Marinos Sariyannis (ed.)
in Ottoman Studies
The essays cover a wide array of subjects, and are organised in six thematic sections: Economy and Finances; Institutions and Elites; The Ottoman Provinces; Inside a Wider World; Culture and Ideology; Fine Arts, Architecture, and Archaeology.
New Trends
This volume includes 83 essays which were originally delivered as papers at the 20th CIÉPO Symposium. The Symposium was held in Rethymno, Crete, Greece, between 27 June and 1 July 2012, and was organised by the Department of History and Archaeology of the University of Crete and the Institute for Mediterranean Studies of the Foundation for Research and Technology – Hellas (IMS/FORTH), in collaboration with the Region of Crete, Regional Unit of Rethymno, and the Municipality of Rethymno.
New Trends in Ottoman Studies
Papers presented at the 20th CIÉPO Symposium Rethymno, 27 June – 1 July 2012 Editor-in-chief: Marinos Sariyannis Editors: Gülsün Aksoy-Aivali, Marina Demetriadou, Yannis Spyropoulos, Katerina Stathi, Yorgos Vidras Consulting editors: Antonis Anastasopoulos, Elias Kolovos
Back cover photo: Joshua M. White University of Crete – Department of History and Archaeology Foundation for Research and Technology-Hellas – Institute for Mediterranean Studies
ISBN 978-960-93-6188-0
Cover photo: Giorgos Benakis (knocker, 10, P. Koronaiou Str., Rethymno) Back cover photo: Joshua M. White
EthnIc SolIdarIty In the WIder Ottoman EmpIre RevIsIted: Cins and Local PolItIcal ElItes In 17 th-Century MoldavIa and WallachIA* Michał Wasiucionek**
The year 1974 brought in the field of Ottoman studies two short but seminal contributions authored by İ. Metin Kunt and Rifa’at Abou-El-Haj.1 While the latter pointed out the rising role of the grandee households as the channel of recruitment to the imperial administration, the former introduced the term of cins into the discussion on Ottoman officialdom. According to Kunt, among the servants of the sultan, not only did the solidarities based on common ethnic and regional origin exist, but they also were an important factor in the political struggles within the Sublime Porte during the turbulent seventeenth century. The four decades that followed have brought a plethora of studies on the political households and patronage networks within the field of Ottoman governance and the grandee household is now recognized as the central institu* A number of people had the patience to read this text in its preliminary stages and offered substantial and useful feedback. I would thus like to thank the members of the Thesis Writing seminar held by Prof. Antonella Romano at the European University Institute in fall 2012, where the preliminary version of the paper has been presented. I am also indebted to my advisor Prof. Bartolomé Yun Casalilla and Dr. Gábor Kármán, whose critical remarks have helped me to sharpen the central arguments. Finally, I would like to thank Suzan Meryem Rosita Kalayci for reading and proofreading the manuscript. ** PhD Candidate, European University Institute, Florence,
[email protected] 1 İ. Metin Kunt, “Ethnic-Regional (Cins) Solidarity in the Seventeenth-Century Ottoman Establishment”, International Journal of Middle East Studies 5, no. 3 (1974): 233-39; Rifa’at Abou-El-Haj, “The Ottoman Vezir and Paşa Households 1683-1703: A Preliminary Report”, Journal of the American Oriental Society 94/4 (1974), 438-47. 232
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
tion of the imperial political culture, both in the center as well as in provinces.2 However, a number of issues still wait to be addressed in the scholarship and many social groups are still missing from the larger picture of the Ottoman households and patronage networks. One of the most important lacunae – as noted recently by Christine M. Philliou – are non-Muslim elites and their position both within the Ottoman governance and the household-based political culture of the empire.3 The aim of this paper is to posit the Moldavian-Wallachian elite within the larger context of Ottoman political culture during the mid-seventeenth century. Unlike Phanariots described by Philliou, the boyars of the Danubian Principalities occupied a position that was doubly marginal on the imperial scale. Similarly to the Phanariots, their religious and legal status excluded them par excellence from the mainstream of Ottoman political arena. Still, while the main arena of Phanariot activity remained the imperial center, the privileged position of Moldavian and Wallachian boyars remained fixed to their principalities at the fringes of the empire, making them peripheral in geographical terms as well. This led many scholars – both Ottomanists and scholars of Romanian history – to underestimate the interconnections between the principalities and the empire.4 Thus, while most of Romanian historiography has perceived the Sublime Porte as a unitary, powerful and ominous force in international relations, but one disengaged from the internal political struggles, most of the literature on Ottoman Empire sees Moldavia and Wallachia as tributary polities and sources of provisions, without examining the internal developments in greater detail. However, by shifting our view from the “state” to faction as the main unit of analysis, we are able to uncover a number of interconnections and paral-
2
Carter Vaughan Findley, “Political culture and the great households,” in Suraiya Faroqhi (ed.), The Cambridge History of Turkey, vol. 3, Cambridge 2006, 65-80; Palmira Brummett, “Placing the Ottomans in the Mediterranean World: The Question of Notables and Households,” in Donald Quataert and Baki Tezcan (eds.) Beyond dominant paradigms in Ottoman and Middle Eastern/North African studies: a tribute to Rifa'at Abou-El-Haj, Istanbul 2010, 77-96. 3 Christine M. Philliou, Biography of an empire: governing Ottomans in an age of revolution, Berkeley 2011, xxi. 4 One of relatively few works on the Ottoman Empire that dwell in detail on the internal developments and institutions of the Danubian Principalities is Suraiya Faroqhi, The Ottoman Empire and the world around it, London and New York 2004. 233
Michał WASIUCIONEK
lels that transcend the neat and state-centered division between the Ottoman “state” and its tributaries. The focus of this paper is to show that the ethnic-regional (cins) solidarities were not the sole preserve of the imperial administration proper, but cut across the center/periphery, as well as religious boundaries during the seventeenth century. While the polarization between “westerners” and “easterners” gained momentum in the Ottoman Empire, the similar development – even if with the boundaries drawn in a different manner – occurred in Moldavia and Wallachia, with the opposition between “indigenous” boyars and “Greeks” or “Greco-Levantines” coming from the lands under Ottoman administration.5 On the intersection of these conflicts, the ethnic-religious solidarity came to play a role not only within the respective political arenas, but also at the interface between them. For the purpose of this paper, I dwell on one case of the voievode Gheorghe Ghica, a boyar of Albanian origin, who came to rule Moldavia (1658–1659) and Wallachia (1659–1660). While his rule in itself is rather inconsequential for the history of Danubian Principalities, the very rise of Ghica and the way it was narrated in Moldavian chronicles show the role of ethnic-regional solidarities in the upward mobility and the role it played in connecting Moldavian-Wallachian and Ottoman political arenas. By looking closer at the narrative strategies of two authors: Miron Costin (1633/4–1691) and Ion Neculce (1672–1745) and putting it in the context of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha’s empire-wide appointment strategy, I hope to show the way in which ethnic solidarity worked in connecting otherwise disparate elite groupings within the wider Ottoman world. Before moving to the discussion of the narratives themselves, it is worth recounting shortly the career of Gheorghe Ghica himself.6 Hailing from Albania, he immigrated to Moldavia in the 1620s as part of the major inflow of 5
The most important works on this topic are undoubtedly Radu G. Păun, “Pouvoirs, offices et patronage dans la Principauté de Moldavie au XVIIe siècle. L’aristocratie roumaine et la pénétration gréco-levantine”, unpublished PhD dissertation, École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2003; Radu G. Păun, “Les grands officiers d'origine gréco-levantine en Moldavie au XVIIe siècle. Offices, carrières et stratègies de pouvoir,” Revue des Études Sud-est Européennes 45/1-4 (2007): 153-95. Another seminal article on the issue of identities and political use of ethnic labels in Bogdan Murgescu, “"Fanarioți" și "pământeni". Religie și etnicitate în definirea identităților în Țările Române și în Imperiul Otoman,” in idem, Țările Române între Imperiul Otoman și Europa creștină, Iași 2012, 53-59. 6 Nicolae Stoicescu, Dicționar al marilor dregători din Țara Românească și Moldova, sec. XIV-XVII, Bucharest 1971, 403. 234
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
so-called Greco-Levantines into the principalities. Initially occupying himself with commerce, he was employed at the court by the voievode Vasile Lupu (1634–1653), a ruler of Albanian origin. After occupying a number of lowerranking positions7, Ghica was appointed as Chief Judge of Lower Moldavia (vornic al Țării de Jos), a third-ranking office in the principality, during the final years of Lupu’s rule (1647–1652). He was also dispatched by his patron to İstanbul to serve as his representative of to the Porte (kapıkahya, Rom. capuchehăia) – a position that was crucial for the very political (and often physical) survival of the voievode.8 Vasile Lupu’s last years were a troubled period. The principality was pulled into the chaos of Polish-Cossack War (1648–1654), while the opposition against the faction of Vasile Lupu mounted among some of the boyars. In April 1653, the rebellion led by Chancellor (mare logofăt) Gheorghe Ștefan erupted against Vasile Lupu and his clique.9 By December, the rebels supported by Transylvanian-Polish-Wallachian coalition had managed to overcome Lupu and his Cossack allies and establish Gheorghe Ștefan as the new voievode (r. 1653–1658). Despite the anti-Greek rhetoric employed by the new ruler and harsh repressions against Lupu’s supporters, Gheorghe Ștefan retained Ghica as his representative at the Porte, while undertaking effort to ensure the latter’s loyalty. This was done through arranging the marriage between Ghica’s son, Grigore (future voievode of Wallachia, 1660–1664, 1672–1674) and his own lineage. However, another crisis in the region, caused by overly ambitious political plans of György Rákóczy II, the prince of Transylvania (r. 1648–1660), provided the new grand vizier Köprülü Mehmed Pasha with an occasion to reassert control over the Danubian Principalities. Pro-Transylvanian voievodes of Moldavia and Wallachia – Gheorghe Ștefan and Constantin Șerban (r. 1654–1658) – were summoned to the Porte and, upon failing to attend, were replaced with He was appointed the position of grand șetrar (quatermaster) (1638–1641), grand medelnicer (cutler) (1643), grand stolnic (seneschal) (1645–1647). 8 Ioan D Condurachi, Soli și agenți ai domnilor Moldovei la Poartă în secolul al XVII-lea, Bucharest 1920; Aurel H. Golimas, Despre capuchehăile Moldovei și poruncile Porții către Moldova, până la 1829, Iași 1943; Ion Matei, Reprezentanții diplomatici (capuchehăi) ai Țării Românești la Poartă Otomană, Bucharest 2008. 9 Ioan D Condurachi, Soli și agenți ai domnilor Moldovei la Poartă în secolul al XVII-lea, Bucharest 1920; Aurel H. Golimas, Despre capuchehăile Moldovei și poruncile Porții către Moldova, până la 1829, Iași 1943; Ion Matei, Reprezentanții diplomatici (capuchehăi) ai Țării Românești la Poartă Otomană, Bucharest 2008. 7
235
Michał WASIUCIONEK
Gheorghe Ghica (in Moldavia) and Mihnea III (Wallachia, 1658–1659).10 Subsequently, the new appointees were enthroned with the help of Ottoman and Crimean forces, while the deposed rulers retreated to Transylvania and joined the rebellion of Rákóczy against the Porte. Ghica’s rule in Moldavia was a brief one and overshadowed by the constant struggle with Transylvanian-supported Constantin Șerban. The new voievode proved himself spectacularly unsuccessful in military sphere, being driven out of the principality and returning only with the help of Crimean Tatars. He was soon transferred to Wallachia to replace Mihnea III, who had defected to the rebels. The rule in Wallachia was similarly brief, as upon Ghica’s failure to deliver the tribute he was dismissed in favour of his son, Grigore. After his removal from the throne, he moved to Istanbul, where he served as Wallachian capuchehaia until his death in 1664. While hardly an impressive and able ruler, Gheorghe Ghica’s career allows us to uncover some interesting mechanisms of upward mobility. This becomes visible in two divergent, but nonetheless complementary accounts of his career circulating in Moldavian historiography of late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. The first one was composed by Miron Costin – a contemporary of the events – and included in his chronicle of Moldavia that constituted the blueprint for virtually all subsequent Moldavian historical works. It served as a source for Ion Neculce, who used sections from Costin in his own account of Ghica’s career. However, the latter significantly changed not only the main focus of Costin’s account, but also inserted it into totally different narrative and political framework. Costin begins his account from the arrival of Gheorghe Ghica to Moldavia. While initially being involved in commerce, Ghica is soon taken to the court by Vasile Lupu: Being of the same origin as him [Ghica] – that is Albanian – voievode Vasile brought him to the court and entrusted him some minor offices, and later [Ghica] reached the position of the Chief Judge of Lower Moldavia. And as Vasile considered him faithful, he sent him to the Porte as a capuchehaia, as [the ruler]
10
Virgil Cândea (ed.), Istoria românilor, vol. 5, Bucharest 2003, 157. 236
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
upon seeing him valuable and diligent at everything, as one should be as capuchehaia.11
Ghica’s Albanian ethnicity is put explicitly by Costin as the prime motive for employment at the court by the Albanian voievode. Only later, the competence and loyalty seems to play an important role in his subsequent rise through the boyar ranks to the position of vornic and capuchehaia. The trust placed in Ghica seems – as Costin shows later – well placed, as throughout the tumultuous period of 1652–1653 capuchehaia was a stalwart supporter on his patron, changing allegiance only when Vasile Lupu’s case was clearly lost and Gheorghe Ștefan arrested Ghica’s son in order to ensure his loyalty. However, and this is quite telling, the new voievode seems to nurture doubts about the allegiances of Ghica and, as Costin stresses, arranging the marriage between Grigore Ghica and his own niece was aimed precisely at creating affinitive relation that would impede Ghica from acting against new ruler’s interests. This measure was only partly successful, as Ghica maintained contact with his fallen patron and upon his own enthronement in Moldavia. After an elaborate recounting of Ghica’s career as a boyar, Costin concludes his description with the circumstances of Ghica’s appointment as the voievode. However, in comparison with the rest of the section dedicated to his rise, this part of the narrative is surprisingly laconic: [Gheorghe Ștefan] sent old Ghica as a capuchehaia, where he took care of [voievode’s] affairs at the Porte until the deposition of Ștefan. When the vizier Köprülu summoned [Gheorghe Ștefan] to the Porte to kiss the sultan’s robes, and the latter was unwilling to go, [Köprülu] appointed Ghica to the throne.12
A little more detail is, however, given in the earlier part of the chronicle, when Costin recounts the audience given to the Moldavian boyars sent by Gheorghe Ștefan: Tahsin Gemil, Țările române în contextul politic internațional (1621-1672), Bucharest 1979, 172; Mircea C. Soreanu, “Țările române și Imperiul otoman în perioada guvernării marilor viziri din familia Köprülü (1656-1710),” unpublished PhD diss., University of Bucharest 1998, 132-34; Cândea, Istoria românilor, 163. 12 “Fiindu de un niam cu dânsul, arbănaș, l-au trasu-l Vasilie vodă la curte și de odată la boerii mai mănunte, apoi la vorniciia cea mare de Țara de Gios au agiunsu. Și țiindu-l Vasilie vodă de credință, l-au trimis la Poartă capichihaie, vădzându-l și om cuntenit la toate și scump, cum să cade hie când capichihăei să hie.” Miron Costin, Letopisețul Țării Moldovei dela Aron Vodă încoace, ed. P.P. Panaitescu, Bucharest 1943, 191. 11
237
Michał WASIUCIONEK
[T]he vizier responded the voievodes that even if they would fill their houses with golden coins, they could not evade coming [to the Porte]. ‘And if they come, they will remain voievodes. And if voievode Ștefan won’t come, I will immediately put this one [on the throne],” said the vizier pointing at Ghica, who was capuchehaia of Ștefan at the Porte. And they say that, just as vizier said those words, Ghica rushed to kiss vizier’s robes.13
Putting aside the presentation of Ghica’s behavior as overtly disloyal to his ruler, the account does not give much indication concerning why it was Ghica that was appointed as the new voievode of Moldavia. Rather, the message seems to be that the choice of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha was made ad hoc, almost a whim of the volatile Ottoman official disregarding any considerations of the boyars. Gheorghe Ghica was thus – if we follow Costin’s narrative – an almost accidental and random choice: he just happened to be in the room during the audience. What is important here in Costin’s account is his consciousness of the role of ethnic solidarity for the upward mobility, as well as his framing of Ghica’s career. He acknowledges the role of ethnic-based patronage explicitly by relating it to the patronage exercised by Vasile Lupu. However, he does not address the issue of the relationship between the Ottoman officials and Moldavian boyars. This is, however, explainable by the political and narrative framework adopted by Costin. The vantage point of Miron Costin is throughout the whole account fixed in Moldavia and Moldavian political arena. Firstly, the very beginning of the account starts only at the moment of Ghica coming to Moldavia. This is also stressed by the verbs denoting movement applied by the author: he consistently uses “to go” (a merge) and “to send” (a trimi) to reflect movement from 13
“Atunce trimițindu Ștefan vodă pre Stamatie postelnicul cu câțva boieri de țară să-i isprăvască stiag de domniie și aice pre fecioru său, pre Gligorașco, care apoi au fostu domnu în Țara Muntenească, îl trimisease în Țara Unguriască, la închisoare. Deci n’au avut ce mai face și împotriva unii țări și audzindu de fecior la închisoare, au stătut și el cu boierii lui Ștefan vodă alăturea pre trebile lui Ștefan vodă și au venit și singur cu aga, cările au venit cu stiagul și cu alți boeri în țară. Ștefan vodă socotindu iară aceie care socotise și Vasilie vodă în Ghica vornicul, că este om de capichihăie, neavându gându să poată iasă unul ca dânsul la domnie, l-au făcut de casa sa, cu nepoată sa, fata Sturdzii visternicului, după feciorul lui, Gligorașco postelnicul. Și după ce l-au făcut cuscru de casa sa, pre feciorul său boerindu-l cu agiea, pre Ghica bătrânul l-au trimis iară la capichihăie, la Poartă și au fostu pe trebule lui Ștefan vodă, până ce i-au venitn maziliia. Chemându-l veziriul Chiupruliul la sărutarea poalei împărăteși și necutedzându a merge Ștefan vodă la Poartă, au dat Ghicăi vornicului domniia țărâi.” Ibid., 192. 238
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
the principality to the Porte, while “to come” (a veni) serves to describe motion in the opposite direction.14 For Costin, the story of Ghica is principally within the framework of Moldavian political arena and thus it is the ethnic solidarity within this arena that catches his attention. What happened in the Ottoman capital interests him only to a limited degree. Neculce knew the account by Costin and inserted it into his account. However, while Moldavian political arena was the focus of attention for Costin, it has been marginalized in Neculce’s story. Instead, the author starts the career of Ghica from the moment he left his village for Istanbul: Voievode Ghica – an Albanian by birth – as he was a young boy, he set out from his home to Constantinople to find a master whom he would serve. And he took with him a small boy, who was a poor Turk from the island of Cyprus [din ostrovul Chiprului]. And as they were travelling to Constantinople, they were talking many good words: that they will share together the last slice of bread. And Ghica said: "You are a Turk, you can become a great man, and what would you do then for me?” Abd the Turk replied: „If I get to be a great man, I will make you the greatest man in Cyprus [Chipru]…” And upon arriving to Istanbul, they parted and each set out to search for a patron.15
The story first follows the Turkish boy, who is revealed as the future grand vizier Köprülü Mehmed Pasha, his slow ascendancy through the ranks of Ottoman officialdom and his appointment as grand vizier in the face of the rebellion in Istanbul. At this point, the narrative shifts back to Ghica, who at the same enters the service of the Moldavian capuchehaia in Istanbul, only to move later to the principality as a merchant. The Moldavian period of Ghica’s career is clearly a faithful, if abridged, retelling of Costin’s account. However, unlike in the latter text, this section plays only secondary role, connecting the story of small boys travelling to Istanbul with their later reunion during the audience of Moldavian boyars at the imperial council:
14
"[D]omnilor așe au răspunsu vezirul, că ari împlea căte o casă de galbeni de aur, nu poate acestu lucru, să nu vie aice. «Și de vor veni, iară domni vor hi! Iară de nu va veni Ștefan vodă, într-un cias oi pune pre acesta,» arătându pre Ghica vornicul, carele era capichihaia lui Ștefan vodă la Poartă. Spun de Ghica vornicul, cum au dzis acestu cuvânt vezirul, el au și alergat de au sărutat poala vizirului.” Ibid., 190. 15 In a similar vein, most of the accounts concerning 1622 Janissary rebellion against Osman II represent – as Gabriel Piterberg argues – the kul-centric and Istanbul-based perspective through the application of verbs of movement to and from Anatolia, see Gabriel Piterberg, An Ottoman tragedy: history and historiography at play, Berkeley 2003, 167. 239
Michał WASIUCIONEK
And it happened once, during the reign of Gheorghe Ștefan, that when [Ghica] was at the Porte with other boyars, the vizier recognized him. And Ghica did not recognize the vizier. So Köprülü summoned the imperial treasurer and told him in secret: “Do you see this old Moldavian boyar at the Council? Bring him to your chamber until the conclusion of the Council and later bring him to me in secret.” [...] And after the conclusion of the Council they brought [Ghica] to the vizier and the vizier asked him who he is and where does he come from and also asked: “You recognize me, don’t you?”, and Ghica told the vizier where does he come from, but for the vizier himself, he could not recognize him. Then the vizier asked: “Do you remember what we promised each other, as we were travelling together?” And he also told: “Well, you forgot, by I haven’t, and so I will make you the voievode of Moldavia, only keep silent about it for a moment”. And Ghica rushed to kiss the hand [of the vizier] and he begged in his ruler’s favour, so that the latter will be allowed to stay at the throne and so that he won’t be deposed. And the vizier replied: “Then I will leave him be for the time being, but I will not take back my word about I will make for you.” And he summoned Gheorghe Ștefan to the Porte and - as the latter was unwilling to come – [the vizier] appointed Ghica as the voievode in Moldavia[…].16
The story of two poor childhood friends reuniting after decades at the top of imperial hierarchy seems to be too literary to be true.17 However, it is worth 16
„Ghica-vodă, de neamul lui fiind arbănaș, copil tânăr au purces de la casa lui la Țarigrad, să-ș găsască un stăpân să slujască. Și cu dânsul s-au mai luat un copil turcu, iar sărac, din ostrovul Chiprului. Și mergând amândoi dempreună la Țarigrad, multe vorbe bune au vorbit: de vor găsi pită, să să caute unul pre altul. Și au dzis Ghica-vodă: «Tu ești turcu, poți să agiungi să fii om mare, și mi-i face pre mine atunce?» Iar turcu au dzis atunce: «De voi fi eu om mare, te voi face de vii fi mai mare în Chipru, giudecătoriu.» Și mergând în Țarigrad, s-au despărțit unul de altul, să-ș caute stăpâni.” Ion Neculce, Letopisețul Țării Moldovei și o samă de cuvinte, ed. Iorgu Iordan, Bucharest 1955, 118-19. 17 "Deci tîmplîndu-să atence, la vremea lui Gheorghii Ștefan-vodă de au fost la Poartă cu alți boieri, viziriul vădzîndu-l l-au cunoscut cine este. Iar Ghica-vodă nu-l cunoște pre viziriul. Deci viziriul Chiupruliolul au și chemat pre haznatariul lui și i-au dzis în taină: «Vedzi cel boieriu bătrîn moldovan ce este la Divan? Să-l iei și să-l duci la odaia ta, pănă s-a rădica Divanul, și apoi să-l duci la mine în taină cum trebuiește.» [...] Și după ce s-au rădicat Divanul și l-au adus la viziriul, l-au întrebat viziriul ce om este și de unde este, și au dzis: «Cunoști-mă pre mine, au ba?» Iar Ghica-vodă s-au spus de unde este de locul lui, iar a cunoaște pre viziriul nu-l cunoște. Atunce viziriul Chiupruliolul s-au spus și au dzis: «Ții minte ce am vorbit cînd viniiam amîndoi pre cale?» Și au dzis: «De ai uitat tu, dar eu n-am uitat, și iată că te voi face domnu în Moldova; numai să tăci mîlcom». Iar Ghica-vodă au și mărsu de i-au sărutat mînă și s-au rugat atunce pentru stăpînu-său, să-l lasă să fie domnu, să nu-l mazilească. Iar viziriul au răspunsu: «Acmu doedată îl las să fie, iar mai pre urmă cuvîntul mieu gios nu l-oi lasă, ce te voi face pre tine». Și pre urmă, chemînd la Poartă pre Gheorghii Ștefan-vodă să margă, au pus pre Ghica-vodă domu în Moldova, după cum scrie letopisățul.” Ibid., 119-20. 240
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
noting that while for Costin the crux of the story was the patronage exercised by Vasile Lupu in furthering Gheorghe Ghica’s career, for Neculce – while not denying its importance – another instance of patronage is the main focus: the protection exercised by Köprülü Mehmed Pasha over the future voievode. This instance of patronage does not develop within the Moldavian political arena, but rather at the interface between two distinct political spaces – the Moldavian-Wallachian and the Ottoman one. This framing of the story is visible in the changing vantage point from which it is narrated. In the first section (until the arrival to Istanbul) the “camera” is following both of them through their journey. After Ghica and Köprülü part their ways, it first follows the ascendancy of the Ottoman official through the ranks, his connection with the sultan’s favorite and his appointment as the grand vizier and subsequently establishment of a veritable dynasty within Ottoman administration. Then, the story goes back to Ghica and narrates his rise to the position of capuchehaia in parallel to that of Köprülü up until the culminating point during the audience, when the two reunite and – in effect – Ghica is appointed as voievode. While Neculce once refers to Moldavia as “here” (aici), his “observation point” shifts constantly and adapts to the manifold political arenas in which the story develops. What is missing on the explicit level of the story, however, is the reference to the ethnic solidarities, which had prominent place in Costin’s account. Some information in the text, as mentioning that the Turkish (in Romanian reference to religious rather than ethnic identity) boy came from the “island of Cyprus” (ostrovul Chiprului). The editor of the chronicle, Iorgu Iordan, has provided a plausible explanation of this detail, suggesting the confusion deriving from the interpretation of the sobriquet Köprülü as deriving from the well-known island of Cyprus rather than somewhat obscure Anatolian town of Köprü, both pronounced and written in a similar manner in Romanian.18 18
On the basis of the information from Mihail-Dimitri Sturdza, Dictionnaire historique des grandes familles de Grèce, d’Albanie, et de Constantinople, Paris 1983, 448, Christine Philliou has taken this story at face value, Philliou, Biography of an empire, 16. However, the fact that the chronicle of Ion Neculce written in the second quarter of the eighteenth century is the first recounting of this story and the life courses of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha and Gheorghe Ghica are so neatly mirroring each other casts doubt on the veracity of this account. Moreover, the future grand vizier was handpicked during the devșirme levy, an institution that was already defunct at the time when Neculce was writing his chronicle and his vision of entering Ottoman service reflects the realities when the grandee households took the dominant place in the recruitment. 241
Michał WASIUCIONEK
However, as Metin Kunt pointed out, the most plausible place of Köprülü’s origin was the kaza of Berat and his ethnic origin was without any doubt Albanian.19 Thus, while Neculce’s account should be taken with a grain of salt, it can be underpinned by the affinitive ties existing between Ghica and Köprülü Mehmed Pasha on the basis of common ethnic and regional origin and that this was the factor behind the elevation of Ghica to the throne. In order to examine this theory, we have to look at the appointment strategy of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha in a wider Ottoman context. The first grand vizier of the Köprülü dynasty was without doubt a beneficient of the ethnic-based patronage, being a client of Hüsrev Pasha and subsequently Tabanıyassı Mehmed Pasha.20 However, his own household and network of clients was to much extent heterogenous and included a number of officials hailing from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. For instance, one of the main pillars of the household was Merzifonlu Kara Mustafa Pasha, son of a sipahi from the vicinity of Köprü.21 Another of Köprülü’s clients was his Caucasian slave, Abaza Siyavush Pasha.22 No doubt, there was also a number of fellow “westerners” within the household, as the case of Ahmed Bey Bushnaq in Egypt suggests.23 In general, however, Köprülü’s faction had a multicultural and multiethnic features and reflect both the pragmatical approach to the process of household building (as Jane Hathaway has proven) as well as the gradual accumulation of clients by Köprülü throughout his career.24 However, when we turn our eyes to the appointments in Moldavia and Wallachia, a different pattern emerges. Out of four voievodes elevated under the vizirate of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha, all except one went to the individuals of Albanian origin.25 A single case of appointing non-Albanian voievode was 19 Neculce, Letopisețul, 119, fn. 1. 20 21 22
23 24 25
Kunt, “Ethnic-regional solidarity,” 235. Ibid., 236-37. Merlijn Olnon, “ ‘A most agreeable and pleasant creature’? Merzifonlu Kara Mustafa Pașa in the correspondence of Justinus Colyer (1668-1682),” Oriente Moderno 83/3 (2003), 652-54. Abou-El-Haj, “Vizier and Pașa households,” 443. Jane Hathaway, A tale of two factions: myth, memory, and identity in Ottoman Egypt and Yemen, Albany 2003, 191. Those appointments were: Gheorghe Ghica (1658–1659 in Moldavia, 1659-1660 in Wallachia), Mihnea III (1658–1659, Wallachia), Ștefaniță Lupu (1659–1661, Moldavia), Grigore Ghica (1660–1664, Wallachia). 242
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
the one of Mihnea III (1658–1659), known also in Ottoman sources as Civan Bey.26 His case was however peculiar as he was clearly not a client of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha, but of another powerful grandee – Sarı Kenan Pasha, a political ally of Köprülü during the early stage of Abaza Hasan Pasha’s revolt.27 The parallel appointment of Mihnea III and Ghica to the Danubian Principalities can thus be interpreted as part of the political alliance struck between two powerful Ottoman households that agreed to divide the spoils among themselves.28 Thus, it seems that the choices of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha were solely those of Albanians. How to interpret this discrepancy between the appointments the Danubian Principalities and within Ottoman administration proper? I would argue that the difference derived from the relative disjunction (but by no means isolation) between Moldavian-Wallachian and Ottoman political arenas, the specific status of the Danubian Principalities and the inapplicability of the established household-building repertoire to those specific conditions. The Ottoman grandees developed a number of means for providing cohesion to their political households, which have been analysed and described in historiography. The head of the household relied on marriage ties29, political slavery30, distributing tax-farms among his clients31, hierarchies within the corps, Sufi networks32 and – last but not least – ethnic-regional solidarities. However, the peculiar insitutional arrangement of the Danubian Principalities as Chris26 Cândea, O
epocă de înnoiri, 172-74; Soreanu, “Țările române,” 134. 27 Caroline Finkel, Osman’s dream : the story of the Ottoman Empire, 1300-1923, New York 2007, 258. On Sarı Kenan Pasha, see Mehmed Süreya, Sicill-i Osmanî, ed. Seyit Ali Kahraman, vol. 3, Istanbul 1996, 885.The account of the relationship between Sarı Kenan Pasha and Mihnea III by Evliya Çelebi in M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Mustafa A. Mehmet (eds.), Călători străini despre Țările Române, vol. 6, Bucharest 1976, 467. 28 A similar case of dividing the spoils, while keeping the balance between different households has been described by Jane Hathaway in her analysis of the alliance between Qazdağlıs and Jalfis in mid-eighteenth century Egypt, Hathaway, Politics of household, 96. 29 Ibid., 124. 30 Ibid., 105; Gabriel Piterberg, “The Formation of an Ottoman Egyptian Elite in the 18th Century,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 22/3 (1990), 283. 31 Hathaway, Politics of household, 130; Ariel Salzmann, Tocqueville in the Ottoman Empire : rival paths to the modern state, Leiden - Boston 2004, 106. 32 James A. Reilly, A small town in Syria: Ottoman Hama in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries, Oxford 2002, 30. 243
Michał WASIUCIONEK
tian-ruled polities-cum-tax farms prevented the Ottoman officials from acquiring them within the framework of the iltizam system.33 The virtual absence of imperial military corps in the principalities made the use of barrack factions impracticable. The structure and attitudes of the local boyar class prevented the immersion of mamluks into the ruling group. Finally, the religious and status differences between Moldavian-Wallachian and Ottoman political elites made the use of marriage ties and utilizing religious networks a non-option for the Ottoman officials willing to extent the reach of their household. This left out ethnic-regional solidarities as one of the few tools available for the grandees to gain access to resources in the principalities and to provide trust and cohesion to their patronage network. In contrast to the Ottoman administration, where frequent and multiple interactions produced heterogenous and multiethnic households, the relative detachment and low-level permeability of boundaries between Ottoman and Moldavian-Wallachian political arenas resulted in a smaller number of tools that could be applied for providing cohesion and trust to the patronage networks, which is visible in the case of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha. This paper focused on one case of such ethnic-based patronage within the framework of Köprülü Mehmed Pasha’s faction-building strategy. However, it is important to keep in mind that Köprülü was by no means unique. Even cursory review of Ottoman-Moldavian-Wallachian relations throughout the seventeenth century shows that the opposite is the case. Many Ottoman officials allied themselves with their counterparts on the basis of the ethnicity and some even paid dearly for supporting their clients in Moldavia and Wallachia; for instance, Tabanıyassı Mehmed Pasha was executed for his involvement and support of Vasile Lupu’s failed attempt to gain thrones of both principalities in the late 1630s.34 More thorough examination of such instances can bring both a number of other cases as well as more general view of the interaction between the imperial elite and the elites of their tributary states. Two more general propositions can be drawn from the cases described above. Firstly, the patronage relations and solidarities between actors belonging to different political arenas subvert the state- and community-centered way of Viorel Panaite, “The voivodes of the Danubian Principalities as Harâcgüzarlar of the Ottoman sultans,” in Kemal H. Karpat – Robert W. Zens (eds.), Ottoman borderlands: issues, personalities, and political changes, Madison 2003, 64. 34 The story from Moldavian perspective is narrated by Costin, Letopisețul, 107-08. 33
244
Ethnic solidarity in the wider Ottoman empire revisited
seeing Ottoman governance, metaphorically described by Karen Barkey as “astronomy of empire”, with the self-contained local and minority elites surrounding the central, reified state without much interaction with each other.35 Even the members of such seemingly compartmentalized elite as Moldavian-Wallachian boyars participated – although not on the equal footing as the imperial elite – in the political world of the wider Ottoman Empire. The appointments in Moldavia and Wallachia and rapid turnover of voievodes were not an expression of state virtuosity36 – as Barkey suggests – or of officials’ whims and rampant corruption – as most Romanian scholars see it – but rather an effect of entanglement between Moldavian-Wallachian and Ottomans political arenas connected through factional struggles and households’ scramble for economic and political resources. Only by examining these parallel developments, convergences and entaglements as a histoire croisée with individuals and political households as principal actors we can learn more not only about the Moldavian-Ottoman relations, but also about broader mechanisms of the imperial political life.
Karen Barkey, Empire of Difference: The Ottomans in Comparative Perspective, Cambridge 2008, 294. 36 Eadem, “In Different Times: Scheduling and Social Control in the Ottoman Empire, 1550 to 1650,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 38, no. 3 (1996), 481. 35
245
