Since the architect and restorer Sedat ÃetintaÅ argued in 1955 that âthe Green Mosque and its likes are not mosquesâ1 the identity and functions of the buildings he was referring to, namely the âT-typeâ structures that are among the most distinctive products of early Ottoman architectural culture, have been matters of debate. These edifices, widely dispersed in late medieval northwestern Anatolia and the Balkans and patronized in the early centuries largely by sultans and military leaders of the frontier zones, had plural accommodative, social, and devotional uses. They were planned around a domed central hall, with flanking rooms and an eyvÄn (Ar. Ä«wÄn) across the entrance beyond the domed hall. The eyvÄn, a vaulted or domed hall that opens to the central domed space and is elevated by a few steps, was in most, but not all cases allocated to prayer. Their foundation deeds (waqfiyya) identify them as Ê¿imÄret or zÄviye (Ar. zÄwiya), and their users as âcomers and goersâ (an expansive range of people in the tempestuous worlds of medieval Anatolia and Balkans), traveling dervishes, and the needy; in royal foundations, ulama, shaykhs, sayyids (sÄdÄt), Quran readers, and preachers are recounted among beneficiaries. Their waqfiyyas make clear that the offering and consumption of food, social and religious ritual, and shelter provided to dervishes and travelers intersected in these buildings constructed outside the established urban cores, initially of Bithynian and Thracian cities.2 The oft-cited travel narrative of the North African scholar Ibn Baá¹á¹uá¹a corroborates this and offers a vibrant view into the conviviality that formed the texture of life in Anatolian zÄviyes.3 As far as modern scholarship on these buildings is concerned, however, it has proven difficult (if not impossible) to eliminate, or even to de-emphasize the notion that they functioned primarily as mosques.4
The difficulty in establishing a historicized understanding of the Ottoman âT-typeâ buildings is in part due to the nature of the changes in the buildingsâ architecture, uses, and institutional designations (and the degree to which these have, or have not, been addressed by architectural historians). Equally significant are the connections between architectural and institutional configurations to shifts in Ottoman religious politics. Starting in the 910s/1510s, and more visibly in the middle and later decades of the tenth/sixteenth century, the majority of Ottoman Ê¿imÄrets, which powerfully announced their patronsâ benefaction through their offering of food, shelter, and ritual space, were turned into congregational mosques, the primary type of religious structure sponsored by Ottoman patrons, especially through what has been regarded their âclassical age.â In other words, the larger part of Ottoman Ê¿imÄrets/zÄviyes, and among them those well-known structures built by sultans as part of prestigious building complexes at the edges of such cities as Bursa and Edirne, have functioned as congregational mosques beyond about the first century and a half (in fewer cases the first two centuries) of their lives as public edifices. As much as Sedat ÃetintaÅ was correct in his assertion, YeÅil Cami had been a mosque for about 400 years at the time he made his emphatic statement on the buildingâs former identity (figures 8.1, 8.2).5
The disjunction between historical and modern terminologies used to denote these edifices, too, captures and continues to reproduce the historiographic quandary. Inscriptions, foundation deeds, historical narratives, and archival documents identify them with terms that connote Sufi ritual, the offering of shelter, and the daily and ritual consumption of food. Often the same building is identified in different documents as Ê¿imÄret, zÄviye, or hÄnḳÄh (the latter two referring more specifically to spaces of ritual and accommodation of Sufi groups and ahÄ« confraternities); buḳʿa (a place, spot, or building) and dÄra hayren (place of charity) are also terms one encounters in documents and inscriptions.6 These terms are encountered often in documents of representational nature for the edifices in question, and the choice of terms, Ê¿imÄret in most inscriptions and zÄviye in the greater part of foundation deeds (and their interchangeable use with other terms), appears to be less than accidental. Hence, the foundation of Orhan (724â763/1324â1362) in Bursa is âzÄviye, known among people as Ê¿imÄretâ in its waqf document and Ê¿imÄret in its restoration inscription dated 820/1417, highlighting the larger public recognition of the buildings as Ê¿imÄret.7 In similar fashion, MurÄd Iâs (763â791/1362â1389) waqfiyya for the building he founded in Bursaâs Ãekirge suburb identifies it as âthe zÄviye called Kaplıca Ê¿imÄret;â8 Meḥmed Iâs (816â824/1413â1421) Bursa foundation is called buḳâa and Ê¿imÄret in two inscriptions dating to 822/1419 and 827/1424 respectively, and zÄviye in its waqf document of 822/1419.9
Figure 8.1
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret and complex of Meḥmed I, the âGreen Mosque,â 822/1419
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
Figure 8.2a
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret of Meḥmed I, 822/1419, plan
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
Figure 8.2b
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret of Meḥmed I, 822/1419, section
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
However divergent their interpretations of the uses, historical and geographical horizons, and formal configurations of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret, many modern scholars have formulated, or preferred to use, terms that have underscored these buildingsâ function as prayer spaces: hence, Bursa-type mosque, zaviye and zaviyeli cami (mosque with a zÄwiya), tabhaneli cami (mosque with hospice rooms), eyvÄn mosque, and futuwwa mosque.10 The term âconvent-masjidâ offered by Gülru NecipoÄlu for those buildings that have a masjid eyvÄnâthat is, an eyvÄn that functioned as a designated place of prayer oriented toward Meccaâhighlights their plural uses, while it attributes equal weight to the masjid and convent functions of the building.11 Reviewing terminological choices, one may also consider that medieval Syrian and Cairene madrasas and hÄnḳÄhs, and their Anatolian contemporaries, more often than not featured a prayer space with a mihrab, and have not been termed masjid or mosque in contemporary sources or in modern scholarship.12
This paper approaches the set of questions posed by this distinct product of late medieval architecture from the point of view of the time of change noted above: the period encompassing the later decades of the ninth/fifteenth into the later decades of the tenth/sixteenth century, which turned Ê¿imÄret and zÄviye into mosque (whether these were extant buildings that underwent processes of conversion or newly built edifices that followed the distinguishing conventions of the T-type edifice). Within the same time frame, the Ê¿imÄret was produced and reproduced as a new kind of space and in part, a new notion: now it also denoted the soup kitchen built as an independent structure within a larger compound. I locate the beginnings of that shift in the mid-860s/1460s and 870s/1470s, that is, the decades of the first, and most intense phase of new construction in Istanbul by the Ottoman elite. During these years the vast building complex founded by Meḥmed II (r. 848â850/1444â1446, 855â886/1451â1481) in newly conquered Istanbul, followed by a set of viziersâ foundations within the walled cityâto be discussed in detail belowâradically altered the uses and meanings of the urban foundation as it had taken shape through the eighth/fourteenth century. While they were still conceived as tools of settlement and loci of symbolic representation, sultanic and elite endowments of the imperial age were products of a newly formulated religiopolitical configuration, which effected changes in terminology, in institutional practices, and in spatial and visual configurations. The agency of the new elite of slave origins empowered by Meḥmed II to replace a former elite and to counter the power of the frontier lords was central to this process.
1 History, Typology, and a Passage into Early Modernity
The immediate historical and methodological questions with regard to the topic of this paper are the spatial, institutional, and architectural dimensions of a passage: one may broadly define this as a transition from a set of medieval religious, institutional, and spatial practices to one in tune with the workings of an early modern polity and society. The product of an age of cultural dynamism and fluidity, a comparatively more diffuse and fluid set of signifying practices shaped the Ê¿imÄret building and its institutional setup.13 The layout of the T-type edifice, whether it was founded as and called a zÄviye, an Ê¿imÄret, a buḳʿa, or a hÄnḳÄh, imposed no absolute boundaries between spaces of the sacred and the profane; likewise, their foundation documents, though with substantial differences across geography and patronage profiles, do not stipulate distinctions regarding ritual practices within. The moment of change in the histories of Ottoman Ê¿imÄret and mosque (with implications for the larger urban environment) can be firmly located in the final quarter of the ninth/fifteenth century. The histories of these institutions and the changes in their architecture are intricately linked to long-term religiopolitical processes that rendered the establishment of orthodox Sunni doctrine and practice a priority: dynamics that reached their powerful articulation during the reign of SüleymÄn (r. 926â974/1520â1566).14 As unwelcome as it might have been in the frontier environment that gave shape to the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret, then, I will be bringing into the picture the heavy hand of a centralizing state in the making, redefining political hierarchies and formulating religious orthodoxy, to alter, co-opt, and within the course of a century definitively marginalize a set of medieval spatial practices predicated on long-nurtured and well-understood multiplicities and ambiguities.
There is perhaps a correspondence between the early modern insistence on transforming urban Ê¿imÄrets exclusively into mosques and the modern insistence on a distinct name and function to be attached to these buildings. Granted, sixteenth-century religious politics and twentieth-century disciplinary predilections belong to distant epistemic spheres, with the desire to establish a singular, state-sanctioned use (mosque) for edifices with multiple identities, on one hand, and the desire to nail down the specifics of their multifunctionality, on the other. However, they do partake of a mental world focused upon classifying and identifying difference, as Sanjay Subrahmanyam has observed,15 connecting an early modern stateâs desire to dictate norms and regulate practices to the modern academyâs urge to categorize and define.
An exploration of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret from the perspective of its afterlives in early modern and modern times also brings forth questions regarding typology and temporality in the study of architecture. The expansive range of structures that architectural historians have treated as a type (regardless of what terminology they have opted for), and the deliberate changes these structures were subjected to, whether in the form of interventions to extant buildings or spatio-visual alterations in the established configuration when new buildings were designed, unveils the quandaries of working within a conceptual frame determined by typology. Differences in the formal and institutional configuration of Ê¿imÄrets within the Rumi space need to be considered as well. Sharing a specific spatial and volumetric composition and interconnected through a particular patronage profile, early Ottoman Ê¿imÄrets served a range of functions in various loci and communicated related but distinct meanings in frontier environments as opposed to in centers like Amasya and, into the later eighth/fourteenth century, Bursa. Hence the T-type includes structures like the Evrenos Ê¿imÄret in Komotini, centered on an eyvÄn that opens directly onto an exterior court with no portal or portico, BÄyezÄ«d Iâs Edirne Ê¿imÄret, with its atypical layout and unresolved questions regarding its construction history, and the PostinpÅ«Å Baba zÄviye built by MurÄd I for this dervish in YeniÅehir, with a single ceremonial hall flanked by rooms, none of the three buildings having qibla orientations. The differences between these buildings and others like the BÄyezÄ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret in Amasya (one among a number of analogous structures), the celebrated royal Ê¿imÄrets of Bursa with their prominent masjid eyvÄns, or RÅ«m Meḥmed Pashaâs Byzantinizing mosque and hospice in Ãsküdar, Istanbul, highlights the problems of typology as a historianâs tool on the one hand, and the particular issues connected to this âtypeâ on the other (figure 8.3).16 The terminological and historiographical problem arises, in part, from the use of the same frame of reference to understand the initial making and later refashioning and reinterpretations of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret, whose functions and symbolic associations rendered it worth reproducing and revisiting through changing cultural contexts between the earlier eighth/fourteenth and the earlier tenth/sixteenth centuries. Evidently, continued reference to the âtypeâ also required radical modifications.17 Mapping out the histories of the foundation, uses, and reuses of Ê¿imÄrets boldly highlights ruptures, continuities, and transformations in their identities as urban institutions, and in changing practices of signification that invested them (and alongside them, the mosque and the soup kitchen) with new meanings.
Foregrounding typology in the study of architectural history does pose the risk of presenting as stable what was in fact a set of processes of change, and this is a particularly pressing issue given the radical cultural and functional transformation that reshaped and redefined the meanings and uses of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret. At the same time, keeping questions of typology in view may be beneficial for this inquiry. The adherence to a âtype,â that is, a particular formal structure and a set of principles and choices that give shape to it, offers subsequent users the potential of drawing on the past in specific ways, for the choice may serve as a mode of reifying and reaffirming memory. Patrons and designers may reshape and reinvest the type, while at the same time projecting architectural, and by extension, social stability and continuity through their adherence to it.18 Typology, for this inquiry, then, is not completely without significance: rather than the ahistorical schematization it offers, its interest lies in the light it may shed on the significance of the Ê¿imÄret as a type for the patrons, builders, and users of shifting historical, political, and religio-cultural contexts.
Figure 8.3
Amasya, BÄyezÄ«d Pasha zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret, 817/1414
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
In this paper I opt for using the term Ê¿imÄret interchangeably with zÄviye, while I grant that the first term in particular poses a set of problems. Inscriptions, waqf documents, and narrative sources suggest that up to the final resolution of the transformation that turned frontier polity into centralizing empire, the Ê¿imÄret in the Ottoman domains was specifically the accommodative structure laid out in a reverse-T configuration around a central domed hall, at a distance to the urban center and often outside of the inhabited area. It may or may not be the centerpiece of a set of service structures and other buildings, such as a madrasa, a bath, or the founderâs tomb. As a medieval legacy of the larger Islamic world, Ê¿imÄret may also denote any building project of a substantial nature, most often public, at times also private. A further dimension of the terminological puzzle is that during the early modern era Ê¿imÄret came exclusively to denote two functions at once: the urban socioreligious building compound and the soup kitchen that may be among the buildings of such a compound.19 This semantic shift and the projection of the latter meaning backward onto the eighth/fourteenth and early ninth/fifteenth centuries has led to a degree of confusion in modern scholarship on early architectural ventures in the Ottoman domains. The Ê¿imÄrets mentioned in waqf documents alongside substantial kitchen expenses have been taken as evidence for the presence of a separate building that was part of a building complex, imagined to resemble later soup kitchens in the Ottoman domains.20 In a more recent body of work, many early Ê¿imÄret buildings have been considered exclusively as soup kitchens.21 Evidence for the material and spatial setup of the service sections of the early Ottoman complexes, however, is scant. That the tÄbhÄne (hospice) rooms located to the two sides of the Ê¿imÄretâs main domed hall served also as places where food would be served can be conjectured. What remains of the kitchen, storage, and refectory spaces (and the fact that so little does remain of the original forms of such structures anywhere within the Ottoman domains, whether the buildings were sponsored by sultans or by frontier lords), on the other hand, strongly suggest that these were not regarded as representational buildings by their patrons and were rather built with less durable and less prestigious materials and workmanship. Among the few structures whose remnants survived into the twentieth century, the kitchen and (possibly) refectory structures of MurÄd IIâs (r.824â848/1421â1444; 850â855/1446â1451) Bursa complex may be noted: situated a few meters away from the Ê¿imÄret, rectangular spaces of rubble masonry and timber roofs as captured by Albert Gabriel in his Brousse, or the reconstructed kitchen and refectory of the Meḥmed I complex speak to the same attitude (figure 8.4). However important food and food related rituals were to the representational agendas of sultans and gÄzÄ«s, it was the multifunctional Ê¿imÄret/zÄviye building, and not the kitchen or a separate refectory, that architecturally symbolized their acts of benefaction and their sheltering of conviviality.22
Figure 8.4
Bursa, kitchen and refectory of the Meḥmed I complex
Photograph by the author
The study of the late ninth/fifteenth- and early tenth/sixteenth-century versions of the T-type building, too, presents a set of historiographic questions. Prompting lukewarm responses on the part of architectural historians, these buildings have been considered as late, sometimes unusual and not completely successful examples of an established typology.23 Within the evolutionary narrative of Ottoman architecture, marching from the relative modesty of its beginnings toward its stylistically unified and spatially centralized monumentality, in other words toward its celebrated âclassicism,â buildings such as MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs (d. 878/1474) Ê¿imÄret-and-mosque in Istanbul, alongside many others within the imperial domains, have often been regarded as transitory structures that signified the gradual abandonment of an earlier order of partitioned interiors and constituted steps toward the prescribed goal of spatial centralization. The result has been that these buildings, hospice-and-mosque structures in and beyond Istanbul, and the politico-religious process that gave shape to them have attracted little attention (figures 8.5 and 8.6).24
Figure 8.5
Istanbul, Ê¿imÄret and mosque of MaḥmÅ«d Pasha, 878/1473â1474, exterior view. Note the side entrance
Photograph from KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul
I must briefly discuss the well-known, but nevertheless most telling facet of the shift in politico-religious orientations that informed the reshaping and redescription of the Ê¿imÄret: Meḥmed IIâs socioreligious complex, rising during the 860s/1460s on the hill that had previously supported the Church of the Holy Apostles and its dependencies (figure 8.7).25 Here, rather than a royal complex centered by a zÄviye that featured a prayer space, Meḥmed II founded a congregational mosque with a novel design. The building was emphatically separated from any accommodative and service functions by the huge plaza surrounding it, measuring 200 meters to each side and referred to as meydÄn (square) or á¹£aḥn (court) in contemporary sources. The meydÄn was aligned on two sides with the s̱emÄniye madrasas, a college compound conceived and built in an expansive scale unseen in the medieval Islamicate world, meant to educate the ulama of the imperial polity. Beyond that plaza and its surrounding wall was a new type of building: this is the very first royal Ê¿imÄret of the early modern era, a compound designed as a unit within its own walled enclosure, including a courtyard structure that housed the soup kitchen and rooms for travelers, a caravanserai, and a refectory for madrasa students. The rich endowment, impressive architecture, prestigious building materials, and craftsmanship of Meḥmed IIâs Ê¿imÄret marks a turning point in the dynastyâs architectural ventures. While Meḥmed II and his architects made the Friday mosque the physical and institutional center of the royal compound, the visual and aesthetic distinction of the hospice-soup kitchen powerfully highlighted the continued, and augmented, symbolic import of this space (figure 8.8).
Figure 8.6
Istanbul, Ê¿imÄret and mosque of MaḥmÅ«d Pasha, 878/1473â1474 (1. Ê¿imÄret and mosque; 2. mausoleum)
plan from KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul
Figure 8.7
Istanbul, complex of Meḥmed II, 867â875/1463â1470, plan (1. mosque; 2. mausolea; 3. garden; 4. madrasas; 5. preparatory madrasas; 6. hospital; 7. hospice and soup kitchen; 8. stables; 9. kitchen; 10. elementary school; 11. library; 12., 13. gates.)
Plan from KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul
The foundation deed of the complex supports the view that Meḥmed IIâs hospice and soup kitchen was in institutional terms, too, a first in Ottoman practice. Its expansive range of employees, separately recounted for the hospice (Ê¿imÄret), the soup kitchen (maá¹bah al-Ê¿imÄret), and the stables, and its expansive kitchen expenses foresee the accommodation of a larger number of users (identified as students, dervishesâor the poor, fuḳarÄâand travelers, according to the waqfiyya) compared to earlier royal or elite foundations.26 Meḥmed IIâs soup kitchen and hospice compound created a new paradigm for royal Ê¿imÄrets of the following centuries, in Istanbul and beyond.27 Sited at a distance, the Kalenderhane, meant for those for whom the royal Ê¿imÄret did not seem to have space, is one of the two dervish lodges within the walled city that was part of Meḥmed IIâs foundation. The buildingâs name implies that it was allocated to antinomian dervishes rather than Sufis attached to a certain path. The waqfiyya, with its remarkably detailed stipulations regarding the dervishes and their shaykhâs religious observances, their áºikr performances, and MathnawÄ« and poetry readings calls attention to the range of foreseen activities, and to the role of waqf in enforcing a particular order in the endowed establishment.28
That Meḥmed II succeeded in reordering the functions and meanings of the buildings of the royal complex may be evident in the narrative of the antinomian dervish Otman Babaâs confrontations with figures of religious authority in Istanbul during the 870s/1470s. Otman Babaâs VelÄyetnÄme portrays Meḥmed IIâs mosque as a locus of the religious establishment. The ulama confronting the dervish for what to them were scandalous acts hailed from that mosque, which clearly was not a place to be frequented by the baba who roamed the streets, squares, and marketplace of Istanbul, club in his hand and dervishes in tow.29 The confrontation between Sünbül SinÄn (the shaykh of the Halveti lodge at the Ḳoca Muá¹£á¹afÄ Pasha Mosque and founder of the Sünbüliye branch of the Halvetis, d. 936/1529) and á¹¢arı Gürz Ḥamza Efendi (the kadi of Istanbul, d. 928/1522) on the permissibility of devrÄn (rhythmic bodily movements in a circle during Sufi ritual), which took place some decades later in Meḥmed IIâs mosque and was related in the Halveti shaykh ḤulvÄ«âs LemeáºÄt (1621), too, powerfully highlights the mosque as a locus of orthodoxy as articulated by the Ottoman religious establishment.30
Figure 8.8
Istanbul, tÄbhÄne and Ê¿imÄret (hospice and soup kitchen) of the Meḥmed II complex, the courtyard
Photograph from Günüç, Türk kültür ve medeniyet tarihinde Fatih Külliyesi
Two overlapping processes underlay the shift in patronage and architectural representation: the royal patronâs changing relationship to the gÄzÄ« and dervish milieu on one hand, and on the other, the processes of the Sunnitization of the Ottoman polity. Architecture and institutional patronage had their share in the long road to the final dissolution of the rapport between agents of the frontier and the all-powerful center;31 as they did in the dynamic, shifting, and long-term process of Ottoman Sunnitization.32
The abundance of masjid construction in the cities of Rum in the later eighth/fourteenth and ninth/fifteenth centuries may be brought into the picture, as an aspect of the latter process. Neighborhood masjids imposed a grid of Islamic urban markers in the developing cityscapes. Bursa, Edirne, and Istanbul are the best documented cities in this regard, thanks to a number of more complete surveys and studies. The less well-known Ayasuluk (Hagia Theodosius, Selçuk in modern Turkey), the Aydinid center through the eighth/fourteenth century and an intellectual node housing scholars hailing from Mamluk lands through the patronage of ʿĪsÄ Bey,33 presents another striking case of seemingly methodical masjid construction dispersed throughout the urban area.34 A neighborhood masjid might be solely a marker of Muslim presence and preeminence (this, regardless of the religious identities of the areaâs residents35). Its widespread sponsorship was a product of compliance with Hanafi jurisdiction and formulations of the mosque as a semiofficial node vis-à -vis political authority.
The visible attention to masjid construction (by administrative, scholarly, or mercantile elites), which dispersed the spaces of daily prayer within the urban area, may also be considered in connection to a set of prescriptive texts underlining Muslimsâ obligation to perform the requisite prayers. Among them are Ḳuá¹beâd-dÄ«n Ä°zniḳīâs (d. 821/1418) Muḳaddime,36 sections of DevletoÄlu YÅ«suf BalıḳesrÄ«âs ManáºÅ«m fıḳh (or ViḳÄye tercümesi, 828/1424),37 and toward the end of the century, Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu Ä°smÄÊ¿Ä«l Beyâs ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ«.38 Authored by the ÃandaroÄlu bey of Sinop (d. 884/1479), himself the builder of several mosques in his native Kastamonu-Sinop area and in Plovdiv, the city of his exiled governorship, the ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ« includes lengthy sections of minute detail on every conceivable aspect of prayer.39 Commanding arithmetical precision in his knowledge of the rewards of canonical worship, Ä°smÄÊ¿Ä«l Bey indicates that conducting the prayers at the masjid would bring twice the fażl than conducting them at home.40 Ä°zniḳīâs long sections on the daily prayers include a recommendation on not leaving oneâs neighborhood masjid to go and pray at another maḥalle only because the imam of the farther masjid seems to be more pious, suggesting that the socio-spatial integrity and stability of the urban neighborhood, and the religious authorityâs desire to control intra-urban mobility to achieve such stability, were concerns already in the early 800s/1400s.41 All three texts betray the authorsâ access to and compliance with Hanafi law in reference to legal denominations of the city (mıṣr), the role of masjids and mosques vis-à -vis the definition of mıṣr, and the legality of congregational prayer. Thus, they closely overlap with the notions and definitions of urban settlement Baber Johansen has traced in earlier medieval Hanafi legal texts.42
That there was an interconnection between the writings of such scholars as Ä°zniḳī and Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu (himself a scholar and ruler) and the political authorityâs will to impose practices of normative religious observance is suggested by the creation, toward the end of Meḥmed IIâs reign, of the figure of an official namÄzcı, a person who was given authority to fine regular absentees from the five daily prayers and from the Friday congregational prayer.43 We see the namÄzcı at work in one of the early court records of Ãsküdar, dated 927/1521: here, the names of 28 individuals, one of them a janissary, are listed as those denizens of Ãsküdar neighborhoods not attending daily prayers.44 A namÄz sorucı (prayer inquirer) is present also in a Nasreddin Hodja story included in the Pertev Naili Boratav compilation, which provides a different perspective on the matter. This was the Hodjaâs answer to the question whether he performed his prayers: âNeither did I desire it, nor was it my lot.â45
2 Friday Congregation in the Ê¿Ä°mÄret: Agency of the New Elite
Built within the walled city, and at spots that would soon develop into densely settled areas (unlike earlier Ê¿imÄrets located at urban fringes), the Ê¿imÄret-mosques founded by viziers in Istanbul were designed and instituted with attention to daily prayers. The early signs of the institutional and architectural change that turned the Ê¿imÄret into a mosque are fairly obscure, but nevertheless traceable. MurÄd IIâs Edirne Ê¿imÄret may present the first such building; while changes were introduced more systematically in later ninth/fifteenth-century Istanbul.46 The early history of the foundation of Grand Vizier MaḥmÅ«d Pasha, âabsolute deputyâ of Meḥmed II, a primary agent of Ottoman expansion, imperialization, and courtly and urban patronage for two decades before his summary execution in 878/1474, records the shift taking place.47 Contemporary accounts of MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs foundation dating to the 860s/1460s and 870s/1470s identify the building as Ê¿imÄret and hÄnḳÄh; authors highlight the founderâs generosity, the feasts that were offered there, and the presence of travelers who were recipients of the vizierâs generosity. MuÊ¿ÄlÄ«âs lengthy praise of MaḥmÅ«dâs charity, generosity, and pious foundations in his HünkÄrnÄme (ca. 880/1475) links the foundation of the hÄnḳÄh to the feasts offered by its patron.48 The foundation inscription identifies the building as a house of charity (dÄra hayren).49 EnverÄ«, who dedicated his DüstÅ«rnÄme to the grand vizier in 869/1465 makes no mention of a mosque in Istanbul among MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs foundations. Rather, he praises the Ê¿imÄret (and within the same passages, also hÄnḳÄh), and like MuÊ¿ÄlÄ« some years later, the feasts offered to scholars and men of religion.50 The ambiguity as to the early history of the building, and its multiple identifications is extended also to the visual record. Two city views from the early 1480s feature the building: the Vavassore view depicts it without a minaret and labels it moscha; in the view in a Buondelmonti manuscript the building is depicted with a minaret and is labeled imarat.51 Extant inscriptions of MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs Ê¿imÄret and its contemporaries (unlike that of Meḥmedâs New Mosque) do not refer to them as mosques: MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs and HÄá¹£ MurÄd Pashaâs (d. 882/1477) inscriptions carry the phrase dÄra hayren, RÅ«m Meḥmedâs (also depicted with a minaret by the maker of the Buondelmonti view), dÄr al-rafiÊ¿.52
Architectural evidence suggests that the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret may have gone through an intervention that remade it into a mosque. Based on his careful architectural survey of the building, Sedat Emir has argued that the minaret of the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret was a later addition and not part of the original building; the current restoration work that has revealed structural details of this section of the building has corroborated this view.53 That it was not a much later addition is suggested by its presence in the Istanbul view in the Buondelmonti manuscript mentioned above. Completed in 912/1507, IdrÄ«s-i BidlÄ«sÄ«âs Hasht Behesht leaves no doubt that MaḥmÅ«dâs foundation functioned as a congregational mosque at that time. Not only does he refer to the mosque alongside the hÄnḳÄh, ribÄá¹, and madrasa (and writes on the expansive charities, generosity, and hospitality of MaḥmÅ«d and his patronage of poets and scholars), but he also gives an account of the expenses of the foundation, which included the allowances for a haá¹Ä«b, or deliverer of the Friday sermon.54
In view of the absence of any references to the congregational mosque by MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs contemporaries, the addition of the minaret at an uncertain date (a theme that will come up again in the following section of this paper), and in view of documents and narratives from the following decades that refer to it as cÄmiÊ¿-i ÅerÄ«f, I suggest that the building, founded as an Ê¿imÄret, may have been converted into a congregational mosque with additions to and alterations of its waqf. Two possible dates for this intervention would be the completion of Meḥmed IIâs mosque in 1470 and MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs execution in 878/1474, after which his expansive endowment was confiscated into the royal treasury.55 If, on the other hand, the main building of MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs foundation was from the start instituted as a congregational mosque-and-hospice, housing the Friday prayer and sermon as well as accommodative functions, the narrative sources discussed earlier suggest that this novel arrangement was lost on the grand vizierâs contemporaries.
The spatial configuration of buildings founded by MaḥmÅ«d Pasha and his contemporaries in the upper echelons of Ottoman rule in Istanbul and beyond present a search for a middle ground that would bespeak the emphasis on congregational prayer and, at the same time, highlight the buildersâ charity through offerings of hospitality.56 The hospice rooms of MaḥmÅ«dâs and other viziersâ buildings in Istanbul were clearly used for purposes of accommodation and socializing, as their fireplaces (or traces thereof) and their storage niches indicate. Rather than isolating the provision of accommodation and food to areas beyond courtyards and walls as in the royal complex, the architects intervened in the spatial configuration and circulation patterns within the established conventions of zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret design. Hence, the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha mosque, with its corridor separating the hospice rooms from its main prayer space, a design that may have been inspired by late Byzantine church building in Constantinople.57 The central domed hall of the building, in earlier Ê¿imÄrets a central space giving way to the prayer eyvÄn and to guest rooms, was now part of a larger prayer space along the entrance axis.58 Unlike earlier T-type buildings where the central hall was covered with a more prominent dome with an oculus, here the two successive domes covering the prayer hall were of equal size and height. Separate side entrances to the hospice rooms, a new feature of T-type buildings of these decades, ensured that the users of the hospice rooms (Äyende u revende) did not intervene with the prayer space, which would be entered through the arcaded portico and the principal portal. Such side entrances would be opened in many earlier Ê¿imÄret buildings as they were converted into mosques, a topic the final section of this paper will turn to.
The particular spatial and volumetric composition that shaped the exterior configuration of the urban Ê¿imÄret, a hallmark of the T-plan building as a âtype,â must have had a role in its continued use. This easily recognizable composition rendered the building with its multiple functions and accommodative spaces immediately recognizable.59 The visual configuration of the early Ê¿imÄrets, easily identifiable signposts of sultansâ and emirsâ hospitality, and centerpieces of expansive foundations that connected the cities to the hinterland where founders were patrons of entrenched networks of property and production, lived on in the Ê¿imÄret-and-mosque of the later ninth/fifteenth century.60
Figure 8.9
Afyon Karahisar, Ê¿imÄret and mosque of Gedik Aḥmed Pasha, 879/1474, exterior view from south
By permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
None of the original waqfiyyas of the elite foundations in Istanbul have surfaced. The Afyon foundation of Gedik Aḥmed Pasha, whose waqfiyya copy carries the date 879/1475, and indicates the completion date of the same year, captures the architectural and institutional shift that I hope to highlight in this paper with more clarity (figures 8.9 and 8.10).61 Completed within the same years as two other viziersâ foundations in Istanbul and Ãsküdar (those of the pashas HÄá¹£ MurÄd and RÅ«m Meḥmed), the Afyon building presents an elaborate response to the new use as congregational mosque that the long-established type was now put to. As in the Istanbul buildings of MaḥmÅ«d Pasha and HÄá¹£ MurÄd Pasha, the two successive domed units beyond the entrance constituted the prayer space and were not differentiated by their height or by the elevation of the mihrab eyvÄn. Its side eyvÄns, centering the lateral facades and providing entry into the hospice rooms, freed the main space of the mosque from circulation between its main entrance and the hospice rooms. Solving a use and circulation problem presented by the use of the T-plan for a congregational mosque, this new layout at the same time imparted a monumental aspect to the hospice sections. The rooms centered by arched eyvÄns claim an equal status for the hospice with respect to the porticoed main entrance of the building. The Afyon buildingâs side facades in fact bear a semblance to the layout and entrance façade of the Ê¿imÄret of GÄzÄ« Evrenos in Komotini, which features a monumental eyvÄn (with no prayer space opening onto it) and two side rooms; a resemblance that may not be accidental.62 One could read this as a duality in the Afyon buildingâs visual languageâthe side eyvÄns flanked by hospice rooms associated with a former architectural language of gÄzÄ« patronage and prestige, and the arcaded portico of the entrance façade, featuring an aesthetic articulated in royal buildings of Bursa, Edirne, and Istanbul, bespeaking a connection to the political center.
Figure 8.10
Afyon Karahisar, Ê¿imÄret and mosque of Gedik Aḥmed Pasha, 879/1474, plan
By permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
Gedik Aḥmed Pashaâs endowment for a congregational mosque-and-Ê¿imÄret is repeatedly referred to as cÄmiÊ¿-i ÅerÄ«f (or, mescid-i cÄmiÊ¿) ve Ê¿imÄret in the 879/1475 waqfiyya. The building and the waqfiyya present a short-lived duality in the appointments of an Ê¿imÄretâs leading personnel: a shaykh for the Ê¿imÄret-i cÄmiÊ¿ is appointed, while the well supplied and staffed soup kitchen (Ê¿imÄret in the document), has its own shaykh; both men were expected to be modest, noncovetous, and abstinent. The mosque-hospice, with a haá¹Ä«b and a shaykh, the latter a subordinate to the former, captures the transformation of the institution well. The document stipulates a ten dirhem wage for a haá¹Ä«b (who should be a scholar knowledgeable in Arabic and in control of his speech), an imam with the same wage and knowledgeable in conducting daily prayers, and two muezzins. Allowances for 15 Quran readers and ten tehlÄ«lhÄn (chanting the profession of Godâs unity), who would read for the founderâs soul following each of the five daily prayers, suggest an intense atmosphere of devotional reading and chanting in the mosque.63 The buildingâs local name, âÊ¿imÄret camiÊ¿,â too, in place at least since EvliyÄ passed through Karahisar, points to the same configuration of expanded use, as congregational mosque, as hospice, possibly also as dining hall of the soup kitchen. Gedik Aḥmedâs foundation deed suggests that the earliest documents of Ê¿imÄret-mosques founded in Istanbul in the 870s/1470s, preserved in the waqf survey of 953/1546, may reflect the allotments of the time of their composition. If MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs Ê¿imÄret had in fact been converted into a congregational mosque subsequent to its construction, this may have taken place during these years. This was also when the viziers HÄá¹£ MurÄd and RÅ«m Meḥmed created their foundations, in Aksaray within the walled city of Istanbul and in Ãsküdar across the Bosphorus.
The viziersâ constructions endowed intramural Istanbul with multiple Friday mosques. This was not a novelty either in the larger Islamic world or in the Ottoman domains.64 As far as Ottoman practice was concerned, the sponsorship of multiple Friday mosques in a town had been more of a representational affair (rather than one of implementing and hosting multiple congregational communities within a town), as implied by Edirneâs Eski and Ãç Åerefeli mosques, both at the city center and the latter built a stoneâs throw from the former. As much as the new mosque construction in Istanbul during the early decades under Ottoman rule answered the need to remake the cityâs image through Muslim monuments, they also present something of a blueprint of the Hanafi classification and hierarchy of mosques. Friday mosques and neighborhood masjids created the physical nodes for multiple congregations and a quasi-parochial organization, foreseen and imposed (if sometimes only as far as state authority and bureaucracy were concerned) on the urban area.65 Hanafi law and Ottoman practice continued to hold that the construction of a Friday mosque was to be ordained by sultanic authority; in earlier Ottoman practice this was a sultanâs prerogative.66 Mosque-hospices founded by the new elite in Istanbul, Gedik Aḥmedâs Afyon foundation, alongside MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs Sofia mosque, a multidomed hall modeled after Bursaâs Ulu Cami and Edirneâs Eski Cami, expanded what was until then the royal prerogative of founding Friday mosques to subroyal builders.67
The change in the architecture and the institutional framework of the Ê¿imÄret was brought on by agents of the newly consolidated center, as revealed by a look at Ê¿imÄrets other patrons built in other places. The ʿĪsÄ Bey Ê¿imÄret in Skopje, contemporaneous with the Afyon building, and two mosque-hospices built by viziers in Istanbul is a case in point. The founder was a descendant of PaÅa YiÄit and therefore a member of a well-entrenched, powerful, and wealthy frontier dynasty, himself a frontier lord and an agent of Meḥmed IIâs military exploits in the Balkans. He was also the founder of infrastructure and charities that directed income from his expansive possessions into projects in Skopje, Sarajevo (where his palace gave its name to the city), and elsewhere in Bosnia. ʿĪsÄ Beyâs Skopje building, which is identified as a hÄnḳÄh in its 874/1469 waqfiyya and as Ê¿imÄret in its inscription dated 880/1475â1476,68 presents a conventional interpretation of the T-type building: it features a central hall followed by a prayer eyvÄn on the entrance axis, both domed, and hospice rooms to the sides.69 The foundation deed entrusts the operation of the hospice to an ahÄ« (unlike the majority of foundation deeds that have been preserved, which have allowances for a shaykh) implying a direct connection to the artisanal community of the city and patronage extended to its members.70
Where the institutional patronage by frontier lords and the old elite of the Ottoman domains is concerned, ʿĪsÄ Beyâs Skopje foundation is not exceptional. Ê¿ImÄrets founded during the reign of Meḥmed II by patrons of different background and standing, who were not part of the new slave (ḳūl) elite, all follow earlier spatial and institutional configurations: they are foundations whose primary aim was providing food and shelter to a range of users.71 While the greatest expenses within their endowments are directed toward the distribution of food, their endowment deeds also highlight their functions as places for daily prayers, and allowances were set aside for prayers and Quran readings for the soul of the founder. The functions of the Ê¿imÄret as registered in Ä°sḥÄḳ Pashaâs Inegöl building, founded in his town of origin in 873/1468, captures this well: the Ê¿imÄret with its rooms, courtyard (muḥavvaá¹a), kitchen, storage places, stables and other dependencies was intended as a residence and a place for dervishes (fuḳarÄ and mesÄkin), a halting place and a refuge for those who came and went, and for Muslims whether they were traveling or resident. The introductory passages of the waqfiyya, on the other hand, contain the hadith âWhoever builds a masjid for God, God will build for him a house like it in paradise.â72 This emphasis on the masjid in an Ê¿imÄretâs waqfiyya may be novel: it is not present, for example, in the introduction sections of MurÄd Iâs and BÄyezÄ«d Iâs endowment deeds of their Bursa foundations, dated 787/1385 and 802/1399â1400 respectively.73 It has been noted that a third of the Ê¿imÄrets built up to the early decades of the ninth/fifteenth century did not originally feature a mihrab,74 also an indication that the function of the elevated eyvÄn on the entrance axis as a masjid, in those buildings that did have a qibla orientation, came to be accentuated through the course of the ninth/fifteenth century.
3 Spatial Rearrangements and a Broader Range of Builders
Some two decades after founding the Inegöl building, in 896/1490â1491, Ä°sḥÄḳ Pasha founded another Ê¿imÄret in Salonica. It was similar in most details of its allocations, with the exception that this Ê¿imÄret had allowances for a Friday preacher, and hence, like Gedik Aḥmedâs Afyon building, was to function also as Friday mosque.75 A few years earlier (in 891/1486) the city of Amasya had become home to an Ê¿imÄret founded and constructed as a hospice and Friday mosque. The foundation of Meḥmed Pasha, member of the powerful Amasya family of Yörgüç Pasha, features a single dome flanked by hospice rooms in an arrangement akin to the reverse-T. However, it attaches sets of two hospice rooms aligned with the entrance to the two sides of a single domed mosque, whereby the rooms could be accessed from the mosque as well as via the entrance arcade of the building.76 Founded in the princely capital that had been a site where the Halvetiye was established in the lands of Rum, Meḥmed Pashaâs lodge was founded specifically for Halveti dervishes.77
Ä°sḥÄḳ Pashaâs Salonica foundation, and that of Meḥmed Pasha in Amasya, take us into the 890s/1480s, when a new configuration of the Ê¿imÄret space was set in stone first in Istanbul. The Grand Vizier DÄvud Pashaâs foundation (890/1485) is a single domed mosque with hospice rooms to the sides, with separate entrances that are reminiscent of the side portal arrangements of Gedik Aḥmedâs Afyon Ê¿imÄret-mosque. With rooms now attached to a unitary prayer space, it bespeaks the continued importance of the ideals of hospitality.
In the aftermath of the partial reconciliation with agents of the earlier order, following Meḥmed IIâs demise (which involved the restoration of some of the endowments and freehold property appropriated by Meḥmed II, the welcoming to the capital city of Sunni-oriented Sufi groups, among them Halvetis of Amasya and Naqshbandis in particular), BÄyezÄ«d II (r. 886â918/1481â1512) and his architects revisited the middle ground formulated by the designers of late ninth/fifteenth-century Ê¿imÄret-and-mosque buildings. These included Gedik Aḥmed and, later, DÄvud Pasha foundations that had sought to combine Friday mosque and Ê¿imÄret under the same roof, and to keep them separate from each other. Three royal buildings founded by BÄyezÄ«d II and SüleymÄn I between the 1480s and 1520s, which departed from Meḥmed IIâs innovation in mosque design, call attention to the dialogue and reciprocity between nonroyal and royal foundations. Hence, the layout of prayer hall and guest rooms with separate entrances attached to it that gave shape to BÄyezÄ«d IIâs mosques in Edirne (889â893/1484â1487) and Istanbul (906â911/1501â1505) and, later, to the commemorative mosque built by SüleymÄn for SelÄ«m I (929/1522). To the single-domed mosques of BÄyezÄ«d in Edirne and SelÄ«m in Istanbul, and to the Hagia Sophia-inspired design of BÄyezÄ«dâs mosque in Istanbul were added hospice sections that were laid out in a novel, palatial design. They feature four-eyvÄn cross-axial arrangements with central, lanterned domes that transpose the central halls of early Ê¿imÄrets into this separate hospice space attached to the mosque, giving way to four rooms at the corners. The layouts of these hospice sections carry reminiscences of the royal Ê¿imÄrets of Bursa with their cross-axial arrangements and multiple eyvÄns, suggesting that they carry deliberate references to these earlier structures.78 Visiting these buildings in the later tenth/sixteenth century, the geographer and traveler Ê¿ÄÅıḳ Meḥmed described the BÄyezÄ«d hospice as a dÄrüâż-żiyÄfe (banquet hall) composed of connected rooms. He separately mentioned the kitchen (maá¹bah-ı á¹aÊ¿Äm) and refectory (meʾkel-i á¹aÊ¿Äm) for the poor and the needy from among Muslim men and women. He thereby suggested a difference of status between those guests who ate and were offered hospitality at the mosqueâs dÄrüâż-żiyÄfe79 and those offered food and lodging in the soup kitchen, hospice, and caravanserai complex beyond the outer enclosure of the mosque. Describing SelÄ«m Iâs mosque, Ê¿ÄÅıḳ Meḥmed recounted the same units again: a dÄrüâż-żiyÄfe that adjoined the mosque for travelers (misÄfirÄ«n) and a kitchen and refectory for the poor and the poor among the madrasaâs students (figure 8.11).
Figure 8.11a
Edirne, mosque and Ê¿imÄret of BÄyezÄ«d II, 893/1487â1488; plan
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
During these decades, when former codes of hospitality and former connections between spaces of religious observance and spaces of accommodation were being redefined, the patronage profile of the structures that housed dervishes and âthose who came and wentâ also shifted. BÄyezÄ«d II and SüleymÄn were patrons of several Sufi lodges in Istanbul and other cities of the realm, often in particularly prescribed manners: BÄyezÄ«d established a lodge for the Naqshbandi shaykh Aḥmed BuhÄrÄ« in Istanbul.80 Members of his former household in Amasya and his imperial council and court in Istanbul, Ḳoca Muá¹£á¹afÄ Pasha (d. 918/1512) and Ḳapu AÄası Ḥüseyin AÄa (fl. c. 894/1489), were founders of Halveti lodges centered around Friday mosques in Istanbul, the former established for prominent figures of the order who had hailed from Amasya.81 While earlier waqf documents made explicit references to dervishesâ accommodations in urban Ê¿imÄrets and zÄviyes, those comers and goers associated with the more nebulous networks and practices of what Ahmet Karamustafa has termed dervish piety fell outside the patronage net of Ottoman elite patrons of the later ninth/fifteenth century.82
Figure 8.11b
Edirne, mosque and Ê¿imÄret of BÄyezÄ«d II, 893/1487â1488; view of the hospice section flanking the mosque
photograph by the author
The shift in gÄzÄ« constructions during these same decades also underlines the changing semiotics of patronage. Unlike GÄzÄ« MihÄl, who founded an Ê¿imÄret at the edge of Edirne in 825/1421â1422, later MihÄloÄlus such as Ê¿AlÄ« and Aḥmed Beys turned to sponsor saintsâ shrines deep in the forested countryside of the Eastern Balkans. Among these shrines, built in the MihÄloÄlusâ immediate area of influence, are the complex of Otman Baba in southern Bulgaria and that of Demir Baba in the Deliorman, each centered around the mausoleum of an abdÄl of Rum. MihÄloÄlu expanded their benefaction of dervish piety into Anatolia, and sponsored constructions in the shrine complexes of Seyyid GÄzÄ« and ḤÄccÄ±Ì BektaÅ, exactly at the time when the Ottoman center had begun pronounced efforts to control and to co-opt dervish groups, connected to various cults of saints and discontented both with the emerging Ottoman configuration of power and its religious politics, into the fold of Bektashism in the making.83 Members of another notable frontier dynasty, the sons of Evrenos GÄzÄ«, seem to have followed trends of the imperial center more closely. They founded a Friday mosque in Iannitsa in 1498, the dynastyâs stronghold, and extended an invitation to and hosted the Naqshbandi shaykh and scholar Ê¿AbdullÄh-ı Ä°lÄhÄ« here and at nearby Naoussa.84
4 âQuestion: If an Imam Declares DevrÄn in the Mosque Lawfulâ
The early years of SüleymÄnâs rule brought KemÄlpaÅazÄde ÅemsüddÄ«n Aḥmed (also known as Ibn KemÄl), a prolific scholar and prominent member of the religious hierarchy, to the post of chief mufti, a position he held from 932/1526 until his passing in 940/1534.85 Within the corpus of works KemÄlpaÅazÄde published through a long scholarly career are also treatises that delineate his views on religious identities and practices that fell outside the fold of Sunni Islam and of the Hanafi creed, including those on Sufi notions and practices that he found nonconforming to the sharia.86 Changes in KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs relationship to Sufi orders and their masters in Istanbul have been noted, his earlier hostility evolving into intimate connections to figures like Sünbül SinÄn and Ä°brahÄ«m GülÅenÄ«.87 His corpus of fatwas, which grant considerable space to Sufism and Sufi ritual, nevertheless document a set of austere views on the topic. Of particular importance to this paper are those involving ritual space and the identities of the Sufis.88
Among the body of KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs opinions that address questions of Sufi áºikr, semÄÊ¿, and devrÄn are numerous fatwas that take issue with prayer leaders who condoned practices of áºikr. Fatwas state that such an imam would not be considered legitimate and that prayers performed with his leadership would be null.89 That Sufi ritual in mosques was a weighty issue is suggested by one fatwa that mentions Zeyd climbing the pulpit in a mosque to preach on the erstwhile and continued lawfulness of dance (raḳṣ). KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs opinion: the Muslims who are present should take the impostor down the pulpit and out of the mosque.90 Plural practices in the masjid (and possibly, the masjid section of an Ê¿imÄret) were no more admissible: Sufis loudly performing áºikr while Quran reading and interpretation continued in the masjid were to be warned and stopped.91 In all, KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs fatwas make clear that Sufi ritual in mosques and masjids was now deemed unacceptable and that mosque imams were expected to conform to the new demarcation of their roles.92 One must also consider that the chief mufti issued these fatwas in an Istanbul that housed Halveti mosque-lodges that used the monumental domed naves of converted Byzantine churches as ritual and congregation spaces, among them the Ḳoca Muá¹£á¹afÄ PaÅa (S. Andrei in Kriesei) and Küçük Ayasofya (SS. Sergius and Bacchus).
The Sufiâs body and voice were objects of stern supervision and control in KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs reordering of devotional practice. His fatwas often equate moving in a circle (devrÄn) and dance (raḳṣ) and provide a number of dictionary-like definitions for raḳṣ: âáºikr through moving in a circle (devrÄn), bending oneâs head and waist, moving oneâs hands and feet.â Raḳṣ during Sufi ritual appears to be perceived as a problem specifically in urban contexts; KemÄlpaÅazÄde repeatedly asked for those who insisted on practicing áºikr in the form of dance to be subjected to fierce punishment, deemed unbelievers (kÄfir), and deported from the city.93 A Sufi was expected, he ruled, to perform áºikr as if he was in the presence of sultans, sitting in dignified quietude and with perfect manners.94 The mufti took issue with giving alms to those who claimed devrÄn to be lawful, suggesting that the objects of this particular fatwa (and perhaps some of the others) were mendicant dervishes rather than Sufis connected to an established order and therefore beneficiaries of a network of endowments. Numerous temporal phrases and comparisons in the fatwas betray a consciousness of the past and present of religious praxis. One fatwa possibly referred to Ê¿AlÄ« CemÄlÄ« Efendi (d. 932/1525â1526) who occupied the post of chief mufti prior to him, and who, with intimate personal and familial ties to the Halvetiye, was expressly more permissive in his writings and opinions regarding the bodily dimension of Sufi ritual. KemÄlpaÅazÄde ruled that his current opinions regarding devrÄn in mosques would override those of the former mufti.95 At issue was a passage, where devotional practices and their sites were concerned, from an earlier to a novel corporeal and spatial regime.96
SüleymÄn the Lawgiver and SinÄn his chief architect took permanent care of the matter (at least as far as the physical spaces of worship were concerned) and in the following decades buried multifunctional buildings that sheltered plural ritual and devotional practices in early Ottoman memory. With the exception of the Aleppo mosque of Hüsrev Pasha (953/1546â1547), none of the 100 plus mosques for which SinÄn claimed authorship feature attached hospice rooms.97 SüleymÄnâs Istanbul complex was in significant ways modeled after that built by Meḥmed II in the 860s/1460s and duplicated the firm separation of its mosque from its accommodative spaces. This arrangement was to be followed by all dynastic and elite mosque builders of the Ottoman realm through the early modern era. During these decades EbÅ«âs-suÊ¿Å«d Efendi (d. 982/1574), KemÄlpaÅazÄdeâs former student and his successor in the post of chief mufti, issued numerous fatwas prohibiting Sufi ritual in mosque spaces and in the masjids of zÄviyes. Enforcing stricter confessional segregation in devotional spaces was also an issue: one decree from the center banned non-Muslims from using hospice rooms attached to a mosque.98 During these decades also, orders from Istanbul decreed the remodeling of Bursaâs royal zÄviyes so that those coming and going (Äyende u revende) would not disturb the space now allocated only to normative religious practice. Ãelebi Meḥmedâs royal zÄviye in Bursa was now and hereafter the Green Mosque.
The textual and architectural evidence on the conversion of Ê¿imÄrets into congregational mosques reveals a century-long sequence of institutional and architectural interventions, which changed these buildings in ways that have continued to shape our modern perceptions of them. Conversion of an Ê¿imÄret into a mosque was effected at the institutional level by the appointment of a haá¹Ä«b, a reader of the Friday sermon, which remained a prerogative of the imperial center. The installation of a minbar would follow the appointment of a haá¹Ä«b. Other spatial interventions were often more complex and have unfortunately attracted relatively little attention, which continues to hinder a full understanding of the original layouts and uses of many of the Ê¿imÄrets, and aspects of their afterlives as mosques. Aptullah Kuranâs, and later, Sedat Emirâs careful on-site examinations have revealed that many buildings underwent a radical restructuring of their interior spaces, in numerous cases involving the taking down of partition walls separating the Ê¿imÄretâs main domed hall from the hospice rooms.99 These works have revealed that many Ê¿imÄrets, including iconic examples of the âtype,â such as those of Orhan and MurÄd II in Bursa, underwent interventions that incorporated side rooms into the main space by turning them into eyvÄns, and giving the buildings their present three-eyvÄn schemes that are frequently reproduced in scholarship (figures 8.12, 8.13, and 8.14).100 The function of the main domed hall, too, was altered in the process of conversion, becoming part of the prayer space as was the case of newly built mosque-hospices sponsored by the new ḳūl elite, rather than a central hall that was the circulation node within the building whether one headed to the prayer hall or to one of the tÄbhÄne rooms furnished with fireplace and cupboards.
Figure 8.12a
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret of MurÄd II (830/1426) converted into a congregational mosque in the later tenth/sixteenth century: interior toward the prayer eyvÄn
Photograph by the author
As was the case in newly built mosque-hospices, circulation directed to the rooms was an issue. In Ê¿imÄrets converted into mosques, new side entrances that connected the hospice rooms directly to the buildingâs exterior, some enlarged from extant windows, were a novel feature that assured that dervishes and travelers no longer trespassed the mosque space to reach their private quarters. A court record of 958/1552 on the conversion of the YeÅil Ê¿imÄret captures with remarkable precision the nature of the intervention that was envisioned, recording a petition by the waqf superintendent for arrangements in the mosque space and its gates of entry. The central pool and fountain in Ãelebi Meḥmedâs (now) exalted mosque needed to be carried outside of the building, as used water overflowed to the area around it and created a state of pollution, which prevented the worshippers from praying here (i.e., in what was once the zÄviyeâs lantern-domed central hall). Since the mosque is in a densely inhabited area, the petition reads, the Friday congregation is large. If the said pool is transported to the outside courtyard of the mosque, which was newly constructed in the style of [the courtyards of] other sultanic mosques, and if new gates to the hospice rooms are opened directly to the exterior of the building, the interior of the exalted mosque will not be a passageway for those who come and go; moreover, the space will be clean and therefore appropriate for Muslims to pray in.101 The proposed changes were not fully implemented, and YeÅil Cami did not undergo the interventions that many converted Ê¿imÄrets were subjected to: the fountain under its main dome remains in place; and if, as Ayverdi suggested, one of the windows was enlarged to be used as a lateral entrance, the alteration was later reversed to restore the integrity of the buildingâs skillfully designed and ornamented side facades.
Figure 8.12b
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret of MurÄd II (830/1426) converted into a congregational mosque in the later tenth/sixteenth century: interior toward the hospice room transformed into an eyvÄn
Photograph by the author
Figure 8.13
Bursa, zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret of MurÄd II (830/1426) converted into a congregational mosque in the later tenth/sixteenth century, plan
By permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
Figure 8.14
Bursa, Muradiye zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret reconstitution by Sedat Emir showing the original layout of the interior
from Sedat Emir, Erken Osmanlı by permission of the author
The pronounced attention to distinctly delineating the spatial boundaries of requisite prayer, in line with the newly formulated requirements of orthopraxy, paralleled the need for new congregational spaces for the Muslims in growing urban populations.102 A record of 984/1576 documents the demands for the enlargement (tevsÄ«Ê¿) of the prayer hall of âSultan Orhanâs exalted mosque in Bursa,â as the congregation was not fitting in the prayer space, a hindrance particularly on cold winter days.103 The petition for the enlargement of the mosque space is in line with Kuranâs and Emirâs analyses of the building: separately, they have observed that the current side eyvÄns were originally hospice rooms that were incorporated into the main space at a later date, through the destruction of the partition walls separating the domed main hall from the side rooms. (fig. 8.15)104 That these documents recording interventions to two of Bursaâs royal Ê¿imÄrets already refer to the buildings as cÄmiÊ¿-i ÅerÄ«f (exalted mosque) suggests that at the time the architectural changes were implemented, the appointment of a Friday sermon reader, and the buildingâs change of status from Ê¿imÄret into mosque had already taken place. A minaret was added to MurÄd IIâs Ê¿imÄret-turned-mosque in 1002/1594. This was at least four, or possibly more, years after the buildingâs conversion into a congregational mosque, which also involved the transformation of two of its hospice rooms to side eyvÄns opening onto the central hall.105 The construction of a minaret gave an unambiguous architectural form to the new denomination, altering the visual identity of the zÄviye /Ê¿imÄret.
Between the conversion and âenlargementâ of Skopjeâs Ä°sḥÄḳ Bey zÄviye, on or before 925/1519, and the conversion of Bursaâs Ḥamza Bey Ê¿imÄret in 1023/1614, in order to provide the neighborhood with a space for Friday prayer âin line with the jurisdiction of the Hanafi imams,â106 the majority of T-type Ê¿imÄrets in the Ottoman domains (whether they had originally incorporated a prayer hall with a mihrab or not, and whether their endowments included allowances for masjid personnel or not), were converted into congregational mosques.107 The story of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret through the long tenth/sixteenth century captures in full light the spatial, social, and institutional dimensions of processes of confession building, in particular measures directed at consolidating Hanafi-Sunni praxis in cities. This involved excluding the devotional practices of those groups who located themselves outside of Sunni Islam as state religion. Measures aimed to reshape the spatial and corporeal regimes of city dwellers, and sought to create and keep intact congregational communities attached to particular nodes, whether masjids or Friday mosques. Derin TerzioÄlu has noted that acts toward Sunnitization and confessionalization in the Ottoman domains were directed toward Sunnis as much as toward non-Sunni communities.108 The evidence presented in this paper with regard to the afterlives of the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret and largely concerning the central and western areas of the lands of Rum supports this view.
Figure 8.15a
Bursa, Orhan Ê¿iÌmÄret (740/1339â1340) converted into a congregational mosque ca. 984/1576; plan
by permission of the BoÄaziçi University Aptullah Kuran archive
Figure 8.15b
Bursa, Orhan Ê¿iÌmÄret (740/1339â1340) converted into a congregational mosque ca. 984/1576; reconstitution by Sedat Emir showing the original layout of the interior
from Sedat Emir, Erken Osmanlı, by permission of the author
Figure 8.15c
Bursa, Orhan Ê¿iÌmÄret (740/1339â1340) converted into a congregational mosque ca. 984/1576; view from north, with later addition of side entrance
photograph by the author
The institutional and spatial interventions to spaces of devotion and the disciplinary measures that accompanied them were directed at the corporeal and spatial regimes of city dwellers. Architecture conformed to the religiopolitical vision of the Ottoman center; the multifunctional Ê¿imÄret that offered no clear demarcation between sacred and profane, and between normative religious practice and Sufi ritual, was rendered a thing of the past. Did the Ê¿imÄret converted into mosque and the new architecture of the congregational mosque with its unified space (a powerful Ottoman legacy into the twenty-first century) alongside the plethora of prescriptive texts that sought to define usage of mosques succeed in creating a public that conformed to the disciplinary measures of the center? Not completely, if we are to consider how central issues of Sufi ritual and ritual in mosques were to the Kadızadelis and their opponents in the eleventh/seventeenth century, or if we were to attend NiyÄzi-i MıṣrÄ« in the Bursa of the 1080s/1670s, where he held áºikr circles in a neighborhood masjid, and also, clashes with the imam notwithstanding, in the celebrated Ulucami.109
ZÄviye and the mosque-hospice remained buried in the early Ottoman past until a modern evocation of a now idealized era of Ottoman beginnings ushered them into the representational spaces of late empire. Ironically perhaps (at a moment when the aesthetics of Bursa and particularly of the YeÅil complex were all the rage), it was not the zÄviye but the mosque with the hospice rooms that was recreated in Ê¿Abdüâl-ḥamÄ«d IIâs Hamidiye Mosque attached to the Yıldız Palace in 1886, a building that has been described by Ahmet Ersoy as âa tribute to the long abandoned archetype of the T-plan building, an exceptional product of pure historicist reflection.â110 A republican, and infinitely more solemn, revival when compared to the Yıldız Hamidiye Mosque, has recently been on view at Salt Galata: an unrealized project by the architect and restorer Ali Saim Ãlgen (d. 1963). His is a proposal dating to the 1950s for a mosque in Ankaraâs YeniÅehir district, modeled after royal mosques with hospice rooms, such as those of BÄyezÄ«d II in Edirne and SelÄ«m I in Istanbul.111 It captures a modern imagining of the Ottoman past at a time when architects and scholars were engaged in debate regarding the original functions of the T-plan Ê¿imÄrets with hospice rooms and the intentions of their builders. As in scholarly pursuits, in architectural practice of the later nineteenth and twentieth centuries, too, the mosque, it seems, overshadowed the Ê¿imÄret/zÄviye. Architectural and written archives remain and bear witness to the plural and layered histories of these buildings and their spatial and conceptual afterlives within the wider geography of Rum, and through different temporalities.
Acknowledgments
My sincere thanks to Derin TerzioÄlu, Tijana KrstiÄ, and Gülru NecipoÄlu for the insightful comments and observations they have offered on this article. I would also like to thank the organizers, Maximilian Hartmuth, Zeynep OÄuz, and Marianne Boqvist, and participants of the workshop âRevisiting the T-shaped âzaviye/âimaretâ: buildings and institutions in early Ottoman architecture,â which was held at the Swedish Research Institute, Istanbul in 2013, and where I presented a shorter version of this paper.
Ãetintas, YeÅil Cami ve benzerleri. The booklet is the publication of a lecture the author delivered in 1955 at the Faculty of Theology of Ankara University. The reference is to the Green Mosque in Bursa, Turkey.
Gökbilgin, Murad I, 225â231; Ayverdi, Yıldırım Bayezidâin, 37â46; Zengin, Ä°lk dönem Osmanlı, 114â117.
Ibn Battuta, The travels, 419â¯ff. Ibn Baá¹á¹uá¹aâs comments on Anatolian zÄviyes as communal spaces of urban confraternities (ahÄ«) has raised the question of the relationship between ahÄ« and Sufi lodges in medieval Anatolia, an issue that has not been resolved. Oya PancaroÄlu quotes SuhrawardÄ«âs comments on Sufi lodges being founded by rulers and futuwwat-khÄnas by masters; she also calls attention to ahÄ«s mentioned in the waqfiyya of BÄyezÄ«d Iâs Bursa foundation; PancaroÄlu, Devotion, hospitality. Ä°klil Selçuk discusses the issue from the point of view of economic activities and connections of the ahÄ« communities and their mediation in linking urban and rural communities; Selçuk, Suggestions on the social meaning. See also the note on EvrenosoÄlu ĪsÄ Beyâs Skopje Ê¿imÄret below. On urban confraternities in medieval Anatolia, see Goshgarian, Beyond the social and the spiritual. ZÄviyes have also been interpreted as having a role in early Ottoman colonization, Barkan, Osmanlı Ä°mparatorluÄunda; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında; Boykov, The T-shaped zaviye/imarets. Colonization is not a concept I draw on in the present study.
Most general works on Ottoman architecture have prioritized the mosque function of the T-type buildings. For works that have prioritized the plural uses of the Ê¿imÄret/zÄviye, see Sedat Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında; Kuban, Osmanlı mimarisi 81â247; OÄuz, Multi-functional buildings; Lowry, The shaping 65â106; ÃaÄaptay, Frontierscape; PancaroÄlu, Devotion, hospitality.
ÃetintaÅ identified the T-type structures as zÄviyes in his 1946 book Türk mimari anıtları; he argued in the 1958 lecture publication that the side rooms of these buildings had official functions, such as court rooms for kadis.
The buildings have most frequently been termed zÄviye, alongside buḳʿa, hÄnḳÄh, or Ê¿imÄret in waqf documents, and Ê¿imÄret in most foundation inscriptions. A comprehensive list and discussion of terms denoting the buildings in various documents is found in Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 270â272 and passim. See also TüfekçioÄlu, Erken dönem Osmanlı.
The original 761/1360 waqf document has not survived, but a copy dated 896/1491 is available; see Ayverdi, Osmanlı miâmarisinin i, 63â65.
BOA, Maliyeden Müdevver 162/5; Gökbilgin, Murad I 225.
Ayverdi, Ãelebi 50.
The term Bursa-type mosque was suggested by Wilde in his Brussa. A pioneering study that called attention to the social uses of the buildings is Eyice (who noted that his work was inspired by that of ÃetintaÅ), Ä°lk Osmanlı Devrinin. Kuran, The mosque presented a formal categorization and analysis of the type. Recognizing the multifunctional character of the buildings, Kuran highlighted the masjid function of the qibla eyvÄn, hence proposed the term âeyvÄn mosque.â The term âfutuwwa-mosqueâ was suggested by DoÄan, Osmanlı Mimarisinde. For historiographic discussions, see Emir, Tipoloji; ÃaÄaptay, Frontierscape 162â166; Yürekli, Architectural patronage 734â735. See also Ergin, Neumann and Singer, Introduction, in Feeding people 22â28.
NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 48â50. I have used this designation in Constantinopolis/Istanbul. In Ottoman usage, cÄmiÊ¿ (Ar. jÄmiÊ¿) designated a congregational mosque, while masjid denoted a small prayer space, whether free standing or attached to another building, with no allowances for a haá¹Ä«b (Friday preacher), and by extension, for the delivery of the Friday sermon.
As noted by Emir, Tipoloji 121.
On the early Ottoman political and cultural context, see Kafadar, Between two worlds; on politico-religious dynamics of the lands of Rum in the late medieval era, see KrstiÄ, Contested conversions 26â74. On architectural culture of medieval Anatolia with particular attention to fluidity of forms and identities and to practices of devotion and conviviality, see PancaroÄlu, Devotion, hospitality. On medieval Anatolian madrasas and hÄnḳahs, the closest forerunners to the early Ottoman Ê¿imÄret, see Kuran, Anadolu medreseleri; Wolper, Cities and saints; Emir, Erken Osmanlı i; and PancaroÄlu, Hospitality, devotion. A comparable transposition between madrasa and khanqah in Mamluk Cairo has been explored in Behrens-Abouseif, Change in function and form.
For explorations into Ottoman Sunnitization and within a larger framework, confessionalization, see TerzioÄlu, How to conceptualize; TerzioÄlu, Where Ê¿ilm-i ḥÄl meets; KrstiÄ, Contested conversions; KrstiÄ, Illuminated by the light; KrstiÄ, From shahada to Ê¿aqÄ«da. See also Burak, Faith, law, and empire. On trends toward Sunnitization interconnected with tenth/sixteenth-century Ottoman architectural culture, see NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan, esp. 47â58.
Subrahmanyam, Connected histories 761â762.
On the Evrenos Ê¿imÄret, see Kiel, The oldest Ottoman monuments; Lowry, The shaping 80â84; ÃaÄaptay, The road from Bithynia, where she also discusses issues of typology. On PostinpÅ«Å Baba, and BÄyezÄ«d Iâs Edirne Ê¿imÄret, see Ayverdi, Osmanlı miâmarisinin i, 208â216, 484â494, Kuran, Edirneâde Yıldırım camisi; Kuban, Osmanlı mimarisi 85; on RÅ«m Meḥmed Pasha, see KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul, 119â122. On the BÄyezÄ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret completed in 1419, see Kuran, The mosque 82â85. On shifts in patronage profiles and contexts of construction, see OÄuz, Multi-functional buildings.
Shifts in architectural meaning in connection to historical change have been addressed in a set of diverse contexts in Arnold and Ballantyne, Architecture as experience 1â10; and Ballantyne, Misprisions of Stonehenge.
Rossi, Architecture of the city 35â45; see also Koch, Changing building typologies.
Past the early decades of the tenth/sixteenth century, the foundation of a soup kitchen became a royal prerogative of sultans and dynastic women, with few built by viziers in provincial cities or on way stations. On changes in the meaning of Ê¿imÄret in the Ottoman context, see also Budak, Ä°maret kavramı üzerinden.
Hence the numerous notes in Ayverdiâs surveys of early Ottoman architecture, and other studies often based on him, on the âabsenceâ of the Ê¿imÄret from many foundations at the time he surveyed the buildings. In most of these cases, the main building denoted as Ê¿imÄret in the document continues its existence as a mosque, while the service buildings connected to kitchen functions have not withstood time.
Singer, Imarets. See also Ergin, Neumann and Singer, Introduction; and Singer, Mapping imarets 13â39, 43â55.
Gabriel, Brousse 129, figure 72. A number of kitchen (maá¹bah) and refectory (meâkel) structures were rebuilt and expanded in later centuries, such as those of Orhan in 1145/1732 and MurÄd I in Bursa in 1045/1635, Ayverdi, Osmanlı mimarisinin i, 66, 234; Emir, Erken Osmanlı ii, 27â29. The references to âthe mosqueâs lead covering and Ê¿imÄretâs roof tilesâ in a 1082/1671 court document subsequent to the conversion of BÄyezÄ«d Iâs T-plan building into a mosque is of note, indicating that Ê¿imÄret at that time denoted the separate kitchen and refectory building; Ayverdi, Ä°lk Osmanlı i, 423.
See, for example, Ayverdi, Fatih devri 433â451, for his evaluation of the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha mosque.
Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul, 109â130; NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan, 52â55, 92â95.
On Meḥmed IIâs mosque and complex within its broader contexts, see NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan, 83â88; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul, 66â96.
Ãz (ed.), Zwei Stiftsurkunden, Ergin, Fatih imareti vakfiyesi. BidlÄ«sÄ« describes the Ê¿imÄret compound and the hierarchized configuration of the refectories serving the ulama, students, and the poor. He notes that the soup kitchen served nearly 2000 people daily. Bidlisî, HeÅt BehiÅt 76â77.
Baha Tanman (Sinanâın mimarisi, 336â337) recognizes the prototypical role of Meḥmed IIâs hospice-soup-kitchen-caravanserai compound for later Ottoman Ê¿imÄrets. See also Singer, Imarets. Singer has tended to focus on Ê¿imÄret primarily as soup kitchen, and has been less attentive to the semantic and spatial shift that took place in the Ottoman notion of Ê¿imÄret in the later ninth/fifteenth century.
Ãz, Zwei Stiftsurkunden; Ergin, Fatih imareti vakfiyesi; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 99â103.
Küçük Abdal, VelÄyetnÄme 111aâ112a; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 43, 235n106. ḤulvÄ«, LemeáºÄt, cited in Ãngören, Osmanlılarâda tasavvuf 374â376.
Cited in Ãngören, Osmanlılarâda tasavvuf 374â376.
Kafadar, Between two worlds; Ãıpa, The making of Selim.
See footnote 14.
Yıldız, From Cairo to Ayasuluk. On Aydinid literary patronage at large, see Yıldız, Aydinid court literature.
On masjid construction in ninth/fifteenth- and early tenth/sixteenth-century Istanbul, see KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 178â196. Ayverdiâs surveys of early Ottoman architecture best capture the picture in Bursa and Edirne; Ayverdi, Ä°lk Osmanlı; and Ayverdi, Ãelebi ve II. Sultan Murad Devri. Although Ayasuluk masjids present problems in identification and dating, they comprise a significant group from the later eighth/fourteenth and early ninth/fifteenth centuries. See UÄur, Selçuk (Ayasuluk) cami ve mescidleri; on late medieval Ayasuluk, see Foss, Ephesus.
Masjid construction, and denomination of neighborhoods through masjids, also in areas where large non-Muslim communities were resident in Istanbul, presents a good case for this. See KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul; and Leal, The Balat district.
Kutbeâd-dîn Ä°znikî, Mukaddime; and KrstiÄ, Contested conversions 26â50.
Aktan, DevletoÄlu Yusufâun Vikaye tercümesi; and Yıldız, A Hanafi law manual.
Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu Ä°smÄÊ¿Ä«l Bey, ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ«.
On Ä°sfendiyÄroÄluâs patronage of mosques, see Boykov, Anatolian emir in Rumelia. A copy of the ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ« was endowed by the chief architect SinÄn to the masjid he founded in Istanbul, underlining the connection between earlier modes of Sunnitization and later tenth/sixteenth-century dynamics; NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 150.
Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu, ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ« 286r.
Kutbeâd-dîn Ä°znikî, Mukaddime 205. The note is reflected in, and possibly adapted by, EbÅ«âs-suÊ¿Å«d Efendi in a fatwa on the impermissibility of praying in another neighborhoodâs Friday mosque, NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 57.
Kutbeâd-dîn Ä°znikî, Mukaddime 214â215; Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu, ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ« 242râv; Aktan, DevletoÄlu Yusufâun, 213â216; Johansen, The all-embracing town 144â145, 148â152.
TerzioÄlu, How to conceptualize 313â314; see also NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan, 48, for a 953/1546 reference to the tyranny of the namÄzcı figure, which rendered the practice unfavorable. See also the article by H. Evren SünnetçioÄlu in this volume.
Yılmaz (ed.), Ä°stanbul kadı sicilleri, Ãsküdar i, 434: âBu tafṣīl maḥallelerde olan bÄ«-namÄzı beyÄn eder ki áºikr olunur.â There are a number of such registers in the court register archives; this is the earliest I have encountered.
âNe heves etdüm, ve ne ol da bana nasib oldı,â Boratav, Nasreddin Hoca 184, no. 338; also in Duman, Nasreddin Hoca 325, who gives the source as ḤikÄyet-i Hoca Naá¹£reddÄ«n, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS S.T. 1395, dated 1207/1792, 45r.
Ayverdi, Ãelebi ve II. Sultan Murad Devri 405â415. My thanks to Gülru NecipoÄlu for drawing my attention to the features of the Edirne Muradiye that depart from zÄviye/Ê¿imÄret design. For evidence regarding interventions to the building, see footnote 58.
On MaḥmÅ«d Pasha, and his urban and cultural patronage at large, see Stavrides, The sultan of viziers. The T-type structure constructed as part of the commemorative complex at the discovered grave of AyyÅ«b al-AnsÄrÄ« in extramural Istanbul, also in 1459, was also likely an Ê¿imÄret at the time of its foundation. For the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret and mosque, see Ayverdi, Fatih devri iii, 433â451; Kuran, The mosque; Emir, Erken Osmanlı 190â191; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 109â119. In Constantinopolis/Istanbul I argued that the building was founded as a mosque. Having reviewed the evidence, I propose a revision of that argument here.
MuÊ¿ÄlÄ«, HunkÄrnÄme 8bâ10b; for a transcription of the text, see Balata, HunkarnÄma.
By contrast, Meḥmed IIâs mosque is denoted as cÄmiÊ¿ in its foundation inscription. In MaḥmÅ«d Pashaâs foundation, the inscriptions on the side entrances to the hospice rooms, and the hadith and Quranic quotation both evoking a masjid, must have been put in place alongside the restoration inscription, documenting the Os̱mÄn III restoration. For the texts, see
EnverÄ«, DüstÅ«rnÄme 71â72.
For the maps, issues of their dating, and the identification of sites they represent, see KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 143â161. It is not quite certain exactly which site is labeled by Vavassore, but its location certainly points to MaḥmÅ«dâs building. It has no minaret. It should be noted, though, that the only minarets depicted in this image are those of Meḥmed IIâs mosque.
Ãsküdar court records up to the mid-940s/1540s have numerous references to the RÅ«m Meḥmed Pasha Ê¿imÄret. By 953/1546, and in later dealings of the sharia court with the same foundation, the reference is always to the Meḥmed Pasha Mosque.
Emir demonstrated that within the northwestern corner room, 30 to 35 centimeters had been scraped off from the western corner of the wall separating the portico from the interior, from the ground level up, the scraped part ending in a console at the point it reaches the top of the minaret door on the western wall. He argued that this was done in order to allow for the opening of an entrance to the minaret, and he took this as evidence that the minaret was a later addition; Emir, Erken Osmanlı 216â217, photographs 582, 583. As the building has been closed for restoration, I have not been able to conduct an on-site examination. Baha Tanman, the adviser for the current restoration project (disrupted due to the Covid-19 pandemic) has corroborated that the structural details of the minaretâs connection to the main building suggests a later intervention; personal communication, 22 April 2020.
A wage of 25 aḳçes for the haá¹Ä«b and 15 for the imam are recorded by BidlÄ«sÄ«, who also notes that the daily expenses of the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha Ê¿imÄret was close to 1,000 aḳçes, HeÅt BehiÅt 91. The original waqfiyya of the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha foundation has not surfaced. The waqfiyya summary recorded in 1546 has the date as 878/1474, the year the vizier was executed. The summary records a 15 aḳçe wage for the haá¹Ä«b; Barkan and Ayverdi, Ä°stanbul vakıfları 42â45.
The MaḥmÅ«d Pasha waqf was to be partly restored during the reign of BÄyezÄ«d II. The changes in the MaḥmÅ«d Pasha foundation following his execution, and during the reign of BÄyezÄ«d II, are discussed in KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 117â118, 247n185, and 248n186; and in greater detail in KafescioÄlu, The Ottoman capital, 180â182.
For discussions of the architectural and spatial shift in late ninth/fifteenth-century T-plan buildings, see Kuran, Early Ottoman; on hospice functions of T-plan convent-mosques, see NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 94â95; KafescioÄlu, The Ottoman capital 165â169, 194â196; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis 110â114, 131â132. Sussan Babaieâs discussion of notions of conviviality as articulated by the ruling body in the Safavid context may offer perspectives on the uses of royal and elite Ê¿imÄrets and mosque-and-hospice buildings in the early Ottoman cultural milieu, see Babaie, Isfahan 1â30.
The layout with a corridor separating the main prayer hall from hospice rooms, and its possible connection to late Byzantine church construction in Constantinople, is discussed in greater detail in KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 112â114.
The Edirne Ê¿imÄret of MurÄd II, with a waqfiyya dated 830/1426â1427, appears at first sight to be an earlier example of such a configuration, as the prayer eyvÄn here has the same elevation as the central hall. However, Aptullah Kuran has noted that excavations revealed the original floor of the central hall, which was at a lower level than the eyvÄns. The accounting book of its foundation, from 1488 and 1489, has expenses for a haá¹Ä«b, pointing to its use as a congregational mosque at that time. The Edirne historian Ê¿Abduâr-raḥmÄn HibrÄ« notes that it was founded as a Mevlevi lodge, and was later converted into a mosque; this is corroborated by EvliyÄ Ãelebi, who attributes the conversion to the founder, MurÄd II. EvliyÄâs mention of MurÄd II replacing the wooden floor of the ceremonial hall with marble during the conversion, too, may explain the unusual contiguous space under the mihrab dome and the central dome. Evliyâ Ãelebi seyahatnâmesi iii, 228. As noted separately by Kuran and Emir, the side rooms were most likely converted into eyvÄns later, by opening arches into the partition walls between the central space and the rooms. Kuran observed the narrowness of the arches giving way to the side spaces; Emir observed that the original doors opening to the side rooms remain but have been converted into closets. It may be fruitful to consider the possibility of two different interventions to the building. For a survey of the building and relevant documents, see Ayverdi, Ãelebi ve II. Sultan Murad 405â415. For arguments regarding interventions to its fabric during its conversion into a mosque and observations regarding the hospice rooms, see Kuran, The mosque 124â125, 132; Emir, Erken Osmanlı 212â213, photographs 561â564.
The Ê¿imÄrets of MurÄd I, BÄyezÄ«d I and Meḥmed I in Bursa diverge from the predominant volumetric composition and side facade arrangement of majority of T-type buildings: their original layouts feature three eyvÄns, with two at the sides, between the hospice rooms. The hospice rooms are not pronounced in the exterior volumetric configuration, rather they are rendered part of the prismatic mass of the main building. However, the domical arrangement and protruding mihrab eyvÄn are recognizable exterior features of the type. See also footnote 100.
Kayhan, 16. ve 17. yüzyıllarda; York, Imarets, Islamization.
Vakıflar Genel MüdürlüÄü ArÅivi, 2088.
On the architecture of Evrenos Ê¿imÄret in Komotini (completed before 785/1383), see Kiel, The oldest Ottoman monuments; ÃaÄaptay, The road from Bithynia.
Oil and mats for the mosque were provided for, as were allowances for a leather worker employed in the mosque and the Ê¿imÄret, a doorkeeper, two sweepers for the Ê¿imÄret and the stables, four bakers and their assistants, four cooks and their helpers, a dishwasher, a wheat grinder, a repairer of buildings, and four revenue collectors.
Johansen, The all-embracing town; Grabar, The architecture of the Middle Eastern city.
Johansen, The all-embracing. That this matrix was imposed on Istanbul has been discussed in KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 180â184.
ʿĪsÄ Beyâs Sarajevo Friday mosque was built in 862/1458 and was dedicated to Meḥmed II: KemÅ«rÄzÄde SeyfeddÄ«n, SarÄybosnada ebniyye-i hayriyyenin, 3; Pelidija and Emecen, Ãsâ Bey. On the construction of Friday mosques through sultanic consent, see NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 47â48.
See also Hartmuth, A late ninth/fifteenth-century change, which locates the establishment of plural congregational mosques in Balkan cities, and by subroyal patrons, in the reign of BÄyezÄ«d II.
The waqfiyya is dated 874â¯AH and indicates the foundation date as 871â¯AH; Ayverdi, Fatih devri iv, 868.
On this building in the context of Ä°sḥÄḳ Beyâs and ʿĪsÄ Beyâs architectural patronage in Skopje, see Hartmuth, Building the Ottoman city.
ʿĪsÄ Begâs Sarajevo foundation of 866 /1462, too, is for a zÄviye directed to the use of students, Sufis, gÄzis and seyyids, alongside a public bath and a bridge over the river Miljacka; Ayverdi, Fatih devri iv, 847.
Such as those of Ḥamza Bey in Bursa, Hıżır Pasha in Amasya, Ãandarlı Ä°brahÄ«m Pasha in Edirne (858/1454), SinÄn b. ElvÄn in Geyve, Ayverdi, Fatih Devri iii, 27â30, 89â98, 209â210, 275â277.
Tamer, İshak Pasa Vakıfları, waqfiyya facsimile.
For the endowment deed of MurÄd I see, Gökbilgin, Murad I. This is the facsimile of the 802/1400 waqfiyya, which is a copy of an earlier foundation deed dated 787/1385. For the foundation deed of BÄyezÄ«d I, see Ayverdi, Yıldırım Bayezidâin Bursa vakfiyesi.
Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 231â232.
The building continued to be denoted as Ê¿imÄret, unlike most others from this period. EvliyÄ described it as Alaca Ê¿Ä°mÄret CÄmiÊ¿, Evliyâ, Seyahatnâme viii, 66.
Like Gedik Aḥmed Pashaâs foundation in Afyon, this is one of the few Ê¿imÄrets of the period where an original minbar is preserved, bearing witness to the institutional status of the building as Friday mosque and lodge. Yüksel, II. Bayezid 39â43.
On Amasya lodges and the Halvetiye, see KarataÅ, The city as historical actor.
See footnotes 59 and 100.
Ê¿ÄÅıḳ Meḥmed twice mentions the dÄrüâż-żiyÄfe for travelers (misÄfirÄ«n) and indicates that the refectory (meʾkel) was for the poor students and for the poor and the needy Muslims: fukarÄ-yı á¹alebe-yi âulÅ«m; fuḳarÄ ve zuâafÄ-yi muslimÄ«n ve muslimÄt; AÅık Mehmed, Menâzirüâl-avâlim 1089â1090.
Yüksel, II. Bayezid 247â248, Le Gall, A culture of Sufism 35â62.
On the political context, see KarataÅ, The city as historical actor, 103â118; Curry, The transformation, 273â276; on the foundations, Yürekli, Between public and private; KafescioÄlu, Constantinopolis/Istanbul 220â225.
Karamustafa, Origins of Anatolian, 84â¯ff.; and Karamustafa, Antinomian Sufis; TerzioÄlu, Sufis in the age of.
Yürekli, Architecture and hagiography; Kiprovska, The MihaloÄlu family; Tanman, Demir Baba; Antov, The Ottoman âwild westâ 71â93.
Umur, Reconstructing Yenice-i Vardar 112â125.
On KemÄlpaÅazÄde, see Turan et al., KemalpaÅazade. On his career and role as chief mufti, see also Repp, The mufti of Istanbul; Atçıl, The Safavid threat 301â304; Ä°nanır, Ä°bn Kemalâin fetvaları.
References in Ä°nanır, Ä°bn Kemalâin fetvaları 67, fn 227.
Ãngören, Osmanlılarâda tasavvuf 344â348.
Ãngören, Osmanlılarâda tasavvuf 369â380; Ä°nanır, Ibn Kemalâin fetvaları 67â75. In at least one collection of his fatwas, opinions regarding Sufi ritual have been collected under a separate heading; KemÄlpaÅazÄde, FetÄvÄ-yı Ä°bn KemÄl 78b: âSÅ«fÄ«lerin áºikr ve devrÄnına müteÊ¿alliḳ á¹£orular.â
KemÄlpaÅazÄde, FetÄvÄ-yı Ä°bn KemÄl 79b; KemÄlpaÅazÄde, MecmÅ«Ê¿atüâl-fetÄvÄ 6a.
KemÄlpaÅazÄde, FetÄvÄ-yı Ä°bn KemÄl 79a.
KemÄlpaÅazÄde, MecmÅ«Ê¿atüâl-FetÄvÄ 7a.
The fatwas resonate in EbÅ«âs-suÊ¿Å«dâs fatwas discussed by NecipoÄlu with some differences, one striking divergence being EbÅ«âs-suÊ¿Å«dâs inclination to stipulate the execution as heretics of those Sufis practicing unacceptable forms of áºikr.
KemÄlpaÅazÄde, FetÄvÄ-yı Ä°bn KemÄl 79b, 80a; KemÄlpaÅazÄde, MecmÅ«Ê¿atüâl-fetÄvÄ 6a.
KemÄlpaÅazÄde, MecmÅ«Ê¿atüâl-fetÄvÄ 6a. Turan, quoting from Ê¿Aá¹Äʾī, notes that KemÄlpaÅazÄde also had a fatwa that condoned devrÄn; Turan, KemalpaÅazade.
FetÄvÄ-yı KemÄlpaÅazÄde 6a. On Ê¿AlÄ« CemÄlÄ« Efendi, see KüçükdaÄ, II Bayezid 51â81; GörkaÅ, Zenbilli Ali Efendiânin. Ê¿AlÄ« CemÄlÄ« Efendi, MecmÅ«âa-i fetÄvÄ.
Regulating the use of space in mosques did not concern Sufi practices only: one manuscript of the ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ« includes a fatwa stating that commoners should not form circles in Friday mosques to recite battle epics and stories; Ä°sfendiyÄroÄlu, ḤulviyÄt-ı ÅÄhÄ«, Ä°stanbul Ãniversitesi Kütüphanesi MS T 5849, 275v, cited in NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 52â53.
On Hüsrev Pashaâs Aleppo foundation, see KafescioÄlu, In the image of RÅ«m 71, 83â86; Watenpaugh, The image of an Ottoman city 60â77; NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 472â475. On departures from earlier mosque and hospice construction during SüleymÄnâs reign, see ibid., 52â57. Ãnver Rüstemâs chapter in the present volume explores post tenth/sixteenth century reformulations in the architecture and symbolism of the sultanic mosque.
On EbÅ«âs-suÊ¿Å«dâs fatwas regarding Sufi ritual in mosques, and on a court edict banning non-Muslims using hospice rooms of a convent-mosque in the town of Ãorlu and directing them to a distant caravanserai, see NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 52â53.
Kuran, The mosque 124â125, 132â133; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında ii, 18â50; Emir, Reconstructing an early Ottoman building; Emir, Bursa Ali PaÅa zaviyesi; Emir, Edirne Mihal Bey zaviyesi.
Kuran observed that seven out of the ten structures he classified as âcross-axial eyvÄn mosquesâ (those buildings that incorporated side eyvÄns in addition to the prayer eyvÄn), present structural evidence for this type of intervention; Kuran, ibid. (These are the Orhan Mosque in Bursa, Mezid Bey in Edirne, Muradiye in Edirne and in Bursa, Ä°shak Pasha in Ä°negöl, and Ḥamza Bey in Bursa); Kuran, The mosque 132â136. This leaves four sultanic Ê¿imÄrets of the later eighth/fourteenth century and the turn of the ninth/fifteenth, built by MurÄd I, BÄyezÄ«d I, and Meḥmed I in Bursa and in Edirne, as a special group of royal patronage incorporating a three-eyvÄn scheme. Instances whereby the interior was âexpandedâ through tearing down walls separating the main hall from side rooms are discussed in detail in Emir, who provides additional structural details that betray interventions to the building fabrics, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 147â156. Gabriel in 1958, and Eyice in 1964, too, observed, based on their respective surveys of the MurÄd II Ê¿imÄret, that the curtain walls separating hospice rooms from the main hall had been taken down during a later intervention; Gabriel, Brousse 108; Eyice, Ä°lk Osmanlı devrinin 38.
Bursa court records, A58/63, 5a, cited in Ayverdi, Ãelebi ve II. Sultan Murad 50; and transcribed in Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 230â231. The record notes that 10,000 aḳçes were allotted for the projected interventions. Ayverdi suggests that the window of the northeastern room was enlarged to function as a door and later restored to its original.
Emir has suggested that population growth was the primary reason behind conversions of Ê¿imÄrets into mosques; NecipoÄlu underlines issues of Sunnitization, alongside rising urban populations, in connection to the boom in Friday mosque construction and conversions of extant structures; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 289â291 and passim; NecipoÄlu, The age of Sinan 52â57.
BOA, Mühimme defteri 28, 165, published in DaÄlıoÄlu, 16. asırda Bursa; and Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında ii, 22. The building underwent an earlier restoration, as indicated by its inscription (820/1417). Ayverdi has discussed this intervention due to the damage the building suffered during the Karamanid invasion of Bursa in 816/1413. According to Ayverdi, architectural evidence suggests that the 820/1417 restoration did not result in a significant alteration in the buildingâs layout; Ayverdi, Osmanlı mimarisinin 80â82. Kuran argues that the building originally featured vaulted spaces as in Orhanâs Ä°znik foundation and was covered with a domed superstructure during the 820/1417 renovation. He also suggests that the partition walls of the hospice rooms may have been torn down at that date. While the dating is not correct, Kuranâs observation agrees with the intervention mentioned in the Mühimme document dated 984/1576; Kuran, The mosque 98â100, 132â133.
Kuran, The mosque 132â133; Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında ii, 39â43.
Emir, Erken Osmanlı mimarlıÄında 147. A Yorgaki Kalfa was summoned to Istanbul in relation to the minaret project. He is not referred to as hÄṣṣa miÊ¿mÄrı, suggesting that a local architect was entrusted with the construction, rather than one sent from Istanbul.
âEimme-i ḥanefiyyeânin ḳavli üzere,â Bursa court records, no. 227, f. 125, no. 225, f. 13, cited in Ayverdi, Fatih devri iii, 89. The records also site the difficulty experienced by maḥalle residents in reaching the Friday mosque, which was at a distance. Ḥamza Bey died in 866/1462 at the hands of Hunyadi Janos; the undated building was likely completed prior to that date, during or before the reign of Meḥmed II.
At the time EvliyÄ Ãelebi visited Dimetoka (Didymoteichon), he noted several zÄviyes that were âsuitable for conversion into mosquesâ (câmiÊ¿ olmaÄa müstaÊ¿id zâviyeler), suggesting that the process continued; Evliyâ Ãelebi, Seyahatnâme viii, 30. On mosque construction and conversions in Rumelia in through the tenth/sixteenth century, see the chapter by Grigor Boykov in this volume.
TerzioÄlu, How to conceptualize, 320â321.
TerzioÄlu, Sufi and dissident 117. TerzioÄlu notes that a lodge was later built for MıṣrÄ«.
Ersoy, Aykırı binanın 110.
Modern Türkiyeânin Osmanlı mirasını keÅfi: Ali Saim Ãlgen arÅivi, Exhibition at Salt, Istanbul, 8 Februaryâ24 March 2013; Salt AraÅtırma, cat. no TASUPA0540001.
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