Asterius of Amasea’s Euphemia ekphrasis

Asterius of Amasea, a late-fourth-century Christian bishop with oratorical training, began a speech thus:

The other day, gentlemen, I had the great Demosthenes in my hand — that {oration} of Demosthenes in which he assails Aeschines with bitter words. I spent a long time with the text, and as my spirit was burdened, I needed the distraction of some walk, so that my soul could recover a bit from her labour.[1]

Asterius walked through the marketplace, readily imagined as filled with vendors noisily asserting the value of their products, and on to a temple, where he prayed. Near to the temple on a portico wall he saw a painting that “overtook me completely.”  The painting seemed almost alive, like a masterpiece of Euphranor from fourth-century democratic Athens, or like a painting of other ancient masters.[2]  The painting represented the martyrdom of the virgin Euphemia.[3]  It marked the place of her tomb.  Euphemia was annually honored at that place with a festival and public speeches.  Asterius’ speech then proceeds to a verbally artistic description of the painting.  Asterius’ speech, with its framing narrative and attention to a painting described as seeming almost alive, follows a well-established rhetorical model of ekphrasis.

In the midst of his ekphrasis, Asterius praises painting with reference to a garlanded ekphrastic epigram.  In the first century BGC, Timomachus painted the Colchian woman Medea at the moment preceding her decision to kill her children.  Julius Caesar purchased this painting and placed it in the Roman temple of Venus Genetrix. A couplet by Antipater of Thessalonica, who probably resided in Rome near the end of the first century BGC, described Timomachus’ painting:

This is a sketch of Medea.  Observe how she lifts one eye in anger,
and softens the other with pity for her children.[4]

Asterius describes a painting showing:

the drama of that woman of Colchis, how she is going to kill her children with the sword, her face divided between pity and anger — one of her eyes looking with wrath, the other revealing the mother in fear and sorrow.

Asterius is probably referring to Timomachus’ celebrated painting.  An extensive scholarly study of Timomachus’ Medea and ekphrastic epigram noted of Antipater’s epigram:

The rather awkward description of the eyes {of Medea}, one lifted in anger and one drooping with compassion, is not repeated in other epigrams and would seem to reflect the interpretation of the viewer/poet based on his knowledge and understanding of the Medea figure.[5]

Asterius could not himself have seen Timomachus’ painting, which burned in 80 GC.  Antipater’s epigram on Timomachus’ Medea circulated widely and was included in the Greek Anthology.  Asterius’ unusual description of Timomachus’ painting probably came from Antipater’s ekphrastic epigram.

Asterius’ homily on the rich man and Lazarus sets up the narrative arc for Asterius’ Euphemia ekphrasis. Expounding upon the description of the rich man “clothed in purple and fine linen,” Asterius condemns the wearing of clothes decorated with pictorial designs:

having found some idle and extravagant style of weaving, which by the twining of the warp and the woof, produces the effect of a picture, and imprints upon their robes the forms of all creatures, they artfully produce, both for themselves and for their wives and children, clothing beflowered and wrought with ten thousand objects. … When, therefore, they dress themselves and appear in public, they look like pictured walls in the eyes of those that meet them. And perhaps even the children surround them, smiling to one another and pointing out with the finger the picture on the garment; and walk along after them, following them for a long time. On these garments are lions and leopards; bears and bulls and dogs; woods and rocks and hunters; and all attempts to imitate nature by painting.[6]

Painting imitating nature evokes the contest of deception between the ancient Greek painters Zeuxis and Parrhasius.  As Asterius observed, a painting that imitates nature could also bring to life teaching about the courage and holiness of the martyr Euphemia.  Emphasizing luxury, vanity, and complacency, not epistemological concerns about imitation, Asterius vehemently rejected depictions of Gospel text on garments:

such rich men and women as are more pious, have gathered up the gospel history and turned it over to the weavers; I mean Christ himself with all the disciples, and each of the miracles, as recorded in the Gospel. You may see the wedding of Galilee, and the water-pots; the paralytic carrying his bed on his shoulders; the blind man being healed with the clay; the woman with the bloody issue, taking hold of the border of the garment; the sinful woman falling at the feet of Jesus; Lazarus returning to life from the grave. In doing this they consider that they are acting piously and are clad in garments pleasing to God. But if they take my advice let them sell those clothes and honor the living image of God. Do not picture Christ on your garments. It is enough that he once suffered the humiliation of dwelling in a human body which of his own accord he assumed for our sakes. So, not upon your robes but upon your soul carry about his image.

Do not portray the paralytic on your garments, but seek out him that lies sick. Do not tell continually the story of the woman with the bloody issue, but have pity on the straitened widow. Do not contemplate the sinful woman kneeling before the Lord, but, with contrition for your own faults, shed copious tears. Do not sketch Lazarus rising from the dead, but see to it that you attain to the resurrection of the just. Do not carry the blind man about on your clothing, but by your good deeds comfort the living, who has been deprived of sight. Do not paint to life the baskets of fragments that remained, but feed the hungry. Do not carry upon your mantles the water-pots which were filled in Cana of Galilee, but give the thirsty drink.

During the Second Council at Nicea in 787, which met to address Christians’ use of images, Asterius’ homily on the rich man and Lazarus was put forward as an argument against images.  Asterius’ Euphemia ekphrasis was then read into the record in support of images.  The Second Council at Nicea’s arguments about Asterius’ position on images communicatively parallel Demosthenes and Aischines’ agon introducing the narrative frame for the Euphemia ekphrasis.  Given Asterius’ explicit praise for painting in the Euphemia ekphrasis, Asterius could have easily anticipated that wearisome verbal development.

At its end, the Euphemia ekphrasis suspends representations. In a poignant but conventional gesture, Asterius responds with tears to the depiction of an executioner knocking out all of Euphemia’s teeth. But his ekphrasis continues through his tears: Asterius goes on to describe Euphemia alone, in prison, dressed in grey clothes, praying, with a Christian cross inscribed above her head.  Then the execution:

the painter lit a tremendous fire, with red colour giving life to the flame from all sides.  He put her in the middle with her hands stretched towards heaven.  No burden is manifested by her face; on the contrary, she looks rejoicing because she moves towards the bodiless, blessed life.

At this point, the Euphemia ekphrasis ends with deliberate choices to halt painting and speech:

Here the painter stayed his hand and I my speech.  It is time for you, if you want, to complete the description, so that you can see with precision whether our explanation was not failing.

Completing the description implies imagining a “bodiless, blessed life” like that towards which the “courageous and holy” Euphemia moves.  In a similar way, the original textual ending to Mark’s Gospel implied readers moving beyond terror, amazement, silence, and fear to build the church.[7]  Fourth-century homilies on martyrs emphasized that homage corresponds to imitation.[8]  The Euphemia ekphrasis, like the original ending to Mark’s Gospel, points to imaginative completion and inspired action.  That’s different from compelling arguments, such as those that wearied Asterius at the beginning of the narrative frame, or a call to imitation, which was the usual form in recounting martyrdom.

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Notes:

[1] Trans. Leemans et al (2003) p. 174.  All the references to Asterius’ speech are from that translation.  Castelli (2000) seems to me a worse quality translation.  For example, Castelli’s translation omits any mention of the painter Euphranor, even though that painter is explicitly mentioned in the Greek source.  Nonetheless, with the exception of the reference to Euphranor, all the points above are consistent with Castelli’s translation.  Demosthenes and Aeschines were prominent orators in fourth-century BGC Athens.

[2] Coulson (1972) argues convincingly that Euphranor was an Athenian painter who probably flourished about 360 BGC.  Thus Asterius’ reference to Domesthenes and Aeschines matches the historical time and place of his reference to Euphranor.

[3] Euphemia was from Chalcedon, a city close to Byzantium.  She was executed for her Christian faith in 303 GC as part of Roman Emperor Diocletian’s persecution of Christians.  See Castelli (2000) p. 464.  Asterius was from Amasea, in the middle of the Black Sea region of present-day northern Turkey.

[4] See my post on media in epigrams on Timomachus’ Medea.  Asterius compares that painting’s mixture of emotions to Euphemia’s mixture of docility and courageous determination. Leemans et al (2003) translates the emotions as “shame and firmness”; Castelli (2000), “modesty and courage”. The conflicting emotions concern a willingness to be led (which in antiquity was associated with femininity) and a determination not to compromise or betray her Christian faith despite an authoritative order to do so.

[5] Gutzwiller (2004) p. 364.

[6] Trans. Pearse (2003).  The subsequent quote is also from that source.

[7] See Mark 16:8, which manuscript evidence suggests was the original conclusion to that Gospel.  Asterius’ Euphemia ekphrasis is consistent with such a form for the Gospel.

[8] Driver (2005) p. 254.

References:

Castelli, Elizabeth A. 2000. “Asterius of Amasea: Ekphrasis on the Holy Martyr Euphemia.” Ch. 39 in Valantasis, Richard. 2000. Religions of late antiquity in practice. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

Coulson, William D. E. 1972. “The Nature of Pliny’s Remarks on Euphranor”. Classical Journal. 67 (4): 323-326.

Driver, Lisa D Maugans. 2005. “The Cult of Martyrs in Asterius of Amaseia’s Vision of the Christian City”. Church History. 74 (2): 236.

Gutzwiller, Kathryn.  2004.  “Seeing Thought: Timomachus’ Medea and Ecphrastic Epigram.” American Journal of Philology 124, pp. 339-386.

Leemans, Johan, Wendy Mayer, Pauline Allen, and Boudewijn Dehandschutter. 2003. ‘Let us die that we may live’ Greek homilies on Christian Martyrs from Asia Minor. London: Routledge.

Pearse, Roger. 2003.  Asterius of Amasea, Sermons (1904), trans. Anderson and Goodspeed.

making music and video creation easy and fun

Music and video editing programs have been bulky, buggy, and frustrating.  I use Adobe Premier Elements for editing video.  Despite my quite powerful desktop computer, Adobe Premier Elements runs sluggishly.  The interface for doing simple, standard tasks like making titles is harrowing.  I’ve stopped buying updates for Premier Elements because the program is never made better, only worse.  I enjoy making videos despite the continual annoyances that Adobe Premier Elements provides.

Magix Music Maker for making music is even worse.  Magix Music Maker never ran correctly for me from its first installation.  It crashed with “Visual C++ Runtime error! …abnormal program termination” and “can’t find file” errors.  After wasting much time in futile correspondence with Magix, I decided to uninstall Music Maker.  Music Maker did a dirty uninstall, leaving much Music Maker crap on my computer.  I would enjoy just playing around with making music. My experience with Magix Music Maker was about as enjoyable as a harsh flogging.

Companies that offer an enjoyable way to transform creatively music and video have a large potential market.  Much established software, e.g. Abode software, seems mired in the idea of editing as a painful chore.  Magisto’s solution is to automate the whole editing process.  YouTube is also providing new means for easy, fun video creation.  The new GarageBand for iPad apparently is an enjoyable application.  The challenge isn’t just to produce software that actually works.  It’s also to enable users to enjoy performing creative transformations.  Much space exists for software to deliver more value in that way.

astrologers and physicians in ancient intellectual competition

Astronomy and astrology originally developed as royal services for setting governing calendars and ensuring godly favor for a community.  Ancient writers considered astronomy and astrology to be largely coextensive areas of knowledge.[1]  In the Hellenistic world under the Roman Emperor Augustus, astrology rapidly gained value as astrologers offered personalized predictions based on natal star-signs and offered personalized advice on auspicious times for particular actions.[2]  Astrological knowledge became one type of expertise claimed among mass-market personal service providers.

Like an astronomer-astrologer, a physician offered personal prognoses and prescriptions.  The personal health of a ruler was of great concern to the ruler and to his subjects.  Fear of poisoning stimulated royal interest in medical antidotes.  Wealthy elites showed their status by seeking royal health care.  At the same time, sickness and ill health are a universal human concern.  Medical knowledge was another type of expertise among mass-market personal service providers.

Given the difficulty that consumers had in judging expertise and evaluating outcomes, expert disciplinary solidarity played a key role in preserving knowledge value among astrologers and physicians.  They typically divided medical services, with physicians prescribing the nature and treatment of illness, and astrologers prescribing the timing of treatment.  This market division, like most such agreements among potential competitors, was fragile.  A top-end consumer of medical services in Baghdad under al-Rashīd’s caliphate (786-809 GC) organized service provision to respond to potential inconsistencies in knowledge claims:

Yūsuf ibn Ibrahim, the astrologer known as Ibn al-Dāyah, reports that Umm-Ja`far, the daughter of Abū al-Fadl {al-Fadl ibn al-Rabī, al-Rashīd’s vizier}, had a hall in the castle of `Isā ibn `Alī, where she lived, in which she assembled only astrologers and physicians.  She would never complain about an illness to a physician without having all the men of the two above-mentioned professions come and wait in that hall until she entered. … She then described whatever she was suffering from, and the physicians held council among themselves until they reached a unanimous decision as to the nature of the illness and its treatment.  If there was a difference of opinion, the astrologers would intervene and defend the view that seemed right to them. The patient would then ask the astrologers to choose a suitable time for the treatment.  If they agreed unanimously, there was nothing more to be said, but if not, the physicians would examine the different views and pronounce the one that seemed the most logical to them.[3]

Personal concern for a patient’s welfare sometimes trumped professional solidarity:

Al-Jadid, the mother of al-Rashīd’s son, was suffering from colic. She sent for `Isā {the physician `Isā ibn Hakam of Damascus} and the two astrologers al-Abakh and al-Tabari, and then asked `Isā’s opinion concerning her treatment. `Isā reports: “I told her that the condition of her entrails was grave, and that if she did not counteract it immediately with an enema, her life was in danger. She turned to al-Abakh and al-Tabarī, saying: Choose the time for my treatment for me.’ Said al-Abakh: ‘Your illness is not of a kind whose treatment may be postponed to a time recommended by the astrologers. My advice is that you start treatment without any astrological preliminaries; `Isā ibn Hakam agrees with me in this.’ She turned again to me, and I confirmed al-Abakh’s pronouncement. Al-Tabari, asked for his opinion, said: ‘Tonight the moon is with Saturn, tomorrow it will be with Jupiter. I advise you to postpone treatment until the conjunction of the moon with Jupiter.’ Al-Abakh protested: ‘I fear that by the time the moon is with Jupiter the illness will have reached a stage where there is no more call for treatment.’ Al-Jadid died before the moon reached Jupiter. When it did, al-Abakh said to Muhammad’s mother {al-Tabari’s mother}: ‘This is the time chosen by al-Tabari for the treatment. Now where is the patient?’ This remark made her still angrier, and she bore a grudge against him right up to her death.”[4]

The illustrious Bakhtīshū` family of physicians acquired expertise in both medicine and astrology.  Yūhannā ibn Bakhtīshū` wrote a book on what a physician ought to know of astrology.[5]  Bakhtīshū ibn Jibrā’īl ibn Bakhthīshū` used astrology to time his prescriptions:

Bakhtīshū` used to prescribe enema when the moon was in conjunction with a comet and thereby cured colic on the spot. He used to prescribe the drinking of a medicine when the moon was facing Venus and thus cured the patient the same day. [6]

While some questioned astrological knowledge, Bakhtīshū` apparently sincerely believed in such knowledge:

At the end of his service, Bakhtīshū` said to {Caliph} al-Muhtadī: “O Emir of the Faithful, I have never fallen ill or taken a medicine for forty years now, but the astrologers have decided that I will die this year. I am not grieved at dying, but at having to leave you.” Al-Muhtadī talked to him kindly and said: “The astrologers are rarely right.”[7]

In early-twelfth-century Baghdad, Ibn al-`Ainzarbī “applied himself to medicine and the philosophical sciences and became proficient in them, especially in astrology.”  He became “one of the most outstanding masters of the medical art.”  Al-`Ainzarbī’s knowledge of astrology helped him through a difficult period early in his career after he had moved from Baghdad to Cairo:

An envoy from Baghdad who had been acquainted with Ibn al- `Ainzarbī in that city and knew him as a person of wide learning, came to Egypt.  While walking along a street in Cairo, he suddenly saw Ibn al-`Ainzarbī sitting there practicing fortune-telling for a living.  He recognized him and greeted him, wondering why a man of such great learning, a first-rate expert in medicine, should be in such a sorry condition.  He kept the incident in mind and, on meeting the Vizier, mentioned Ibn al-`Ainzarbī in the course of the conversation, pointing out his great knowledge and experience in medicine, etc.  He remarked that the people were unaware of his worth and that a person of his caliber should not be disregarded. The Vizier eagerly desired to meet ibn al-`Ainzarbī. He sent for him and, on listening to him, was much impressed and was convinced of his talents and eminence in science.  He spoke about him to the Caliph, who awarded him such a stipend as befitted a man like him.  Presents from court dignitaries now reached him continually.[8]

In this account, practicing fortune-telling is not disreputable.  Practicing fortune-telling in the street for a living is a sorry status relative to practicing medicine and fortune-telling under the patronage of the caliph’s court.

Astrology was highly valued in the intellectually vibrant ancient Islamic world.  Nafi ibn al-Harith, a prominent Arab physician-scholar who died in 670, prescribed the time for bloodletting in terms of the phase of the moon.[9]  The Bakhtīshū family of physicians, who served Abbasid caliphs for three centuries, claimed and applied astrological knowledge.  Prominent “Islamic Golden Age” physicians and scholars claiming astrological knowledge include the “father of Arab philosophy” al-Kindī, court astrologer, and European source for Aristotle’s theories of nature Abū Ma`shar al-Balkhī, court intellectual Ahmad ibn al-Tayyib al-Sarakhsī, the prolific and influential polymath al-Rāzī, al-Rāzī’s teacher and encyclopedist Abu al-Hasan Ali ibn Sahl Rabban al-Tabari,  the influential physician and medical author Ibn Butlān, and many others.[10]  In word count frequencies in Ibn Abi Usaibia’s History of Physicians, astrology on its own ranks in the middle of the educational subjects of the quadrivium.  If astrology and astronomy are considered together, study and interpretation of the stars was a leading subject, significantly behind only philosophy.

Astrology is a difficult subject for post-Enlightenment scholars.  The ancient Islamic world was much more intellectually open, productive, and vibrant than pre-Enlightenment Europe.  An intellectually open, productive, and vibrant world is associated with contemporary rationality.  Not surprisingly, a prominent contemporary scholar of Islamic/Arabic medicine declared that “by and large, astrological considerations play only a small part in Arabic medicine.”[11]  Another knowledgeable scholar has attracted less attention with this statement:

In the course of research on Arabic Medicine, I became aware of the significant role Astrology played at the thriving age {Islamic Golden Age} of this art.  Astrology lived by no means an obscure life in Islam.  On the contrary, it attracted many intellectual minds also among Arab physicians, despite heavy attacks from its opponents.[12]

The historical evidence seems to me to favor decisively the significance of astrology in the ancient Islamic world.  Given the intellectual vibrancy of the ancient Islamic world, and of our own, could there be an equivalent of astrology in leading intellectual thought today?

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Data: subject frequencies in Ibn Abi Usaibia’s History of Physicians (HP) (Excel version)

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Notes:

[1] Barton (1994) p. 32.  Claudius Ptolemy (90-168 GC), a Roman citizen of Egypt, wrote both the Almagest, a leading treatise on astronomy, and Tetrabiblos, a large and influential work on astrology.

[2] Barton (1994) pp. 40-54.  Emperor Augustus was prominently recognized as being born under the sign of Capricorn.

[3] HP pp. 249-50.  The study of astrology in relation to medicine is sometimes called iatromathematics, a term that seems designed to give such study respectability.  Ibn Abi Usaibia wrote, in addition to History of Physicians, another book entitled, The Successful Astronomers.  HP p. 507.

[4] HP p. 229.  Other astrologers that al-Jadid regularly employed included “al-Hasan ibn Muhammad al-Tamimi from Tūs, known as al-Abahh; `Ūmar ibn al-Farkhān al-Tabarī and the Jew Shw’ayb.”  “Shw’ayb” probably represents the family name Schaub / Schwab.

[5] HP p. 389.  Sections of that book have been preserved in Ḥanūn ibn Yūḥannā Ibn al-Ṣalt’s book, Astrological Medicine.  See Klein-Franke (1984) pp. 100-109.  Al-Salt was a colleague of Hunayn’s son, Ishaq (Ishaq ibn Hunayn).

[6] HP p. 276.

[7] HP p. 266-7.

[8] HP pp. 721-722. The previous information and short quote on al- `Ainzarbī are from id.

[9] In a fictitious dialogue with Persian King Khosrau I, Nafi ibn al-Harith declared:

{Cupping} should be done when the moon is on the wane, on a fine day with no clouds and when the patient has a good disposition, when his blood flows calmly because of joy experienced and anxiety kept at bay.

HP p. 210. This astrological knowledge endured for centuries.  Ibn Butlān, a prominent physician and author in the eleventh-century Islamic world, observed:

The astrologers perform phlebotomy only when the moon is waning, so that the patient is in the condition appropriate for the purpose of bloodletting.

Klein-Franke (1984) p. 70, from the appendix to Ibn Butlān’s Physician’s Party.

[10] Ullmann (1978), p. 112, notes that al-Rāzī’s large medical encyclopedia al-Hawi includes “a short section on the influence of the stars on the crises of illnesses.”  Ibn Abi Usaibia records a astrological saying of al-Rāzī:

The movements of the planets lengthwise and widthwise determine the changes of natures and humors.

HP p. 542. Klein-Franke (1984), pp. 124-135, provides an English translation of astrological excerpts from Abū Ma`shar’s Kitab al-Mudhal al-Kabir.  Here’s some of Ibn Butlān’s analysis:

Since the Sirius star appeared in the year 445/1053 in the sign of the Gemini, which is the ascendant of Egypt, the plague in Fustāt was caused by the Nile’s failure to rise. So Ptolemy’s prediction {Claudius Ptolemy, probably from his Tetrabiblos} — Woe to the people of Egypt when one of the meteors causing melting establishes itself in the Gemini — came true. And when Saturn entered the sign of the Scorpion, the devastation of Iraq, Mosul and al-Jazirah became complete, habitations in Bakr, Rabī ‘ah, Mudar, Fāris, Kirmān, the Maghrib, Yemen, Fustāt and Syria became deserted, the position of the kings of the earth became precarious and wars, death and plagues abounded. Ptolemy’s statement that if Saturn and Mars came into conjunction in the sign of the Scorpion the world would be wrecked had thus come true.

HP pp. 465-6.

[11] Ullmann (1978) p. 114. Isaacs (1990) p. 363 echoes that evaluation.

[12] Klein-Franke (1984) preface.

References:

Barton, Tamsyn. 1994. Power and knowledge: astrology, physiognomics, and medicine under the Roman Empire. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

HP: Ibn Abi Usaybi’ah, Ahmad ibn al-Qasim. English translation of History of Physicians (4 v.) Translated by Lothar Kopf. 1971. Located in: Modern Manuscripts Collection, History of Medicine Division, National Library of Medicine, Bethesda, MD; MS C 294. Online transcription.

Isaacs, Haskell D. 1990. “Arabic Medical Literature.” In Young, M. J. L., J. D. Latham, and R. B. Serjeant. 1990.  Religion, learning, and science in the ʻAbbasid period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Klein-Franke, Felix, Ḥanūn ibn Yūḥannā Ibn al-Ṣalt, and Abū Maʻshar. 1984. Iatromathematics in Islam: a study on Yuhanna Ibn aṣ-Ṣalt’s book on Astrological medicine. Hildesheim: G. Olms.

Ullmann, Manfred. 1978. Islamic medicine. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

translation of Indian texts into Arabic under the Abbasids

Particular personal relations facilitated the movement of texts from India into the ancient Islamic world.  Abbasid Caliph al-Mahdi, who reigned from 775-785, took as one of his wives a slave-girl from Yemen, al-Khayzuran.  She acquired considerable courtly power and built political alliances with the Barmakids.  The Barmakids were a family that came from high-ranking Buddhist priests in the ancient city of Balkh in present-day northern Afghanistan.  When Hārūn al-Rashīd became caliph in 786, he appointed as his vizier Yahya ibn Khalid of the Barmakids.  Yahya invited Indian scholars to Baghdad and encouraged the translation of Indian texts into Arabic.

Indian texts commonly were first translated into Persian and then into Arabic.  In the sixth century, a Persian scholar translated the Panchatantra, an Indian wisdom book, for the Persian King Anushirvan.  In the eighth century, Caliph al-Mansūr‘s scribe translated it into Arabic.[1]  During al-Rashīd’s caliphate, the Indian physician and philosopher Manka translated into Persian an Indian text, “On Poisons.”  That text apparently was part of the Arthasastra, an ancient text attributed to the Indian scholar Chāṇakya (c. 350–283 BGC).  Yahya ibn Khalid then arranged to have the Persian version translated into Arabic.[2]  The Persian physician al-Rāzī drew extensively on Indian medical works.[3]  Al-Rāzī’s work, in turn, was highly influential in the ancient Islamic world.

When the Barmakids fell from courtly power in 803, the appointment of Indian scholars in Baghdad stopped.[4]  The Bakhtishu, who retained courtly influence, were proponents of Greek scholarship.  The shift in political power from the Barmakids to the Bakhtishu probably produced a shift in scholarly investment from Indian thought to Greek thought.  Nonetheless, in eleventh-century Granada in present-day southern Spain, a prominent Arabic geometrician drew up astronomical tables “according to one of the Indian systems, known as Sindhind.”[5]

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Notes:

[1] HP p. 531.  The book, titled “Kalila wa-Dimna” in English transliteration of the Arabic, is of the “mirrors for princes” genre.  The Persian physician-scholar Barzawaih (Borzūya) translated it from Sanskrit into Persian.  `Abd Allāh ibn al-Muqaffa`, al-Mansūr‘s scribe, translated it from Persian into Arabic. Zakeri (2004) p. 184 indicates that it was also translated from Persian into Syriac.

[2] HP p. 602.  Khan (1981) p. 51.  Manka was associated with Ishāq ibn Sulayman ibn Alī, the Hashemite.  Hashemites were from Arabia.  Ibn Abi Usaibia’s sources for information about Manka included a book “Of Caliphates and Barmakids.”  That source is  further evidence of the connection between the Barmakids and India.

[3] HP p. 601.  In addition, the Persian-Arabic physician Ali ibn Sahl Rabban al-Tabari published in 850 an encyclopedia of medicine (Kitab Firdous al-Hikmah) that included in an appendix a review on Indian medicine based on translations of Indian texts into Persian and Arabic.

[4] Khan (1981) p. 54.

[5] HP p. 618.  Other Arabic scholars referred to “Indian calculus,” which apparently was a type of arithmetic.

References:

HP: Ibn Abi Usaybi’ah, Ahmad ibn al-Qasim. English translation of History of Physicians (4 v.) Translated by Lothar Kopf. 1971. Located in: Modern Manuscripts Collection, History of Medicine Division, National Library of Medicine, Bethesda, MD; MS C 294Online transcription.

Khan, M. S. 1981. “An Arabic Source for the History of Ancient Indian Medicine.”  Indian Journal of History of Science, 16(1) (May) pp. 47-56.

Zakeri, Mohsen. 2004. “Ādāb al-falāsifa: The Persian content of an Arabic collection of aphorisms.” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph, vol. 57, pp. 173-190.