Christiane Gruber - The Prophet As A Sacred Spring - Late Ottoman Hilye Bottles
Christiane Gruber - The Prophet As A Sacred Spring - Late Ottoman Hilye Bottles
Christiane Gruber
1 Two bottles are held in the Sadberk Hanım Museum, nos. 18257 and 18258 (cat. nos. 218–219).
Like the Topkapı Qurʾān bottle, these two items are signed by Muḥammad Rifʿat and dated
1308/1891; however, neither contains any objects, which may have been lost or removed. Two
other inscribed bottles are published in Şentürk, Cam altında yirmi bin fersah, 20, 112. The
bottle on page 20, now held in the Museum of Turkish Calligraphic Art (Türk Vakıflar Hat
Sanatları Müzesi) in Istanbul, is especially noteworthy as it, too, contains a miniature Qurʾān
displayed on a stand.
2 Among others, see the four hilye bottles held in the Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum in
Istanbul, published in Türk ve İslâm Eserleri Müzesi Rehberi, 36–37, nos. 1072–1075.
3 See the nineteenth-century hilye bottle offered for sale in Alif Art, 26, available online at:
http://www.lebrizimages.com/img/glrs/0369/web/muz0809/html/muz0809.html#26/z
(accessed in 2018; website no longer active). Moreover, a rosewater bottle, filled with decora-
tive elements and dated 1321/1903–4, also displays similarities to hilye icons and suggests the
water’s use in Sufi rituals; see Işın and Özpalabıyıklar, “Hoş gör yâ hû”, 142–143.
4 See the hilye bottle on display in the Galata Mevlevihane Müzesi, Istanbul, acc. no. 299, dated
1219/1804–5.
figure 18.1 Inscribed glass bottle containing a miniature Qurʾān placed on a stand and
surrounded by decorative beads, Ottoman lands, late 19th century. Topkapı
Palace Museum Library, Istanbul, G.Y. 913
bottles should not be restricted to Sufi lodges alone. Rather, these relatively
rare objects appear to have been used for both talismanic and curative pur-
poses in various contexts and milieus, including royal ones.
Although the origins of late Ottoman-Islamic icon-bottles remain open
to speculation, these objects recall Byzantine and post-Byzantine Christian
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 537
Since hilye bottles remain unexamined to the present day, a detailed analysis of
their constituent forms, materials, and current states of preservation enables
a better understanding of their symbolic functions and uses in late Ottoman
Islamic devotional spheres.
Measuring 42 cm in height and topped with a (now lopsided) golden fin-
ial wrapped in a green silk ribbon, the first bottle is the largest in the group
(Figure 18.2). Its interior is lavishly decorated with a vertical gilt rod, whose hor-
izontal posts provide perches for dangling pearl ornaments. Other decorations
fill the interior of the blown glass bottle; these include wicker branches, flow-
ers made of brown and white fabric, and round beads made of green and red
plastic, the latter a modern material. This panoply of decorative items comes
together to form what we might call hilye installation art, itself intended to
remain undisturbed thanks to the wax sealing the flask’s neck. In this instance,
the bottle’s contents were meant to remain inaccessible.
Two of the four bottle’s sides display the hilye, which records ʿAlī’s verbal
description of Muḥammad’s physical and moral characteristics set into the
diagrammatic format invented by the famous seventeenth-century Ottoman
calligrapher Hafiz Osman (d. 1698 CE).5 Here, the typical hilye layout, with its
5 On hilye panels and paintings, see in particular Taşkale and Gündüz, Hz. Muhammed’in
Özellikleri; Zakariya, “The Hilye of the Prophet Muhammad”, 13–22; and Stanley, “From Text
to Art Form in the Ottoman Hilye”.
538 Gruber
figure 18.4 Metal plaque containing a hilye of the Prophet and other amuletic inscriptions and
designs, Ottoman lands, late nineteenth or twentieth century. Halûk Perk Collection,
Istanbul, unnumbered. Left: the original printing plaque, with writing in reverse; and
right: the plaque digitally flipped to render the script legible
The first panel of Persian poetry praises God through a series of celestial
and cosmic metaphors, while the second panel addresses the bottle’s owner
directly by reminding him or her of the hilye’s shielding capacities. Moreover,
by stressing the supremacy of God, these verses make it clear that this item
is not to be considered a tool in the practice of black magic, but rather a per-
missible form of harnessing protective energies according to the Solomonic
method. As a result, the first hilye bottle encases a verbal icon of the Prophet
Muḥammad and turns it into an amuletic form of installation art meant to
protect individuals within a domestic setting.
The second hilye bottle similarly preserves two icon panels, but here the
paper folios are mounted onto wooden boards separated by a long rod wrapped
542 Gruber
figure 18.5
Lines of Persian poetry in
the hilye bottle illustrated
in figures 18.2 and 18.3
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 543
figure 18.6
Lines of Persian poetry in
the hilye bottle illustrated
in figures 18.2 and 18.3
544 Gruber
figure 18.7 First side of icon, hilye bottle with a stopper covered in red silk and a rope and
chain wrapped around its neck, Ottoman lands, late 19th century. Topkapı
Palace Museum Library, Istanbul, G.Y. 954
in red silk, a detail to which we will return subsequently (Figure 18.7). In addi-
tion, the bottle is outfitted with a rope and metal chain, and so appears to have
been suspended or carried on occasion, rather than permanently exhibited on
a flat surface such as a table or shelf. The hilye text is largely placed within an
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 545
Muḥammad], I would not have created the heavenly spheres.” It also provides
the signature of the calligrapher, a certain Munlā (Molla/Mevla) Muḥammad.
Inscribed in their vertical frames, these two hilye panels are augmented with
Ottoman devotional poetry in honour of the Prophet. Although their metre is
not entirely correct, the first two verses read as follows: “Your pure name is on
the highest throne, Muḥammad Muṣṭafā / Your figure is [like] the cypress of
Ṭūbā, your stature reaches from there to Muntahā” (Nām-i pākın ʿarş-ı aʿlā’da,
Muḥammed Muṣṭafā / Ḳāmetin bir serv-i Ṭūbā ḳaddin andan Müntehā). Here,
the Prophet is said to have his name inscribed on God’s throne – a motif rather
pervasive in Islamic ascension texts and poems – and his cosmic stature is so
vast that it is said to stretch from the upside-down Tuba Tree (shajarat al-Ṭūbā)
to the Lote Tree of the Limit (sidrat al-muntahā). The next two verses, although
they include misspellings, can be identified as the work of the famous sixteenth-
century Ottoman poet Zati (d. 1546 CE). They exclaim: “Oh, Embellishment of
the Garden of Illocality, your stature is a cypress of light; it casts no shadow
on the ground” (Ḳāmetin ey bustān-ı lā-mekān pīrāyesi / Nūrdan bir servidür
düşmez zemine sāyesi).10 In these verses, the Prophet Muḥammad is described
as a fine-figured entity made from light that bears no shadow as well as an
embellishment of a heavenly garden not bound by time or space.
Taken altogether, the figures of speech and motifs used in all four Ottoman
Turkish verses added to this hilye make clear reference to Muḥammad’s
celestial ascension, the celebration of which occurred in palace quarters to
the accompaniment of praise poetry and the illumination of hanging lamps
(kandils). Perhaps it can be surmised, then, this hilye bottle was suspended
or ritually carried during mi‘rac, mevlid, or other religious festivities held in
Topkapı Palace.11
Other evidence for its potential use is suggested by the vertical rod that
resembles a perfume dauber. When rocked back and forth by its removable cap,
this interior rodule scrapes the backsides of both hilye panels, in the process
producing a gold dust that could have been collected and extracted from the
bottle thanks to the slightly dampened red silk fabric (Figure 18.9). Indeed, the
gold flecks at the bottom of the flask do not appear to be the haphazard result
of wear and tear over time. Rather, it becomes clear from the object’s material
10 On Zati on his poetry, see Gibb, A History of Ottoman Poetry, III, 47–69, especially p. 54;
and for the first verse of this poem, see Başlangıcından günümüze kadar büyük Türk
klâsikleri, vol. 3, 296, Gazel XV, line 1.
11 For a discussion of hanging lamps and praise poetry in Ottoman Islamic festivities, see
Zarcone, “Mevlid Kandili”, 307–20.
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 547
figure 18.9 Detail of the backsides of the hilye panels included in the bottle illustrated
in figures 18.7 and 18.8
makeup that the main goal of the glass bottle consisted in the production of
gold hilye dust. In order to produce an auric powder, the artisan affixed gold-
painted papers to the back of both wooden hilye panels: one still retains its gold
pigments in relatively good condition while the second has witnessed the near-
total loss of its gilt backing, no doubt due to repeated chafing at the same angle.
Thus, unlike the first hilye bottle that was intended for artful display and pro-
tection in the home, this item was meant to be used in some fashion or another.
The third and last hilye bottle must have fulfilled a similar function (Fig-
ure 18.10). It contains only one wooden panel whose two sides are affixed with
folios containing Muḥammad’s verbal icon. Its first side includes the title “The
Features of our Beloved” (ṣifat ḥabībinā) while its second side includes some
of the names of the Prophet’s ten companions who were promised paradise
548 Gruber
figure 18.10
Hilye bottle with a
metal wire attached
to the verbal icon,
Ottoman lands,
late 19th century.
Topkapı Palace
Museum Library,
Istanbul, G.Y. 429
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 549
figure 18.11
Inscription on the first
side of the hilye bottle
illustrated in figure
18.10
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 551
figure 18.12
Inscription on the
second side of the hilye
bottle illustrated in
figure 18.10
552 Gruber
second, what are the origins and hence symbolic meanings of these icon bot-
tles? Examining related artistic evidence can help us expand and refine our
range of possible interpretations, chief among them the bottles’ likely use in
late Ottoman magico-medicinal practices that involved the mixing of sacred
dust or soil with holy water in order to produce liquid suspensions and cura-
tive potions believed saturated with Prophetic blessings or baraka.
During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, hilyes were believed to protect
individuals, their belongings, and their homes. Their talismanic energies were
believed latent and activated through a number of practices, most especially
their viewers’ gaze, rubbing, and kissing. A number of late Ottoman illustrated
prayer books include specific directions on how to make use of such optic and
haptic practices, which were believed to unleash the dormant blessings con-
tained in Muḥammad’s verbal icon, his relics, and his other marks and traces.14
For example, one devotional miscellany transcribed during the eighteenth
or nineteenth century includes a double-page depiction of the Prophet’s hilye
topped by the widespread invocation seeking refuge from the cursed devil
(Figure 18.13). The icon’s position as a potent source of protection is further
strengthened by the presence of a short instructional text attributed to the
famous ḥadīth compiler al-Tirmidhī (d. 892) located at the bottom of each
hilye panel and continuing on the manuscript’s subsequent folios. Here and
in other cases,15 al-Tirmidhī is recorded (in Ottoman Turkish) as informing the
reader that the Prophet’s seal contains many virtues or merits. Among them,
we are told that whoever looks at it in the morning after having performed
ablutions will be protected from all disasters and catastrophes until the end
of the day. The same holds true for the beginning of the month and year as
well as at the launch of a trip. Finally, whosoever gazes upon it during the year
of his death will end his life in faith by the grace of God the Almighty. In still
other prayer books, al-Tirmidhī is cited on the necessity of rubbing (sürmek)
the seal of prophecy to one’s face or eyes, thus proving that looking intensely
at Muḥammad’s icon and his other signs, combined with the scraping of their
pigments, was believed to help the pious believer guard against tragedy.
14 On this subject, see Gruber, “‘Go Wherever You Wish, for Verily You are Well Protected’”.
15 See the nineteenth-century “seal of prophecy” inscribed with al-Tirmidhī’s statement
in Aşk-ı Nebi: Doğumunun 1443. Yılında Hz. Peygamber, 128, cat. no. 23 (Topkapı Palace
Library, G.Y. 1500).
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 553
figure 18.13 The Prophet Muḥammad’s hilye with directions of use attributed to
al-Tirmidhī, included in a prayer book, Ottoman lands, 18th or 19th century.
Topkapı Palace Museum Library, Istanbul, E.H. 996, folios 10v–11r
the grilled chamber containing Muḥammad’s tomb (Figure 18.14). And still
another late Ottoman illustrated manuscript of the same text suggests that
viewers scraped pigments off of paintings of Mecca and Medina with great
vigour, perhaps with the ultimate aim of collecting these sacred pigments on
their fingers and lips (Figure 18.15).18
From Muḥammad’s seal of prophecy to depictions of Mecca and Medina,
the painterly evidence thus points to late Ottoman practices of rubbing and
kissing sacred images – along with the collecting and/or ingesting of the pig-
ment debris – associated with the Prophetic corpus and presence.
Such physically enacted devotions are supported by textual evidence as well.
For example, writing during the seventeenth century, the Ottoman explorer
Evliya Çelebi (d. 1682) records in his Seyahatname (Travel Book) the pietistic
engagements of pilgrims in Mecca and Medina, including his own. Launching
into his multi-volume oeuvre, he first pleads God to protect him during his
sojourn with the rhetorical question: “Might I roam the world? Might it be
vouchsafed to me to reach the Holy Land, Cairo and Damascus, Mecca, and
Medina, and to rub my face at the Sacred Garden, the tomb of the Prophet,
Glory of the Universe?”19 In Evliya Çelebi’s introductory remarks, it appears as
if the ultimate goal of his journey is none other than the overlaying of his vis-
age with a Prophetic patina extracted from the blessed soil, textiles, grille, or
other materials anointed by Muḥammad’s inhumed body.
Arriving in Medina, Evliya Çelebi then makes his way to the railing encir-
cling Muḥammad’s tomb, telling his reader that: “There I kissed the threshold,
prayed beseechingly, and knelt down.”20 He then petitioned the Prophet for
intercession and nearly fainted. Besides osculating the grille, he also kissed
the ground at Muḥammad’s tomb in Medina, all the while asking for his
intercession.21
The pious traveller also records practices of devotional rubbing, above all
in and around Medina. For instance, he includes a short description of a small
shrine, known as “The Station of the Noble One” (makam-i hazret), located
outside of Medina, shaped like a small prayer niche and housing the impres-
sion of the Prophet’s head. There, he goes on, “pilgrims rub their faces (yüz
sürerler) on this holy place.”22
figure 18.14 A depiction of Medina showing smudges over the Prophet Muḥammad’s
tomb, al-Jazūlī, Dalāʾil al-Khayrāt, Ottoman lands, late 18th century. Museum
of Islamic Art, Doha, MS. 419.2007, folio 18r
556 Gruber
figure 18.15 A heavily smudged double-page painting of Mecca and Medina, al-Jazūlī,
Dalāʾil al-Khayrāt, Süleymaniye Library, Istanbul, Hacı Mahmud Efendi 3986,
folios 12v–13r
Such popular practices of kissing and rubbing were not at all frowned upon or
prohibited at the time. Rather, they were actively sponsored by royal Ottoman
patrons who lavished great gifts upon Islam’s holy cities and even ordered the
construction of new gates to the Medina mosque, including one inscribed with
the poetic verses: “God forbid that he who rubs his face on your grave should
not go free.”23
Ottoman devotees’ practices of kissing the kiswa and Black Stone in Mecca
along with the rubbing of soil and the golden grille in Medina in order to
secure the blessings and intercession of God and Muḥammad also appear to
have occurred within these sites’ visual representations, as the painterly evi-
dence strongly suggests. Although it is clear that such images were touched in
various ways, one question still lingers: where did the now-missing pigments of
this materia prophetica go? Upon affectionate kissing, did these pigments mix
in with saliva and were they thus ingested by the faithful? Were the pigments
23 Gemici and Dankoff, Evliya Çelebi in Medina, 52–53: Ḥāsha li-llāh ḳabrine yüz süren āzād
olmaya.
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 557
smudged with wet fingers and then perhaps touched to the believer’s lips or
tongues? Or were they collected as Prophetic ingredients to be mixed in with
other liquids or potions? In other words, what are the whys and wherefores of
these fugitive pigments, and how might they shed new light on the meanings
and functions of hilye bottles?
I would like to suggest that these bottles – just like other contemporary
devotional icons devoted to the Prophet24 – provided a material mechanism
to make and gather gold pigments. The fact that one of them mentions the nūr
Muḥammad leads us, in part, to associate such pigments with the Prophet’s
primordial light. That two bottles included hilyes meant to scrape at the inside
walls further strengthens this hypothesis. In addition, during the late Ottoman
period, collecting the water run-off from the ritual washing of the Prophet’s
footprint and mantle was a well-known practice in Ottoman palace quarters.
This Prophetic liquid was then preserved in small flasks, imbibed to break the
evening fast during Ramadan, and administered as a curative potion through-
out the year.25 Libations that came into contact with Muḥammad’s relics
were understood as the ultimate panacea, and such magico-medicinal liquids
quite possibly included other tonics and potions into which were mixed gold
Prophetic precipitate extracted or poured from hilye bottles.
Textual sources support the alchemical belief that gold in particular con-
tained transformative and restorative powers, a belief that appears to have
been relatively common in late Ottoman lands. For instance, one manuscript
that records the recipes for medicines and potions produced in the Topkapı
Palace pharmacy includes various antidotes, potions, pills, pastilles, syrups,
ointments, and balms to help with a variety of ills.26 Most relevant for our
purposes, this royal pharmacopeia also includes a number of recipes for com-
pound medicines made from precious metals and stones, including gold, silver,
ruby, amber, and pearl.
One recipe that stands out is the so-called maʿcūn-ı kırmız, or red potion or
paste.27 Among other things, its ingredients include apple juice, rose water,
sugar, amber, lapis, pearl, cinnamon, musk, aloe, ruby, and gold and silver leaf
(altun varaḳ and gümüş varaḳ). We are told that its curative and restorative
powers are many and that, as a general cure-all, it is especially useful in help-
ing with problems related to the head, heart, liver, and stomach. Moreover, it
24 For a study of devotees rubbing and kissing visual representations of the Prophet in
Ottoman traditions in particular, see Gruber, “In Defense and Devotion”, 95–123.
25 For a discussion of the topic, see Gruber, “A Pious Cure-All”, 134–35.
26 Terzioğlu, Helvahane Defteri ve Topkapı Sarayı’nda Eczacılık.
27 Terzioğlu, Helvahane Defteri ve Topkapı Sarayı’nda Eczacılık, 69, no. 51b.
558 Gruber
is believed to cure forgetfulness and vertigo; to make the face lighter in tone;
to help pregnant women to prevent miscarriages; to lessen colic and indiges-
tion in children; and to alleviate illness during plague and other epidemics.
The treatise also gives directions for production of this panacea containing
crushed gold leaf, and its use, including the boiling of liquids, the pounding
in of various ingredients, the draining of water and cooling in order to create
a paste, the latter eventually preserved in jars. Whenever needed, this heal-
ing blend was doled out in small amounts and mixed in with sherbet to be
imbibed by those suffering from a wide range of ailments.
This recipe’s inclusion of gold leaf along with its mention of pounding its
constituent ingredients suggests that the palace’s pharmacy housed rare mate-
rials, including leaves of gold, which comprise a stable consolidation of this
precious metal that then could be ground into a (more volatile) powder when
demand arose to manufacture new potions. The use of gold leaf in the produc-
tion of “red paste” also continued into the late eighteenth century, as attested
to by a list of recipes drawn up in 1198/1784.28 Specified as exclusively reserved
for the sultan, the recipe for maʿcūn-ı kırmız calls for the inclusion of a leaf of
gold. This archival document is telling on at least two counts: first, it shows that
the “red paste” consistently included a certain amount of gold and, second,
that this paste was restricted to royal spheres only.
Gold pigments, flecks, and even debris are a hallmark of two of the hilye
bottles, while one in particular includes a gold leaf backing that is now entirely
lost due to pulverisation by the interior dauber covered in red silk. It is thus not
unlikely that this dauber was moistened, and the gold flecks gathered, perhaps
to be mixed into curative elixirs like the so-called “red paste.” In such cases,
the gold’s therapeutic potential could be seen as exponentially more effective,
having derived from the Prophet’s blessed icon, itself encased in a pellucid,
decanter-like vessel.29 Individuals in turn could ingest or imbibe this auratic
precipitate, whose baraka possibly was thought to somatically fuse with the
flesh and body of the believer.
Other extant objects support this hypothesis, among them jugs containing
soil and dust gathered from the Prophet Muḥammad’s tomb in Medina as well
as bottles preserving water extracted from the Zamzam well in Mecca. These
containers pay tribute to the late Ottoman Muslim belief in the blessed and
28 Topkapı Palace Museum Archives, Istanbul, no. 93/1–3, document giving directions for
the production of medicinal pastes bearing the summary title “Hekimbaşının hazırladığı
ve kim tarafından yazıldığı bilinmeyen macun tarifleri.” I wish to thank Akif Yerlioğlu for
drawing my attention to this document.
29 On the auratic qualities of glass vessels in general, see Liu, “Glass Containers’ Aura”.
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 559
curative qualities of the two holiest cities of Islam, especially if their gathered
natural matter – namely, soil, dust, and water – are preserved, ingested, and
hence symbolically vivified within the physical body of pious Muslims. The
belief in the curative power of certain substances also is attested to in other
objects, among them magico-medicinal bowls and cups used in theurgical
practices involving the Qurʾān, itself considered the “Best of Healers” (Q 17:82).
During the nineteenth century in particular, soil and dust from Medina were
collected in jugs and vessels or else mixed in with straw and made into portable
bundles, which could be worn as amulets (Figure 18.16).30 In addition, curative
tablets containing the soil of Medina believed to be mixed with Muḥammad’s
saliva – itself described as curing battle wounds and inflammations of the
eyeballs,31 as well as having been mixed into the mortar of the dome of Hagia
Sophia to stop it from collapsing32 – were promoted as all-purpose pills. One,
for instance, includes the following inscription: “May the soil of our land and
the saliva of some among us, God willing, be curative.”33 Much like the dust
and soil gathered from Muḥammad’s mausoleum and tomb, the gold pow-
der preserved in and extracted from hilye bottles must have been considered
similarly talismanic and salutary, especially if mixed into a liquid suspension
involving the Prophet’s saliva or water associated with the holy cities of Mecca
and Medina.
In this regard, during late Ottoman times vessels were made to preserve holy
water as well. For example, one jug includes a statement noting that it con-
tained the water used to clean Muḥammad’s tomb, which was poured out or
dried up over time. Sources likewise tell us that, upon the completion of the
ritual cleaning of the Prophet’s mausoleum, the remaining water was disposed
30 On jugs containing soil from the tomb of the Prophet, see Aydın, Pavilion of the Sacred
Relics, 190; on the amuletic bundles of soil and straw as illustrated in figure 18.16, see Mols
and Vrolijk, Western Arabia in the Leiden Collections, 81; and on powder in magico-medical
practices, see Flood, Technologies de dévotion dans les arts de l’Islam, 73–79.
31 On Muḥammad’s saliva mixed in with dust to cure ulcers and wounds, see Elgood,
“Tibb-ul-Tabi or Medicine of the Prophet”, 155; and Flood, “Bodies and Becoming”, 469. A
number of ḥadīth describe Muḥammad’s spittle as healing wounded eyes and bodies, espe-
cially during the battles of Khaybar and Badr. These sayings are listed among Muḥammad’s
“saliva miracles” in al-Yahsubi, Muhammad, Messenger of Allah, 160 and 178f.
32 Ottoman chronicles describe Byzantine efforts to reinforce the church’s dome after an
initial collapse. Among such narratives, we are told that the Byzantines used a special
mortar comprising sand from Mecca reinforced with the Prophet’s saliva. See Matthews,
“From the Fifteenth Century to the Present Day”, 82.
33 Aydın, Pavilion of the Sacred Relics, 192.
560 Gruber
figure 18.16 Conical straw bundle containing the soil from Medina, before 1958, Oosters
Instituut (The Oriental Institute), Leiden, The Netherlands, RMV B106–49
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 561
figure 18.17 Glass bottle containing Zamzam water, before 1958, Oosters
Instituut (The Oriental Institute), Leiden, The Netherlands,
RMV B106–88
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 563
figure 18.18 Plastic bottles filled with Zamzam water, offered for sale in a store of
devotional goods near the Eyüp shrine, Istanbul
Photograph by author, summer 2016
find remedy.40 Related to Zamzamiyyas and other āb-ı ḥayāt vessels, hilye bot-
tles expand this corpus of special flasks to promote the Prophet as the ultimate
cure-all.
The devotee’s possible drinking or ingestion of Prophetic baraka via a liq-
uid or potion containing hilye gold dust might be argued by some as belong-
ing to the realm of folk or popular belief. However, during Ottoman times this
practice of seeking propinquity to – and even a physical fusing with – the
Prophetic corpus could be conceptualized as meritorious and hence falling
squarely within Sunnī traditions. Among the precedents that could validate
the theological acceptability of such objects and their associated practices
was the tradition of ingesting the Qurʾān. As Travis Zadeh has shown, blowing
(nafth) verses of the Qurʾān over water and/or erasing (maḥw) them in water
for ingestion by a person in ill health was considered a normative, salubrious,
and divinely sanctioned practice since the emergence of Islam.41 As Zadeh
stresses in this regard, “the very act of ingesting the trace of the written word
dissolved in water represents a desire to draw the sacred power of the divine
into the body.”42
There existed a number of material ways to draw both the Qurʾān and
the Prophet Muḥammad into the flesh and body of the believer. While hilye
bottles could tend to the task of the latter, a number of other vessels could
fulfil the needs of the former. For example, besides the ample corpus of
magico-medical bowls,43 which are well-known and studied, there also exist
ceramic cups inscribed with Qurʾānic verses. Such is the case for a nineteenth-
century Ottoman terracotta cup, whose interior walls are entirely covered
with Sūrat Yā-Sīn (Q 36), whose verses spiral from the cup’s top rim to its base
(Figure 18.19).44 Although intended for use in medicinal libation rituals, this
exemplar’s inscriptions remain in rather pristine condition, the water damage
limited to a microscopic area of the vessel.
Considered one of the most apotropaic chapters of the Qurʾān, Yā-Sin is
often found on amulets and talismans.45 However, when inscribed within
a cup, the verses most likely were destined for erasure (maḥw) in water. A
number of Islamic textual sources support this practice: for example, one
ḥadīth records the Prophet Muḥammad relating the following about Yā-Sīn:
“Whoever writes it and then drinks it, the sūra puts inside his belly a thousand
remedies.”46 Building upon this ḥadīth, the early Sunnī theologian Ibn Ḥanbal
(d. 241/855) goes further, declaring that “a man without a bit of the Qurʾān in
his belly is like a broken-down house.”47
Much as believers were in the habit of drinking the word of God, it appears
that they also wished to put a little bit of the Prophet in their belly as well.
Late Ottoman Qurʾān and hilye bottles appear to have facilitated such acts
41 Zadeh, “An Ingestible Scripture”, 101 and 109; and idem, “Touching and Ingesting”, 464.
42 Zadeh, “Touching and Ingesting,” 466.
43 On magico-medicinal bowls, see in particular Perk and Paksoy, Duanın Sudaki Gizemi Şifa
Tasları, 11, 108, 118, 134–135, and 139; Savage-Smith, Science, Tools & Magic, part 1, 72–97;
Ittig, “A Talismanic Bowl”, 79–94; and Spoer, “Arabic Magic Medicinal Bowls”, 477–80.
44 This cup is published in Tanman, Ekrem Hakkı Ayverdi, 1899–1984, 268, cat. no. 120.
45 On the inclusion of Yā-Sīn and other Qurʾānic chapters and verses in Islamic amulets, see
Leoni, “Sacred Words, Sacred Power”, 53–65.
46 Zadeh, “An Ingestible Scripture,” 108 (cited in Mustaghfirī’s [d. 432/1041] compendium
of ḥadīth).
47 Ibid.
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 565
figure 18.19 Terracotta cup inscribed with Sūrat Yā-Sīn, Ottoman lands, 19th century.
Ekrem Hakkı Ayverdi Collection, Istanbul, cat. no. 120
Hilye bottles formed part of the larger lifeworld of Istanbul during the nine-
teenth and early twentieth centuries, at which time late Ottoman-Islamic
devotions to the Prophet Muḥammad appear to have coincided with the cult
of healing waters shared by the city’s Christian and Muslim dwellers. The belief
in water’s sacred and curative powers can be traced back much further in time
to the numerous ancient Near Eastern holy springs, lakes, and caves spread
across the Mediterranean Basin and Anatolian plateau.50 Sacred water sources
became central to Christianity as well, as attested to by the rite of baptism,
baptismal fonts, and the spread of holy springs associated with churches and
chapels. In Greek, such springs are known as “holy water,” or hagiasma (plu-
ral, hagiasmata), and they are founded in the memory of Christ’s baptism or
dedicated to a particular saint. At one time, Istanbul counted more than two
hundred such springs; unfortunately, today most have disappeared under road,
rail, and building construction.51
After the conquest of the city by Ottoman forces in 1453, the growing
local Muslim population also came to consider such springs miraculous and
therapeutic52 – the belief in sacred water in Islam stretching back to the ear-
liest narratives about the Zamzam well having saved Hajar and Ismāʿīl from
death. In Ottoman and modern Turkish, these springs are known as ayazmas, a
term etymologically indebted to the Byzantine Christian hagiasmas in the city.
Still today, a number of ayazmas in Istanbul are in operation and remain quite
popular. Once a week, and on feast days and special occasions, they host visi-
tors of all faiths and nationalities who come to these sacred water sites in order
to make wishes, seek blessings, or ask for healing via the practices of visitation,
prayer, and votive donation. These ayazmas are filled with decorated icons and
bottles containing images of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ. Most germane
to the theme at hand, some bottles are filled or impressed with an icon of Mary
and/or Christ, revealing the extent to which hilye bottles appear indebted to
Constantinopolitan Christian and Islamic sacred spring traditions and their
associated devotional objects.
Today, a number of ayazmas host Christian and Muslim pilgrims as well as
visitors of all religious persuasions and none. The most important of these are:
The Virgin as “Fountain of Life” (Zoodochos Pege) sacred spring and church
in Balıklı; The St. Demetrios shrine and spring in Kuruçeşme; the “curing”
(Panagia) spring located within the “First of the Month” (Ayın Biri) Church in
Unkapanı; St. Catherine’s holy spring in Moda; and the St. George Monastery in
Büyükada, the largest of the Prince’s Islands.53 At each site, a number of devo-
tional and votive traditions continue to flourish today, offering contemporary
ethnographic evidence that can help shed some light on previous holy spring
traditions. These springs likewise may illuminate the symbolic uses and mean-
ings of icon-bottles in both Christian and Muslim spheres.
The oldest, most important, and best known hagiasma in Istanbul is that of
the Virgin as the “Fountain of Life” or “Life-Giving Source” (Zoodochos Pege).
This church-spring complex was founded close to the city’s defensive walls in
the fifth or sixth centuries, either by the Byzantine emperor Leo I (r. 457–74)
or Justinian (r. 527–65).54 Textual sources inform us that the church-spring
effectuated 47 miracles and cures between the years 450 and 950.55 During
the Ottoman period, the church was destroyed and rebuilt several times, at
which time a story about a fried fish (balık) miraculously returning to life after
jumping in its spring waters endowed the hagiasma with its present Turkish
name, “The Fish [Spring]” (Balıklı).56 The site was particularly active dur-
ing the nineteenth century, at which time its church, chapel, and crypt were
fully rebuilt and inaugurated in 1835 after its destruction during the Greek
Revolution in 1821.57 In the wake of its reconsecration, the complex was visited
by the Ottoman Sultan Mahmud II (r. 1808–39),58 who extended financial sup-
port and showed respect to various Christian churches, their holy springs, and
religious ceremonies.59
Around this time, an image made by Thomas Allom and published in Robert
Walsh’s 1838 travel narrative to Constantinople depicts this so-called “Spring
of the Miraculous Fishes at Baloukli” populated by various visitors, some of
whom dip their feet into the holy spring or use vessels to drink its curative
waters (Figure 18.20).60
53 For the most detailed discussion of the city’s Christian hagiasmata, see Atzemoglou,
T’hagiasmata tēs Polēs. The author wishes to thank George Manginis for translating key
portions of this Greek-language publication.
54 Narratives relate a story of Leo I and a blind man, as well as Justinian seeking a cure for a
urinary tract infection. See Talbot, “Holy Springs and Pools in Byzantine Constantinople”,
164ff. For further information on the Zoodochos Pege complex, see Atzemoglou,
T’hagiasmata tēs Polēs, 64–67; Değer, İstanbul’un şifalı suları, 100–106; and idem, “Holy
Springs,” 129ff. Further references follow below.
55 Kimmelfield, “The Shrine of the Theotokos at the Pege”, 300.
56 Kimmelfield, “The Shrine of the Theotokos at the Pege”, 308.
57 Talbot, “Holy Springs and Pools in Byzantine Constantinople”, 172.
58 Atzemoglou, T’hagiasmata tēs Polēs, 67.
59 Sultan Mahmud II will be discussed subsequently.
60 Walsh, Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor, plate located
between pages 50–51.
568 Gruber
figure 18.20 “Spring of the Miraculous Fishes at Baloukli,” included in Robert Walsh,
Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor Illustrated
in a Series of Drawings from Nature by Thomas Allom (London and Paris: Fisher,
1838), pages 50–51
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 569
As Walsh relates in his text, this lively spring was visited by both “Greeks”
and “Turks.” At the water source, he continues:
Priests stood around the Spring with pitchers in their hands, which
they constantly filled, and handed up to those close to them. They were
eagerly seized by every person who could catch them, and poured with
trembling emotion on their heads and breasts, where they were rubbed,
so that every particle of the life-giving fluid might be imbibed by the
pores of the skin.61
Today, the Balıklı spring retains some of its most salient features, including
an icon of the Virgin Mary and Christ Child located immediately above the
sacred waters (Figure 18.21). The silver-encrusted wall painting above the water
depicts Mary as a life-giving spring, as she bursts forth out of a source of water,
from which Christian priests, warriors, and devotees seek relief and cure.62
Moreover, in its foreground, a man in a red robe is shown holding a vessel and
pouring the spring’s sacred water into the eyes of a man most likely suffering
from ophthalmological problems – a depiction that is befitting for this hagi-
asma since its foundation story includes a miraculous cure for blindness.
Although today the image appears as a wall painting, Byzantine sources
describe a mosaic icon of the Virgin Mary instead. This mosaic, we are told,
reflected in the spring’s water, making it seem as if the image were incubating
within it and thus endowing it with life. As Robert Ousterhout notes, it must
have been difficult for visitors to differentiate the mosaic depiction from its
aquatic reflection, so “perhaps it is best to say that the two – the image and the
water, the icon and the substance – worked in concert.”63 Filled with the figural
image of a saintly figure as well as charged with its healing powers, this new
holy amalgam yielded what might be best called “icon water.”
While the icon water of the Zoodochos Pege spring was most likely collected
and distributed in metal jugs and glass vessels in previous centuries, today’s
visitors – Christian, Muslim, and other – are encouraged to make a monetary
donation in exchange for a plastic bottle, into which they gather the conse-
crated substance. Many cheap and mass-produced bottles line one of the
walls in the spring’s crypt, waiting to be put to good use. Of hand-held size and
thus highly portable, each bottle identifies the hagiasma by name in an oval
61 Ibid, 52.
62 On depictions of the Virgin Mary as a “Life-Giving Source,” see Teteriatnikov, “The Image
of the Virgin Zoodochos Pege”, 225–33.
63 Ousterhout, “Water and Healing in Constantinople”, 73.
570 Gruber
figure 18.21 The sacred spring and icon of the Virgin Mary and Christ Child
in the “Fountain of Life” (Zoodochos Pege) crypt church in
Balıklı, Istanbul
Photograph by author, summer 2018
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 571
that frames an icon of Mary and Christ emerging from the “fountain of life”
(Figure 18.22). This icon impressed upon the translucent body of the plastic
container generates a similar effect to the mosaic image reflected within the
sacred spring: that is, it appears that the image is incubating within the water
or, alternatively, that the icon is coming to life with every ripple of the liquid.
These holy souvenirs are then taken away and imbibed by individuals seeking
remedy or relief – their disparate faiths and worldviews united in the universal
belief in water’s healing powers.
Centuries-old thalassotherapeutic traditions include bathing in springs,
lakes, and seas, as well as mud cures. Within a Mediterranean context they
are best attested by the Asklepion, a famous Roman medical centre located
in Pergamon. Built in honour of Asklepios, the Roman god of healing, during
the second century, the Asklepion included a number of spa-like cures based
on a local sacred water source, which has been shown to contain particularly
curative properties. Water treatments, mud baths, and the drinking of water
counted among its medical treatments; such remedies then carried over to
Christian sacred springs, especially those located in close proximity to water
and sand. During the Ottoman period, hydrotherapy was similarly practiced
at the famous Ottoman hospital in Edirne, which also included music therapy.
Within Constantinople, one hagiasma that included water and mud cures
was the spring of St. Saviour Philanthropos, located in the St. George monas-
tery complex. The structure was built in the twelfth century between the sea
and the city’s maritime walls (Figure 18.23). Because of its particular location,
it was referred to as the “ayazma of the rampart” (ayazma de la muraille) by
French travellers, including Joseph Pitton de Tournefort (d. 1708). Around 1700,
de Tournefort recorded the Ottoman Sultan’s visit to the sacred spring and his
observing of its mud cures during the Feast of Transfiguration, noting:64
They [the Greeks] believe that this water cures fever and also the gravest
sickness, both present and future. It is for this reason that they both bring
the ill to [this holy spring] to have them drink [of its waters] and also
bury them into the sand up to their necks, exhuming them immediately
thereafter.
figure 18.22 Plastic water bottle impressed with the name of the Zoodochos Pege
sacred spring and an image depicting the Virgin Mary and Christ Child.
Bottle acquired at the holy spring by the author in summer 2018
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 573
65 Water fountains proliferated in Istanbul from the sixteenth century onward; indeed, dur-
ing the eighteenth century, at least 365 Ottoman fountains were built. See Hamadeh,
“Splash and Spectacle”, 123–48.
66 Ousterhout, “Water and Healing in Constantinople”, 71–72.
67 Demangel and Mamboury, “Le monastère et l’ayasma du Saint-Sauveur”, 57.
68 Demangel and Mamboury, “Le monastère et l’ayasma du Saint-Sauveur”, 56.
574 Gruber
69 For further information about the site, see Kissyov, Bachkovo Monastery.
70 For a general discussion of the Arma Christi, see Cooper and Denny-Brown, The Arma
Christi in Medieval and Early Modern Material Culture.
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 575
figure 18.24
Icon bottle showing the Virgin
Mary and Christ Child with Saint
Eleutherios, Monastery of the Virgin
Evangelistria, Tenos, Greece, 19th
or 20th century. Bottle acquired in
Istanbul by the author in summer 2017
71 Değer, Istanbul’un şifalı suları, 130–32; and idem, “Holy Springs,” 143–44. Shared Christian
and Muslim pilgrimage and water rituals also take place in Lebanon; see Farra-Haddad,
“Shared Rituals through ziyarat in Lebanon”, especially p. 46 on water rituals.
576 Gruber
figure 18.25 Icon bottle depicting the Passion of Christ, made in Hungary, nineteenth
or twentieth century. Bachkovo Monastery Museum, Bulgaria
Photograph by author, summer 2018
The Prophet as a Sacred Spring 577
that Saint George is equated to Khiḍr, the Muslim saint who is said to have
discovered the spring of life.72 Moving to the Anatolian side of Istanbul, the
ayazma of Saint Catherine in Moda also hosts Muslim pilgrims, including one
woman who is recorded as having visited the site in order to break a spell cast
upon her.73 Moving up the Bosphorus, visitors to the St. Demetrios shrine walk
through an underground passage to its sacred spring, which is believed to be
effective in helping children overcome speech disorders. This passage includes
a ceiling and walls from which water drips down. As they proceed forward,
visitors of all stripes take the liberty to inscribe graffiti along the walls, some
of which issue the following requests: “I wish my in-laws did not interfere with
my life,” “I wish to lose weight without losing my health,” “I wish to get married
soon,” and “I wish to become a house owner.”74 Last but not least, during two
summer 2017 visits to the ayazma of the “First of the Month” (Ayın Biri) Church
in Unkapanı, I myself witnessed Christian and Muslim women symbolically
opening Christian icons with small metal keys prior to collecting the spring’s
holy water in purpose-made plastic bottles. A Muslim visitor’s unlocking of a
Christian icon’s power and her collecting of this Christian spring’s sacred water
prove especially noteworthy when one considers both the origins and func-
tions of late Ottoman hilye bottles.
As a result, the Christian belief in the therapeutic power of holy spring and
icon water appears to have carried over into Ottoman Muslim beliefs and prac-
tices, which, to a certain extent, still remain visible in Istanbul’s ayazmas of
today. The cult of water in the city (and across the region) goes back centu-
ries; however, during the nineteenth century, encounters between Christians
and Muslims, including at their shared sacred springs, must have prompted an
increased exchange in symbolic objects as well, especially after the eighteenth
century. Among them can be counted Christian icon-bottles, which may have
catalysed hilye bottles – the latter transforming a figural icon of Christ into a
verbal depiction of Muḥammad. Whether catering to the Christian or Muslim
faith, these types of curative icon-bottles are nevertheless united in their
indebtedness to age-old hydrotherapeutic traditions, to which they creatively
added new twists.
Based on a close analysis of these newly discovered hilye bottles, related Otto-
man icons and paintings, vessels for Zamzam water, and Constantinopolitan
holy spring culture and objects, it appears likely that Islamic icon-bottles
essentially provided a new type of Prophetic pharmacon in Ottoman quarters,
including royal ones, during the late nineteenth century in particular. At this
time, the Prophet’s verbal icon transformed from an amuletic object of visual
meditation to an encased relic, whose golden by-product was most likely mixed
into medicinal paste or Zamzam water destined to be ingested and therefore
alloyed with the body of the faithful. Like the famous Meccan well, the Prophet
therefore could symbolically function as a spring, or ʿayn, of belief and cure.
While other hilye bottles remain to be studied in greater detail, it neverthe-
less seems that these objects were quite rare and linked to an Ottoman palace
milieu. If two of them were indeed used for the production of gold powder, this
powder may have been blended into the “red paste,” which an archival docu-
ment of the late eighteenth century notes as exclusively reserved for the sultan.
In such a case, these objects should be considered royal products, and their use
and inspiration may have been connected to the seaside “Pearl Pavilion” spring
that was located on palace grounds.
In the end, hilye bottles facilitated a number of pious engagements with
a “Bottled Prophet” of sorts. Such engagements involved multiple senses,
especially sight, touch, and taste as well as various “rituals of incorporation,”75
which may have included feast-specific prayers and libations. Late Ottoman
multisensorial practices that involved the consumption of Prophetic baraka
thus heralded a new turn in Muḥammad-centred devotional products as these
intersected with medicinal practices in elite spheres. Like other healing tonics,
these products essentially provided a new kind of Prophetic antidote, promis-
ing a cure for illness and a long life. They also reasserted Muḥammad’s supreme
standing as a wellspring of belief and the ultimate healing agent ready to be
primed, gathered, absorbed, and thus fully embodied by his pious followers.
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank Zeynep Çelik Atbaş for bringing these bottles to
her attention and for facilitating research in the Topkapı Palace Library. Thanks
also are due to Önder Özsoy for shooting high-resolution photographs of the
bottles.
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