument, the 555-ft. stone obelisk piercing the
sky above the national mall in Washington, D.C., carries even from afar plenty
of physical and symbolic heft. [2] Leaving aside the cheap phallus jokes for the
moment, the monument channels the civilizational legacy of ancient Egypt—being deliberately
designed to conform to the proportions of pharaonic obelisks --and stood as the
tallest structure in the world at the time of its erection (sorry) in 1884; it
remains to this day the world’s tallest stone structure. As such, the monument’s exterior form alone speaks to the larger-than-life stature of George
Washington in mid-19th century American political discourse. Few
people, however, are aware that the interior of the Washington Monument
constitutes its own archive of mid-19th century political discourse
and international diplomacy carved in New Hampshire granite, Alaskan jade, and Parthenon marble: the monument’s inner
staircase is ringed with 198 commemorative stones solicited by Congress in the
1850s from local organizations, U.S. states, and foreign nations to help both defray
the enormous construction costs and cement relations between the
then-adolescent United States and powerful parties both at home and abroad.
One of the highlights of this architectural
archive is a 5 ft. x 3 ft. slab of carved marble donated to the United States
in 1853 by the Ottoman Sultan Abdülmecid I (r. 1839-61). [1] This intricate and
striking composition bears the work of two of the most important Ottoman
calligraphers of the mid-19th century, in the form of the tuğra (official monogram) of Abdülmecid
and an inscription in the celi ta’lik
style, attesting to the amity between the two states:
Devam-i
hulleti te’yid içün Abdülmecid
Han’ın
yazıldı nam-ı paki seng-i balaya Vaşinkton’da
In support of
eternal friendship, Abdülmecid
Han allowed his
honorable name to be written in the tall stone [memorial] in Washington
As the American recipients and subsequent
viewers of Abdülmecid’s marmoreal gesture could not have been expected to read
and understand the text of the calligraphic inscription, we have to ask what
message the Ottomans intended to communicate through the impressive form and
design of this commemorative stone. Reading into the context and visual cues of
the Ottoman contribution to the Washington monument speaks to a fascinating
moment in the history of Ottoman diplomacy, imperial identity, and the role of art and artists in the service of
the late Ottoman state.
[3] Commemorative Stone from the town of Salem, Massachusetts. US National Park Service. |
While most of the commemorative stones lining
the monument’s interior staircase are 2 ft. x 4 ft rectangles with relatively
simple, sometimes austere designs, [3] the
Ottoman contribution is larger and striking in its triptych composition,
architectural theme and lavish yet tasteful decoration. Even for an audience of
non-Ottomans, the message communicated by Abdülmecid’s stone would have
resonated clearly: this calligraphic offering, etched in white marble and originally
gilded in gold leaf, was intended to emphasize the sultan’s prestige,
generosity, and ability to mobilize resources in the form of precious metal and
stone, human skill, and cultural heritage. For the “sick man of Europe,” an
invitation to send a chunk of rock to the struggling United States was an
opportunity to carve out an enduring image of continued wealth, power, and
relevance. At the same time, the fact that they chose to represent themselves in
a monumental work of classical Ottoman calligraphy is significant. As Selim Deringil has shown for the Hamidian period,
Tanzimat-era statesmen boldly asserted the empire’s presence on the mid-19th
century political stage even as they made sure to emphasize the empire’s
distinctive Islamic identity. In this way, they insisted that the empire’s
greatness lay not only in its engagement with modern technology and diplomacy,
but also in its own traditions and innovative power.
[4] Tuğra (imperial seal) of Sultan Abdülmecid I found in the Kadiköy Iskele Mosque of Mustafa III. Modified by Stambouline in order to better see the full title of the sultan (Abdülmecid Han bin Mahmud el-muzaffer daima). Original image from the websıte Kitabeler. |
The inscription at the bottom of the piece was
written by Kadıasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi, one of the most highly regarded
calligraphers of the mid-19th century. Clearly, the Ottomans wanted
to bring their best to bear on the inscription they sent to Washington. Mustafa İzzet Efendi was
no stranger to high-profile, monumental works of calligraphy, having also
executed the the massive medallions that ring the dome of the Hagia Sofia in
Istanbul in the late-1840s. [5]
[5] Roundel featuring the name of 'Ali, designed by Kadıasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi in the late 1840s. Hagia Sophia, Istanbul. Photo by Emily Neumeier. |
Since the emergence of distinctly Ottoman
scripts and genealogies of master calligraphers with the school of Şeyh
Hamdullah in the late-15th century, calligraphy had occupied a place
of unparalleled prestige in the Ottoman artistic environment. Artistic standards and genealogical chains
endured and flourished in the 19th century, a period which also saw
the rising prestige of art forms originating in Western Europe and what some
viewed as the “deterioration” or disappearance of more traditional art forms. Up
until the present day, master calligraphers continue to train their successors
through a rigorous but ultimately informal (non-institutional) process of
personalized instruction, with an emphasis on perfect imitation of the works of
other masters. Most master calligraphers in the Ottoman empire had traditionally
led double lives, drawing a regular salary from state service as scribes,
teachers, or judges in the imperial bureaucracy or judiciary, and practicing
and teaching their art in its spiritual and aesthetic dimensions as a higher
calling. Thus, with the fateful exception of the Ottoman Calligraphers’ College
(Medrese-tül Hattatin), which opened its doors in 1914, the state had no direct
role to play in the training or certification of Ottoman calligraphers. At the
same time that the Ottoman state drew heavily on the skills of master
calligraphers in the mundane running of imperial affairs, however, it also
relied on the enduring prestige and standards of calligraphy in an effort to
communicate a symbolic program of imperial grandeur, continuity, and piety at
home and abroad through the 19th century.
One has to wonder if the Ottomans were aware
that this marble masterpiece now located in Washington D.C. would wind up largely hidden from public view, visible
to only a handful of intrepid visitors. Nevertheless, opulent materials and
Islamic scripts were easily recognizable markers of the identity that
late-Ottoman statesmen wanted to convey to high-profile onlookers. Asked to
contribute a stone in commemoration of the founder of the United States, the
Ottomans simply rocked it.
DERMAN, M. Uğur. “An Ottoman Gift to America.” Trans. by Mohamed Zakariya. Seasons (Spring-Summer 2005): 112-116.
SCHICK, Irvin Cemil. “The Iconicity of Islamic Calligraphy in Turkey.” Res 53 – 54(2008): 220 – 21.
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Thank you. This is a very interesting and complete post. We just saw an exhibition of the work of Kadıasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi at Topkapi Palace. It was a surprise to learn that his work was inside the Washington Monument.
ReplyDeletePerhaps the most unique and interesting part of your post was the image that deciphers the signature of the sultan. I had wondered, but never understood, how those signatures were formed.
Thanks very much.