The Collapse of Rural Order in Ottoman Anatolia the Ottoman Empire and Its Heritage Politics, Society and Economy

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The Collapse of Rural Order in Ottoman Anatolia The Ottoman Empire and Its Heritage Politics, Society and Economy

Edited by

Suraiya Faroqhi Halil İnalcık Boğaç Ergene

Advisory Board

Fikret Adanır – Antonis Anastasopoulos – Idris Bostan Palmira Brummett – Amnon Cohen – Jane Hathaway Klaus Kreiser – Hans Georg Majer – Ahmet Yaşar Ocak Abdeljelil Temimi

VOLUME 61

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/oeh The Collapse of Rural Order in Ottoman Anatolia

Amasya 1576–1643

Oktay Özel

LEIDEN | BOSTON Cover illustration: Graving: J.B. Hilair & J.A. Pierron, in M. Le Comte de Choiseaul-Gouffier, Voyage pittoresque de la Grèce (adapted by Harun Yeni).

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Özel, Oktay, author. Title: The collapse of rural order in Ottoman Anatolia : Amasya 1576-1643 / by Oktay Özel. Description: Boston ; Leiden : Brill, [2016] | Series: The Ottoman Empire and its heritage ; v. 61 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Description based on print version record and CIP data provided by publisher; resource not viewed. Identifiers: LCCN 2015047908 (print) | LCCN 2015046558 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004311244 (E-book) | ISBN 9789004309715 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Amasya (Amasya İli, Turkey)—History. | Amasya İli (Turkey)—History. | Turkey—History—Ottoman Empire, 1288–1918. Classification: LCC DS51.A45 (print) | LCC DS51.A45 O94 2016 (ebook) | DDC 956.3/8—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015047908

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Contents

Acknowledgements ix List of Figures and Tables xi Notes on Spelling xii

1 Introduction 1 The Subject 1 The Sources (mufassal [= detailed] avârız Registers) 8 On the “Decline” Literature 12

2 Geography and Politics 20 Amasya: Making of an Ottoman Province 20 Rural Society: Limitations and Relational Matrix 39

3 Land, Society, and Empire (Through 1576) 44 Peasants and Nomads 44 Notables (mâlikâne Holders) 62 Timariots 76

4 The Collapse of Rural Order: A Comparison (1576–1643) 89 Settlement Patterns 92 Population 110 Society 120

5 What Happened? An Assessment 134 The Context Reviewed 136 Nature and Climate at Work 146 The Celâlîs 150 The Consequences 166 1643 Recontextualised 177

6 Conclusion 182 viii contents

Appendix I: Tahri̇r and Avârız Registers of Amasya 191 The Sources 191 Survey Orders for the avârız Register of 1643 197 Appendix II: Revenue Holders and Revenue Distribution 205 [Timarhâ-i] Eşkincüyân in c. 1480 and their Situation in Subsequent Registers 205 Mâlikâne Holders, 1520–1576 (According to TT 387 and TK26) 210 Pious Foundations (vakıfs or waqfs) and the Revenues Allocated to them in 1520 216 Zeâmet and Timar Holdings/Holders, c. 1480–1576 219 Revenue Distribution, c. 1480–1576 221 Appendix III: Urban Population in the Province of Rûm, 1520–1643 225 Appendix IV: Rural Settlements with their Tax-Paying Population (c. 1480–1643) 227

Bibliography 249 Index 272 Map of Amasya 282 Acknowledgements

The present volume owes a great deal to generous support and help from a number of mentors, colleagues, and institutions. I should first acknowledge my mentors and colleagues from Hacettepe University, where I was working at the time of the initial research: Bahaeddin Yediyıldız, Ahmet Yaşar Ocak, Özkan İzgi, Mehmet Öz, Fahri Unan, Fatma Acun, and Yunus Koç. They gave me great support throughout the research and contributed in different ways to the first draft of the text; I am most grateful to them. I should specifically emphasize the clarity of vision on the most complicated matters and the expertise on defterology that Mehmet Öz shared with me throughout. Similarly, Evgeni Radushev of Bilkent University has, during the past ten years, wholeheartedly kept reminding me of what should be my primary job—i.e., this book; we have exchanged views on many matters in long, enthusiastic, and colorful discussions, while also working on a joint project on similar sources for the Ottoman Balkans. I am more than grateful to Evgeni’s sincere and always fruitful collabo- ration, which still continues at full speed to this very moment. Secondly, I have great appreciation of the scholarship and meticulous- ness in the historical profession of Colin Imber, under whose supervision I carried out most of the research and wrote the initial version of this volume as a doctoral dissertation in 1993. I am also grateful for his pleasantly liberal attitude throughout my research and writing at the Department of Middle Eastern Studies of the University of Manchester. Similarly, Colin Heywood and Edmund Herzig gave me constructive criticism, encouraging me greatly with their comments on the initial text. Evgenia Kermeli, Suraiya Faroqhi, Fikret Adanır, Caroline Finkel, and M. Yavuz Erler shared their thoughts and material with me and helped in various matters. Helen Pearson, Sarah Thomas, and Maria-Ninu Stepanski translated materials from languages I could not read. I am also grateful to all of them. I was lucky enough to enjoy close collaborations, at various stages of the constant rewriting processes, with such mentors and colleagues as Halil İnalcık, Rifaʿat ʿAli Abou-El-Haj, Geoffrey Parker, William Griswold, Linda Darling, Faruk Tabak, Nenad Moacanin, Kaan Durukan, Günhan Börekçi, Kayhan Orbay, Sam White, Boğaç A. Ergene, Grigor Boykov, and Maria Kiprovska, who have all kindly shared their opinions on the different versions of the manuscript leading towards this book and contributed greatly to my rethinking of certain matters. Though I retained most of my initial ideas and arguments in my venture into a defterological study of the Ottoman 17th-century crisis, thanks to their insightful criticism and suggestions, I have greatly improved what eventually became the final manuscript for this book. The critiques of two anonymous x acknowledgements reviewers for Leiden Brill academic publishing, and, once more, of Suraiya Faroqhi as one of the series editors, proved particularly useful in making me realize that some of my arguments still needed further clarity, refinement, and elaboration. I am deeply indebted to them, and any weaknesses this work still retains is, needless to say, entirely mine. During the research, I have worked in various archives and libraries in Turkey, Britain, and the United States. Studying in the archives is not the easiest thing: even the usual procedures often seem like unusually painful obstacles, testing the limits of our patience. However, at such times, the constructive attitude of a number of staff proves, as always, to make things immensely easier. I am therefore thankful to all those who have done their best to make it bear- able in the Prime Ministerial Ottoman Archive and the Atatürk Kütüphanesi in Istanbul, as well as in the Tapu Kadastro Genel Müdürlüğü Kuyud-i Kadime Archive, the National Library, and the library of Turkish Historical Society in Ankara. The same applies to the staff of the great libraries of John Rylands in Manchester, SOAS and the Senate House in London, and the Widener of Harvard in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Nahide Işık Demirakın, Seda Erkoç and Muhsin Soyudoğan, my younger colleagues at Bilkent University, were marvelous with their painstaking labour on the reworking of the manuscript at different stages, providing me with most timely support, both moral and technical. I greatly appreciate their sincere friendship and unconditional presence whenever needed. The same applies for the efforts of Chris Taylor and Michael Douglas Sheridan in improving the English of the manuscript. Michael, in particular, has not only proven to be a more than meticulous and pleasantly patient editor, but he has also been a wonderful colleague of the same seventeenth century, whose contribution to the final text is beyond any appreciation in words. I am grateful to him. Finally, I owe more than a simple appreciation to Claire Thomas/Özel, who had to make a sharp change from molecular biology to Ottoman history to find herself in the alien world of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Ottoman history. She was not only dragged into such a journey as a challenge yet with painstaking labour on the first draft of the text years ago, but also ended up in the intriguing new world of a strange country, Turkey. I owe the deepest gratitude in love to her, with my sincerest admiration of her constant support, patience, and tolerance, which started then, and unendingly continues to this very moment. This volume, then, is naturally and delightfully dedicated to her.

Oktay Özel Ankara/Leiden, September 2015 List of Figures and Tables

Figures

1 The Province of Rûm in 1576 21 2 Development of Ottoman administrative divisions (nahiyes) of the kazâ of Amasya (c. 1480–1643) 26 3 Structure of society in rural Amasya (15th–16th centuries) 43 4 Distribution of the peasants and nomads in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576 47 5 Total arable land in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576 (as “çiftlik”) 54 6 Social composition of timariots, c. 1480–1576 (%) 82 7a Topographical map of the kazâ of Amasya (16th century) 93 7b Modern Province of Amasya 93 8 Average village size (in “nefer”), 1520–1643 101 9a Villages with more than 100 taxpayers (nefers) in 1576 108 9b Villages with more than 100 taxpayers (nefers) in 1643 108 10a Rural population in 1576 119 10b Rural population in 1643 119 11 Composition of rural society in the kazâ of Amasya in 1643 122

Tables

1 Development of the Ottoman administration in the livâ of Amasya, c. 1480–1643 38 2 Correlation between arable land and households in 1576 51 3 Revenue distribution among the timariots, c. 1480–1576 83 4 Categories of rural settlements of the kazâ of Amasya as appearing in the registers, 1520–1643 96 5 Breakdown of the sizes of villages in 1576 100 6 Geographical distribution of villages in 1576 (according to altitude) 103 7 Number of deserted/vanished villages in the kazâ of Amasya between 1576 and 1643 105 8 Deserted/vanished villages and their sizes in 1576 106 9 Rural population in the kazâ of Amasya, 1520–1643 113 10 Change in the rural population between 1576 and 1643 (in nefer) 117 11 The tahrirs and existing defters of Amasya sub-province (livâ) 191 Notes on Spelling

In place names, with the exception of few (such as Doğan, Doğmuş, Akdağ, Hocaağılı, Aydoğdu instead of “Togan,” “Togmış,” “Aktağ,” “Hevâceağılı,” “Aytoğdı”), original spelling is kept as they appear in the documents. The terms used in the text and quotations from the original sources are also spelled as they appear in the sources, instead of their modern versions (such as gelüb, virürler, Beğ instead of “gelip,” “verirler,” “Bey”). In quotations from various works, as well as published documents, the ways they are transliterated by the authors and editors have not been changed. On the other hand, modern Turkish spelling of some words which are commonly used in English (such as Paşa and kadı instead of “Pasha” and “cadi” or “qadı”) are used, with the exception of the word vakıf or vakf, which is at times spelled as “waqf” (as in “family waqf” for vakf-ı evlâd). Since there is no standard system of transliteration for Ottoman Turkish, widely applied rule is employed only in quotations for the sake of simplicity in one instance:

ʿ (as in words such as ʿavârız, reʿâyâ, iʿtimad, tevkîʿ-i refîʿ-i :(ع) ”for “ayn hümâyûn),

The same is applied both in text and quotations in the following three instances: آ (as in words such as mîrî, sâdât, hümâyûn) ˆ :(و ,�ي� , �) for long a, i, u instead of, for instance, “sadat.”

The following letters should be pronounced as follows: c j (as in “joke”) ç ch (as in “change”) e e (as in “red”) ğ g (as in “weight”) ı e (as in “often”) ö e (as in French eu) ş sh (as in “shop”) ü u (as in German ü)

Note on Ottoman Terms

Since the technical terms are explained in the text where they first appear, a separate glossary is not appended. chapter 1 Introduction

The Subject

On 18 November 1641, an imperial decree was sent to Mehemmed Murad Efendi, the treasurer of the province of Rûm, ordering that a survey of the households in the province liable to avârız and cizye taxes be carried out under his command. As a person of high virtue, Murad Efendi was initially entrusted with the surveying and recording of the ordinary reaya households in the area. In an additional decree issued two months later (on 15 January 1642), it was ordered that he should also include in the survey the members of the askerî class who in one way or another held property, land, and houses, making them also liable to the same taxes, although they were using every opportunity to claim exemption. Murad Efendi might have received these orders much earlier; however, copies of the documents were recorded in the Amasya Court Register seven months later with a note stating that they had arrived at the kadı’s court on 5 June 1642. On 27 August 1642, some nine months after the first decree, a third one arrived, again addressed to Murad Efendi, who was now busy surveying his province. This time he was further instructed to inspect and record the situation of the freeholds (mâlikâne holdings) held by individual families of pre-Ottoman local aristocracy in the region, the reason being that their freeholds were said to be in complete disorder. Murad Efendi immediately wrote to the district kadıs of his province, including those of the districts of the sub-province (livâ) of Amasya. In his notes, he instructed them to start preparations for the survey in accordance with the imperial orders. In his last note, he specifically warned that the tithe or öşr revenue of the villages held by the mâlikâne holders and their crops would be seized by the state treasury until the owners personally presented certification proving the authenticity of their proprietary rights.1 The reasons for these imperial orders for a new survey in the Province of Rûm in the early 1640s were, as stated in the decrees themselves, the mass flight of peasants from their villages, major displacement of rural populace in the countryside, and the resulting disintegration of rural order and economy. The same decrees also point to the fact that this extraordinary human mobility created serious difficulties in collecting tax revenue for the state during the

1 Amasya Court Record (Sicil, AŞS), no. 4. For the instructions, see Appendix Ib.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004311244_002 2 chapter 1 preceding turbulent years; this meant an enormous loss for the imperial treasury. The general picture that these orders portray is one of socio-fiscal disorder in the countryside. Indeed, the imperial administration had long been experiencing a serious crisis on multiple fronts, and everyday life in the provinces was in even greater turmoil under the routine Celâlî terror. As all contemporary sources attest, this was particularly the case for the Anatolian provinces. Under the circumstances, therefore, the Province of Rûm was not the only one to be surveyed: the decrees that Murad Bey had received for his province were in fact part of a much larger imperial attempt to survey the taxable population, extending to the Balkan provinces. This process had been initiated by the grand vizier of the time, Kemankeş Mustafa Pasha, and the available documentation indicates that it was the result of a long-awaited measure to put things in order in terms of the administration of the imperial fisc. We know nearly nothing about the details of how the actual process of the survey was carried out under Murad Efendi in the Province of Rûm with the direct involvement of the local kadıs and other officials. He might have started his survey earlier in other parts of the province; however, it began in the livâ of Amasya much later, in June 1642, only after the kadı of the district had received the survey orders. It appears that the survey was completed in less than a year. Murad Efendi compiled his notes of the survey and presented the results in the early months of 1643 in separate registers (defters) drawn up on a livâ, district, or even city basis for the Province of Rûm. As research in the Ottoman archives reveals, only five of these registers have survived to the present day: those belonging to the livâs of Amasya, Canik, and Bozok, and those belonging to the cities of Tokat and Zile. Whether Murad Efendi completed the full survey of the whole province or managed to draw a separate register for each livâ we do not know. Perhaps the registers of other districts, including Sivas, the seat of the governor-general, have simply not survived to the present day. However, the Prime Ministerial Ottoman Archive in Istanbul (BOA) houses several avârız registers from around 1642–43 for other provinces, including those of the Balkans and northern Syria, the core lands where the Ottomans applied the standard system of direct administration under the timar system. The content of the extant registers preserved in the BOA varies; some contain detailed ones as well as summaries. There are even avârız, cizye, and mâlikâne registers drawn up separately. Some of these registers consist of no more than a few pages containing the specific situations as particularly instructed in the survey orders. This was the case for the livâ of Amasya, the region under examination in the present volume. It appears that the registers for this particular livâ are the most complete both in content and geographical-administrative terms. The synoptic register for Amasya simply enumerates the military fiefs Introduction 3 or dirliks of the region with only their status, without mentioning the names of the holders, while the situation of the mâlikâne holdings was recorded separately in a very brief register. However, most importantly, we do have a detailed register for Amasya which records the actual households of the districts in the same way as the mufassal tahrir registers of the previous century. These are the “mufassal” avârız type of registers that are extensively referred to in the works of Bruce McGowan and Linda Darling2 and will be introduced in some detail below. This particular register presents the results of the survey for the districts (kazâ) of the livâ of Amasya. However, among these, this book only focuses on the districts and sub-districts (nâhiyes) that had constituted the livâ throughout the sixteenth century. It might be asked, what makes this particular survey register of Amasya compiled by Murad Efendi in 1643 so special as to be the subject of inquiry in the present study? After all, it only contains records of the tax-paying population in rural and urban settlements, as all tahrir surveys do. The answer is that the records in fact reveal much more than what they appear to present at first sight. Yes, they provide us with the villages and their inhabitants, the peasants, the backbone of the Ottoman economy and the loyal subjects of the empire. However, we immediately notice that among these recorded taxpayers were a significant number of newcomers or outsiders (birûniyan), a fact which might not be seen as “normal” within the framework of the basic principles of Ottoman social order (nizâm-ı âlem), which expected every single subject (or group for that matter) to remain in their designated (i.e., recorded) places. Nevertheless, they were there, recorded in their new places, paying their taxes to the state. It is possible to think that as long as they continued paying taxes, their migration from one place to another was practically tolerated under extraordinary circumstances. The peasants recorded

2 Bruce McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe: Taxation, Trade and the Struggle for Land, 1600–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981); Linda Darling, Revenue- Raising and Legitimacy. Tax Collection and Finance Administration in the Ottoman Empire, 1560–1660 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996). See also Linda Darling, “Avârız Tahriri: Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century Ottoman Survey Registers,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin, 10 (1986), pp. 23–26; Oktay Özel, “17. Yüzyıl Osmanlı Demografi ve İskan Tarihi İçin Önemli Bir Kaynak: ‘Mufassal’ Avârız Defterleri,” in XII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, Ankara, 12–16 Eylül 1994, Kongreye Sunulan Bildiriler, III (Ankara: TTK Yay., 1999), pp. 735–744; “Cizye ve Avarız Defterleri”, in Halil İnalcık and Şevket Pamuk (eds.), Osmanlı Devletiʾnde Bilgi ve İstatistik (Ankara: Devlet İstatistik Enstitüsü Yayınları, 2000), pp. 35–50; Turan Gökçe, “Osmanlı Nüfus ve İskân Tarihi Kaynaklarından ‘Mufassal-İcmâl’ Avârız Defterleri ve 1701–1709 Tarihli Gümülcine Kazası Örnekleri,” Tarih İncelemeleri Dergisi, 20/1 (2005), pp. 71–134. 4 chapter 1 during the survey remained in their homes despite the various unfavorable conditions of the time; they did not attempt to evade the survey. However, upon further examination, it also becomes clear that this picture shows only one side of the coin, not directly revealing the full historical context of the situation, which was not as pleasant as the plain records suggest. First, the total number of ordinary taxpayers recorded in this register was no more than 20% of the total provided in the previous classical tahrir register of the region completed in 1576. In other words, we are faced with an almost 80% drop in the recorded number of rural taxpayers in the kazâ of Amasya between 1576 and 1643. During this period, there had been no border revision of the kazâ; that is, the changes in the recorded population could not possibly be accounted for by alterations in borders, which was a not infrequent phenomenon in Ottoman provincial administration. Furthermore, approximately 40% of the rural settlements which we know existed in 1576 do not show up in the avârız register of 1643. Recent studies on the same type of registers for the neighbouring districts of Canik, Bozok, Tokat, and Harput have also produced strikingly similar pictures.3 All point to a drastic fall in the number of recorded taxpayers (83% in Canik, 88% in Bozok, 68% in Tokat, 90% in Harput), as well as to a large-scale abandoning of rural settlements and a major depopulation in Anatolia during the last quarter of the sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth century. This was also the case for the northwestern Anatolian district of Manyas (over 50% already by the year 1604), and for the southern Anatolian district of Antakya (around 65% by the year 1678). There was obviously something extraordinary either about the figures provided by the registers or about the period concerned; or, possibly, both. It is therefore the historian’s task to question and analyse the picture these figures

3 See Mehmet Öz, “XVII. Yüzyıl Ortasına Doğru Canik Sancağı,” Prof. Dr. Bayram Kodamanʾa Armağan (Samsun: Akademi Kitabevi, 1993), pp. 193–206; “Bozok Sancağı’nda İskan ve Nüfus (1539–1642),” XII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, Ankara, 12–16 Eylül 1994. Kongreye Sunulan Bildiriler, III. Cilt (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1999), pp. 787–794; Mehmed Ali Ünal, “1646 (1056) Tarihli Harput Kazâsı Avârız Defteri,” Tarih İncelemeleri Dergisi, XII (1997), pp. 9–51. In an article, Ali Açıkel points to a 67.98% drop in the recorded tax-paying population in the countryside of the district of Tokat during the same period. See Ali Açıkel, “Tokat Örneğinde XII. Yüzyılın İlk Yarısında Osmanlı Sosyal Yapısında Buhran,” Türkler, vol. 10, eds. Hasan Celal Güzel et al. (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye Yayınları, 2002), pp. 348–358. Enver Çakar, “17. Yüzyılın İkinci Yarısında Antakya Kazasında İskân ve Nüfus (1678/1089 Tarihli Avârız-Hâne Defterine Göre),” Belleten, LXVII/252 (2004), pp. 431–459; Özer Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne Geçiş Sürecinde Tipik Bir Örnek: 1604 Tarihli Manyas Kazası Avarız Defteri,” TTK Belgeler, XXXII/36 (2011), pp. 113–199. Introduction 5 portray by making sense of it with a logical and sound explanation that takes into consideration all probabilities within the historical context. This is precisely what this book attempts to do: to make sense of the quantitative picture these sources present, and to contextualize this picture by reference to the major developments of this particular period. The entire book is then geared towards a fundamental question: what actually happened between 1576 and 1643 in the district of Amasya? Can the main developments and events of the period fully explain such a major change in the population? This study does more than focus on the period after 1576 to seek a temporal conjunctural explanation to this revelation contained within the avârız register of 1643. It also goes back to the late fifteenth century in order to explore the possibility of certain structural socio-economic and demographic developments (of the long sixteenth century in particular), with the hope of dem- onstrating that what really happened from the last quarter of the sixteenth century on might well be linked to such long-term trends. The aim of the study, then, is manifold: after providing a brief historical background to the pre-Ottoman history of the region of Amasya, with its strong rural notables and its gradual incorporation into the Ottoman imperial administration, Chapter Two goes on to provide an introductory relational matrix of rural society as a prelude to the topic. Chapter Three presents an analysis of the changes in society and economy in rural Amasya up to 1576. Here we seek a possible answer to the question of whether or not the observed changes can be accounted for by certain long-term trends and political developments of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the latter being particularly character- ised by a rapid population growth and the expansion of the agricultural economy. This will enable us to better place in historical context the demographic, historical-geographical, and societal picture of 1643, portraying a collapse in the rural order. Based on a detailed examination of the avârız register of this date, Chapter Four compares this picture with the earlier situation as reflected in the last imperial tahrir register of 1576, in the hope that such a comparison under the headings of settlement, population and society will provide us with a clearer idea of both the extent and the nature of the changes that occurred in the region between these two dates. The final chapter (Chapter Five) seeks an explanation for the dramatic changes observed in the preceding chapter, changes that point to the collapse of rural order and society during the period between 1576 and 1643: a detailed analysis is provided of the major events and developments of this particular period that appear to have had a direct impact on the structure of everyday life in the countryside of Amasya. It also presents a bolder articulation of the central argument of the study with reference to larger historiographical issues and debates, accompanied by brief discussions. 6 chapter 1

The main argument is that the rather gloomy picture of 1643 was directly linked to: a) the demo-economic developments of sixteenth-century expansion and growth, pointing to a certain “demographic pressure” that increasingly produced a sizeable surplus population as potential powder kegs, and b) the great destruction of rural order in society and economy, which was caused primarily by the human-made catastrophe generally associated with the Celâlî movements that dominated the period, representing the triumph of violence. It is also argued that this coincided and perhaps partly facilitated by the negative impacts of climatic changes which seem to have complicated the situation further. The methodology employed for the study is simple: the whole analysis is based on a systematic and thorough examination of the different Ottoman tax registers that exist for the region on which this work is focused. In other words, it is a comparison of the classical tahrir registers of the period prior to 1576 and the detailed avârız register of 1643, the latter being utilized for the first time for an analysis of this type. The comparison is also accompanied by a detailed analysis of the earlier periods both as historical background and as an illustration of the major developments up to 1576. The present study can then justifiably be seen as a renewed experimentation with the methods and arguments first developed by two historians; namely, the late Mustafa Akdağ and Michael Cook. Without Akdağ’s pioneering works (Celâli İsyanları (1963), and Türkiye’nin İktisadi ve İçtimai Tarihi (1977)) and the findings concerning the socio-economic developments of the sixteenth century as well as the Celâlî movements, this book would not have been possible. The same is true for Cook’s meticulous and creative study (Population Pressure in Rural Anatolia (1972)) around his argumentation of “population pressure” in Anatolia for the sixteenth century, conventionally called the “classical age.” The book also provides new avenues for a critical re-evaluation of the arguments developed for the “decline” of the imperial order and its basic institutions by reference to military and fiscal-political factors, such as those particularly emphasized by Halil İnalcık and Huricihan İnan. The novelty of the present work, however, lies in the employment of a new set of sources— namely, the avârız registers—which allow us to extend some of the key arguments of Akdağ and Cook further into the seventeenth century. It is only due to the existence of these sources that the author has been able to undertake such a revisionist task. It is hoped that this book will make a modest contribution to the enhancement of our knowledge of the Ottoman realities of the early seventeenth century. The quantitative dimension that this new source material brings to the study of the demographic history of the empire will prove to be extremely valuable. It will also provide new insights into the quantitative Introduction 7 aspect of the Celâlî phenomenon of the period. With these registers, we are now in a much better position to discuss, on a more solid footing, not only the extent and nature of the Celâlî destruction, but also of the 17th-century Ottoman transformation in general. As it is, the present study aims to contribute to the revival of the old discussion of seventeenth-century “demographic catastrophe” in the Ottoman Empire, in direct communication with Bruce McGowan’s Economic Life in Ottoman Europe (1981). An interested reader will not have difficulty in linking further both the new findings and certain arguments presented in this volume to scholarly discussions previously developed at length concerning the nature of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century transformation of the Ottoman state and society by such historians as Rifaʿat Ali Abou-El-Haj, Karen Barkey, and most recently Baki Tezcan. Thus, the research carried out and the argumentation developed in this volume also presents a useful ground for larger comparisons in regards to the much debated issue of the “seventeenth-century crisis” and state formation, centralization, transformation, or breakdown in the early modern world, particularly as reformulated by J. A. Goldstone in his Revolution and Rebellion in the Early Modern World (1991) and recontextualised most recently in amazingly rich detail by Geoffrey Parker in The Global Crisis: War, Climate Change and Catastrophe in the Seventeenth Century (2012). “The fatal synergy” between natural and human factors that Parker emphasizes fits well as the analytical framework for the dramatic changes the present study focuses on. The reader will, then, find a fruitful ground in this book for further global comparisons of the “crisis” of the seventeenth century. Furthermore, as will be manifest throughout the book in connection with a number of inter- related issues, this study also directly engages, mostly in agreement, with the arguments developed by Sam White in his groundbreaking work, The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (2011). Finally, the reader should not be surprised to see striking similarities between the overall picture and certain parts of the discussion offered here and the main argumentation of Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie in his much acclaimed work The Peasants of Languedoc (1966). The present author owes a great deal to his inspiring discussion, particularly of the “great agrarian cycle” of peasant societies, swing- ing from one end to the other between land accumulation and fragmentation from the late medieval ages to modern times, with its diverse consequences on rural life and structure.4 This book reformulates, in a sense, Ladurie’s arguments within the Ottoman context, as a prelude to the collapse of rural order,

4 I have briefly discussed elsewhere the Ottoman case in such a comparative perspective. See Oktay Özel, “Population Changes in Ottoman Anatolia during the 16th and 17th Centuries: 8 chapter 1 by emphasizing certain key structural developments, such as the fragmentation of peasant holdings and increasing landlessness in the Anatolian countryside on the one hand and escalating competition within the ruling elite over rural agricultural revenue on the other.

The Sources (mufassal [= detailed] avârız Registers)

The avârız register used in this study belongs to a category which has only recently begun to attract interest in Ottoman historiography.5 These are registers that appeared in parallel to the major shift in Ottoman fiscal policy which took place at the turn of the seventeenth century: the increasing importance of extraordinary levies (avârız-ı dîvânîye and tekâlif-i örfiye) for the central treasury. As the timar system, which organized revenue distribution in the provinces among the dirlik holders, gradually lost its prime importance,6 the government concentrated on raising taxes that went directly to the central treasury and started conducting new surveys to include only certain sources of income: adult male taxpayers (reâyâ), Muslim and non-Muslim, sometimes accompanied by symbols denoting their wealth; and, for some regions, units of tax-farm (mukataas) and sheep taxes (resm-i ağnâm), where these were collected by the state.7 For many regions, tax-exempt members of the ulemâ and military (askerî) class, both salaried and dirlik-holding, were also included in the registers. These surveys8 appear to have become regular and widespread in Anatolia and the Balkans from the 1610s onwards, surviving in an irregular fashion until the early eighteenth century, with a concentration around 1640.

the ‘Demographic Crisis’ Reconsidered,” International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 36 (2004), pp. 183–205. 5 The first detailed references to these defters was made by Darling in her Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, although McGowan’s works are the earliest ones, providing important but relatively limited information about them. See their works referred to throughout the present study. 6 Despite this, the imperial registry continued to maintain carefully kept daily records of timars and new bestowals throughout the period under examination. Douglas A. Howard, “The Historical Development of the Ottoman Imperial Registry (Defter-i Hakânî): Mid-Fifteenth to Mid-Seventeenth Centuries,” Archivum Ottomanicum, XI (1986[1988]), pp. 213–230. 7 For example see MAD6422. Compare McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, p. 105. 8 The earliest defter of this kind found in the archives is dated 1009/1600–1 and was compiled for Tokat. For this register see Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 91–92. Introduction 9

The defter used in this study (TT776) is one of this type, and is dated 1052/1643.9 There is also a more complete series of registers drawn up from the detailed ones, listing only the total number of avârız-hânes, the main tax unit com- prising a number of actual households (hânes) and bachelors (mücerreds), which varied from 3 to 15 according to the capacity of the taxpayers.10 These are generally known as avârız-hâne defters, and must not be confused with the detailed registers employed in the present study.11 Each one of these summary registers usually comprises the sums of all the provinces, both in Anatolia and the Balkans, but sometimes separate defters were drawn up for each part of the empire. The nature of the data contained in the detailed avârız registers and the extent to which they represent the actual situation in the areas they relate to can best be ascertained by looking at the way in which the gathering of data was implemented. Since there is no single underlying rationale and method applied to the administration of the surveys, each one should be examined in its specific context. As Linda Darling comments:

The defters [avârız and cizye defters] reveal a bewildering variation in the way people were counted for inclusion and in the amounts assessed for different taxes. Such wide variation makes it a complex matter to derive generalizations about population change or the incidence of taxation from these registers. Data from any one register may or may not be valid beyond the location and date to which it refers. An empire-wide picture of population changes and fiscal conditions must be founded on a broad base of detailed local studies.12

Similar to those that Darling refers to in her study for other regions, we have a series of documents concerning the process of the execution of the survey of the province of Rûm and some of the consecutive registers drawn up on the basis of this survey. These are the copies of two imperial decrees sent to the

9 It is understood that the Ottoman government carried out a general survey of avârız- hânes of the empire in the first years of the 1640s, see Katip Çelebi, Fezleke-yi Kâtip Çelebi (İstanbul: Ceride-i Havadis Matbaası, 1286–7/1869–71, vol. II, p. 325). 10 Ö.L. Barkan, “Avârız,” İA, II (1949), p. 15. 11 See McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 110–11. For the latest extensive use analysis of these summary avârız registers, see Süleyman Demirci, The Functioning of Ottoman Avâriz Taxation: An Aspect of the Relationship between Centre and Periphery: A Case Study of the Province of Karaman, 1621–1700 (İstanbul: The Isis Press, 2009). 12 Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 100–101. 10 chapter 1 treasurer (defterdâr) of the province of Rûm, Murad. Together with his instructions to local officials concerning the execution of the survey, such records found in the court registers of Amasya (şeriye sicils) enable us to decipher the nature of the data contained in the avârız registers.13 Studying the avârız system of the same period, McGowan and Darling have agreed on the importance of these registers over the earlier tahrir defters for population studies of the first half of the seventeenth century.14 However, neither problematized the question of the relationship between the names recorded in these avârız registers and the fluctuations in the population of the period, other than a brief discussion of the issue by Darling.15 Furthermore, as with tahrir registers, there is no complementary or alternative source to establish the reliability of the data contained in the avârız defters. Nevertheless, as pointed out earlier, one can comment on this issue by analyzing the above- mentioned imperial decrees in relation to the process of the survey as a result of which the TT776 register was drawn up. First of all, it appears from these decrees and the examination of the data contained in the register itself that the purpose of the survey was to determine the human resources, both askerî and reâyâ, of the empire for the collection of avârız and cizye taxes. The main principle here was first to identify all these people and then to record them in the defters. Here, this avârız register differs from the tahrir defters in two respects. Firstly, the register includes members of the askerî class (i.e., tax-exempt), as well as ulemâ, sâdât, and other military men who resided in the towns and villages, together with the houses and properties in their possession at the time of the survey. Although these people were usually exempt from such taxes in the sixteenth century and not recorded in the tahrir registers as residents of certain localities,16 it was not uncommon for the state to ignore their exemption and impose these taxes on everyone

13 For detailed discussions of the matter, see Appendix I. 14 “Because tahrir registers were so seldom drawn up in the centuries following the sixteenth, it is these detailed tax house registers therefore which offer the best opportunity to follow demographic and other changes in a particular province [italics are mine]. It is to be expected that subsequent studies attempting to follow a single province over a period of centuries will begin with survey registers [tahrir defters] and, in lieu of later surveys, will then exploit these detailed tax house registers when they are available for the same province”. See McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, p. 113. 15 Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 100–108. 16 However, only the dirlik-holding askerîs (hâs, zeâmet, and timar holders) are mentioned by name in the tahrir registers, usually in the icmâls, without any mention of their residences. Introduction 11 in times of financial need and emergency.17 However, in this particular case, their inclusion in the survey was connected to their possessions (houses and properties) and whether or not they had previously been included in reâyâ avârız-hânes.18 Secondly, similar to the position of the askerî, although a number of reâyâ, sometimes the entire population of a village, recorded in the sixteenth- century tahrir registers were exempt from the avârız-ı divâniye and tekâlif-i örfiye, they were recorded in these registers because of the other taxes they had to pay.19 One should still be cautious owing to the fact that some exempt individuals might have been omitted from the registration process, as was the case in other regions. Yet it is most likely that the number of people exempt from avârız taxes was reduced significantly by 1643; this can be illustrated by the inclusion in the 1643 avârız register of many villages whose inhabitants were exempt in 1576.20 In conclusion, in Darling’s words, “although general tahrirs [land and population surveys of the sixteenth century] were no longer carried out on a regular basis, the finance department developed alternative procedures for the determination of the amount of expected revenue [avârız in this case]. During the first half of the seventeenth century the enumeration of the tax-paying population was still being done by the government, even if the examination of land allocation and agricultural production was not.”21 This new type of survey engendered the avârız defters.

17 Barkan, “Avârız,” p. 15. 18 “. . . tasarruflarında olan evlerin ve mülklerin (. . .) kadimde reʿâyâ hâneleri midir yohsa hâneye dâhil değiller midir isim ve resimleri ile samimî üzre başka tahrir ve defter eyleyüb . . .” (see the Doc. No. I in Appendix I/B). 19 In TK26, the tahrir defteri of 1576, there are a number of records concerning this kind of exemption in lieu of various services. To give an example, from the village of Zâne belonging to the nâhiye of Akdağ: “. . . mezkûr karye halkı Amasya suyu [Yeşilırmak] üzerinde olan Zâne nâm köprünün termim ve taʿmirin itmek üzere şimdiye değin ʿavârız-ı dîvânî viregelmeyüb ellerinde ol vechile ʿavârızdan muʿaf olmalarına Sultan Süleyman Hân ve Sultan Selim Hân hükümleri olmağın mezbûr karye halkı cisr-i mezbûrun termim ve taʿmirin ideler. ʿAvârız-ı dîvânîden emin olmaları defter-i cedîde kaydolundı” (TK26, f.81b). For other examples see TK26, ff. 17b, 18a, 25b, 33a, 52b, 69b, 108a, 141b, 123a, 141a. 20 As seen in the course of this study, many of the villages with their entirely avârız-exempt population in 1576 are included in the avârız defteri of 1643. For example, the inhabitants of the village of Zâne, mentioned in Note 19 above, are recorded in the avârız register in 1643. This means that their exempt status was abolished by 1643. 21 Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department,” p. 176. Compare Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, p. 100. 12 chapter 1

In terms of the kind of data relating to the rural tax-paying population, it appears that the avârız registers employed for this study were prepared in the same manner as the tahrir defters of the sixteenth century, with only slight differences. Furthermore, since these registers give the numbers of taxpayers on the basis of rural and urban settlements, they also provide the only source of information known to us for the seventeenth century, where there is no tahrir defter drawn up, in terms of tracing changes in settlement patterns during this crucial period.22 This book is, then, the first attempt at a systematic and comprehensive examination of these mufassal avârız registers specifically employing them towards the renewal of scholarly debates on Ottoman demographic history as well as changes in settlement patterns within the framework of the imperial crisis of early seventeenth century.

On the “Decline” Literature

The present study also makes regular use of the Ottoman political advice literature collectively known as nasihatnâmes, which exploded in parallel to the great imperial crisis and the Celâlî movements of the period under examination. Particularly in the last chapter, these sources are often used deliberately along with other types of prose documents, such as chronicles. Since this particular political advice literature has recently been sharply criticised and even greatly discredited as unreliable for various reasons, it is imperative to conduct a brief discussion of their nature and use for historical studies so as to

22 Wolf Hütteroth, the German historical geographer who has been studying the historical geography of the Ottoman era, already pointed out in 1989 the potential importance of avârız defters in this respect, not being, it seems, aware of the existence of such detailed defters: “[In] the period between the 19th century and the rich sources of the 15/16th century (. . .) most known types of defter (except the tahrir ones) are not compiled with the intention of completeness of all settlements or population in a given area. There could be, theoretically, one exception: Avârız defters might have village lists. If they were kept in a proper way, they should at least contain a list of places in which the avârız was to be taken, and that were surely all villages known to the regional authorities. Avârız- defters perhaps could give us some idea about what was left from the early Ottoman infrastructure after the desertion processes of the Celâli- and other uprisings. Surely one will not find such detailed lists as in the tahrir-defters of the 16th century, but even simple lists of village names could supply us with information about continuity or change in the rural landscape” (Hütteroth, “Methods of Historical Geography,” p. 491). Introduction 13 re-introduce them as a significant testimony to their times, when used carefully in the appropriate context. Ottoman history in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century is obviously complicated, both in terms of the complexity of the events and in terms of the nature of the changes that occurred during the period. Contemporary writers, historians, and bureaucrats produced a large body of literature and official correspondence, to an extent not seen in previous eras of the empire. The general tone of these sources contains a certain degree of dramatization of developments which were perceived as symptoms of a serious disorder. When it comes to the explosion of texts written in the genre of mirrors for princes or as political treatise or advice literature in particular, the tone of such language often assumes an apocalyptic character. Although the way in which modern historiography has dealt with this period has changed over time, historians of the conventional approach, which has long dominated the literature, dramatized the period with a tone and language remarkably similar to those of contemporary writers, particularly writers of advice literature. They scarcely developed a critical attitude towards the reading of such texts, portraying the period under examination as one of cor- rupt bureaucracy, misadministration, and incompetent and weak sultans. In terms of institutional changes the situation was even worse: all institutions were in dissolution and almost all sectors of the Ottoman political apparatus were deteriorating; in short, the entire imperial system was in decline. Though the duration of the “decline” varied from the turn of the seventeenth century to a centuries-long process that ended at either the beginning of the nineteenth century or that of the twentieth century with the eventual collapse of the Ottoman Empire, for many historians, the seventeenth century also marked the end of the “Golden Age” of the Ottomans.23 This highly idealized and teleological reading of the Ottoman history of the late sixteenth century and thereafter, however, has recently been seriously challenged. From this critique of the conventional narration there emerged

23 For a powerful critique of this type of teleological and highly anachronistic reading of the Ottoman imperial crisis of the early seventeenth century as the beginning of a continuous decline by reference to either internal or external factors, see Abou-El-Haj, Formation of Modern State. For the problem of idealization of the pre-seventeenth century periods, see Cemal Kafadar, “The Myth of the Golden Age: Ottoman Historical Consciousness in the Post-Süleymanic Era,” in Halil İnalcık & Cemal Kafadar (eds.), Süleyman the Second and His Time (Istanbul: The Isis Press, 1994), pp. 37–48, and Oktay Özel, “Modern Osmanlı Tarihyazımında ‘Klâsik Dönem:’ Bir Eleştirel Değerlendirme,” Tarih ve Toplum Yeni Yaklaşımlar, 4 (2006), pp. 273–294. 14 chapter 1 not only a strong revisionist approach based on comparative theories of early modern state (trans)formation, with a focus on discussion of the nature of the institutional changes, but also a renewed research agenda with new questions.24 Even so, apart from Sam White’s recent study of the impact of climatic changes in the Ottoman Anatolia,25 such an agenda has yet to produce the still sorely needed monographs devoted to the re-examination of the socio-economic and demographic developments of the turn of the seventeenth century. The focus of the studies undertaken since then has been on the changes in political institutions and the structure of power, bureaucracy, and the palace and elite households.26 Such a focus on the “politics” of institutional change and the power struggle has inevitably turned attention away from the structural analysis of socio-economic and demographic changes. Parallel to this, also on the wane was the once flourishing field of defterology in Ottoman studies, a type of study that emerged with the pioneering works of Ömer Lütfi Barkan and Halil İnalcık in the 1940s and 1950s and becoming especially fashionable from the 1970s through the 1990s, but losing its attraction subsequently.27 This was partly due to the lack of supplementary sources to the tahrir registers, which effectively ended in the 1560s–1580s. However, it was also because of the recent shift of focus in historical studies across the globe towards a much more refined analysis of politics, culture, and ideology in terms of state-society

24 Abou-El-Haj, Formation of Modern State; Douglas Howard, “Ottoman Historiography and the Literature of ‘Decline’ of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” Journal of Asiatic Society, 22 (1988), pp. 52–77. 25 Sam White, The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 26 Douglas Howard, “The Ottoman Timar System and Its Transformation, 1563–1656” (Unpublished Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1987); Kunt, The Sultan’s Servants; Leslie Peirce, The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993); Rhoads Murphey, Studies on Ottoman Society and Culture. 16th–18th Centuries (Aldershot: Ashgate Variorum, 2007); idem, Exploring Ottoman Sovereignty: Tradition, Image and Practice in the Ottoman Imperial Household, 1400–1800 (London: Continuum, 2008); Börekçi, “Factions and Favorites.” 27 For defterological studies see Heath Lowry, Studies in Defterology: Ottoman Society in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries (İstanbul: Isis Press, 1992). A notable exception is the recent work by Faruk Tabak, who has fascinatingly combined the findings of the field within the larger framework of the Braudelian world of the greater Mediterranean. See Faruk Tabak, The Waning of the Mediterranean, 1550–1870: A Geohistorical Approach (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008). Introduction 15 relations. The recent rise in historical-sociological studies appears to have further consolidated this trend in Ottoman studies.28 It also appears that it has become a commonplace to start any inquiry into late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century Ottoman history with a brief discussion of the political-ideological nature of the contemporary narrative sources as well as a critique of the “declinist” paradigm once dominant in historiography. After a period of some three decades of criticism of this old approach, we now know well how risky it is to take contemporary sources, particularly the nasihatnâme literature, uncritically. Leaving aside the validity and necessity of such a timely warning in terms of certain conventional habits of mainstream Ottoman historiography, most notable of which is the state-centric reading of history, it is not totally unreasonable to remember the basic rule of the profession: that historians should approach their sources with a necessary dose of caution anyway. It appears that historians as well as the whole anti-declinist literature have become over-sensitive about discussing the political-ideological nature of the Ottoman advice literature of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The severity of the critique developed over the years and the revisionist approach towards both the sources and the study of this period seem to have gradually given rise to such a reactionary attitude. At its extreme, a nearly obsessive rhetoric about the “unreliable nature” of the writings of contemporary observers often overshadows the rightful legitimate critique of the old approach, which paid no attention to the political-ideological dimension of these texts. Such an ultra-criticism might not necessarily be harmful for a historian studying the political and ideological perceptions and representations of changes of the period in question. However, when reiterated in the same manner for any study that deals with any aspect of the period with a different focus and problematic, it may easily become a cliché and even a serious obstacle preventing the historian from carrying out reasonable, legitimate research and developing a sensible analysis of his/her subject matter. The problematic of the present study and the entire analysis of the subject matter relating to the structural changes of this particular period are no exception to this. Although the study is based on an in-depth examination of diverse types of survey registers, namely the tahrir and avârız registers, narrative sources have also been consulted and employed when necessary in order

28 Apart from K. Barkey’s works cited in the present study, see particularly Goldstone, Revolution and Rebellion; Carlo M. Cipolla, Before the Industrial Revolution: European Society and Economy, 1000–1700 (London: Routledge, 1993). 16 chapter 1 to make sense of the larger historical context of the quantitative picture the registers present. Similarly, though the study keeps in mind the nature of the sources and pays utmost attention to the question of the reliability of such accounts in the analyses developed over the proceeding chapters, when it comes to making use of certain relevant references in the advice literature as supplementary evidence, the same questions nevertheless arise: How reliable are their accounts? How can we be sure whether or not their passages on the extent of the destruction of rural society and economy caused by the violence that dominated the period (i.e., the main argument of the present study) were nothing but a gross dramatization or exaggeration? Again, leaving aside certain quantitative evidence that the present study provides in confirmation of their accounts on the above matters, the question concerning their validity is of course a legitimate one. Yet such a question, which might be meaningful in abstraction, in itself becomes a question of an over-cautious mind when placed in context and viewed in comparison with other available primary sources. As readers will no doubt notice, the entire analysis of the subject in the present study is based almost exclusively on various kinds of available primary records and material which were produced by the relevant offices of the central and provincial Ottoman bureaucracy. In terms of taxation in particular, we might suggest, while admittedly running the risk of over-rationalization of the Ottoman bureaucracy of the time, that their central concerns were quite clear and simple: to rule an empire on a daily basis, to determine the nature and extent of the problems they faced, and to develop practical solutions. It is equally clear from the existing historiography that the period under examination was one of a serious imperial crisis with multiple facets. As will be seen, the accompanying diverse types of violence were also an integral part of the crisis, or at least a manifestation of it, and this became the routine of the day.29 Furthermore, it hit the peasantry the hardest, as they were direct producers. As the main actors of the agrarian economy and the principal source of revenue for the imperial treasury, they were at the center of the provisioning mechanism of the empire, which also acted as a war machine. It was, therefore, the primary task of the officials of the imperial bureaucracy

29 Kemal Karpat, in his essay on the periodization of Ottoman history, emphasizes the explosion of violence in periods of transition, referring to the very period under examination here as one of those which represents the transition from the “centralized quasi-feudal” stage to “provincial autonomy.” See Kemal H. Karpat, “The Stages of Ottoman History: A Structural Comparative Approach,” in Kemal H. Karpat (ed.), The Ottoman State and Its Place in World History (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1974), pp. 79–106. Compare Barkey, Empire of Difference. Introduction 17 to produce as realistic first-hand records and knowledge of the “conditions” of their subjects as possible in their respective areas of responsibility. There is no doubt that neither the bureaucracy nor individual bureaucrats worked in the same way and produced the same kind of information and data for the central administration. A simple clerk or kâtip in the finance bureau worked with every single detail of taxation and the tax-paying population, with a specialization in the art of accounting and record-keeping, whereas a former timar defterdârı might also see it as his duty—either as a loyal imperial dignitary or as the voice of his companions or group within the askerî class— to pen a treatise or risâle on the ills of the empire, offering practical advice to the reigning sultan. While the former produces a rather technical database for the imperial decision-makers, the latter produces a text which might be no more than a political manifesto, with strident arguments, and at times using extreme language. It is obvious that the critical revisionist historiography relating to this period cautions researchers concerning precisely the latter sort of document, not the former.30 Our concern here, however, is of a different kind: what happens if the account written by the timar defterdârı (or the informative commentaries of advice literature) happens to be in conformity with the factual knowledge (in our case, the data presented in the tax registers) produced by the simple clerks of, let us say, the imperial registry (defterhâne) or the council/divân (beylikçi kalemi)? Considering the fact that most of the writers of advice literature of the early seventeenth century were in fact Ottoman bureaucrats, either former or current, from the lowest-level positions of civil officialdom to the highest-ranking viziers, it can be suggested that their often grotesque narratives may still have some truth in them. It is possible to extend this argument by stating that the authors of such narratives—from Ayn Ali, Hasan Kâfî, and Hezarfen Hüseyin to Koçi Beğ and the authors of the Kitâb-ı Müstetâb and Hırzü’l Mülûk—used different jargons but all pointed to the same imperial crisis, aspects of which include the changes that the present study deals with—demographic fluctuations, abandonment of rural settlements, destruction of the agricultural economy—and stated that all this was accompanied (or primarily caused) by the Celâlî violence. Furthermore, where should we place the foreign observers of the same crisis, who informed their respective governments of the situation in the empire? Were they also making up stories or exaggerating the problems? Would it be possible to imagine a situation in

30 See especially, Rifaʿat Ali Abou-El-Haj, “The Ottoman Nasihatname as a Discourse over Morality,” Revue d’Histoire Magrebine, Mélanges Professeur Robert Mantran, 47–48 (1987), pp. 17–30; Formation of the Modern State. 18 chapter 1 which all parties and observers were equally partial or illusionary? What is so special in this particular period that makes them all blind and unable to evalu- ate the events that were taking place in front of their very eyes? If we insist on searching for something really extraordinary in the period in question, could it well be the dramatic nature, excessive volume, and drastic results of the events themselves? This is what we are faced with in the present study in terms of the question of the nature and the reliability of certain sources. It seems that it is more of a problem of modern historiography than the sources that speak to us only in response to the questions asked to them. Why should we obsessively think that they can easily manipulate us? What about historians, for example, and our own manipulative power vis-à-vis that of the sources? It is with exactly such an awareness that the great destruction and collapse of rural order that this study observes in Amasya in the early seventeenth century represents a picture deriving not from these much debated narratives, but primarily from the detailed examination of the actual records contained in what may be termed “the imperial database”—such as the collection of tax registers, mühimmes, telhises and sicils, etc.—produced and kept by various offices of the bureaucracy. Independent of whether or not this database was taken into consideration in the actual decision-making processes of the empire by the ruling elite of the time, or is perceived in the same way by us today, they are there, available for historical inquiry. We take them seriously as witnesses to be interrogated with questions formulated within our own agenda in the early third millennium. In this interrogation (i.e., present historical inquiry), the informative commentaries of the authors of the political advice literature of the seventeenth century then represent no more than a set of confirmative evidence. Furthermore, despite their authors’ diverse positions, these sources are remarkably indicative of the fact that the Ottoman central bureaucracy and higher-ranking military- administrative apparatus were well aware of the drastic changes taking place in the Anatolian countryside. In this respect, the explosion, on the one hand, of sultanic decrees of the “adâletnâme” type during the period and, on the other hand, the comments of the risâle authors might be seen as two distinct forms and testimonies of the same awareness by the ruling elite. The apparent factional politics which were inherent particularly in the latter (i.e., increasing infra-elite conflicts) makes little difference in this regard.31 They may well have

31 For discussion of this dimension and of the accompanying problem of agency within the framework of the dangerous elasticity of the Ottoman imperial system, which produced a decadent imperial askerî class whose principal goal and leitmotif was to maximize their Introduction 19 been partial in their emphasis and interpretation of the events, but they were certainly not blind to the phenomenal changes taking place. Thus, methodologically speaking and in terms of the employment of these much-debated sources of the early seventeenth century, this book can also be seen as an attempt to revisit the old declinist paradigm by making a special use of its principal sources, the nasihatnâme literature.

revenue sources either as timar or through high office at the center, see Abou-El-Haj, Formation of Modern State; Fuat Andıç and Süphan Andıç, “The Decline of the Ottoman Empire: A Neo-Institutional Economic Analysis,” in Papers/Bildiriler, VIIIth International Congress on the Economic and Social History of Turkey, June 18–21, Bursa, Turkey, ed. Nurcan Abacı (Morrisville: Lulu Press, 2006), pp. 287–322. Compare Cook, Population Pressure, pp. 41–43; Barkey, Empire of Difference. chapter 2 Geography and Politics

Amasya: Making of an Ottoman Province

The district or kazâ of Amasya was a sixteenth-century Ottoman judicial- administrative division in north-central Anatolia with the city of Amasya as its centre. It was developed on the basis of the legacy of the provincial administration of the former Anatolian Seljukid polity and the emirates, and took its final shape only gradually under the Ottomans, who annexed the region in 1393. In the sixteenth century, the district was part of a larger military-administrative division, a livâ (sub-province, also known as a sancak in the classical Ottoman imperial parlance), with the same name. The Ottoman imperial regime further attached the livâ of Amasya to an even larger provincial unit, military in nature, the eyâlet of Rûm, also interchangeably named after Sivas as the city with the seat of the governor-general, the beylerbeyi. As shown in Figure 1 below, this describes a classic example of the typical centralized imperial practice in provincial administration in the heyday of the Ottoman Empire.1 This province of Rûm consisted of a portion of the central lands of the Seljukid state in Anatolia, containing important urban commercial and cultural centres such as Sivas, Tokat, and Amasya. To certain historians this was exactly the area that had flourished as the “heartland” of the newly-arrived Turks ever since their invasion of Byzantine Asia Minor. It was the area where the leg- endary heroic acts and deeds of Danişmend Gazi and many other Turkoman warrior chieftains ruled quite independently in a region intensively colonized by the Turks, both nomadic and settled, during the eleventh and twelfth centuries.2 Following the collapse of the Seljukid dominion in Anatolia in 1243, the local beys and emirs re-established the independence of their respective emirates in and around major fortified cities and towns, this time under the overlordship of the Ilkhanid rule of Mongolian origin with a base in Iran.3

1 For the changes in the composition of the province of Rûm from the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries, see Tayyib Gökbilgin, “15. ve 16. Asırlarda Eyâlet-i Rûm,” Vakıflar Dergisi 6 (1965), pp. 51–61; Ahmet Şimşirgil, “Osmanlı Taşra Teşkilatı’nda Rûm Beylerbeyliği,” Marmara Üniversitesi Türklük Araştırmaları Dergisi 5 (1990), pp. 289–299. 2 Paul Wittek, The Rise of the Ottoman Empire (London: The Royal Asiatic Society, 1938). 3 Aziz B. Erdeşir-i Esterabâdî, Bezm ü Rezm, Turkish trans. Mürsel Öztürk (Ankara: Kültür Bakanlığı Yay., 1990). Also see Faruk Sümer, “Anadolu’da Moğollar,” Selçuklu Araştırmaları Dergisi, 1 (1969), pp. 1–147.

Therefore, any historical inquiry about the pre-Ottoman history of the Amasya region first encounters this post-Seljukid legacy; namely, the local aristocracy, which had been firmly established on the basis of immunities deriving from the times when the petty principalities reigned, which lasted until the late fourteenth century, after which they were gradually incorporated into the Ottoman state. Following the annexation of the region, the Ottoman government, accepting the power and privileges of these local notables, applied a land administration and taxation scheme known as the mâlikâne-dîvânî system in the area, as well as in several neighbouring provinces.4 In this practice, certain portions of agricultural revenue deriving from the lands were assigned to the local notables as freeholds or mâlikâne. Secondly, for more than a century after the annexation of the region at the end of the fourteenth century to the first quarter of the sixteenth, the city of Amasya constituted an important outpost, functioning as a military garrison on the eastern border of the Ottoman state. On the basis of its strategic location, throughout the fifteenth and for a short period in the sixteenth century (between 1541 and 1559), Amasya, as will be seen below, was the residence of the prince-governor (şehzâde sancağı), as well as a cultural and intellectual

4 This is a system in which revenue distribution among the state functionaries and the local notables was organised in central and eastern Anatolia from pre-Ottoman times. In the Ottoman practice of this system, tax-paying subjects (mainly the peasants) paid double tithe (“iki öşr” or “iki baştan taʿşir”), one tithe to timariots (provincial cavalry) or other dirlik- holding provincial officials in the context of the timar system, together with other customary taxes (rüsûm-ı örfiyye) as “hisse-i dîvânî” (dîvânî part), and a second tithe to the local notables, who had already had the right to collect the tithe as “hisse-i mâlikâne” (mâlikâne part) since pre-Ottoman times. Through the mâlikâne system, the Ottomans recognised this “ancient” (kadim) right, and therefore the power of local notables, but retained their authority by introducing a second tithe or sharing the existing tithe with notables. The mâlikâne-dîvânî system, in its Ottoman form, appears to have been a combination of the timar system and the pre-Ottoman practice of the mâlikâne system applied in regions with strong revenue-holding local notables, rather than being a mere continuation of the latter, which existed under the Seljukids, Karamanids, Akkoyunlus, and Mamluks and about which we know little from Ottoman documents. For the best and most detailed analysis of this system, see Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité et Formes de Possession de la Terre Arable dans l’Anatolie Préottomane,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, XIX (1976), pp. 241–267; see also Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Türk-İslâm Toprak Hukuku Tatbikatının Osmanlı İmparatorluğu’nda Aldığı Şekiller: Mâlikâne-Divânî Sistemi,” Türk Hukuk ve İktisat Tarihi Mecmuası, II (1939), pp. 119–184; Margaret Venzke, “Aleppo’s Mâlikâne-Divânî System.” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 106 (1986), pp. 451–469; Bahaeddin Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazası Sosyal Tarihi (1455–1613) (Ankara: Kültür Bakanlığı, 1985), pp. 82–91; Mehmet Öz, XV– XVI. Yüzyıllarda Canik Sancağı (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1999), pp. 123–28, pp. 174–184. Geography And Politics 23 centre with well-established medreses.5 Being a residence for prince-governors, the administrative and fiscal organization of this region differed in many ways from the usual Ottoman provincial military and fiscal administration.6 On the other hand, the city of Amasya, and the region as a whole, often witnessed and were directly affected by chronic struggles and conflicts among the princes for the Ottoman throne in the period from 1402 to 1559.7 Thirdly, the Amasya region also corresponds to the core lands of the zone in which heterodox forms of Islam had long been dominant, especially among the rural population, since the early years of Turkish settlement in Anatolia.8 We should first recall the Babâî zeal of 1238–39, the last years of Seljukid rule, which also centred around Amasya, setting the stage for a messianic rebellious ideology among the Turkoman masses.9 This characteristic of the region would once more become a crucial factor in the conflict between the Ottomans and the Safavids of Iran, beginning in the last quarter of the fifteenth century and eventually creating an enduring problem for the Ottoman government; namely, the kızılbaş.10 At a local level, the violent conflict that arose involved

5 Petra Kappert, Die Osmanischen Prinzen und ihre Residenz im Amasya in 15. und 16. Jahrhundert (Leiden: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1976). Compare Suraiya Faroqhi, “Anadolu’nun İskânı ve Terkedilmiş Köyler Sorunu,” Türkiye’de Toplumsal Bilim Araştırmalarında Yaklaşım ve Yöntemler (Ankara: TODAİE Yayınları, 1976), p. 170. 6 The prince-governor of Amasya functioned in both the administrative and military roles of a “mîr-i livâ” of his livâ or sancak. Similarly, when a prince-governor resided in a sancak, a significant amount of revenue was allocated him as “has,” which otherwise would have been assigned to mîrlivâ. See Notes 41 and 42 below. 7 For these events, see Kappert, Die Osmanischen Prinzen, passim; Şerafettin Turan, Kanuni’nin Oğlu Şehzade Bâyezid Vakʿası (Ankara: Dil ve Tarih Coğrafya Fakültesi Yay., 1961); İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi, I (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1961), pp. 328– 45; “Sancağa Çıkarılan Osmanlı Şehzadeleri.” Belleten, XXXIX/156 (1975), pp. 161–79. 8 For a discussion, see Franz Babinger, “Der Islam in Kleinasien Neueu Wege der Islamforschung,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenlandischen Gesellschaft, 76 (1922). For its Turkish translation with a lengthy critique by Fuat Köprülü, see Franz Babinger and Fuat Köprülü, Anadoluʾda İslâmiyet, Mehmet Kanar (ed.), (İstanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 1996). Also see Rıza Yıldırım, “Osmanlı Dünyasıʾnda Alevî/Şiî Tasavvuf Anlayışının Ortaya Çıkışı ve Gelişimi Üzerine Bazı Gözlemler,” unpublished paper presented at “Osmanlı Tarihi: 1302–1481 Uluslararası Sempozyumu”, 27–28 Temmuz 2010, Yalova. 9 Ahmet Yaşar Ocak, Babaîler İsyanı Alevîliğin Tarihsel Altyapısı Yahut Anadoluʾda İslâm- Türk Heterodoksisinin Teşekkülü (İstanbul: Dergâh Yayınları, 1996). 10 See Hanna Sohrweide, “Der Sieg de Safaviden in Persien und seine Ruckwirkung auf die Schiiten Anatoliens im 16. Jahrundert,” Der Islam, 41 (1965), especially p. 133ff; Colin Imber, “The Persecution of the Ottoman Shi‘ites According to the Mühimme Defterleri, 24 chapter 2 a significant portion of the rural population of the region; it soured their relationship with the Ottoman rule.11 They seem to have suffered most from this conflict, and were often used as a human resource for one or the other of the conflicting sides in the princes’ struggles for the throne. This situation continued well into the sixteenth century.12 In short, we are faced with a peculiar region with privileged notables, a distinguished city of political-cultural importance, and often “condemned” inhabitants of the whole area with kızılbaş tendencies. This combination seems to have created a “socio-political tension” which remained in the forefront of events until the mid-sixteenth century. Thereafter, Amasya lost its importance as a political centre (mainly through the princes’ struggles for the throne) in the internal affairs of the empire; this process was accompanied by the general development of, in Kappert’s words, “the further sinking of the Ottoman provinces into political and cultural insignificance.”13 This is reflected in the gradual cessation, from the mid-sixteenth century onwards, of the institution of princes resident in the provinces. These characteristic features of the region appear to have played their part to varying degrees in determining not only the dynamics of the Ottoman administration in the region, but, as will be seen below, also had an impact on the composition of society as well. Returning to the administrative picture of the region as it was in 1576, the city of Amasya was the fourth biggest in the province of Rûm, governed by the mîrlivâ under the timar institution, the military fief system that characterized the Ottoman imperial provincial administration until the seventeenth century.14 As the governor, he was responsible for the overall law and order in

1565–1585,” Der Islam, 56/2 (1979). See also Bekir Kütükoğlu, Osmanlı-İran Siyâsî Münâsebetleri, I 1578–1590 (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Yay., 1962), pp. 1–13; Irène Melikoff, “Le problème Kızılbaş,” Turcica, 6 (1975), pp. 49–67. 11 Sohrweide, “Der Sieg de Safaviden in Persien,” p. 135. 12 See Turan, Kanuniʾnin Oğlu. 13 Kappert, Die Osmanischen Prinzen, p. 17. 14 The governor of Amasya in 1576 was a certain Mustafa Bey, with a yearly income of a dirlik (living) around 300,000 akçes allocated to him through timar. See TT245, f. 3b, the summary (icmâl) tahrir register of Amasya, housed in the Kuyud-ı Kadîme archive of the General Directorate of Deeds and Cadaster, Ankara. Ayn Ali Efendi, in 1609, also gave 300,000 akçes as the annual income of the mîr-i livâ (or sancakbeyi) of Amasya (see Ayn-ı Ali Efendi, Kavânîn-i Âl-i Osman der Hülâsa-i Mezâmin-i Defter-i Dîvân, Prefaced by M. Tayyib Gökbilgin (İstanbul: Enderun Kitabevi, 1979), p. 23). It seems that Ayn Ali had taken this figure from TT245, which was in fact the last proper icmâl register of the region. Geography And Politics 25 his livâ, but at the same time, as head of the provincial cavalry (timarlı sipâhi), he was the military commander of his area as well.15 The livâ was made up of seven districts or kazâs, among which was Amasya, the central focus of the present study. Each of these districts was under the judicial administration of a judge (kadı) who was directly responsible to Istanbul. The kadı was the only judicial authority, with a variety of duties over virtually all aspects of daily life in his locality.16 Kazâs comprised a number of further sub-divisions called nâhiye, which seem to have been of no particular importance in the Ottoman administrative division, other than being geographically designated areas for the sake of fiscal practicality within a district.17 However, we know that deputy judges or nâibs sometimes resided in the main towns or villages (nefs) of the nâhiyes; in this case, a nâhiye could become a legal-administrative sub-division of a kazâ.18 This was the situation as seen from the last and only surviving land and population survey or tahrir of the province, which started in the late 1560s and was later completed in the 1570s.19 The tahrir register from this survey, dated 1576, illustrates yet another example of the “classical” Ottoman administrative structure in the provinces. We see here the two-layer system, which corresponds to the two main functions of Ottoman administration in the provinces,

15 İ. Metin Kunt, The Sultan’s Servants. The Transformation of Ottoman Provincial Government 1550–1650 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983), p. 14. 16 For kadıs and their roles in Ottoman provincial administration, see Şinasi Altundağ, “Osmanlılarda Kadıların Selâhiyet ve Vazifeleri,” in VI. Türk Tarih Kongresi. Bildiriler (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1967), pp. 342–354; Mustafa Akdağ, Türkiye’nin İktisadî ve İçtimâi Tarihi, II (İstanbul: Cem Yay., 1977), pp. 83–92; İlber Ortaylı, “Osmanlı Kadısının Taşra Yönetimindeki Rolü Üzerine,” Amme İdaresi Dergisi, 9/1 (1976), pp. 95–107; Ronald C. Jennings, “Kadı, Court and Legal Procedure in 17th c. Ottoman Kayseri,” Studia Islamica, 48 (1978); “Limitations of the Judicial Powers of the Kadı 17th c. Ottoman Kayseri,” Studia Islamica, 50 (1979). 17 See Tayyip Gökbilgin, “Nâhiye,” İslâm Ansiklopedisi (hereafter İA), 9 (1964), pp. 37–38. Hütteroth and Abdulfettah, in their study of Transjordan and southern Syria in the late sixteenth century, similarly thought that, according to the defters they used, the function of the nâhiye was “a purely statistical or fiscal one, created in order to make the counting of villages and taxes easier.” See Kemal Abdulfettah and Wolf-Dieter Hütteroth, Historical Geography of Palestine, Transjordan and Southern Syria in the Late 16th Century (Erlangen: Erlanger Geographische Arbeiten Sonderban, 1977, p. 19. 18 Abdulfettah and Hütteroth, Historical Geography of Palestine, p. 19. See also Akdağ, İktisadî ve İçtimaî Tarih, II, p. 374. 19 TD 26, housed in the Kuyud-ı Kadîme archive. 26 chapter 2 s) of ( nahiye divisions ofDevelopment the kazâ of administrative (c. 1480–1643). Ottoman Amasya Figure 2 Geography And Politics 27 military-fiscal and legal.20 However, it is also well known that the two administrators (the mîrlivâ or sancakbeyi and the kadı) were independently responsible to Istanbul, cooperating and collaborating in maintaining security, law, and order in the region, while also providing a power balance in the provinces. The Ottoman provincial administration was closely linked to, or more precisely interconnected with, the timar system, which produced the backbone of the Ottoman military organization, the provincial cavalry army.21 This system of revenue transfer (havâle) enabled the Ottoman government to allocate a certain amount of tax revenues as salary to individuals who performed military and administrative duties, from the lowest-grade timar holder (sipâhi) to the highest-rank has-holding beylerbeyi or governor-general. The provincial tahrirs were in fact executed primarily for the purpose of determining the human and economic resources of the provinces for the distribution of the tax revenue among these revenue-holding members of the military and administration, collectively referred to as ehl-i örf; they constituted the core of the Ottoman ruling class, the askerî. As the main sources of information on the establishment and development of the Ottoman provincial administration, the tahrir registers enable us to observe the process of the formation and development of the Ottoman system. The earliest Ottoman registers in particular provide further evidence about the pre-Ottoman picture, thus shedding significant light on the characteristics of both the history and the administrative practices of the region.22 As appears from the analysis of the tahrir of the region from around 1480 (TT15), the Ottoman administration in the Amasya region was established gradually through an apparent policy of conciliation with the local notable families who had held certain financial and administrative privileges under the Seljukid rule. After the Mongol invasion of Anatolia following the Battle of Kösedağ in 1243, the history of the region is characterized by endless wars between the semi-independent petty emirates struggling for the expansion of

20 See Halil İnalcık, The Ottoman Empire. The Classical Age, 1300–1600, trans. Norman Itzkowitz and Colin Imber (London and New York: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1973), p. 104; Yaşar Yücel, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğunda Desantralizasyona Dair Genel Gözlemler,” Belleten, XXXVIII/152 (1974), p. 665. 21 Nicoara Beldiceanu, “Recherche sur la réforme foncière de Mehmed II,” Acta Historica, IV (1985), pp. 27–39; İnalcık, The Classical Age, pp. 104–118. 22 For the value of early defters in various aspects of pre-Ottoman and Ottoman history, see Halil İnalcık, “Ottoman Methods of Conquest,” Studia Islamica, III (1954); Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité;” Bistra Cvetkova, “Early Ottoman Tahrir Defters as a Source for Studies on the History of Bulgaria and the Balkans,” Archivum Ottomanicum, 8 (1983), pp. 133–213. 28 chapter 2 their domains over north-central Anatolia, which was then under the overlordship of the Ilkhanids.23 The principal local powers were the Candaroğulları of Kastamonu in the northwest and the emirate of Eretna in the east, centered around Sivas. The latter, who had proclaimed independence from the Ilkhanids in 1340, was replaced by the governorship of Kadı Burhaneddin, whose control covered the greater part of the territories of what would later become the Ottoman province of Rûm. In between these two principalities was the small emirate of Amasya, governed by the Şadgeldi family.24 The emirs of Amasya from this family ruled the region from the city of Amasya in the name of Eretna. After the death of Eretna Bey in 1352, they became independent rulers whose authority was recognized by the petty emirs of the Canik region in the north. In 1381, following the death of the emir Hacı Şadgeldi Pasha, Kadı Burhaneddin gained control of the region, although the wars, raids, killings, and plundering among the emirates continued.25 Eventually, over the period 1392–93, together with many other local petty emirates, Emir Ahmed of Amasya peacefully recognized the supremacy of the Ottomans, whose expanding power towards the east was expected to provide a kind of protection against the attacks by Kadı Burhaneddin and the future threat of Timur’s army, which was approaching Anatolia from further east. This brief summary of the immediate history of the region before the Ottoman takeover26 also provides us with an outline of

23 For a general view of this period in Anatolia in general, see Osman Turan, “Anatolia in the Period of the Seljuks and the Beyliks,” in Peter M. Holt, Ann K.S. Lambton and Bernard Lewis (eds.), The Cambridge History of Islam, I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 248–253; Akdağ, İktisadî ve İçtimaî Tarih, I, pp. 65–95. 24 For this family and their rule in the region of Amasya, see Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, III (İstanbul: Necm-i İstikbal Matbaası, 1927), p. 61ff. 25 Esterabâdî, Bezm ü Rezm, passim. See also Colin Imber, The Ottoman Empire 1300–1481 (İstanbul: The Isis Press, 1990), p. 39. 26 For a detailed account of these events, see Esterabâdî, Bezm ü Rezm; Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, II; Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, III; Kazım Dilcimen, Canik Beyleri (Samsun: Ahali Matbaası, 1940); Mevlûd Oğuz, “Tâceddinoğulları,” Ankara Üniversitesi Dil ve Tarih Coğrafya Fakültesi Dergisi, IV (1948); Claude Cahen, Pre-Ottoman Turkey. A General Survey of the Material and Spiritual Culture and History ca. 1071–1330, trans. J. Jones Williams (London: Taplinger Pub. Co, 1968); Yaşar Yücel, Kadı Burhâneddin Ahmed ve Devleti (Ankara: AÜ Dil ve Tarih Coğrafya Fakültesi Yay., 1970); XIII.–XV. Yüzyıllar Kuzeybatı Anadolu Tarihi. Çobanoğulları ve Çandaroğulları (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1980); Elizabeth A. Zachariadou, “Manuel Palaeologus on the Strife Between Bâyezid I and Kâdı Burhân al-Dîn Ahmad,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, XLIII (1980), pp. 471–481. Compare İdris-i Bidlisi, Heşt Behişt, I, eds. Mehmet Karataş, Selim Kaya and Geography And Politics 29 the pre-Ottoman administrative practices that the Seljukids established in Anatolia.27 The Seljukid administrative legacy can be observed in the well-known practice whereby major administrative posts were connected to the system of military fiefs (ıkta) operating on the basis of the mîrî (state-owned) land regime,28 similar to the Ottoman timar system. One of the pre-Ottoman military administrators—such as the serleşker, sübaşı, or zaim—was perhaps acting as governor. If so, the similarity between the Seljukid and Ottoman practice of provincial administration is striking in terms of the division of both the military and the legal authorities (i.e., the position of the kadı), which were independently responsible to the sultan. It should be emphasized that there are also similarities between Seljukid and Ottoman practices in terms of other military, financial, and legal offices and posts in the provincial administration.29 As will be seen later in the following section, this all adds up and points to a large degree of continuity in the existing established Seljukid institutional structure that the Ottomans had inherited in the lands of Rûm. However, after the collapse of the Seljukid state and during the following period of petty emirates under the suzerainty of the Ilkhanids in Anatolia, this system of provincial administration seems to have been undermined, if not totally destroyed, in the course of events, and to have become inoperative. For instance, there is evidence that, during the late thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a considerable portion of the mîrî lands, or the taxes deriving from these lands, became private property (mülk) or was sold to rank-holders.30 It would

Yaşar Baş (Ankara: Bitlis Eğitim ve Tanıtma Vakfı, no date of publication), pp. 90–95. See also Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 18–25. 27 There is evidence that Seljukids and Ilkhanids had registers similar to the Ottoman tahrir defters, or rather registers with similar functions to those of the Ottomans. It seems that the Ottomans, especially in the early registers, largely kept/copied the terminology and principles of such earlier practices in Anatolia. For a general assessment of the matter, see Ömer Lütfi Barkan and Enver Meriçli (eds.), Hüdavendigâr Livâsı Tahrir Defterleri, I (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1988), pp. 7–10; compare Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” p. 235. 28 Osman Turan, “Türkiye Selçuklularında Toprak Hukuku. Mîrî Topraklar ve Husûsî Mülkiyet Şekilleri,” Belleten, XII (1948), pp. 549–574. For more detailed information on the Seljukid administrative system and related terminology, see Tuncer Baykara, “Türkiye Selçuklularında İdârî Birim ve Bununla İlgili Meseleler,” Vakıflar Dergisi, XIX (1985), pp. 49–60. 29 For these posts and offices, see the collection of various documents from the Seljukid period in Turan, Türkiye Selçukluları. 30 This important point was first referred to by Osman Turan, in his “Toprak Hukuku,” by quoting Hamdullah Kazvini’s work on the sale of state lands. He interpreted it as a mere 30 chapter 2 not be wrong to think, therefore, that this “privatization”—which was followed by what might be called vakıfization31—was largely accomplished by the time of the Ottoman takeover of this region. This must have caused considerable damage to the military dimension of the provincial administration, thus pav- ing the way for the transition of the local military aristocracy into rural landed aristocracy. As the early Ottoman tahrir registers show, when they took over the region, the Ottomans found well-established notables in north-central Anatolia, as well as former emir families, who, under conditions of continuing insecurity and chaos, were trying to maintain their power and holdings in their localities, whether in or around the castles and walled cities or out in the countryside.32 The testimony of contemporary sources such as Esterabadi’s Bezm ü Rezm also confirms the unstable conditions of this period and gives the impression that there was no basis for any effective implementation of a systematic provincial administration. It is possible to go even further and state that under such conditions in the region, what the Ottomans inherited was in fact a non-system. It took a long time for the Ottomans to establish a reasonably functioning administration in the region by experimenting extensively with what was left of the late Seljukid/Ilkhanid practices and terminology, which may well be considered a manifestation of Ottoman pragmatism.33 It seems that the pre-Ottoman administrative divisions, as well as the terminology, were taken as the basis for the earliest Ottoman surveys from the early

sale of land (Turan, “Toprak Hukuku,” pp. 555–56). Referring to one of his later works, Beldiceanu-Steinherr points out that Turan later realized that the Seljukid rulers did not grant or sell the land itself but the taxes paid by the reâyâ (Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” p. 299. Compare Oktay Özel, “Limits of the Almighty: Mehmed II’s ‘Land Reform’ Revisited,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 42/2 (1999), pp. 226–246. The motion of granting and selling the rights of certain taxes to individuals as mülk or private property must have been related to the origin of the mâlikâne-dîvânî system that already existed in pre-Ottoman Anatolia. 31 Akdağ, İktisadî ve İçtimaî Tarih, I, pp. 24–27. 32 For the Amasya region, see Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, III, pp. 3–140. 33 Being aware of Murat Dağlı’s well-grounded criticism, I insist on using the phrase “Ottoman pragmatism” not in the sense that the Ottomans made a conscious choice from among a number of competing visions of political order (and also in politics for that matter). My use of “pragmatism” here refers to the early Ottomans’ ability to behave politically under given circumstances which might not have presented much choice to the Ottomans anyway. Here the stress is on “ability” rather than preference in making political decisions. See Murat Dağlı, “The Limits of Ottoman Pragmatism,” Theory and History, 52 (2013), 194–213. Geography And Politics 31 fifteenth century. This is still observable in the earliest extant tahrir register for the region, which was compiled around 1480. The situation observed in the province of Rûm around 1480 clearly manifests a transition process, which had its own peculiarities in a region where a strong Seljukid legacy still existed.34 It appears that a significant dimension of this legacy was the local aristocracy. As already noted above, the province of Rûm in general and Amasya in particular had a strong class of rural notables who held rights over certain tax revenue shares derived from agricultural produce, referred to in the defters as mâlikâne. As Osman Turan points out, a great portion of these revenues had become private property by the end of the thirteenth century. By the time the emirs of Amasya peacefully accepted Ottoman protection and suzerainty in the late fourteenth century, these notables had already established themselves firmly in the region. Additionally, the unstable conditions in the post-Seljukid period of local principalities or emirates in Anatolia provided a suitable ground for the further consolidation of their power. It is apparent that, during the century prior to the Ottoman takeover of the region, a great portion of revenues once held as military fief, or ıkta, had become private property and changed hands through selling and donation as waqf or pious foundations. Although considerable research has been carried out on the mâlikâne- dîvânî system as well as quantitative analyses of these mâlikâne-holding families, mainly in the central Anatolian provinces,35 still little is known about the historical identities of these individuals and families. This is due either to the virtual non-existence of family archives, or the disappearance of local kadı court registers, which might have been expected to contain information from the earlier centuries of the Turkish invasion and the settlements in Anatolia. In general, the Amasya area is no exception to this lack of information. The available archival sources, primarily the tahrir registers, do not usually provide much information other than occasional mention of the names of three successive generations of the same family in sequence; in certain cases, they contain references to the first assignment or purchase of the mâlikâne holdings.36 Nevertheless, it is not totally impossible to develop some arguments on the matter. A sensible starting point could be to note that the mâlikâne-dîvânî

34 For a detailed analysis of the topic, see Oktay Özel, “The Transformation of Provincial Administration in Anatolia: Observations on Amasya from 15th to 17th Centuries”, in Evgenia Kermeli and Oktay Özel (eds.) The Ottoman Empire. Myths, Realities and ‘Black Holes’. Contributions in Honour of Colin Imber (İstanbul: The ISIS Press, 2006), pp. 51–73. 35 See the references given in Note 4 above. 36 For examples, see especially the works of Barkan and Beldiceanu-Steinherr mentioned in the notes above. 32 chapter 2 system was not an Ottoman invention. Well before the Ottomans, a similar or identical system had been widely applied more or less in the same areas by the Seljukids, Karamanids, Akkoyunlus, and Mamluks. Examining the records in the Ottoman tahrir registers, Ö. Lütfi Barkan and particularly Irene Beldiceanu- Steinherr and Margaret Venzke have demonstrated the pre-Ottoman origin of the practice, revealing to some extent the earlier characteristics of the system. When the Ottomans annexed the central and eastern Anatolian lands of the former Seljukid state—in chronological order, the provinces of Rûm, Karaman, and Zulkadriye—they found such a system already in existence. Since these areas had long been under the rule of Islamic states with certain Muslim families already holding the mâlikâne rights over the tithe revenue granted or simply confirmed by legitimate Muslim rulers, legally speaking, the Ottomans did not abolish this established fiscal practice. Instead, as was the case for many other pre-Ottoman practices originating from earlier traditions, the rights of these mâlikâne holders were recognized by the new rulers; hence the principle of the division of taxes into two categories, as mâlikâne and dîvânî. The Ottomans, however, seem to have introduced a second tithe allocated to a timariot as part of his “timar.”37 But certain questions still remain: Who were these mâlikâne holders? Or, more importantly, who were their antecedents who had initially acquired or established such a right in the first place? Beldiceanu-Steinherr’s answer to this question is rather indirect and limited to the analysis of the later practices of the system. She points out that an individual could acquire the mâlikâne portion of a village by buying it directly from the state treasury during Seljukid and Karamanid times.38 It is certain, therefore, that those who could afford such purchases must have already been financially powerful families. We also know that purchase was not the only way of acquiring such a right: the mâlikâne part of a village could also be granted by the sultan or emir to certain individuals. The following two explanations come to mind. First, the mâlikâne holders were either the descendants of the first Turkish warriors or the chiefs of certain tribes settled in certain localities after the invasion of these regions. The second possibility is that they, or some of them at least, might have been the descendants of military commanders or administrators of the ruling families of the Seljukid and Ilkhanid periods who had been granted the mâlikâne revenues of certain villages, perhaps as ıkta or military fief.39 We see, for instance, that

37 Compare Mithat Sertoğlu, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğu’nda XV. ve XVI. Asırlarda Girişilen Toprak Reformları,” Belgelerle Türk Tarihi Dergisi, 35 (1970), p. 71. 38 Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” pp. 245–46, 267–68. 39 Compare Öz, Canik Sancağı, p. 123. Geography And Politics 33 the waqf of the imâret and medrese of Torumtay was established in Amasya under the Seljukids with revenue sources derived from the mâlikâne revenues of neighboring villages (see the list provided in Appendix II/A and C). This is even clearer in the examples of some early Ottoman provincial officials and administrators in the region. It was mainly these individuals who we find had connections with the large religious and public foundations, such as the imâret, medrese, and mosque which were named after their benefactors. The mâlikâne revenues (and very occasionally those of the dîvânî) of many villages were transferred by these founders to their waqfs. Among them were Yörgic (or Yörgüc) and Hızır Pasha, brothers, and Mehmed Pasha, the son of the latter, who were the most prominent of these founders.40 As in this example, some of these individuals were not members of local families with pre-Ottoman connections; they simply held high-ranking administrative posts for a period of time under the Ottomans as appointed members of the askerî class in Amasya or were members of the sultan’s household who were granted large amounts of revenue derived from local villages. Some did not even become settled in the region, and therefore left no descendants to become local notables. Such a practice reveals that the Ottomans, obviously for practical reasons and as a sign of a reconciliatory

40 Yörgic and Hızır Pashas are first mentioned in the sources as being lalâs or tutors of the princes (first Murad, the son of Mehmed I, from 1416) residing in Amasya and the governors of Amasya in the 1420s to 1440s (Doukas, Decline and Fall of Byzantium to the Ottoman Turks, trans. Harry J. Magoulias (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1975), pp. 121–122; Aşıkpaşazâde, Tevârih-i Âl–i Osman (İstanbul: Matbaa-i Amire, 1332), pp. 103– 104; Neşrî, Neşrî Tarihi, II, ed. M. Altay Köymen (Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı Yay., 1984), p. 89). Compare Kappert, Die Osmanischen Prinzen, pp. 21–23. The governorship of Yörgic Pasha in particular and his ruthless policies in the region against the local Turkoman tribes are commonly mentioned in the Ottoman chronicles. For details of these events, see Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi, I, pp. 403–406. For further information about Yörgic Pasha and his family and the debate about the origin of the family—whether they were from local Muslim ruling aristocracy or of Christian origin from the Balkans—see İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, Kitâbeler (İstanbul: Milli Matbaa, 1927), pp. 25–28; Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, III, p. 191; Halil Edhem “Yörgüç Paşa ve Evlâdına Aid Birkaç Kitâbe,” Tarih-i Osmânî Encümeni Mecmuası, V/2 (1327), pp. 530–541. Compare Mustafa Vâzıh el-Amâsî, Amasya Târihi [“el-Belâbilüʾr Râsiye fî Mesâil-i Riyâz-ı Amâsiye”], (The copy of the edition by Ali Bilgic b. Ahmed Tayyib, Millî Kütüphâne, Ankara), p. 33ff. Whatever their origins, the sons of these two brothers also held high military and administrative posts in the region in the late fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries; they seem to have put down deep roots in Amasya. They built various public and religious foundations and made all their revenue sources, usually the mâlikâne parts allotted to them from the region, waqf to these foundations (see the list in Appendix II/C). 34 chapter 2 policy (keeping in mind that the area under study was peacefully incorporated into the Ottoman polity), continued to keep taxes divided, also granting when necessary the mâlikâne revenues of several villages to members of the askerî class. All these findings and observations are, inevitably perhaps, part and parcel of the attempts to explain how the system worked in practice either under or before the Ottomans. They are at best analyses of the available documentation through which scholars attempt to reconstruct both the institutional mechanisms and their genealogy, often employing a methodology of reading history backwards. However, this does not necessarily stop us from creatively thinking of alternative explanations or developing the logic further back to the very origins of the practice. Though speculative in nature, since it assumes that this was a Seljukid-Mamlukid practice on former Byzantine lands, we may well believe that such a system was perhaps the creation of the initial invad- ers, conquerors, or leading colonizing warrior families in these areas with, coincidently, a predominantly Turkoman character. They might have introduced or de facto established over time such a right to taxes simply as “right of the sword” in the absence of a proper state administration in these areas after the collapse of Abbasid rule. In fact, all these local Turkic emirates or states—including the Seljukids, Karamanids, and Dulkadirids—did nothing except recognize such a practice as an established tradition. It is also possible to suggest that the Ilkhanid rule of these areas from the mid-thirteenth century further consolidated the system in a period of re-feudalization in the lands of Syria and Rûm. However, we should not categorically rule out the likelihood that many of these revenue holders may have well been pre-Turkic local service aristocracy who already held rights over certain lands/revenue in their regions and converted to Islam under the Seljukid invasion and rule in order to maintain their privileged positions.41 Whatever their origins, recalling Osman Turan’s observation of privatization and waqfization of lands and revenues under the emirates in Anatolia towards the end of the thirteenth century, it seems that in these areas, through the mâlikâne-dîvânî system of dual taxation, the Ottomans inherited a well- established local aristocracy. Whether originally “landed” or not, such a rural

41 See Osman Turan, Doğu Anadolu Türk Devletleri Tarihi (İstanbul: Nakışlar Yay., 1980), p. 235. For a useful evaluation of such holdings in transition towards Ottoman rule in Anatolia within the context of the evolution of the political economy, see Mehmet Ali Kılıçbay, Feodalite ve Klasik Dönem Osmanlı Üretim Tarzı (Ankara: Teori Yay., 1985), p. 271ff. Compare Halil Berktay, Kabileden Feodalizme (İstanbul: Kaynak Yay., 1983). Geography And Politics 35 aristocracy had eventually become the norm well before the Ottomans, certainly in these parts of Anatolia. Coming back to the early Ottoman rule and considering its nature, the changing status of revenue holdings has a particular significance: the observed continuity of Seljukid and emirate administrative practices and terminology under Ottoman rule can be partly accounted for by the very existence of such strong notable families in the province of Rûm. In other words, Ottoman rule in the region did not enforce a sudden change in administrative practices. On the contrary, what is seen here is an example of a policy of reconciliation. One such illustration from the region under examination is that the Ottoman central administration recognized and respected the existing established rights of the local aristocracy over certain revenues as private property, which was also sanctioned under Islamic law. Another component of the same policy appears to have been Ottoman flexibility in provincial administration; i.e., exhibiting the ability to behave politically. While the policy of reconciliation led to the development of the peculiar taxation system of mâlikâne-dîvânî,42 this ability is clearly manifested in the survival of pre-Ottoman administrative practices and terminology under Ottoman rule up to the early sixteenth century. The partial incorporation of the local aristocracy (in particular those with “military” status and members of ruling families of the region) into the ranks of the Ottoman administrative system as timar holders, higher-ranking officials, or holders of positions in the military and civilian bureaucracy, completes the general picture, which conveys concrete evidence of such a process of transition with a high degree of continuity. As will be seen in the following chapter in the example of the members of the pre-Ottoman ruling family of Amasya, they maintained part of their rights under the Ottomans—namely, their mâlikâne shares—while also holding military-administrative posts in both local and central administration through successive generations up to the late sixteenth century.43 Changes in the Ottoman administration continued up to the early sixteenth century, with a focus on the creation of uniformity, pointing to a significant systematization of provincial administrative units, with the standardization

42 For a detailed examination of this form of revenue-holding system, see particularly Barkan, “Malikâne-Divânî Sistemi,” pp. 151–208; Mehmet Öz, “Tahrir Defterlerine Göre Vezirköprü,” Vakıflar Dergisi, XVIII (2007), pp. 229–241; “XVI. Yüzyılda Ladik Kazâsında Mâlikâne-Divânî Sistemi,” Vakıflar Dergisi, XXVI (1997), pp. 65–73. Also see Hülya Taş, “XVI. Yüzyılda Rûm Eyaletinde Miri Toprakların Mülk ve Vakfa Dönüştürülmesi” (Unpublished Masters’ Thesis, Ankara University, 1998). 43 See Chapter Three, section “Notables.” Also see Özel, “Limits of the Almighty,” pp. 239–41. 36 chapter 2 in terminology reflected in the tahrir defters of the century. In the register of c. 1520, Amasya, as a sub-province, was defined as a livâ and governed by a mîrlivâ. At the time this register was compiled, the revenues, previously held by prince-governors, were largely transferred to the sultanic estates (hassâ-i pâdişâh) but partly accrued to the mîrlivâ of the time. At this time (c. 1520) the livâ consisted of four kazâs (Amasya, Gümüş, Ladik, and Merzifon), with some of these containing a number of nâhiyes. The largest was the kazâ of Amasya, composed of five nâhiyes (Akdağ, Argoma, Geldigelen, Bergoma and Yavaş, and Aştagul). Leaving aside the confusing usage of certain old pre-Ottoman administrative terms and practices, the Ottoman central administration was gradually putting things in order, shaping the basis for its decisive infiltration into its provinces. The same direction is also observable elsewhere under the reign of Sultan Selim I, who expanded the Ottoman dominion over the central lands of the Islamic world, thus turning the Ottoman Empire into a significant power throughout the whole of the Middle East. One may think that administering a vast empire necessitated such a final touch in establishing a law and order that would function effectively without any serious obstacles stemming from the institutional practices of the pre-Ottoman past. We must also remember that centralizing policies had already been on the agenda from the time of Mehmed II, whose attempt at an all-out fiscal reform in his last years was the first serious sign of such a trend in the development of the Ottoman imperial polity.44 Neither is it an accident that the comprehensive efforts of legal codification, producing the first corpus of provincial law codes to regulate and define in a most detailed way the fiscal structure of the empire, were also undertaken during the same period; namely, the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. The political dimension of Mehmed II’s reform attempt, as well as the emergence of a serious threat to the Ottomans in the East from the Safavids, who were also carrying out religious-political propaganda activities in the eastern and central Anatolian provinces, further complicated the situation. These factors contributed greatly to the Ottoman policies of integration and assimila- tion, if not the total elimination, of all kinds of centrifugal forces along with their local traditions and practices. The apparent uniformity and increasing order in the provincial administration in the Amasya region during the early sixteenth century can thus be seen as one aspect of the wider ongoing process of transition towards an empire. In the Amasya region from the late fifteenth to the late sixteenth century, parallel changes can be observed that demonstrate other aspects of such

44 See Özel, “Limits of the Almighty.” For a detailed analysis of this reform attempt in the kazâ of Amasya, see Chapter Three, section on the “Notables.” Geography And Politics 37 a transition. Just to point out in passing, most of the local mâlikâne holders of the region, descendants of the pre-Ottoman Turkish aristocracy, were hit hard by Mehmed II’s attempt at reform, but they survived, managing to regain their revenue holdings under Bâyezid II only a few years later. However, their increasing military duties of serving either as eşkincüs, mounted soldiers, or as ordinary timar holders in the Ottoman army furthered their integration into the Ottoman imperial system during the sixteenth century. As will be dealt with in greater detail in the following chapter, this was also accompanied by a change in the composition of the timar-holding military class in the region: the members of this class of local origin were gradually replaced by those of kul origin, from the sultan’s slave army formed through the devshirme system, the institutionalized child levy on Christian subjects. This meant that, during the sixteenth century, the Ottoman central administration succeeded in producing quite a significant degree of homogenization in terms of its administrative agents in the north-central Anatolian provinces, both military and civilian. What these registers present, both in terms of changing administrative divisions and terminology, is the finalization of a successful process, the achievement of tangible change: an empire eventually creating its own image in institutions, or vice versa. The picture of the district of Amasya in 1576 was indeed an Ottoman classic of provincial administration, manifesting the same imperial image. In 1576, it retained livâ status, with its standard hierarchy of kazâ and nâhiye.45 In the period between c. 1520 and 1576, two princes were appointed to Amasya as governor, Mustafa and Bâyezid, sons of Süleyman the Magnificent. However, their governorship of Amasya did not last long (Mustafa, 1541–1553; Bâyezid, 1558–59), with both ultimately losing their lives, the latter in the struggle for the Ottoman throne, thus leaving behind the seeds of another significant legacy: the militarization of the countryside through widespread banditry.46 This critical contribution to the eventual collapse of the rural order in Anatolia, including the district of Amasya, will be analyzed in Chapter Five.

45 At the time of compilation of the last register in 1576, the mîrlivâ of Amasya was a certain Mustafa Bey, whose livâ consisted of seven kazâs, including that of Amasya. The other kazâs that made up the livâ of Amasya were Merzifon, Gümüş, Gedegra, Zeytun, Ladik, and Simre-i Ladik. See TT34. As already mentioned, the kazâ of Amasya was still made up of the same nâhiyes or sub-districts as in c. 1520, with a slight difference in composition. The two divâns, parts of the nâhiye of Argoma in c. 1520, now formed a separate nâhiye in their own right, the nâhiye of Gelikiras. The interesting point here, however, is that the names of the divâns still survived in the defter, with their dependent villages recorded as “Karye-i Boğacık, tâbî-i dîvân-ı Semâyil. Vakf-ı Medine-i Münevvere, iki başdan.” TT26: 96b. 46 See Kappert, Die Osmanischen Prinzen, pp. 95–155; Turan, Kanuniʾnin Oğlu. 38 chapter 2

Table I Development of the Ottoman administration in the livâ of Amasya, c. 1480–1643

c. 1480 c. 1520 1576 1643

VİLÂYET of KAZÂ of AMASYA AMASYA

Nâhiye-i Akdağ Nâhiye-i Akdağ Nâhiye-i Akdağ Nâhiye-i Akdağ Nâhiye-i Argoma Nâhiye-i Argoma Nâhiye-i Argoma Nâhiye-i Hakala Nâhiye-i Bergoma Dîvân-ı Türnük Nâhiye-i Bergoma Nâhiye-i Ezinepezarı & Yavaş-ili Dîvân-ı Semâyil Nâhiye-i Yavaş Nâhiye-i Geldigelen Nâhiye-i Bergoma&Yavaş Nâhiye-i Gelkiras/ Nâhiye-i nefs-i Geldigelen

Güllükiras  Nâhiye-i Ladik  * Nâhiye-i Geldigelen Nâhiye-i Geldigelenâbâd Nâhiye-i Simre Nâhiye-i Aştagul

KAZÂ- İ GÜMÜŞ KAZÂ-İ GÜMÜŞ KAZÂ-İ GELKİRAS KAZÂ-İ LADİK KAZÂ-İ LADİK KAZÂ-İ ba⁠ʾzı GELDİGELEN Nâhiye-i Simre-i Ladik KAZÂ-İ SİMRE-İ LADİK KAZÂ-İ ZÜNNUNÂBÂD KAZÂ-İ MERZİFON KAZÂ-İ MERZİFON KAZÂ-İ MERZİFON [KAZÂ-İ GEDEGRA]** KAZÂ-İ GEDEGRA KAZÂ-İ MERZİFONÂBÂD Nâhiye-i Gâziler KAZÂ-İ GÜMÜŞ Ovacığı KAZÂ-İ ZEYTUN [KAZÂ-İ LADİK]*** Nâhiye-i Kocakayası KAZÂ-İ HAVSA KAZÂ-İ GEDEGRA KAZÂ-İ ZEYTUN Nâhiye-i Göl

* Since these two nâhiyes constituted separate kazâs in subsequent registers, they are left outside the scope of this study. ** Though this kazâ is shown in TT387 as part of the livâ of Canik, in TT95 it is seen in the livâ of Amasya (TT95: 93ff). *** TT776 does not contain this kazâ but we find it in a cizye defter which is dated 1642 (see MAD2533, pp. 9–10). Geography And Politics 39

Rural Society: Limitations and Relational Matrix

The historical peculiarities, the remarkable continuity of the Seljukid legacy, and the gradual transition to Ottoman imperial rule outlined above played a considerable part in determining not only the dynamics of Ottoman administration in the region, but also in partially re-ordering the fabric of rural society. We are also able to observe the structure of rural society, its classes or sectors, the imperial mechanism of group relations, and interactions in the countryside of Amasya with a certain clarity through examination of the same tahrir registers. But first, before taking a closer look at the major sectors of this fabric in the following chapter, it is imperative to dwell briefly on what “rural” means in the context of this book. Rural refers both to the geographical area, which primarily contained village settlements and was predominantly devoted to agriculture, as well as to the people who lived there, regardless of the degree of their engagement and personal involvement in the way of life of this geographical area. This therefore excludes those areas and sectors of trade, industry, and crafts concentrated in large towns or cities, as well as their entire population, even though such pre-industrial societies depended to a large degree upon the agricultural activity of their immediate environs.47 We should note, however, that aside from a few urban settlements, the region under study was almost exclusively an area of agriculture, largely around villages and peasant communities, with the seasonal appearance of a small number of semi-nomadic groups in the peripheral mountain ranges to the east and the south. The definition does include such nomadic or semi-nomadic tribes (cemaats),48 whose primary engagement in the pastoral economy constituted an integral part of rural Anatolia, although their way of life often posed a threat to that of the settled peasantry.49 Having

47 Eric R. Wolf, Peasants (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1966), pp. 10–12; Marshall G.S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam. Volume 1: The Classical Age of Islam (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), pp. 107–8. 48 The term “cemaat” is also used in the defters for particular social/religious groups, mainly for non-Muslims, in cities, towns, and sometimes villages; therefore, these two meanings should not be confused. For an example from other regions, see Abdulfettah and Hütteroth, Historical Geography of Palestine, pp. 27–29, 38, 41. 49 For their position in the Ottoman Empire in general see Paul Wittek, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğuʾnda Türk Aşiretlerinin Rolü,” İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi, XIII/17–18 (1962–63), pp. 257–268; Xavier de Planhol, De la plaine pamphylienne aux lacs pisidiens. Nomadisme et vie paysanne (Paris: Biblioteque archeologique et historique de l’institut français d’archeologie d’Istanbul, 1959); Rudi Paul Lindner, Nomads 40 chapter 2 no permanent or fixed settlements in certain locations, they were recorded in the defters separately with their tribal denominations without further specification.50 The term “rural” in the present study thus basically, but not exclusively, refers to the peasantry whose main activity was agriculture organized around household units or hânes, complemented by raising livestock on a modest scale. The region under examination also had a number of villages with the denomina- tion “etrâk” or “etrâkiye,” meaning Turkoman. These were places where some semi-nomadic groups appear to have settled and engaged in small-scale agriculture with some animal husbandry, which was still the dominant form of economic activity. Thus, the inhabitants of these settlements and their villages are considered to be an integral part of rural society. Although they were referred to separately in the defters, as distinct from native peasantry,51 they are treated as being in the same category as peasants. Since the term “rural” can also be applied to society to mean those living in the country with organic ties with agriculture and agriculturalists, a further refinement to the definition of the term is necessary when it comes to the notables and state functionaries who, even if not interwoven organically, lived side by side with the peasants in the countryside. These members of the non- peasant class included mâlikâne holders, a kind of rural gentry, and the timar- holding sipâhi, military agents of the imperial establishment. Apart from the sipâhis during times of war, they were mostly settled in the countryside, also

and Ottomans (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983). Compare Suraiya Faroqhi, “Onyedinci Yüzyılın İkinci Yarısında Devecilik ve Anadolu Göçebeleri (Danişmendli Mukataası),” in V. Milletlerarası Türkiye Sosyal ve İktisat Tarih Kongresi, Tebliğler, İstanbul 21–25 Ağustos 1989, (Marmara Üniversitesi Türkiyat Araştırma ve Uygulama Merkezi) (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1990), pp. 923–932; İlhan Şahin, Osmanlı Döneminde Konar- Göçerler (İstanbul: Eren Yay., 2006); Tufan Gündüz, Bozkırın Efendileri. Türkmenler Üzerine Makaleler (İstanbul: Yeditepe Yay., 2009). For a brief outline of 16th-century nomad- peasant relationships, see Suraiya Faroqhi, “Rural Society in Anatolia and the Balkans During the Sixteenth Century, II,” Turcica, XI (1979), pp. 110–115. 50 Compare Abdulfettah and Hütteroth, Historical Geography of Palestine, p. 27. 51 These people can in fact be viewed in the context of what Braudel describes as “transhumance,” where sheep-farming is the main economic activity and the constant seasonal move of half-settled shepherd families between the lowland plains and highland summer pastures characterizes the dominant way of life (see Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, vol. I, trans. Sian Reynolds (London-New York: Fontana Press, 1972), pp. 85–87). For the later scholarship on various forms/levels of nomadism/pastoralism or transhumance, see Philip Carl Salzmann (ed.), When Nomads Settle (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1980); Anatoly M. Khazanov, Nomads and the Outside World, Second edition (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994). Geography And Politics 41 engaging in agriculture, often on individual separate farms or çiftliks, either within or outside the confines of the village settlements. It is therefore natural to see these groups as integral parts of “rural society” in its broadest sense. To sum up, the rural society in the Amasya region under the Ottomans and studied in this book is generally composed of three main sectors: a) peasants or reâyâ as direct producers, along with an insignificant number of nomads, both being subject to taxation; b) local notables with rights over some taxes as mâlikâne; and c) timariots as provincial cavalrymen with revenue grants (in the form of tax). In the Ottoman imperial jargon, all these sectors, together with high-ranking provincial officials (ehl-i örf ), merchants, artisans, and all other city dwellers, were collectively reduced to two “formal” categories: askerî (i.e., the ruling class) and reâyâ (i.e., the ruled subjects). In real terms, this customary division of Ottoman society into two main bodies, rulers and ruled, corresponded to two groups: the tax-exempt and the taxpayers, with the former generally also functioning as tax collectors. As will be seen subsequently, of all the segments of rural society, the peasantry as a whole constituted the backbone of the “reâyâ” class, to such an extent that this term in Ottoman usage was primarily identified with the peasants, whereas timariots fell into the category of the “askerî.” As for the position of the mâlikâne-holding notables in this divide, it may be assumed that when they also held dîvânî parts or the state share of revenues as timar, they automatically became members of the askerî class. We know that some members of these families became high-ranking provincial officials, thus constituting a portion of the ehl-i örf class in the region.52 As for the ordinary mâlikâne holders with no military obligations, or, to borrow the words of Bois, the “bottom layer” of the local elite,53 it may seem odd to consider them in the same category as the peasants where certain portions of the taxes paid by the peasants were directly appropriated by them. In a sense, as rural gentry, they represented an early form of the ağa type seen in later periods in the Anatolian countryside. Whatever the case might have been, it is certain that we do not see these mâlikâne-holding local notables being overtly mentioned among those who were categorized according to these two “formal” divisions in Ottoman socio-political terminology and literature. This further implies that the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century interpreters of the Ottoman political theory of state and society placed the mâlikâne holders—the pre-Ottoman rural aristocracy of the north-central, central, and

52 See the section on “Notables” in the following chapter. 53 Guy Bois, The Transformation of the Year One Thousand. The Village of Lournand from Antiquity to Feudalism, trans. Jean Birrel (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1992), pp. 22–24. 42 chapter 2 eastern Anatolian provinces—in a somewhat “vague” and “exceptional” position, which indeed is very revealing in a political context. The reality, however, is that the pre-Ottoman military aristocracy as a centrifugal force was often seen as a potential threat to Ottoman imperial power in the provinces. As will be described below, their de facto position was, in fact, neither as vague nor as exceptional as the Ottoman central administration of the sixteenth century would have liked it to be. It is imperative here to comment also on the ways in which interaction occurred among the different sectors of rural society detailed above. First, it should not be thought that they necessarily lived together in villages, with or without communal and/or kinship ties. The principal intercourse which brought them together was not necessarily a mere neighborhood of the same social entity. Putting the economic divide to one side, it is possible to think that the different sectors of rural society were already socially separated as well, and this was obviously furthered on the basis of the diverse functions and status attributed to them within the Ottoman imperial polity. This was particularly the case for the relationship between the peasants and the timariots, whose places and roles in society had been strictly defined by the state from the fifteenth century onward: the very existence of the latter largely depended on the fulfillment of the obligations of the former. The essence of their relationship was one of surplus extraction (in the form of tax) more than anything else.54 Peasants as direct producers were subject to taxation, whereas timariots, as provincial cavalry, were entitled to collect the larger portion of the taxes the peasants paid. In this respect, timariots were operating as state functionaries, holding revenue grants over the peasantry in the countryside.55 Thus, a timariot living in or outside a village during times of peace was no more than a temporary participant in rural society. In a sense, as the principal agent of the

54 Let us remember here Eric Wolf’s definition of peasants and their position in pre- industrial societies as “rural cultivators” growing crops and raising livestock in the countryside, “whose surpluses are transferred to a dominant group of rulers that uses the surpluses both to underwrite its own standard of living and to distribute the remainder to groups in society that do not farm but must be fed for their specific goods and services in turn” (Wolf, Peasants, pp. 3, 4–5). 55 Weber’s classification of this form of revenue extraction as “prebendal” (Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organization (New York: Oxford University Press, 1947), pp. 378–381) can serve in describing this particularity of the Ottoman form compared to the Western type of “feudal,” or according to some, “patrimonial” (Wolf, Peasants, p. 50). For the discussion that once seriously engaged the Marxist historians on whether or not these particularities lead to a “modal difference” in the theory of feudalism, see Halil Berktay, “The Feudalism Debate: The Turkish End: Is ‘Tax-vs.-Rent’ Necessarily Product and Sign of a Modal Difference?” The Journal of Peasant Studies, 14/3 (1987), pp. 291–333. Geography And Politics 43 imperial administration in the Ottoman countryside, he was still an “outsider- within” in rural society. Figure 3 below gives a simplified picture of the mechanism of the sectorial relationships in rural society. The situation, however, becomes much more complicated when the composition of the class of timariots in the region under study is included in the matrix. As will be seen later, a significant proportion of the members of this group was of local notable origin.56 That is, at least by the sixteenth century, they were not totally outsiders. Therefore, it can be said that together with the ordinary members of mâlikâne-holding notables with no military obligations, they constituted an organic part of rural society at large, if not of the peasantry. In both cases, like timariots, they functioned as tax collectors in the mâlikâne- dîvânî system in which, as noted earlier, the peasants paid a double tithe or öşr, one to timariots and one to these notables as mâlikâne.

Sultan control

ehl-i örf Urban

control control Rural

tax-collection(«hass») timariots mobility notables «eşküncilü mülk» or «timar» control («timar») «zeʿâmet»or«timar» ) tax-collection(«hass»& tax-collection tax-collection («mâlikane»)

peasants (reʿâyâ)

Figure 3 Structure of society in rural Amasya (15th–16th centuries).

56 See the following chapter, sections “Notables” and “Timariots”. chapter 3 Land, Society, and Empire (Through 1576)

Peasants and Nomads

The position of the Ottoman peasantry in terms of their basic economic activities, the main characteristics of their engagement with the land, the taxation system, and, in this context, their relationship with the state and revenue holders, as well as their official status, are among the relatively better studied aspects of Ottoman history. Yet they are mostly researched according to how they are perceived and regulated by the Ottoman state in the wider context of “social order,” and from the perspective of the centralizing state. Beginning with the pioneering studies by the late Ömer L. Barkan1 and Halil İnalcık,2 the work of many Ottomanists has already produced a large body of literature, which still constitutes the mainstream of the historiography. There have been attempts, however, to go beyond the “formal-legalistic” and functional- ist approaches to studies of the Ottoman peasantry. Among these, the works of Mustafa Akdağ as well as those of Halil İnalcık, Suraiya Faroqhi, Huricihan İslamoğlu, and Mehmet Öz deserve particular mention.3 In the late 1980s,

1 See especially Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğu’nda Çiftçi Sınıfların Hukukî Statüsü,” Ülkü, IX/49 (1937), pp. 33–48; IX/50 (1937), pp. 101–116; IX/53 (1937), pp. 329–341; X/56 (1937), pp. 147–159; X/58 (1937), pp. 293–302; X/59 (1938), pp. 414–422 [Reprinted in Türkiye’de Toprak Meselesi, Toplu Eserler I (İstanbul: Gözlem Yay., 1980), pp. 725–788]; “Çiftlik,” İA, III (1945), pp. 392–397 [Reprinted in Türkiyeʾde Toprak Meselesi, pp. 789–804]; “Timar,” İA, XII/1 (1972), pp. 286–333 [Reprinted in Türkiyeʾde Toprak Meselesi, pp. 805–872]. 2 Halil İnalcık, “Osmanlılarda Raiyyet Rüsûmu,” Belleten, XXIII/91 (1959), pp. 575–610; “Çift- Resmi,” EI², II (1960), p. 32; “Çiftlik,” EI², II (1960), pp. 32–33; The Classical Age. 3 Mustafa Akdağ, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğu’nun Kuruluş ve İnkişâfı Devrinde Türkiye’nin İktisadî Vaziyeti,” Belleten, XII/51 (1949), pp. 497–569; XIV/55 (1950), pp. 319–418; Celâli İsyanları.Türk Halkının Dirlik Düzenlik Kavgası (İstanbul: Bilgi Yay., 1975); Türkiyeʾnin İktisadî ve İçtimâi Tarihi; Suraiya Faroqhi, “Rural Society” in Anatolia and the Balkans During the Sixteenth Century, I,” Turcica, IX/1 (1977), pp. 161–195; “Rural Society, II;” “Peasants of Saideli in the Late Sixteenth Century,” Archivum Ottomanicum, VIII (1983), pp. 215–250; “Ankara ve Çevresindeki Arazi Mülkiyetinin ya da İnsan-Toprak İlişkilerinin Değişimi,” in Erdal Yavuz, Ümit N. Uğurel (eds.), Tarih İçinde Ankara, Eylül 1981 seminer bildirileri (Ankara: ODTÜ, 1984) pp. 64–71; “Political Tensions in the Anatolian Countryside around 1600. An Attempt at Interpretation,” in İlber Ortaylı (ed.), Turkische Miszellen, Robert Anhegger Festschrift, Armağanı, Melanges (İstanbul: Editions Divit Press, 1987), pp. 117–130. [Turkish translation: “1600 Yıllarında Anadolu Kırlarında Toplumsal Gerilimler. Bir Yorumlama Denemesi,” 11.Tez,

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004311244_004 Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 45 however, a bolder revisionist approach emerged with the critical studies of Halil Berktay, continuing during the 1990s with the work of those mentioned above.4 Despite such efforts, state-peasant relations as seen in terms of the various aspects of the peasants’ material and living conditions still remain, at best, marginal in Ottoman historiography. These aspects include the nature and volume of the peasants’ production at subsistence level against odds of all kinds; their economic and socio-political activities and reactions in ever- changing circumstances, both natural and political; and the ways in which they tried to manage their own affairs. In the past decade or so, it is interesting to observe a rather distant attitude to the subject in parallel to the major para- digmatic shift among historians towards the cultural-intellectual dimensions and historical-sociological analyses of state-society relations.5 This section will neither outline the existing literature nor reiterate the details of the well-known imperial vision for the Ottoman peasantry within a theoretical formalistic framework.6 Nor will it deal with such aspects of the

Onbirinci Tez Kitap Dizisi, 7, pp. 106–120]; “Political Activity among Ottoman Taxpayers and the Problem of Sultanic Legitimation (1570–1650),” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient (1992), pp. 1–39; İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants;” State and Peasant in the Ottoman Empire. Agrarian Power Relations and Regional Economic Development in Ottoman Anatolia during the Sixteenth Century, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1999; Halil İnalcık, “Servile Labour in the Ottoman Empire,” in A. Archer, T. Halasi-Kun, and B. K. Kiraly (eds.), Mutual Effects of the Islamic and Judeo-Christian World (New York: Columbia University, 1979), pp. 25–52; “Rice Cultivation and the Çeltükçi Reâyâ System in the Ottoman Empire,” Archivum Ottomanicum, VI (1982), pp. 69–141; “Köy, Köylü ve İmparatorluk,” in V. Milletlerarası Türkiye Sosyal ve İktisat Tarih Kongresi, Tebliğler, İstanbul 21–25 Ağustos 1989, (Marmara Üniversitesi Türkiyat Araştırma ve Uygulama Merkezi) (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1990), pp. 1–11. Mehmet Öz, “XVI. Yüzyıl Anadolusunda Köylülerin Vergi Yükü ve Geçim Durumu Hakkında Bir Araştırma,” Osmanlı Araştırmaları-Journal of Ottoman Studies, 17 (1997), pp. 77–90; “16. Yüzyıl Osmanlı Anadolusunda Tarımsal Verimlilik Meselesi,” XIII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, 4–8 Ekim 1999, Bildiriler, vol. III/3 (2002), pp. 1643–1651. 4 Halil Berktay, “The Search for the Peasant in Western and Turkish History/Historiography,” The Journal of Peasant Studies, 18/3–4 (1991), pp. 109–184; “The Feudalism Debate,” pp. 291– 333; “Dört Tarihçinin Sosyal Portresi,” Toplum ve Bilim, 54/55 (1991), pp.19–45. 5 See Karen Barkey, Empire of Difference. The Ottomans in Comparative Perspective (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008); Ferdan Ergut (ed.), Tarihsel Sosyoloji. Stratejiler, Sorunlar ve Paradigmalar (İstanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yay., 2007); Elisabeth Özdalga (ed.), Tarihsel Sosyoloji (İstanbul: Doğu Batı Yay., 2010). 6 Certain aspects of Ottoman countryside and the peasantry have been dealt with by the present author in previous works. See Oktay Özel, “XV–XVII. Yüzyıllarda Osmanlı Toplumunda ‘Hâriç Raiyyet’,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları, 43 (1986), pp. 159–171; “XV–XVI. 46 chapter 3 peasant economy as agricultural production and taxation,7 since this would require a systematic study of a series of tahrir registers. In the absence of such a series for the Amasya region, this section will concentrate on the peasants’ relationship with the land in terms of the possible correlation between the demographic (i.e, population density) and agricultural-geographical aspects (i.e., mainly the availability and the extent of arable land) of the countryside of Amasya region, together with a brief analysis of the composition of the peasantry itself. Even within these limits, the following analysis will be based primarily on the detailed information the 1576 tahrir defter provides, and, where possible, in comparison with earlier developments going as far back as the registers from around 1480 and 1520 referred to in the Introduction. Nevertheless, the analysis to be developed here will have implications regarding the nature of the peasants’ relationship with their immediate landlords, whether they were the state or the mâlikâne holders, or even the askerî çiftlik-owners of the seventeenth century. Let us start with a very brief quantitative picture of the peasant community of the region as portrayed in the detailed tahrir defter of 1576. In the kazâ of Amasya with its seven nâhiyes, there were 28,3708 tax-paying adult male peasants (nefers) living in 372 villages (karyes), 15 mezraas9 and one

Yüzyıllarda Anadolu’da Kırsal (Ziraî) Organizasyon. Köylüler ve Köyler” (Unpublished M.A. diss., Hacettepe Üniversitesi, Ankara, 1986). 7 Such a study would first require the availability of a series of registers drawn up in the same manner, making it possible to carry out a cross-examination. As noted in the previous chapter, this is not possible for the region of Amasya, since we have only one defter containing such detailed information for 1576. 8 Eleven persons recorded in the defter as handicapped and very old are included in this total. These individuals were partially or totally exempt from taxation. The kânûnnâme of the province of Rûm, dated 1574, reads as follows: “Pîr olub yâhud fakr ü fakʾa ʿârız olub çiftlik elinden giden kimesneden resm-i çift alınmaz; amelmânde, pîr veya maʿiz-i müzmin olduğı takdirce nesne alınmaz” (TK14: 3a). 9 The mezraa was in fact a cultivated land plot, usually attached to one village or cultivated by the inhabitants of that village. However, it was also the case that some mezraas were used by those coming from other villages. For example, the mezraa of Delüler from the nâhiye of Geldigelen consisted of arable land from four çiftliks and three tarlas (fields); the çiftliks were tilled by “outsiders” (hâricden ekerler) (TK26: 119b). Some mezraas were also cultivated by the peasants of more than one village (for example, the mezraa of İlgün (?) from the same nâhiye: “zikrolan mezraʿa altı müdlük yer olub mezkûr Kâvay ve Konaç ve Kurubağı (?) nâm karyeler halkından baʿzılar ziraʿat idüb . . .,” TK26: 119a). For discussion on mezraas, see Fikret Adanır, “Mezraa: zu Einem Problem der Siedlungs- und Agrargeschichte Südosteuropas im Ausgehenden Mittelalter und in der Frühen Neuzeit,” in Ralf Melville et al. (eds.) Deutschland und Europa in der Neuzeit. Festschrift für Karl Otmar Freiherr von Aretin zum 65. Geburtstag Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 47 zâviye,10 whereas only 228 individual nomads were recorded as cemaat, and that only in the nâhiyes of Akdağ and Geldigelen.11 From this total, 54.85 percent of the tax-paying peasants were heads of households (15,561 hânes), while the remainder were unmarried males (12,809 mücerreds), with the respective numbers for nomads being 112 and 116. Muslims constituted the vast majority of the peasants settled in the villages, with only 3.22 percent of the grand total being non-Muslim (922 nefers, Greek and Armenian), living in eight villages, seven of which had mixed populations. Furthermore, either the whole population of a number of Muslim villages or proportions of certain settlements were distinctly recorded as “etrâkiye,” the term referring to “quasi-settled” nomads. Another distinct group, constituting less than 0.2 percent of the peasants in the defter, was referred to as “müsellemiye,” which denoted the auxiliary peasant soldiers or müsellems. The respective proportions of these groups are given in Figure 4 below. Similar to those in the core provinces of the empire, where the timar system was applied together with the notion of mîrî land or state ownership of

peasants (Muslim) peasants (non- Muslim) etrakiye müsellem nomads (cemaat)

Figure 4 Distribution of peasants and nomads in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576.

(Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1988), pp. 193–204; Wolf-Dieter Hütteroth, “Methods of Historical Geography. Examples from Southeastern Turkey, Syria and Irak,” in V. Milletlerarası Türkiye Sosyal ve İktisat Tarih Kongresi, Tebliğler, İstanbul 21–25 Ağustos 1989, (Marmara Üniversitesi Türkiyat Araştırma ve Uygulama Merkezi) (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1990), p. 492. 10 Six persons from the zâviye of Şeyh Bâyezid from the nâhiye of Yavaş-ili were included, while the other four zâviyedâr were left out. 11 Some eleven “yörüks” who were individually recorded in two villages have not been included in this category and counted as “peasants.” For “yörüks,” see Halil İnalcık, “The Yürüks. Their Origins, Expansion and Economic Role,” in Halil İnalcık, The Middle East and the Balkans under the Ottoman Empire. Essays on Economy and Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), pp. 97–136. 48 chapter 3 land, the peasants of Amasya also worked their own lands12 and were recorded in the defter as “çift,” “nîm,” and “[ekinlü]bennak” according to the size of the holding.13 Those who had no land in their own name were specified as “caba” (landless).14 Some other plots, called “zemin,” were registered separately in the defter,15 and it is clear from the personal names that some of this land

12 These lands, however, were not their private property. All lands which constituted peasant holdings were considered to belong to the state (mîrî), and the position of the peasants on the land was no more than that of a “tenant” (they had to pay a single payment, called resm-i tapu, for the tenure, which varied, according to the quality of the soil, between 10 and 50 akçes in the area of Amasya in 1576 (see TK14: 4a)) with hereditary usufruct rights. They were “free” in terms of their legal status but tied to the land they were cultivating, and they were not legally allowed to leave the lands to which they were registered. Furthermore, descendants of a peasant would have to remain “peasant”s unless they moved, illegally of course, to cities or towns and managed to live there without getting caught for a certain time (usually fifteen years), and therefore, became urbanites (but still as members of the “reâyâ” class). Some, through local medreses, would make careers in religious institutions, for instance as imam or hatib, thus becoming a member of the “askerî” class. Alternatively, a son of a peasant might enter into the military class by means of a sultanic decree in return for outstanding performance in battle on the frontiers or during campaigns. See Barkan, “Çiftçi Sınıfların Hukukî Statüsü”; İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 69. 13 The term “çift,” literally “pair,” denotes a certain amount of land that could be tilled by a pair of oxen (iki öküz) within a year. The size of a çift[lik] varied depending on the fertility of the soil. In the province of Rûm, according to the kânûnnâme, it ranged between 80 and 130 dönüms (one dönüm was defined as forty paces square, “hatevât-ı müteʿarife ile tûlen ve arzen kırk hatve yerdir”) (see TK14: 3a). “Nîm” referred to a farmstead of half a çift and “bennak” to one of less than half a çift. For these terms and a detailed analysis of the customary dues with the same names, see İnalcık, “Raiyyet Rüsûmu,” pp. 575–610; “Çift-Resmi,” p. 32; “Çiftlik,” pp. 32–33; M. A. Cook, Population Pressure in Rural Anatolia, 1450–1600 (London: Oxford University Press, 1972), pp. 67–71. 14 This issue of caba and mücerred will be discussed later in the context of Huricihan İslamoğlu-İnan’s [mis]interpretation of them in the case of the province of Rûm. 15 There are a significant number of lands which are understood to have been separated from the ordinary raiyyet tenure in the resm-i çift system, recorded in the defter in this category. But it is not clear what made these lands different; the lands whose holders, as Öz puts it, “after all paid the farm-tax [as] ordinary raiyyet plots” (Öz, Canik Sancağı, p. 191). Öz, who has carried out a detailed analysis for the Canik district, concludes: “It appears that almost all zemins, and for that matter mevkûfs as well, became qualified as such in the first place because their previous holders did not seem to have left any sons to take over them” (Öz, Canik Sancağı, p. 191). Studying the neighboring region of Tokat, Ali Açıkel’s comment on the matter clarifies the situation further. Referring to the notes of the surveyor of the 1576 register, Ömer Bey, Açıkel emphasizes the high cost of tenure transfer for which the timar holders demanded excessive payment of tapu resmi from the Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 49 was cultivated by landless peasant households.16 Others, including bachelors or mücerreds, shared the holdings of their brothers and sometimes of their cousins.17 The register gives no direct evidence of how these landless peasants and their families lived. This was of no interest to the surveyor or the state, whose primary concern was taxable economic resources and activities. Yet it can be assumed that at least some landless peasants largely lived by their work as laborers or share-croppers on the farms of timar holders (hassâ çiftliks), and possibly on those of mâlikâne holders as well.18 It is also likely that they had small gardens around their houses, where they grew vegetables and fruits for their own subsistence along with perhaps modest-scale raising of livestock and animal products. In this regard, it is quite clear from the defter that animal husbandry, mainly sheep-raising and bee-keeping, appears to have been equally widespread and important for the peasants of the region as a whole.19 We also know that some landless peasants cultivated the lands with no holder in neighbouring villages under the status of “hâriç raiyyet;”20 once a landless peasant started to occupy a piece of land in another village with the permission of the “sâhib-i arz” (i.e., timar holder) of this new land, he was protected, by law, from a timariot claiming back the land to give to his own landless peasants.21 In whatever way they possessed or tilled the land, the peasants produced different crops along with widespread plantation of vegetables, fruits, and vines on their farmsteads. The crop pattern varied in scale, as did the priority of the different crops, from nâhiye to nâhiye, largely according to the nature of

peasants; this is why most of the reâyâ farmsteads whose previous holders left no heir were hired by poor or landless peasants on the basis of the resm-i dönüm/zemin or the tax that was paid according to the size of the lands without tapu resmi. See Ali Açıkel, “XV–XVI. Yüzyıllarda Artukabad Kazasının Sosyal Yapısı,” Atatürk Üniversitesi Türkiyat Araştırmaları Dergisi, 15 (2005), p. 188. See also Halil İnalcık, 1431 Tarihli Sûret-i Defter-i Sancak-i Arvanid (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1954), pp. XXIV–XXX; Cook, Population Pressure, pp. 76–78. In Amasya, there were 2,075 zemin entries in the defter. The amount of lands under this category was 1,487 çift[lik]s (35.80% of total arable land), not including plots given as “kilelik.” 16 See Note 26 below. 17 See Note 27 below. 18 The 1574 kânûnnâme of the province of Rûm reads: “Hassâ yerleri ki [timar-eri] kendi çiftin sürer veyâ ortağa virür veyâ istedüği kimesneye tapuya virür” (TK14: 3b). 19 Compare Faroqhi, “Rural Society, II,” p. 109. 20 For this category, see Özel, “Hâriç Raiyyet,” pp. 161–62; Özel, “Kırsal Organizasyon,” pp. 101–116. 21 The kânûnnâme reads: “. . . bir hâric raʿiyyet resm-i tapu ile tasarruf itdüği yer alınub dâhil raʿiyyete virilmek memnûʾdur; hâric ile dâhil arasında tercih menʿ olunmuşdur” (TK14: 3b). 50 chapter 3 the soil, though the dominant agricultural crops over the whole region were cereals (wheat and barley).22 In Argoma and Geldigelen, cotton and legumes (broad beans, lentils, and chickpeas), along with hemp production on a lesser scale, were widespread, while in the mountainous Akdağ area flax and cotton were favored; in Bergoma and Yavaş-ili hemp, cotton, and legumes were widely produced. Other common agricultural produce, vegetables, vines, and fruits were particularly concentrated on the lowland plains.23 It appears that, at the time of the survey, peasant holdings constituted approximately 95 percent of all arable lands (3,914.5 çift[lik]s) in the kazâ of Amasya24 (see Figure 5). One significant point immediately observable from the data and its analysis is the correlation between the size of the available arable land and the concentration of the peasant population in rural Amasya. Leaving aside the three villages in the immediate vicinity of the city of Amasya, which had the lowest rate of cultivated land and a high density of population, the villages of the nâhiyes of Gelikiras and Aştagul had the highest average number of taxpayers (82 and 174.5 nefers per settlement respectively), as well as having the highest average rate of arable land per settlement (15.58 and 13.81 çift[lik]s). On the other hand, the villages of the nâhiyes of Akdağ, Yavaş-ili, and Bergoma in the more mountainous northeastern parts of the kazâ had the lowest rates of population and cultivated arable land (see Table 2 below). Another notable observation is that the average size of peasant holdings in the nâhiye of Gelikiras was relatively high; that is, the peasants of Gelikiras

22 For a similar crop pattern in the neighboring areas of the province of Rûm during the same period, see İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants,” p. 111. 23 These observations are based on a count of taxes derived from agricultural produce for each village, simply to show the geographical scale of different crops, without attempting to calculate the amount of agricultural yield through the amount of taxes, which is beyond the scope of this study. 24 This conclusion has been reached by counting all individual entries in the defter of “çift,” “nîm,” “[ekinlü] bennak,” and “öküzlük” lands, including zemin-lands if the size was specified in these terms, and converting them into “çifts.” On the other hand, these figures do not include 744 “kilelik,” 162 “müdlük,” 9 “kıtʿa” and 5 “zevle” of cultivated land plots in this total. For these terms, all were used as measures for the pieces of lands, which probably did not correspond to the main units (“çift,” “nîm,” and “[ekinlü] bennak”) applied, and were also taken as bases for customary dues for raiyyet tenures (raiʿyyet rüsûmu), in the defters, see Halil İnalcık, “Introduction to Ottoman Metrology,” Turcica, XV (1983), pp. 311–348; Cook, Population Pressure, pp. 67–68; Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 42–47. It must also be noted here that out of the total 88, only 30 mezraas, for which the sizes of cultivable, or cultivated, lands were given in the defter, were included in this total; the rest, 58 mezraas, were left out because of the absence of any record of the size of their cultivable/cultivated land. Thus, the figure given here should not be taken as absolute. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 51

Table 2 Correlation between arable land and households in 1576*

average arable land households arable land (“çiftlik”) per (“hâne”) per (“çiftlik”) per Nâhiye settlement settlement household

Akdağ 5.20 28.18 0.18 Argoma 10.88 36.16 0.30 Aştagul 13.81 89.88 0.15 Bergoma 8.14 38.60 0.21 Geldigelenâbâd 11.27 37.34 0.30 Gelikiras 15.58 42.34 0.36 Yavaş-ili 5.59 25.12 0.22 Amasya (nefs) 1.00 62.04 0.01 Total 8.93 (10.06) 44.95 (42.51) 0.21 (0.24)

* Note that the lands recorded in the register as “kilelik,” “müdlük,” “kıtʿa” and “zevle” have not been taken into consideration (see note 38). The numbers in brackets show the totals of the region without the city of “Amasya (nefs).”

were far better off than those in the other parts of the kazâ of Amasya in terms of the size of the plot cultivated. In this regard, the peasants of the nâhiyes of Bergoma and Yavaş-ili were the poorest, whereas the holdings of the peasants of Gelikiras, Geldigelen, and Argoma, containing the most fertile lands in the plains, were larger (the topographical features of the region are given in Figures 7a and 7b in Chapter Four). The holdings of the peasants of the nâhiye of Aştagul, on the other hand, were much smaller than the latter three. Thus, it becomes clear that a high density of population, especially in geographically smaller areas such as Aştagul, resulted in smaller-sized peasant holdings. The size of the holding alone, however, is not sufficient to create a real picture of the peasantry without considering the position of the landless peasant households, excluding the unmarried males, who presumably lived with their parents and worked the same plots of land. A closer examination reveals the significant fact that in every nâhiye of Amasya, the number of landless peasants recorded as “caba” in the defter was higher than the total of the other landholding peasants.25 We know that many cabas actually tilled a great portion

25 9,055 cabas (58.19%) out of a total of 15,561 peasant households (hânes). 52 chapter 3 of the zemin-lands. Here, it is possible to observe a direct correlation in the registers between the rapid rise of records of the caba and the zemin holdings during the sixteenth century. A comparison of such records in the consecutive registers from the 1520s to 1576 of the neighboring districts of Canik and Tokat clearly confirms such a correlation.26 Even assuming that all the lands recorded separately as “zemin” in the defter were cultivated by those specified as landless in the section of tax-paying inhabitants under the resm-i çift system of each settlement,27 in the whole kazâ, of a total of 15,561 peasant households, 6,980 (44.85%) still had no land at all to cultivate in their own right.28 However, as also noted above, some of these landless peasants shared or cultivated the land belonging to their fathers, brothers, and even close relatives.29 Although not each of these individual entries has been counted for the present study, the number of such cases appears not to have been so high; it, therefore, does not change the overall situation significantly. Therefore, it would not be wrong to assume that, even if they were taken into account, the overall number of households with no land (still around 40 percent of the total) was still quite high in the region.30 In the nâhiyes of Aştagul, Bergoma, and Yavaş-ili, landless

26 The case of Canik has already been noted above. For the district of Tokat, see Ali Açıkel, “Changes in Settlement Patterns, Population and Society in North Central Anatolia: A Case Study of the District (Kaza) of Tokat (1574–1643)” (Unpublished PhD Dissertation, The University of Manchester, 1999), pp. 110–111. 27 This is in fact the most optimistic assumption. Zemin entries in the defter have not been systematically examined for this study, nor have the names of those peasants tilling these zemin lands been analysed in detail. However, many of these peasants also appear in the “resm-i çift” section of the register. A cursory examination of these names further reveals that the great majority of the zemin lands were in fact tilled by “landless” peasants. Observing the same situation in the Tokat region in 1554, Cook gives a precise percentage of the number under zemin entries as 69% (Cook, Population Pressure, p. 38, note 2). For a similar impression for the neighboring district of Canik, see Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 50–51. 28 As mentioned in Note 25 above, 9,055 peasant households (hânes) were recorded in the defter as “caba” (i.e., landless). The amount of “zemin” entries, on the other hand, was 2,075. Assuming these zemins were cultivated only by some of these “cabas” and that each zemin was tilled by one caba (= 2,075 cabas; i.e., now not landless in effect), we come to the total of (9,055 cabas–2,075 zemin-holding cabas =) 6,980 real landless peasant households. 29 For numerous examples of such records in the 1574–76 registers of the province of Rûm indicating this situation, see Cook, Population Pressure, p. 25, Note 2; Mehmet Öz, “Tahrir Defterlerinin Osmanlı Tarihi Araştırmalarında Kullanılması Hakkında Bazı Düşünceler,” Vakıflar Dergisi, XXII (1990), pp. 433, 436. 30 The surveyor of the 1576 register, Ömer Beğ, indeed spoke of the outnumbered landless peasants in the province of Rûm in his letter to the palace during the survey (see Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 66, citing from MD19, p. 238). Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 53 peasants constituted more than 50 percent of the total households, while the situation was better in other nâhiyes, especially in Argoma, which consisted almost solely of open plain land and where the number of the landless was less than 40 percent.31 There was another type of plot constituting some 6 percent of the total arable land in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576: these were recorded in the defter as “mevkûf [zeminhâ],” or non-allocated lands in the state reserve.32 Despite this status, most of the plots in this category were not left uncultivated; as with zemin land, they were also tilled by individual peasants (again, many of whom were “caba”s) or collectively by all the inhabitants of the village in which the land was located;33 only a few of the “mevkûf [zeminhâ]” appear to have been uncultivated.34 On the other hand, we also find land newly opened to cultivation by the clearance of woodlands.35 Briefly, it can be said that in 1576, between 30 and 50 percent of the peasant households in the Amasya region under study possessed no land at all; yet many of those recorded as “caba” (landless) in the defter in fact cultivated the zemin- lands, which were not allocated as ordinary raiyyet tenure within the resm-i çift system, but were subject to the payment of dues for the tenure, either by way of resm-i çift or resm-i dönüm or zemin.36 Similarly, other peasants shared or

31 Compare this with the situation in the district of Canik. See Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 49–52, esp. Table III/a–d. 32 We see most of this land in the nâhiyes of Geldigelen and Argoma (304 and 86 respectively, out of a total of 454 entries). The total size of the lands in this category amounts to the equivalent of 253.5 çift[lik]s (6.10% of total arable land) (see Figure 5). 33 The following record is indicative of this situation (from the village of Hacı Bayramlu in the nâhiye of Argoma): “Mevkûf: Behşayiş (nîm), Mehmed (nîm), Musâ (nîm). Hâliyâ zikrolan öküzlükleri ahâli-i karye tasarruf idüb resmin ve behresin virürler” (TK26: 37a). The names given here refer probably to the previous owners of these “mevkûf ” lands. Therefore, these plots were known and recorded under these names, while the lands were in fact tilled by all the inhabitants of the village at the time of the survey. 34 These mevkûf-lands were usually recorded as “mevkûf-ı kadim” (mevkûf from ancient times) with no names. For an example, see TK26: 29a (village of Kayaluşar or Saruşar). 35 We find this sort of land only in nine settlements, five of which belonged to the nâhiyes of Akdağ, Bergoma, and Yavaş-ili, where land was more mountainous and less fertile, and therefore less suitable for cultivation. The records in the defter usually read as follows: “mezkûr karyenin hudûdunda gûhîden fetholunan yerler . . .” or “mezkûr karyenin hudûdu dâhilinde reʿâyâsı ve hâric reʿâyâ gûhîden açdukları yerler . . .” For examples, see TK26: 55b, 84a, 127a, 155a, 161b, 175a, 176b, 177a, 178a. 36 Though these lands were recorded separately in the defter, it is understood that, in the final count, they were included in the total of resm-i çift, caba, and bennak if the sizes of their plots were equal to these categories. Many of those which did not fit into these 54 chapter 3

reʿaya çiftliks “zemin” lands “mevkuf [zeminha]” hassa/malikane çiftliks

Figure 5 Total arable land in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576 (as “çiftlik”). Note that few individual çiftliks, which were recorded separately with the names of their holders, have been included in the category of “hassâ/mâlikâne çiftliks”, though there is no indication clearly showing that they were mâlikâne-çiftliks.

worked on the lands of their closest relatives. However, peasants who did hold land usually had less than a full farmstead (çift).37 Despite the relatively higher population density in the villages of the nâhiyes of Gelikiras, Geldigelen, and Argoma, we find the lowest rate of landless peasant households in these lowlands. In the nâhiye of Aştagul, where the most populous villages lay in a small area between two relatively high parallel mountain ranges, through which ran the river Çekerek (see Figures 7a and 7b), more than 50 percent of the peasant households were landless. This is extremely revealing, since it was these same villages that would have faced the heaviest depopulation by 1643. In Chapter Five, this clear trend of increasing landlessness to its limits as observed in the Amasya countryside during the sixteenth century is discussed in greater detail, together with its particular social and political implications. The available sources are not sufficient to undertake similar observations concerning the peasants’ relationship with the land and the correlation

categories were recorded as “kilelik,” “müdlük,” “kıtʿa,” and “zevle;” in this case, cultivators of these plots were subject to pay “resm-i dönüm.” Compare Öz, Canik Sancağı, p. 84. 37 It must be noted here that, compared to many other areas in Anatolia, the land was fertile and much more expensive in this region (See TK14: 6). Therefore, the relatively small size of the lands held by the peasants alone must not be taken to mean that these landholding peasants were poor. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 55 between population density and the extent of arable land in rural Amasya for the dates before 1576; we simply possess no data to make such a comparison to observe the changes or trends over time, other than the clear indication of a remarkable growth in population during the sixteenth century. We are, however, able to go as far back as c. 1480 to make some comments, at least quantitatively, about the differentiation among the peasantry in terms of their religious, socio-economic, and military status, which were clearly given in the defters. Religious differences among the peasantry revealed itself, again, on the basis of taxation, since Muslim and non-Muslim peasants were recorded in the defter separately. Following these records, the location of the villages with non-Muslim population can be identified. Although the summary register of c. 1480 does not give the number of taxpayers in the villages, we can find the total numbers of non-Muslim taxpayers for each settlement in the section of revenues deriving from the cizye (head-tax for non-Muslim subjects).38 According to these figures, around 1480, in the area under examination, there were 688 non-Muslim tax-paying peasants (adult males, nefer) living in 14 villages, each paying 25 akçes of cizye.39 Around 1520, the summary register specifies only 308 non-Muslim taxpayers (2.28% of the total 13,454 tax-paying peasants) in only six of the previous villages. This might be misleading, since we also see that one of the most populous non-Muslim villages (Hakala) of c. 1480 was recorded together with the newly created adjacent village of Değirmenderesi with a combined total of 183 taxpayers; in these two villages, however, we find no religious specification. It is highly likely that some of these were non-Mus- lim, since in 1576, 139 non-Muslims were to be recorded in Değirmenderesi while Hakala was inhabited only by Muslims.40 Similarly, some peasants of the other seven villages, which previously had a non-Muslim population, might still have had some of these non-Muslims, but somehow they were not specified in the defter. Therefore, for this date, the total figure given above might not fully represent the reality. In 1576, we find 922 non-Muslim taxpayers (3.22% of the kaza total) in eight villages, seven of which previously had a non-Muslim

38 For this tax, see Boris Christoff Nedkoff, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğuʾnda Cizye,” Belleten, VII/32 (1944), pp. 599–652; Halil İnalcık, “Djizya,” EI², II (1963), pp. 563–566. 39 TT15: 21. 40 This reveals an interesting shift in the composition of a former village with mixed population: it is understood that the latter (Değirmenderesi) was specifically created either by or for the non-Muslims of the village of Hakala, and these moved or were moved to this new village, while the original village (Hakala) became entirely Muslim, with its 147 taxpayers living in five quarters or mahalles (TK26: 74b–75b). With its five mahalles in which there was no land-holding individual (= peasant?), Hakala rather seems to have been a small-sized “town,” as an administrative centre with a market. 56 chapter 3 population in c. 1480, except for Değirmenderesi village, which first appeared in the 1520 register.41 The second criterion used in the defters to distinguish among the peasantry seems to have been their way of life and socio-economic activities. As mentioned at the beginning of this section, in 1576, 4 percent of the total peasant population (1,144 nefers) was designated as “etrâkiye.” We also see them in the c. 1520c. 1520 register, constituting 3.79 percent of the peasant population (511 nefers). The term “etrâkiye” here clearly refers to villagers of nomad origin,42 and some of them were recorded under their nomadic names.43 Though they were settled, forming separate villages and engaging in modest agriculture, it is understood from the fact that their sheep-tax was remarkably high compared to the ordinary peasants in the same village44 that stock-raising was still their basic economic activity.

41 “Ve livâ-i mezbûre keferesi rüsûm-ı örfiye-i müteʿârife virmekde reʿâyâsı gibidir, sâyir vilâyetler gibi ispençe virmezler,” from the 1520 kânûnnâme of the province of Rûm (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 155). Non-Muslim peasants of the province of Rûm used to pay the same taxes for raiyyet tenure as the Muslims did; however, by 1569, they had become liable to pay the ispençe, which had been applied in other provinces for some time. The ispençe was the land tax paid only by non-Muslims, at a regular rate of 25 akçes per taxpayer (nefer), regardless of whether they were married or not, and whether they occupied land or not: “hâliyâ . . . kefereye hazret-i hüdâvendigâr ademallâhü ömri’l yevmi’l karar emrîle ispençe vʿaz olunmuşdur. Müzevvecden ve mücerredden, topraklısından ve topraksızından her neferden yirmibeş akçe ispençe alınur,” from the kânûnnâme of 1574 (TK14: 3a). See also Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 155, Note 68. For ispençe see İnalcık, “Raiyyet Rüsûmu,” pp. 575–610. 42 This is clear from an imperial decree sent to the surveyor of the region, Ömer Beğ, dating from 980/1573, referring to those etrâk settled in villages (“köylerde oturak olan etrâkden . . .”) (Ömer L. Barkan, “Türkiyeʾde İmparatorluk Devirlerinin Büyük Nüfus ve Arazi Tahrirleri ve Hakana Mahsus İstatistik Defterleri,” İstanbul Üniversitesi İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası, II/2 (1940), p. 232). Hanna Sohrweide points out that the word “Etrâk” in the narrative sources of the fifteenth century was used, or interpreted, as “Turkoman,” and, in the time of Bâyezid II (r. 1481–1512), the “Etrâk” in the province of Rûm belonged, for the most part, to the kızılbaş (Sohrweide, “Der Sieg de Safaviden in Persien,” pp. 135, 147). 43 “Etrâkiye-i Turahacılu” (TT387: 382; TK26: 31b), “etrâkiye-i Targullu” (TK26: 158a), “etrâkiye-i Keçilü” (TK26: 138b). 44 To give but one example, in 1576, in the village of Akviran (of Argoma) and its two dependent mezraas, there were 216 etrâkiye (etrâk-ı Turahacılu) recorded in the register, who paid an average of 2.97 akçes of sheep-tax per nefer, while the amount for their 34-nefer ordinary peasant neighbors living in the same village was 0.64 akçes. See TK26: 31b. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 57

For both dates, the etrâkiye lived in 16 rural settlements, two of which were mezraas and all of which were in the nâhiyes of Argoma and Geldigelen. Their concentration in these two nâhiyes clearly indicates a process of partial sedentarization of the nomads, which must have begun well before 1520 in the lowlands of the plains of these two nâhiyes; this is in conformity with the general trend of the nomadic Turkomans gradually adopting a sedentary life, which we can also observe elsewhere in Anatolia during the sixteenth century.45 Almost all such villages formed by the nomadic elements in Argoma were situated on the northern borders of the nâhiye, near the highest mountains of the region: Akdağ in the east, Taşandağı in the north, and on the slopes or the high plateaus surrounded by these mountains.46 The same was the case for the etrâkiye villages of Geldigelen, which are identified on modern maps of the region.47 Let us note in passing that, if Sohrweide’s remark referred to above48 is to be believed, the number of former nomads, who were among the main participants of the kızılbaş movements in the region before 1520, might have been slightly higher than the figure given in the registers.49

45 For similar developments elsewhere in Anatolia, see Tufan Gündüz, “XVI. Yüzyılda Kayseri’de Mezraaların Köye dönüşmesinde Konar-Göçer Aşiretlerin Rolü,” in Tufan Gündüz, Bozkırın Efendileri. Türkmenler Üzerine Makaleler (İstanbul: Yeditepe Yay., 2009), pp. 135–150. For a larger comparison, see Salzmann, When Nomads Settle. Compare Onur Usta and Oktay Özel, “Sedentarization of Turcomans in 16th Century Cappodocia: Kayseri, 1480–1584”, in Evangelia Balta and Mehmet Ölmez (eds.), Between Religion and Language. Turkish-Speaking Christians, Jews and Greek-Speaking Muslims and Catholics in the Ottoman Empire (İstanbul: Eren, 2011), pp. 153–184. 46 Among these were the villages of Akviran, Adadipe, Hacı Bayramlu, Mirdehor, and Karacaviran and the mezraas of Abdülcabbar and Çakırlu, dependent of Akviran. 47 These are the villages of Boltu, Çavuş, Kürtler, Göricek, and Saraycık. 48 See Note 42 above. 49 Here, we refer to the wide-scale kızılbaş executions in this part of Anatolia after their revolts in the early years of the sixteenth century. However, if such crucial incidents were to cause a considerable dispersal of the population, at least in kızılbaş areas (see Cook, Population Pressure, p. 34, Note 2), one would have thought that we should have found some records in the registers; but no such record has been found to date, even in the “partially” existing detailed registers of the neighboring regions belonging to the years just after the suppression of the kızılbaş movement, referring to such “dispersal” of the kızılbaş population of villages (for example, see Öz, Canik Sancağı; Ahmet Şimşirgil, “Osmanlı Taşra Teşkilatında Tokat (1455–1576)”) (Unpublished Ph.D. diss., Marmara Üniversitesi, İstanbul, 1990), though we do come across, however rarely, some records in the defters which refer to the remnants of the Kızılbaş movement (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 88). For separate lists of Kızılbaş individuals prepared by inspectors and local authorities for inspection and execution in the early sixteenth century, see Rıza Yıldırım, “Turkomans 58 chapter 3

Another sub-category of the peasantry that the registers present was the “müsellems,” the former cavalry and subsequently the auxiliary peasant soldiers.50 In the earliest extant register of the region from around 1480, we find 14 “müsellemân” (plus their şürekâ or sharecroppers, whose number was not given) cultivating 19 çiftliks of land in nine villages.51 It seems that in the late fifteenth century they were still performing some military duties, such as taking part in campaigns, and were probably enjoying tax exemption.52 As understood from the relevant law codes of 1520, the status of the müsellems had been reduced to ordinary reâyâ and they had already been made liable to paying taxes collected by the state treasury.53 However, around 1520, as demanded by the governor-general of the province of Rûm-ili (Rûm?), Şadi Pasha, only those who had been recorded in the defter drawn up by a certain Tâceddin (probably the registrar of the 1485 tahrir) and their sons were ordered to attend the campaigns, in accordance with the previous decision (ber karar-ı sâbık).54 Those who were recorded in the 1520s and 1576 registers under the revenue of “el-müsellemiye” were either those who retained their positions as soldiers during the campaigns according to the 1520 kânûnnâme or those who remained as ordinary reâyâ after 1520. It is certain that the register of 1576 gives this category not as a group of people but a sum of revenue deriving from certain çiftliks; they also provide the total number (in 1520) or the names (in 1576) of the people currently cultivating these çiftliks, without specifying their

Between Two Empires. The Origins of the Qizilbash Identity in Anatolia (1447–1514)” (Unpublished PhD diss., Bilkent University, 2008). 50 For the müsellems and their organization and roles in the Ottoman Empire, see Akdağ, İktisadî ve İçtimâi Tarih, II, pp. 105–106; Zeki Arıkan, XV–XVI. Yüzyıllarda Hamit Sancağı (İzmir: Ege Üniversitesi Yayınları, 1988); Özel, “Kırsal Organizasyon,” pp. 131–36. 51 Three of these çiftliks together with a mill were vacant (mevkûf ) at the time of the survey. See TT15: 257–59. 52 TT15 does not record any revenue extracted from them. Compare Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, pp. 81–82; Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 55–56. 53 “Ve müsellemlerin müsellemliği (. . .) refʿ olunub sâyir reʿâyâ gibi dutageldükleri yerler ile hassâ-i hüdâvendigâr olmuşlardır. Hâliya cümle vilâyet-i Rûmʾun kadim olan müsellemleri bundan evvel müsellemlerin kesret-i hizmetinden âcizleri olduğu sebebden cümle-i mahsûlleri hassâ-i hüdâvendigâra zaptolunmak emr olunmış idi” (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 163). 54 “Hâliya Rum-ili beylerbeyisi Şâdi Paşa⁠ʾdan mektub gelüb hidmetlerine iltizam eylediklerin ve müsellemler lâzım olduğun arz eylemeğin ber mûceb-i emr-i hümâyûn defter-i Tâceddin’de südûr olanlar ve evlâdları ber karar-ı sâbık atları ve yarar yarakları ile sefer-i hümâyûn vâkiʿ oldukda sefere eşerler” (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 163). Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 59 status.55 That is, those (the descendants of “former” müsellems?) tilling the former müsellem-çiftliks were made liable for the taxes paid by ordinary peasants from 1520 onwards.56 Whatever the case may be, the overall number of the peasants cultivating “former” müsellem-çiftliks in the Amasya area (at least in c. 1520 and 1576) never reached even 1 percent of the total tax-paying peasants in the sixteenth century. Between 1455 and 1576, these peasants constituted 9 to 10 and 10 to 24 percent of the total registered population in the neighboring districts of Canik and Ordu respectively.57 Finally, the inhabitants of some villages appear to have enjoyed partial tax exemption or reduction of some taxes. Records from the 1520 and 1576 registers clearly indicate that, in some cases, these “privileges” predated the sixteenth century (kadimden viregeldikleri üzere). For example, the inhabitants of the villages of Gelikiras and the Kulı from the nâhiye of Argoma enjoyed a significant reduction in their customary dues for their raiyyet tenure.58 No reason(s) for

55 Around 1520 (TT387), we find müsellem-çiftliks in seven of the nine villages which previously had müsellem-çiftliks in c. 1480, and the numbers of individuals holding these çiftliks (14 nefers) were given in only three of them. This time, we also see müsellem- çiftliks in two more settlements, one village (Avşar of Argoma), and one mezraa (Çayır, dependent of Kayaluşar/Saruşar? of Argoma). In 1576 (TK26), there were “el-müsellemiye” records in ten villages, all the same villages as in c. 1480 and 1520. The number of çiftliks recorded under the heading of “el-müsellemiye”, however, fell to 13.5, while the number of the persons cultivating these lands amounted to 46, seventeen of whom were bachelors (mücerreds). Also, among them, nine households held no land. 56 For example, a record from 1576 (from the village of Nûştekin (?) in Argoma): “zemin-i Ahmed veled-i Seydi. Hâliyâ tasarruf-ı Yahya ve Bekir (?) veledân-ı Ahmed, resmin ve behresin virürler. Çift” (TK26: 38a). One still wonders why the çiftliks of former müsellems were still recorded separately in the defter even after they became ordinary peasants. Does this mean that the Ottoman government still needed them for certain auxiliary duties (Özel, “Kırsal Organizasyon,” p. 136), despite abandoning their tax exemption? Or can it be taken as a sign of the “conservative” nature of Ottoman bureaucratic practice in record-keeping more than anything else? Another interesting point is that their revenues were no longer collected by the state treasury as stated in the 1520 kânûnnâme, and we see no mention of them in the kânûnnâme of 1574. 57 See Öz, Canik Sancağı, pp. 51, 55–56; Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 80. For the abolishment of the yaya-müsellem institution, see Fikret Yılmaz, “Edremit Yayaları ve Yaya Teşkilâtının Kaldırılması Hakkında Bilgiler,” Osmanlı Araştırmaları/Journal of Ottoman Studies, 19 (1999), pp. 149–180. 58 They paid a resm-i çift of 12 akçes, nîm 6 akçes, bennâk and caba 3 akçes (TT387: 378; TK26: 37a), while the normal rates for these taxes were 57, 28, 5, 18, and 13 akçes respectively in 1520 and 1576 (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 150; TK14: 3a). 60 chapter 3 this reduction is/are stated in the defters, but, for the latter, it might be the fact that they were producing hemp or rice59 while the former were those peasants whose revenue taxes were allocated to the waqf of Medina.60 We also see the peasants of some villages being exempt from the extraordinary taxes (avârız-ı dîvânîye and tekâlif-i örfiye) in return for providing extra services, such as the guardianship of mountain passes;61 maintenance and repair of bridges and roads;62 looking after orchards, vineyards, and gardens belonging to members of the royal household;63 or working in the silver mines of the Gümüş area in the northeastern corner of the nâhiye of Argoma.64

59 “Karye-i mezkûrenin reʿâyâsı çiftden çifte onikişer akçe ve bennâkden üçer akçe virüb ve beğlikden beş müd tohum virüb ziraʿat iderler imiş (. . .) kendür ve çeltik dahi ekerler imiş” (TT387: 378). It is known that peasants cultivating rice were partially exempt from taxation or paid some taxes at a reduced rate in the Ottoman Empire, especially from the second half of the fifteenth century onwards (Halil İnalcık, “The Heyday and Decline of the Ottoman Empire,” in P. M. Holt, A. K. Lambton and B. Lewis (eds.), The Cambridge History of Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 324–353). 60 Similarly, the inhabitants of the village of Boğaköy of Geldigelen, whose revenue taxes accrued to the waqf of the Sultan Bâyezid soup kitchen (imâret) and medrese in Amasya, were also exempt from these taxes, without any specific reason being mentioned (TT387: 358; TK26: 108a). 61 TK26: 123a. 62 TK26: 17b; 18a; 81b. 63 The inhabitants of the villages of Ziyere and Dragobed near the city of Amasya took care of the gardens and vineyards of late Prince Ahmed (son of Bâyezid II) around the city in return for exemption from avârız-ı dîvânî (TK26: 17b, 18a). 64 The inhabitants of the villages of Bağluca, Avşar, Hacı, and Monados of Argoma were exempt from avârız taxes (“Gümüş maʿdenine hidmet itdikleri mukâbelesinde ʿavârızdan emin olmalarına . . .”) (TK26: 25b, 33a, 52a, 69b). It is interesting to note that the number of “caba” (landless) in these villages was higher than the average of the nâhiye. Among these, the village of Hacı especially was one of the most populous in the nâhiye (320 nefers) in 1576 and only 25 households held lands (or 49 if we include those holding 24 “zemin”-lands), while 108 were landless. The village also had a very high number of bachelors (mücerreds): 187 (58.43%) (TK26: 25b–26b). It seems that these landless and young inhabitants of the village provided a suitable labor resource for the silver mines. Despite heavy losses of population in the first half of the seventeenth century (only 19 nefers in 1643), this village recovered its losses later, probably in the 18th or 19th centuries, and, developing into a town, became the center of the present-day ilçe of Gümüşhacıköy. For a similar case, compare Fatma Acun, “Osmanlı Döneminde Anadolu Şehirlerinin Gelişmesinde Devletin Rolü: Karahisar Örneği,” in Ali Çelik (ed.) Şebinkarahisar I. Tarih ve Kültür Sempozyumu (30 Haziran–1 Temmuz 2000) (İstanbul: Şebinkarahisar Belediyesi Yay., 2000). Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 61

As for the small number of nomads that appear in the registers, these are generally designated as “cemaat” in the 1520s and 1576, and are not seen in the summary register of c. 1480. Given the different nature or purpose of this register, this does not necessarily mean that there were no nomadic elements in the region around this time.65 In around 1520, however, there are three cemaats recorded in the defter, amounting to 134 nefers.66 Without giving their specific locations, two are recorded in Geldigelen, and the other in Akdağ. In the former they are entered under the general title “etrâkiye” without any specification as to which tribe they belonged to, although they are registered under the name “Keranpa.” According to a twentieth-century map of the region, there is a village settlement of the same name on the southern border of the nâhiye of Geldigelen (see the map drawn and provided at the back of the book); however, the name Keranpa may, in fact, at that time have been the name of their tribe. In 1576, we see six cemaats, again in the same nâhiyes, with a total population of 228 nefers, 116 of whom were bachelors. But this time, no one was recorded in the defter from the two previous cemaats, one of which was noted as “empty” or hâlî.67 Yet in 1576 we find two “cemaat-i Yörükân,” which had appeared in the previous registers: one had 92 nefers, while the other was not in residence during the survey and, therefore, was also recorded as “hâlî.”68 Furthermore, the village of Gökçeli (in Geldigelen), which was not seen in the previous registers, appears in 1576, temporarily inhabited by a group of nomads from the cemaat of Dulkadırlu.69 This group (56 nefers) seems to have engaged in small-scale

65 On the other hand, for the subsequent registers of 1520 and 1576, one should not forget the possibility that some nomads might have escaped registration or, as Faroqhi stressed, they were sometimes registered in separate defters which may not have been preserved (Faroqhi, “Rural Society, II,” p. 110). But, since the latter was the case only for areas where nomads constituted a large proportion of the population, it might be thought that this was not the case for the region under study, where the land was more suitable to agriculture than grazing, and was in fact densely settled by peasants. 66 Two cemaats, both given as “cemaʿat-ı Etrâkiye-i Keranpa” (22 and 14 nefers), in Geldigelen; and the “cemaʿat-ı Uzanan” (98 nefers, 47 of whom were bachelors or mücerreds) in Akdağ (TT387: 361, 364). 67 “Cemaʿat-ı Keranpa’dan” (“hâlî”), and “Cemaʿat-ı Uzanan” (no population) (TK26: 154a, 92a). 68 “Cemaʿat-ı Yörükân,” just outside the village of İbemi of Akdağ, (“mezkûr cemaʿat İbemi nâm karye hududunda mütemekkin olub mezbur karye yerinde birer mikdar yer ziraat idüb behresin mezbûr [illegible, “sipâhiye?”] virürler,” TK26: 91a), and “cemaʿat-ı Yörükân-ı Keranpa,” again in Geldigelen (“tahrirde bulunmadıkları ecilden hâlî olduğu tafsil olundı” (TK26: 134b). 69 “Karye-i Gökçeli, hâric ez defter. Dulkadırlu cemaʿatlerinden gelüb şenledüb ziraʿat iderler imiş, nâm-ı diğer Mengücek” / note: “karye-i Gökçeli’de mukayyed olan cemaʿat-ı Koyuncılu’nun . . .” (TK26: 105b). 62 chapter 3 agriculture in the village, which in fact might originally have been their winter pasture, while they maintained their primary economic activity of sheep- raising.70 In this respect, it seems that their situation was similar to that of the etrâkiye mentioned above. The registers do not give further details regarding the way of life and status of the etrâkiye; we have only indirect evidence at hand from which to comment on the matter. From the taxes they paid,71 it can be inferred that the cemaats recorded with their population within a given nâhiye were using some lands as winter pasture or kışlak for their sheep. We also know that, when they wintered their herds in lands belonging to timar holders, they were considered to be “hâriç reâyâ.”72

Notables (mâlikâne Holders)

As already emphasized in the previous chapter, the kazâ of Amasya was an area where we see a large number of families holding the mâlikâne portion of local tax revenue paid by the peasantry, the mâlikâne being the tithe or a proportion of the tithe that the ruler, the sultan, granted or sold to an individual for an indefinite period with the right to sell, leave to heirs, or convert into a pious endowment.73 In some cases, however, mâlikâne-holding individuals or families collectively also held the dîvânî or the state share of the same tax

70 Compare Faroqhi, “Rural Society, II,” p. 115. The lands of this village, which were probably not so large, seem not to have been registered to the name of any individual from the cemaat; all households were recorded as “caba.” In fact, no record was given as to the size of the land, and a lump sum (1,000 akçes) was recorded as the revenue-tax (hâsıl) of this village. This can be taken as another indicator of the temporary nature of their engagement in agriculture in this village. 71 For example, they paid resm-i dûd 3 akçes per household (TK26: 148a). This was a tax paid by the nomads for their winter pastures (Özel, “Hâriç Raiyyet,” p. 167). Those with sheep paid resm-i ganem, while those without sheep paid resm-i kara (“resm-i kara, koyunu olmayanlardan hâne bahâ beher hâne fî 13,” TK26: 148a). We also see some references in TK26 regarding certain people or cemaats who wintered their animals in the same mezraas and zemins. For example, the mezraa of İğdecik, dependent on the village of Cagan(?) (“zikrolan mezraʿaya hâricden baʿzı kimesneler gelüb kışlayub, kışlayan kimesneler sipâhisine birer tavar virürler,” TK26: 118b); and a zemin-land from the village of Çayköy (in Geldigelen) (“zemin, ʿan mevkûf. Hâliya der tasarruf-ı cemaʿat-i Dânişmendlü, ʿan kışlak-ı Sanlık” (TK26: 117b). 72 Özel, “Hâriç Raiyyet,” pp. 167–68. 73 Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” p. 300. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 63 revenue; the latter was usually granted to a timariot or high-ranking provincial official as timar and zeâmet within the timar system.74 Each one of these mâlikâne holders usually possessed the revenues of a number of villages within a certain locality. This dual taxation mechanism was applied by the Ottomans in the provinces of central and eastern Anatolia75 and, as referred to earlier, has come to be known as the mâlikâne-dîvânî system. As observed within the Ottoman context, the mâlikâne holder(s) owned not the land itself but the taxes and dues paid by the peasants. That is, they were not land owners constituting a “landed aristocracy” proper in the Ottoman practice; the tithe or öşr that was paid partially or in full by the peasants was simply granted to them, or they purchased it from the state treasury. Under the Ottomans, they appear to have been simply local revenue holders acting in the capacity of a kind of tax collector. However, this provides us with only part of the picture of the reality as to who these people really were, as well as how and why they were entitled to such a right over the taxation of the peasants in their localities. The Ottoman tahrir registers from the mid-fifteenth century onwards are testimony to this historical legacy, which brought such notables to the fore as an integral part of rural society. Furthermore, the earliest extant registers in particular also offer us suitable ground for an interpretation that, until the late fifteenth century, the pre-Ottoman local aristocracy not only successfully inte- grated themselves into the Ottoman administration during the early stages of the formation of the state, but they also entered into a compromise with the Ottoman ruling dynasty in fiscal terms. The following pages will demonstrate how this compromise continued via the financial mechanism of the mâlikâne- divânî institution, despite a serious challenge that came as a radical attempt by the Ottoman central administration under Mehmed II to put an end to this reconciliatory power-sharing system as the Ottoman polity developed towards a centralized empire.76

74 This is specified in the registers by the term “iki başdan.” See Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” pp. 246–47, 274–76. 75 Among the provinces where this system was applied by the Ottomans were the provinces of Karaman, Rûm, Zülkadriye, Bozok, Kayseri, Kastamonu, Ankara, and Diyarbekir (Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” pp. 241–42). 76 Compare this with similar processes in the Balkans, where the earlier Ottoman rule basically relied, until the fifteenth century, on the notion of what Heath Lowry calls “predatory confederacy,” a practice largely maintained by the organic unity of the mutual interests of the leading pre-Ottoman families, which acted under the Ottoman military-political enterprise simply as the hereditary commanders of the armies of march warriors (akıncı), with a large margin of autonomy. See Heath Lowry, The Nature 64 chapter 3

It is not an easy task to identify the vast majority of the mâlikâne holders of the province of Rûm in general, including the kazâ of Amasya. Most of the family names or the descendants of these families recorded in the registers (from c. 1480 on) are simply not found in the other sources available. Only a few of the mâlikâne holders can be identified through the waqf records in the registers, including, for example, Elvan Çelebi,77 as well as Bülbül Hâtun, the mother of Sultan Ahmed, who was the son of Bâyezid II.78 For this reason, identification of even the mâlikâne-holding individuals and families which constituted the category of those who were appointed to the region as provincial officials and administrators by the Seljukids and Ottomans will not be attempted here. Despite the fact that Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin mentions hundreds of names in his multi-volume Amasya Tarihi,79 checking all these names not only would be a sizeable undertaking, it could also easily lead us to dubious conclusions that could not be substantiated given the limited nature of the sources from both pre-Ottoman times and the early centuries of Ottoman rule in the region. Furthermore, it is unnecessary to investigate all these names in the present study; for the curious reader, however, the lists of these mâlikâne-holding families are provided in Appendix II. From the point of view of these local notables, the c. 1480 register (TT15) proves to be of particular importance. The years around 1480 present an extraordinary period of time and encompass an exceptional situation. This was the period of the radical attempt at fiscal reform, which is commonly referred to as “land reform” in Ottoman historiography.80 It seems to have been

of the Early Ottoman State (Albany: SUNY Press, 2003). For a discussion of the nature and characteristics of the stages of state formation and the centralization of the Ottoman polity, see Rifaʿat ʿAli Abou-El-Haj, Formation of the Modern State and Barkey, Empire of Difference. 77 See Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, I, p. 321; el-Amâsî, Amasya Târihi, pp. 26–28. 78 According to Hüsâmeddin (Amasya Tarihi, I, p. 108), she had a mosque and an imâret built in the city of Amasya in the mahalle with her name, and made [the mâlikâne revenue granted to her] waqf to these buildings in 1509. 79 Also consult Uzunçarşılı’s work (Kitâbeler) on the inscriptions of local monuments built by these individuals, from imârets to tombs, most of which were pious endowments financed by the mâlikâne revenues deriving largely from local villages. Petra Kappert, in her Die Osmanischen Prinzen on the political-intellectual life of the city of Amasya in the fifteenth and sixteenth century, also gives detailed information based largely upon narrative sources about these persons. 80 See Cvetkova, “Sur certaines reformes,” pp. 104–120; Beldiceanu, “Recherches sur la reforme,” pp. 27–39; Sertoğlu, “Toprak Reformları;” İnalcık, “Mehmed I,” pp. 973–978. As already noted above, in the case of the provinces of central Anatolia where the mâlikâne- Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 65 necessitated largely by military reasons and by the financial difficulties of the rapidly expanding and centralizing state under Mehmed II, the Conqueror (r. 1451–1481).81 The end result of this process was a large-scale empire-wide confiscation of waqf and mülk (private property) possessions, including the mâlikâne revenues, whose holders had previously enjoyed tax exemption; they were often exempted from military service as well.82 In the last years of the reign of this sultan, the revenue that they held over a portion of peasant

dîvânî system was applied, no land was under the absolute ownership of individuals or local families, free from state control or intervention. What a large number of individuals and families held in the form of “mülk” and “vakıf ” in this region was only a part of the agricultural revenue (the mâlikâne part) deriving from the villages. As will be seen below, the object of the reform of Mehmed II in the region was these revenues held mostly by local families, not the land itself. Therefore, his empire-wide reform manifested itself, at least in this region, as a “fiscal re-structuring” rather than a so-called “land reform,” involving a transformation of the relationships of property on land. See Özel, “Limits of the Almighty,” pp. 226–246. For a different view on this, see Halil İnalcık, “Autonomous Enclaves in Islamic States: Temlîks, Soyurghals, Yurdluk-Ocakliks, Mâlikâne-Mukâtaʿas and Awqāf,” in Judith Pfeiffer, Sholeh A. Quinn, and Ernest Tucker (eds.), History and Historiography of Post-Mongol Central Asia and the Middle East. Studies in Honor of John E. Woods (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2006), pp. 111–134; Yunus Koç, “Selçuklu ve Beylikler Dönemi Türkiyesiʾnde Mülk ve Vakıf Topraklar,” in Ahmet Yaşar Ocak (ed.), Anadolu Selçukluları ve Beylikler Dönemi Uygarlığı, I (Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı Yay., 2006), pp. 253–359. However, it would also be wrong to underestimate the political dimension of this reform attempt, which, at the same time, appears to have been intended to diminish the power of local families (see Halil Berktay, “The ‘other’ Feudalism. A Critique of 20th Century Turkish Historiography and its Particularisation of Ottoman Society” (Unpublished PhD. diss., University of Birmingham, 1990), pp. 13–14). Compare Kılıçbay, Feodalite, pp. 283–286, who draws attention to earlier examples of such state interventions to such holdings (= centrifugal powers) under the Seljukids. 81 Beldiceanu (“Recherches sur la reforme”) suggests four main reasons for this attempt: a) the need to increase the number of timariots, thereby increasing the army’s size; b) the need to improve the state’s financial situation; c) the need to weaken the land owners, including the dervish orders (zâviyes)—who were not of the poorest—and finally d) the wish to re-establish Islamic law by considering the existence of pious foundations (vakıfs) as contrary to tradition, although there is no specific proof that Mehmed II wanted to return to the purist form of Islamic law. Compare İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 30. Bistra Cvetkova, on the other hand, stresses the political dimension of this reform, the power struggle between the central government and powerful local families, especially in Anatolia (Cvetkova, “Sur certaines reformes,” p. 113). 82 For the implementation of these reforms in the Ottoman territories in the Balkans, see Cvetkova, “Sur certaines reformes.” 66 chapter 3 production was directly turned into timars to be reallocated. The freeholds, previously held either as mülk or waqf, “were considered to be without owners until they were handed out [to timariots?]” and their revenues were farmed out and collected by a state official called mevkufcu.83 In many cases, freeholders were required to serve personally in the army or send an armed man, called eşkincü, in their place.84 The c. 1480 register for the whole province of Rûm was drawn up during or just after this large-scale fiscal reform and reflects the situation of the former mâlikâne holdings as well as certain mâlikâne holders in the region.85 First, we find a number of timars recorded with the names of some individual mâlikâne holders or collectively held by members of certain families. The ways they possessed the holdings, whether as mülk or waqf or vakf-ı evlâd (i.e., family waqf)86 were also specified in the entries, together with the names of the villages and mezraas with their exclusive mâlikâne revenues. There were 47 such timars in the district of Amasya. Of these, 28 were held as “mülk” (private property)

83 Beldiceanu, “Recherches sur la reforme,” p. 54. 84 Beldiceanu-Steinherr points out that these mâlikâne-holding individuals were, under certain conditions, also given the dîvânî part, and sending an armed man was the requirement only for this dîvânî part, not for the whole holding including the mâlikâne part (Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” p. 272. Compare Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Jean-Louis Bacqué-Grammont, “A propos de quelques causes de malaises sociaux en Anatolie centrale aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles,” Archivum Ottomanicum, VII (1982), pp. 71–115, p. 76). As will be seen below, this was not the case in the kazâ of Amasya around 1480, and almost none of the holders of the mâlikânes turned into timar with military requirement (timarhâ-i eşkincüyân) held the dîvânî part of the revenue. 85 For another similar, but this time mufassal, register from around the same time, see Arıkan, Hamit Sancağı. 86 For those of the kazâ of Amasya, see TT15: 77–91. For such different forms of freeholding in the Ottoman Empire, see Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Türk-İslâm Toprak Hukuku Tatbikatının Osmanlı İmparatorluğuʾda Aldığı Şekiller I: Şerʿî Miras Hukuku ve Evlatlık Vakıflar,” Hukuk Fakültesi Mecmuası, VI (1940), pp. 156–181 [Reprinted in Türkiyeʾde Toprak Meselesi, pp. 209–230]; “Türk-İslâm Toprak Hukuku Tatbikatının Osmanlı İmparatorluğuʾnda Aldığı Şekiller II: Mülk Topraklar ve Sultanların Temlik Hakkı,” Hukuk Fakültesi Mecmuası, VII/1 (1941), pp. 157–176 [Reprinted in Türkiyeʾde Toprak Meselesi, pp. 231–247]; “Türk-İslâm Toprak Hukuku Tatbikatının Osmanlı İmparatorluğuʾnda Aldığı Şekiller III: İmparatorluk Devrinde Toprak Mülk ve Vakıflarının Hususiyeti,” Hukuk Fakültesi Mecmuası (İstanbul), VII/4 (1941), pp. 906–942 [Reprinted in Türkiyeʾde Toprak Meselesi, pp. 249–280]. See also Beldiceanu, “Recherches sur la reforme;” Nicoara Beldiceanu and Irène Beldiceanu- Steinherr, Recherces sur la province de Qaraman au XVIe siècle (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1968). Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 67 or “mülkiyet üzere” (by way of property), and 12 were “vakf-ı evlâd.”87 Among timars held by former mâlikâne holders, 18 were held by individuals (of whom 8 were women), while the remainder were possessed by a group of individuals, usually brothers or the descendants of certain families (evlâd of x or verese of z), which were recorded under the names of the people who were probably the initial holders.88 These individuals and families exclusively held the mâlikâne revenues of 85 villages and three mezraas; their revenue constituted 10.81 percent of the total amount derived from all the rural settlements in the kazâ of Amasya.89 On average, the revenue held by each mâlikâne owner was not much higher than that of a timariot. Yet we see few families whose holdings consisted of more than 10,000 akçes. The families of Pîr Mehmed, Mahmud Çelebi, Hasan Ağa, and Beğ Melek/Melik in the nâhiye of Argoma; Hacı Halil in Bergoma; Hacı Nevrûz and Kadı Şâh in Aştagul; and Kâtib Muhiddin, Şâh Çelebi, Hacı Yusuf, and Kaya Pasha in Geldigelen appear to have been the most prominent in the region in terms of the size of their holdings. At the same time, a number of mâlikâne-holding individuals, such as Pîrî Beğ son of Şâh in Aştagul, held a considerable amount of holdings. Most of these individuals and families were obviously native pre-Ottoman notables holding the mâlikâne revenue of a group of villages in their vicinity. Among them, however, we also see names such as Mehmed Pasha son of Hızır Pasha. Having had a mosque built in his name in Amasya, Mehmed Pasha, like his father, was a prominent figure in the region as a member of the Ottoman askerî class and, among other military-administrative posts in various parts of the empire, he also held the post of sancakbeyi of Amasya for a period of time. In these mâlikâne holdings turned into timar around 1480, the holders were required to join the army (asâkir-i mensûra mülâzemet ide[ler] or eşmek emrolundı or simply eşeler) or to send a number of armed men according to the size of their holdings (hisselerince eşkincü vireler). In other words, their holdings in fact were converted to “eşkincülü mülk” with the status of “timar” as part of the new fiscal policy of Mehmed II in the last years of the 1470s. Among these holdings, there was only one instance of a holding with the status of eşkincülü mülk “from ancient times.”90 This is further proof of the

87 As can bee seen from the list given in Appendix II/A, the status of the remainder were not clear in the register. 88 See the list of “[timarhâ-i] eşkinciyân” provided in Appendix II/A. 89 See Appendix II/E. 90 “. . . kadimden eşküncilü mülk imiş” (TT15: 86). For this practice, see Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Osmanlı Devrinde ‘Eşkincülü Mülklerʾ veya ‘Mülk Timarlarʾı Hakkında Notlar,” Zeki Velidî 68 chapter 3 existence of the practice of freehold with a military duty, which, as pointed out by Beldiceanu-Steinherr, suggests its pre-Ottoman roots.91 As far as the region of Amasya is concerned, the practice of eşkincülü mülk was only applied to a small portion of the mâlikâne holders. Some other mâlikâne holders, as well as those who also held the dîvânî part of the revenues, were simply recorded as ordinary timariots. Around 1480, out of 196 timar holdings, 26 consisted either of only mâlikâne revenues, or both mâlikâne and dîvânî as “iki başdan” or “dual.”92 It is interesting to see that five of these timar holders were clearly recorded as “evlâd-ı X” or “descendants of Z”, while most of the others were brothers. More importantly, only four of these holdings maintained their status of “iki başdan timar” into the early sixteenth century; the remainder were to reappear in c. 1520 as mülk and waqf, four being “mülk-i eşkinlü.” This reveals that there were many members of local families among the ordinary timar holders: their hereditary freeholds were simply turned into timars and and the holders became timariots in the last years of the reigning sultan, Mehmed II. Around 1480 we also find a category regarding the position of mâlikâne holders at that time in the district of Amasya: some 99 rural settlements, 86 villages, and 13 mezraas were recorded without a specification and with a note that their status is not clear.93 The defter referred to here must have been the mufassal or detailed register(s) of the province of Rûm, dating probably from around the same time, which has/have not survived to the present. This raises the possibility that the information given in the only extant register of c. 1480 was summarized from the(se) missing mufassal(s).94 Under this heading, the register records the amount of the mâlikâne revenue (5.85% of the kaza total) derived from the settlements listed.95 We can assume that these were the villages whose mâlikâne revenues had previously been held by local

Togan’a Armağan (İstanbul: Maarif Yay., 1950–55), pp. 61–70. [Reprinted in Türkiye’de Toprak Meselesi, pp. 897–904]. 91 Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” pp. 272–73. However, what Beldiceanu-Steinherr appears not to have noticed here is that the Ottomans, during this period of reform, extended this common practice to the mâlikâne part of the revenues held by these individuals or families. 92 See the following section “Timariots.” 93 TT15: 221. 94 In fact, in this register, there are many references to a main defter, sometimes clearly identified as mufassal (“mufassalda görülüb her ne vechile sıhhat bulursa tashih oluna,” TT15: 236). It is also clear that the number given on the upper margin of the name of each village entry refer to the page number of the missing mufassal register. 95 Occasionally with the dîvânî revenue as well. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 69 notables, and that, after the abolition of their status during the reform process, perhaps their revenues were not yet reallocated as “timar” or “eşkincü.” In other words, the statement “keyfiyetleri defterde mezkûr değil” (their positions are not mentioned in the defter) can be interpreted to mean that these confiscated mâlikâne holdings were vacant during the compilation of the register and were awaiting reallocation. The same register provides another category relating to the mâlikâne holders: this is the category of “mevkûfât,” under which, again, some 24 villages and mezraas with their mâlikâne revenues, with only one exception, are enumer- ated. The term mevkûfât here refers to the revenues temporarily held by or reserved for the central treasury until their redistribution to individuals as a fief or dirlik within the timar system. The mâlikâne revenue given in this category is recorded in two separate sections. One refers to those that had previously been converted [into timar] (sâbıkâ döndürülmüşdü), while the other specifies those which had been ordered to be changed into timar (timara emrolundu), probably during or just after the survey. In the case of the former, the holdings were apparently vacant at the time of the survey, though having already been nominally turned into timar. If so, this raises the question of why the revenues given under the category of “mâlikâne,” interpreted as vacant, were not recorded together with the ones given as “mevkûfât.” The other possibility, however, is that they were kept separately until, perhaps, the positions of their owners were clarified. Whatever the difference, the fact is that the revenues of 15 settlements given under “mevkûfât” as state reserve were to appear in the c. 1520 register, but this time as a family waqf or among the revenue sources of a pious foundation, the remainder being timar.96 This issue will be dealt with below. There is, however, an interesting exception here. The c. 1480 register contains a further eight villages and one mezraa, with their mâlikâne revenues classified as “emlâk,” literally meaning “freeholds.” As understood from the c. 1520 register, these revenues would later form part of the holding of Mihrimâh Hâtun, mother of Sultan Bâyezid II. This means that the holding of this hâtun survived the reform period untouched and retained its mülk status during the reform. The revenues of her holdings are found in the subsequent registers of 1520 and 1576, being waqf to the imâret of Hâtuniye in Tokat, named for the same hâtun.97 This picture of the earliest extant register for the region thus reflects the actual implementation process of the attempted fiscal reform of Mehmed II.

96 Among these, three timars appear as “iki başdan” in c. 1520. 97 For this imâret, see Uzunçarşılı, Kitâbeler, pp. 29–30. 70 chapter 3

It is a picture that points to the severely diminishing economic power of the local notables, who had established themselves primarily on their hereditary rights over a portion of peasant taxation. Most of their mâlikâne holdings were abolished and largely turned into timars. The revenue still held by some of the previous holders—either in the form of “eşkincülü mülk” or simply as “mülk”—constituted only 11.43 percent of the total revenue derived from the countryside of the district of Amasya around c. 1480. At the same time, many members of the former mâlikâne-holding families appear among the ordinary timar holders, still holding their previous mâlikâne revenue, while a considerable amount of the mâlikâne revenue, which constituted some 5.84 percent of the total, seems to have already been abolished and was waiting for reallocation during the compilation of the register.98 In short, in the region of Amasya no mâlikâne holder seems to have remained untouched, in one way or another, by the confiscation policy of Mehmed II in the second half of the 1470s. Only a small number, possibly the most influential mâlikâne holders, retained their holdings on condition that they would join military campaigns in person or would send armed men. The majority seem either to have lost their holdings or become ordinary timariots. We will return to this point in the following section. As for the situation in the early sixteenth century, there is a completely different picture. As revealed by the register from around 1520, the vast majority of the mâlikâne revenue of the villages in the kazâ of Amasya was held by over a hundred families or individuals as “mâlikâne holders.” Their holdings constituted the revenue sources of some 80 pious foundations or waqfs, mostly concentrated in the city of Amasya.99 We also see the eşkincülü mülk holders of c. 1480 among the mâlikâne holders in the 1520 register, holding the mâlikâne revenues as mülk or as a family waqf. Some others, on the other hand, transferred their revenue holdings to pious foundations bearing their names only, while a few appear to have sold their holdings to other individuals.100 It is interesting to note that many of the former eşkincülü mülk holders, holding

98 The register gives no information about the previous holders of these mâlikânes. The names of the persons or families holding the same revenues of these villages in c. 1520 are given in TT387; it is most likely that these were the previous holders of these mâlikâne revenues. 99 See the lists given in Appendix II/B and C. As can be seen in these lists, some of the holdings were recorded as “by way of property” (be-tarîküʾl istishâb) in 1520 and 1576. It is not clear from the records themselves what this means and what makes them different from an ordinary mâlikâne holding held as “mülk.” Compare Gökbilgin, “Eyâlet-i Rûm,” p. 58. 100 See the 1520 and 1576 columns of the list of “eşkincüyân” given in Appendix II/A. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 71 their mâlikâne revenues as “mülk” in c. 1480, had converted them into family waqfs or vakf-ı evlâd by 1520. This was a legal Islamic device to ensure their holdings stayed within their families throughout successive generations.101 For only six cases in c. 1520 were the mâlikâne holders required to serve as eşkincü, and one of the former eşkincülü mülks was still recorded as requiring to serve as such. Another point is that some holdings which had been held as “timar” in c. 1480 also appeared among the mâlikâne holdings held by the sons of these timariots.102 Once again, it indicates that some former mâlikâne holders who had been made into ordinary timariots during the reform managed to regain their former status after the death of the reformist sultan and passed their holdings, possibly only the mâlikâne part, to their children. In c. 1520, the mâlikâne revenue of a small number of rural settlements (36 villages and one mezraa) in the whole kazâ of Amasya was held as timar by timariots. The remainder appear to have constituted the freeholds in the district of Amasya. As for the total amount of revenue concerned, it either went to the mâlikâne-holding notables or to pious foundations, reaching nearly 40 percent of the total for the whole region around 1520.103 Of this, 16.54 percent (350,594 akçes) came from the mülks and family waqfs of these mâlikâne holders. This sum is almost equal to that of c. 1480, further indicating that almost all confiscated freehold revenues were later restored to their previous holders; i.e., mâlikâne-holding local notables. This picture reflected in the c. 1520 register points to the revival of the waqf and mülk possessions in the region after the death of Mehmed II and at the expense of the central treasury. The radical attempt to increase state income in order to finance the war machine of the empire by confiscating the revenue sources of local notables and pious foundations and thus diminishing the resistance of local powers against the central government ended in failure. This policy, which had already caused great discontent among the powerful local families, as well as among many statesmen in the capital during the life- time of Mehmed II, seems not to have worked well and was soon abandoned

101 About the place of this practice in Islamic law (Sharia) and its practice in the Ottoman Empire, see Barkan, “Şerʿî Miras Hukuku.” 102 For instance, Barak veled-i Mirza was holding both mâlikâne and dîvânî revenues of five villages and only the mâlikâne part of another village in the nâhiye of Geldigelen as ordinary “timar” in c. 1480 (TT15: 43). In the 1520 register, we see his sons, Mahmud Çelebi and Yâkub Şâh, holding the mâlikâne parts of these villages as “vakf-ı ebnâ” or family waqf (TT387: 377). For another example of the same kind, evlâd-ı Sekbantemür, see TT15: 40; TT387: 360. 103 For the proportion of the mâlikâne revenues held by mâlikâne holders in the region in 1520, see the table given in Appendix II/E. 72 chapter 3 by the subsequent sultan, Bâyezid II.104 Here, attention should be paid to the political implications of this attempt to confiscate the freeholds hereditar- ily held by the local notables of the region under study in this book. That the confiscated or converted freeholds were eventually returned mostly to their previous owners immediately after the death of Mehmed II reveals the degree of resistance of the native notable families in Anatolia, thereby indicating the limits of the power of the Ottoman sultans. At this point, let us look at the issue in a larger comparative context. There were similar attempts to abrogate freeholds (soyurghal) in the Akkoyunlu lands in the years between 1489 and 1498 under the rules of Uzun Hasan’s son Sultan Yaʿkub and grandson Ahmed Beğ. The latter, in fact, was born in the Ottoman capital in 1477 from the daughter of Mehmed II while his father was taking refuge at the Ottoman court; he was also the son-in-law of Bâyezid II. Ahmed Beğ attempted, in J. Woods’ words, “to institute an alien political system” in the Akkoyunlu polity of tribal confederation. As was also the case in the Ottoman experience, this ended in failure, and the old order was restored immediately after the fall of Ahmed from power. Interestingly enough, despite the similar fates of both attempts, scholars agree on the possible Ottoman influence on the Akkoyunlu case, pointing to the intentions of Ahmed Beğ in particular to run state affairs “in the Ottoman way” (be-tarîk-i Rûm).105 At about the the same time, there was a great dispute over the power of freeholders, mostly the ruling Turkic military elite, who had long been enjoying the Chingizid privileges based on the soyurghal grants in the Timurid Empire. Under the rule of Hüseyin Baykara (r. 1469–1506), who was often portrayed as the ideal Islamic ruler by contemporaries, a similar attempt was carried out under the pressing conditions of fiscal and political problems which had been made acute by the wide-scale application of soyurghal grants. Entrusted to the Tajik-origin vizier-pervaneci Hevâce Mecdüddin Ibrahim in the years 1487– 1490, the financial reforms of the Timurid administration aimed to reintroduce the power of the central state over centrifugal forces. The tight measures taken towards just taxation of the subjects included strict control over soyurghals as well as confiscation. Nevertheless, as a consequence of fierce opposition by the Turkic aristocracy, whose interest was seriously jeopardized, this attempt also

104 For a lengthy discussion of the matter, see Özel, “Limits of the Almighty.” 105 John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu. Clan, Confederation, Empire (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 1999), pp. 157–158, 280; V. Minorsky, “The Aq-qoyunlu and the Land Reforms (Turkmenica, 11),” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 17/3 (1955), pp. 449–462. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 73 failed upon the dismissal of Mecdüddin from office. As predicted, the old system was reinstated, which soon brought on an even greater fiscal crisis in 1500.106 The target of the reforms in both the Akkoyunlu and Timurid cases was the same: the military elite, waqf owners, the ulema, and notable families with economic and political influence who held lucrative soyurghals. Both reforms also involved a fierce debate among the Muslim ulema over the legality of such pre-Islamic Turco-Mongolian practices as well as over the reform attempts themselves. Furthermore, Ahmed Beğ of the Akkoyunlus in particular and certain of his courtiers aimed to convert these holdings, which in reality also meant a great political autonomy, into grants with obligations for military service similar to those of Mehmed II, who tried to implement them by introducing eşkincü. Obviously, these were similar historical experiences and experiments that aimed to remove certain political and administrative legacies of the late medieval feudal states and their institutions on the way towards an early modern centralist state. Particularly apparent is that, in the Ottoman case, the newly emerging state was simply re-shaping itself on new grounds; it was accompanied, inevitably it seems, by the formation of a new elite. Or con- versely, the newly emerging elite at the center was trying to impose its political power by transforming the state in line with their own interests.107 As far as is reflected in the case of the Amasya region, the Ottoman central administration appeared to face serious resistance from the mâlikâne- holding local families, who had already been successfully incorporated into the Ottoman military-administrative system. In other words, they were now an integral part of the Ottoman ruling elite in the provinces. Therefore, what is seen in the second half of the fifteenth century was also a manifestation of intra-elite conflict under the impact of the centralizing policies of Mehmed II. It would be wrong to assume that such a tension and struggle for power both at the center and in the provinces disappeared under the next sultan, Bâyezid II (r. 1481–1512), who adopted, once more, a reconciliatory policy towards the mâlikâne holders in the region. Instead, and at the same time, under his rule the composition of both central and local political elites underwent a gradual transformation in the direction that Mehmed II had intended. The political power of the local nobility in the region of Amasya was gradually diminished, eventually being reduced to the position of rural gentry who tried to retain

106 Maria Eva Subtelny, “Centralizing Reform and Its Opponents in the Late Timurid Period,” Iranian Studies, 21/1–2 (1988), pp. 123–151. 107 Compare also İnalcık, “Autonomous Enclaves.” The author is grateful to Rifaʿat ʿAli Abou- El-Haj for his critique of the earlier text on these points, and to Linda Darling, who drew his attention to the cases of the eastern neighbors of the Ottomans around the same time. 74 chapter 3 the shares of their mâlikâne holdings, most of which were in fact converted into family waqfs under Bâyezid II. Here, one can see that they were losing the greater game and falling into political insignificance. On the other hand, however, by converting their holdings into religious endowments, at least they secured some of their hereditary rights to mâlikâne revenues. This was a his- toric turning point in the relationship between the mâlikâne holders in the region and the Ottoman polity, which, from then on, irreversibly evolved into an empire. Our knowledge of the situation of the generations of the mâlikâne holders who lived in the later parts of the sixteenth century is extremely limited. It is clear, however, that under the new modus vivendi they continued to hold the mâlikâne revenues, mostly as waqf, which brought to the fore the imperial dignitaries of devshirme-kul origin as the principal agents of the political power at the expense of local notables with pre-Ottoman connections. It may be safely argued that, in spite of their partial success in securing their initial revenue holdings as waqf after the death of Mehmed II, mâlikâne holders were further marginalized in both imperial politics and in economic terms during the sixteenth century. The picture presented by the 1576 tahrir registers, produced as a result of the last empire-wide provincial tax survey, shows that they continued to exist but had been further marginalized. Nominally, the majority of the descendants of the local notables of the region of Amasya had retained the family mülks and waqfs in 1576, with only a few holdings changing hands through purchase.108 The registers provide no record of the amount of the mâlikâne revenues held by these people. We might still assume, however, that the volume and proportion of their holdings to the total tax revenue yielded by the peasantry in the area was around the same as that of c. 1520,109 since the produce whose tithe was shared by the mâlikâne holders and timariots, as well as the shares of the holders, remained virtually unchanged throughout the period up to 1576. As far as information from contemporary sources is concerned, they appear to have met with no major intervention from the imperial fisc comparable in any way to the attempted reform by Mehmed II which had occurred nearly a century earlier. However, we have other indications concerning their positions around 1576. As was the case for the timariots (see the following section), apart from the sources of their revenues from nearby villages, the mâlikâne-holding notables

108 See the “mülk-i mübeyyî” records in the 1576 column of the list “mâlikâne holders” given in Appendix II/B. Compare Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Fiscalité,” p. 268. 109 For the distribution of revenue deriving from the rural parts of the kazâ of Amasya for these three dates, see the table in Appendix II/E. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 75 also held their own farms. Though it is not clear whether they were held as private property, one may justifiably assume that these farms had always been an integral part of mâlikâne holdings from pre-Ottoman times. If so, this is where the mâlikâne-holding local notables of these Anatolian provinces in fact come closest to the position of “landed aristocracy” on a modest scale in the Ottoman context. The Ottoman survey registers designate these plots as çiftlik, with reference to their freehold status, again, as mâlikâne. The register contains the records of 62 such çiftliks in the district, all in separate villages. It is probable, though not proven, that these çiftliks were the places of residence for the mâlikâne holders, where they usually had a piece of land, in most cases a full farmstead, çift or iki öküzlük, equal to a full peasant farmstead. It is highly likely that some simply preferred to live in nearby towns such as Merzifon, Gümüş, or Ladik; in larger villages like Hakala, Hacıköy, Bulak, Varay, Zare, Elvan Çelebi, Aştagul, or Ortaköy; or in the city of Amasya.110 The fact that only 62 villages had mâlikâne-çiftliks for more than a hundred of the notable families in the whole kazâ could be taken as evidence for such an assumption. Likewise, it is also possible to read this as an indication that many mâlikâne holders indeed retreated from rural areas, gradually adopting an urban life and receiving a flow of a certain amount of income from their rural holdings. We do not know whether the mâlikâne holder who had a çiftlik in a village worked the land himself/herself or had it tilled partially or in full by the peasants of the village in question. The relevant section of the kânunnâme of Rûm dated 1574 does not say much in this regard.111 Whatever the case, these mâlikâne çiftliks in the kazâ of Amasya constituted an insignificant proportion (around 2%) of the total arable land in 1576. This state of affairs clearly shows that the mâlikâne holders in this part of Anatolia, as noted earlier, were in no way large landowners. As for the geographical distribution of their çiftliks, 53 were situated in the villages of the nâhiyes of Argoma and Geldigelen, where the most fertile lands in the plains can be found. The only exception to this is that no mâlikâne-çiftlik was recorded in Gelikiras, which also had fertile lands; however, all the mâlikâne revenues were allocated to the harameyn waqfs of Medina and Mecca.112

110 A closer examination of the names registered in these towns and the city of Amasya might prove useful in this regard. 111 “Ve karyede mâlikâne mukayyed mâlikâne çiftliklerine dahi sipâhiler dahl eylemeyeler (. . .) ve mâlikâne sâhibleri dahi mâlikâne mukayyed olan mâlikâne çiftliklerine müstakilen mutasarrıf olalar” (TK14: 3a). 112 Compare Adnan Gürbüz, “1576 Tarihli Defter-i Evkâf-ı Rûmʾa Göre Amasya Sancağıʾndan Harameynʾe yapılan Vakıflar,” Tarih İncelemeleri Dergisi (İzmir), V (1990), pp. 253–262. 76 chapter 3

To conclude this section on the local notables as a constituent of rural society in the kazâ of Amasya up to 1576, the most important observation to be made is that they survived the radical attempt at confiscation in the late fifteenth century with little damage, eventually restoring their holdings to a large extent. However, it is equally true that their political power was seriously diminished during the sixteenth century: they were further marginalized from imperial politics that worked against them, while the timariots gained prominence. As will be seen below, the timar holders increasingly replaced the local notables as the principal agents in the provinces of the centralized empire.

Timariots (timar Holders)

Under Ottoman rule, in most parts of Anatolia and Rumelia the timariots constituted an integral component of the fabric of rural society, acting as agents of the empire as tax collectors in the provinces, although they could easily be dismissed or exchanged upon a command by the sultan.113 The timariot, known as timar eri or sipâhi, was a member of the provincial cavalry army, the backbone of the Ottoman military organization who fought on horseback using traditional weapons. The army was organized on the basis of the timar system, the institution of distribution of state revenues from local lands to the sipâhi soldiers as living or dirlik, in lieu of salary.114 This system was developed from the pre-Ottoman practice of military fief regimes and existed under both the Byzantines and the Seljukids in the lands of Rûm.115 In the Ottoman version, the lowest category of income, which was notionally less than twenty thousand akçes, was called “timar,”116 the term which gave its name to the whole institution. Under this system, in İnalcık’s words:

113 Faroqhi, “Rural Society, II,” p. 126: “Yet his role was not limited to taxation, since the existence of dues rendered in labour and the limitations upon a peasant’s right to move gave the timar holder much more control over the lives of the reaya than a simple tax collector would have had.” 114 For details about this system, see references given in Chapter Four, Note 33. 115 Barkan, “Timar,” pp. 286–333; Nicoara Beldiceanu, Le timar dans l’État ottoman. début XIVe–début XVIe siècle (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1980); İnalcık, “Timar.” 116 However, besides this category, dirliks with an annual income of twenty to one hundred thousand akçes were called zeâmets and usually held by those with higher-ranking military posts in the provinces, such as subaşıs, çavuşes, etc. The highest-ranking provincial administrators, such as mîrlivâs and beylerbeyis, were granted the highest category of income, has, with an annual revenue of more than one hundred thousand akçes. For their Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 77

[T]he cavalryman—sipâhi—resided in the village that was itself his source of income, and was easily able to collect the tithe, a tax on crops, paid in kind. Thus the soldier replaced the tax farmer, and on him fell the responsibility of converting the tithe into cash. One advantage of the system was that the cavalryman, the chief element in the army, was easily able to maintain his horse in the village where he lived.117

When the income exceeded three thousand akçes, a sipâhi was required to provide a fully armed horseman (cebelü) from among peasants of his area; then an additional cebelü for each subsequent three thousand akçes of his timar income. When called to join a military campaign, the horsemen gathered under the sancakbeyi or mîrlivâ’s standard, and then under the beylerbeyi’s, the commander-in-chief of the provincial cavalry army.118 The cebelüs in the retinue of sipâhis are the least-known groups among rural society. Ottoman historiography has so far not gone beyond nominal mention of them in passing, with the exception of certain details given on their military equipment in Beldiceanu’s work.119 Yet we do know that, as actual fighters, they formed the majority of the so-called provincial sipâhi army until the seventeenth century. Ayn Ali, who wrote on the timar institution in his treatise of 1609, provides us with numbers of the cebelü soldiers in Anatolian provinces: it amounted to some 40,000, while there were only 12,000 sipâhis.120 Living in the village only during times of peace, the timar-holding sipâhi was usually a temporary participant in the rural community, as already pointed out in the previous chapter. Yet in terms of his family origin, he could well have been a member of a local notable family, as we have already seen; this was indeed the case in the kazâ of Amasya, especially in the fifteenth century. Given the

revenue income deriving from the villages of the kazâ of Amasya, see Appendix II/D and E. 117 İnalcık, The Classical Age, pp. 108–9. As a cavalryman, the sipâhi kept his own horse and was armed with a bow, sword, shield, lance, and mace. If his timar income exceeded a certain sum, he wore armor (İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 113). Compare Beldiceanu, Le timar dans l’État ottoman. 118 İnalcık, The Classical Age, pp. 113–114; Compare Caroline Finkel, The Administration of Warfare: The Ottoman Military Campaigns in Hungary, 1593–1606 (Wien: Verband der wissenschaftlichen Gessellschaften Österreichs, 1988), p. 49. 119 Beldiceanu, Le timar dans l’État ottoman. 120 The numbers Ayn Ali gives for the province of Rûm was around 5,900 cebelüs and 3,021 sipahis respectively, including the livâ of Amasya, where there were only 429 sipâhis. See Ayn-ı Ali Efendi, Kavânin-i Âl-i Osmân der Hülâsa-i Mezâmin-i Defter-i Dîvân, pp. 51–52. 78 chapter 3 fact that the sons of deceased sipâhis were also granted timars proportionate to those of their fathers, these families, both Muslim and non-Muslim, could under normal conditions maintain their near-hereditary positions as long as they fulfilled their military duties.121 However, it must be remembered that the local families, usually with pre-Ottoman connections, did not constitute the only human resource for the timariot sector. Other members of this group were slaves of the sultan, collectively referred to as kuls, of devshirme origin. It was also the case that Muslim Turks of reâyâ origin who volunteered and performed outstanding services in military campaigns or in frontier duties could be awarded timars for merit, thus becoming members of the askerî class within the limits of the flexibility of the Ottoman polity, particularly in its formative centuries.122 During the period up to 1576, approximately 45 to 60 percent of the total tax revenue yielded in the kazâ of Amasya from the peasant economy went to the timariots.123 They were predominantly granted the dîvânî part of revenue, though, as already discussed in the preceding section, there were a few cases (33 villages and three mezraas) where the mâlikâne part was also held as timar. The important point here is the fact that the proportion of the revenue held by the timariots in c. 1480 (60.31%) was higher than that of c. 1520 and possibly also than that of 1576; however, this excludes the eşkincülü timars, whose revenues comprised some 10.81 percent of the total in the region. This rather exceptional situation was obviously linked to the fiscal reform of the 1470s, and, compared to the previous situation, it most probably indicates a temporary rise both in the number of the timariots as well as in the proportion of the revenue accruing to them in the region. As already explained in the previous section, the changes brought about by Mehmed II’s reform were in fact superficial: most of the mülk and waqf possessions converted to mîrî or state property were still held by their previous mâlikâne holders during the sixteenth century. There was simply a change in their status to “timariot,” either ordinary or eşkincülü. On this issue, a closer

121 It should be noted that the son of a sipâhi (sipâhizâde) inherited the statutory right to be an askerî, and hence was eligible for a timar; this right was subject to the condition that he should not avoid campaigns for more than seven years. Otherwise, he would lose his askerî status and be registered as “reâyâ,” thus becoming subject to taxation (İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 115). 122 İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 114. Compare Barkey, Empire of Difference. 123 For details, see the table in Appendix II/D. Note that the zeâmet holders of the region are not included in this calculation; for their names and holdings, see the table in Appendix II/E. See also notes 10, 11, 12 in the table in Appendix II/D. Compare Öz, “Köylülerin Vergi Yükü.” Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 79 examination of the names and patronyms, as well as the titles, given in the c. 1480 register suggests that almost half the timariots in the kazâ of Amasya at the time were most likely of local Turkish origin.124 Yet, it would be wrong to assume that all timariots of local origin were granted their timars during the time of reform; obviously most of them had held timars assigned by the previous sultans from the very the beginning of the Ottoman era in the region. Here we must recall the Ottoman policy, as part of the accommodationist notion of istimâlet that they pursued, of granting timars to members of local nobility in the Balkans after the conquest of the region. Considering the strategic location of the Amasya region on the eastern border of the Ottoman state until the first quarter of the sixteenth century, and the fact that this region was handed over to the Ottomans by the local rulers, it is quite reasonable to think that from the very beginning the members of local nobility must have formed the greater part of the sipâhi army in the Amasya area. Being ordinary timariots, these timar-holding members of local families held nearly 45 percent of the total revenue allocated to this section of the Ottoman provincial army in the Amasya district.125 An interesting illustration of the transfer of timar holdings within one family in c. 1480 began with the son of Mirza, Barak Bey, who had an unusually large timar in the region (57,702 akçes), of which 34,068 akçes derived from both mâlikâne and dîvânî revenues (iki başdan) of a group of villages of the nâhiye of Geldigelen.126 In the c. 1520 and 1576 registers, we find the mâlikâne revenues of the same villages belonging to Barak’s sons, Mahmud Çelebi and Yâkubşâh Çelebi, as vakf-ı evlâd and recorded as be-tarîkü’l istishâb or “by way of property.”127 We also find these brothers among the list of timariots in the

124 Research has revealed that in the frontier district of Albania, in 1431, 16 percent of the sipâhis were former Christian fief holders, 30 percent were Turks from Anatolia, and 50 percent were slaves of the sultan (İnalcık, The Classical Age, p. 114). 125 Some 28 timars, which were held by the guardians of the fortress (müstahfızân-ı kalʿa) of the city of Amasya, whose revenue holdings constituted only 4.40 percent of the total revenue of the area, are excluded. 126 TT15: 43. 127 TT387: 358. The dîvânî part of the villages was held by three persons—Barak and Emirze, sons of a certain Yusuf, and Şâdi—separately as timars in the 1520s (TT95: 71), whereas in 1576, the same revenues formed five timars whose holders bore no patronyms relating to this family. However, it is difficult to ascertain whether the timariots—Barak, Emirze, and Şâdi—who held the dîvânî parts of Barak Bey’s former timar in c. 1520, were his grandsons from another son. 80 chapter 3

1520s.128 In a rûznamçe register of day-to-day changes in timar holdings containing the records from 903/1493 onwards, we find a note concerning a timar allocation to the former, Mahmud, who was registered as “serasker” or military commander from Amasya.129 From the same register we also learn that Barak Bey had a third son, Ahmed, who was then (1490s) the treasurer dealing with timar affairs (timar defterdârı) of the province of Rûm.130 From this information, it seems that Barak Bey was a prominent figure in the region in the 1470s and had previously held at least the mâlikâne part of a group of villages, probably from “ancient times.”131 Then his mâlikâne holding was converted into a timar during the time of Mehmed II’s reform program and he was registered as a timariot with a large holding which also contained the dîvânî part of the same villages. After the death of the sultan, Barak Bey’s mâlikâne holding was returned and he immediately turned it into a family waqf. After his death, his holding was held jointly by his sons, Mahmud and Yâkubşâh.132 Later, Mahmud became the serasker of Amasya and held a timar in the 1490s; in the 1520s, he retained his timar, though not his post. Yâkub and another brother, İsâ, were also recorded as timariots in the 1520s, while the fourth brother, Ahmed, who had not been mentioned c. 1480, appeared in the 1490s as a timar defterdârı of the province of Rûm and possibly held the same post in the 1520s. Meanwhile, Mahmud and Yâkub kept their father’s mâlikâne holding as vakf-ı evlâd, as did their sons up until 1576, which was the date of compilation of the last tahrir register of the region. The case of the Barak Bey family, descending probably from the pre-Ottoman ruling family of Şadgeldi Bey from the region, is a good illustration of the gradual incorporation of

128 “Timar-ı Yaʿkub veled-i Barak Beğ, karye-i Alala tâbi-i Argoma, 10000” (TT95: 87). “Timar-ı Mahmud, birâder-i Ahmed Beğ, karye-i Aytoğdı, 4300” (TT95: 91). 129 “Mahmud Çelebi veled-i Barak Beğ, serasker-i Amasya ʿan tahvil-i kâtib-i Şehzâde [Ahmed?]” (MAD334: 22). In the c. 1480 register, the serasker of Amasya was a certain Ali Bey holding a timar of 14,344 akçes (TT15: 37). 130 “Ahmed Çelebi veled-i Barak Beğ, defterdâr-ı timar-ı vilâyet-i Rûm der bâb-ı Sultan Ahmed tâle bekâ” (MAD334: 22). This record also makes it clear that the record (“Timar-ı İsâ, birâder-i Barak Ahmed Beğ,” TT15: 92) in the c. 1520 register refers to their fourth brother, İsâ, holding a timar in the same area. 131 Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin (Amasya Tarihi, III, pp. 209, 211–12, 217; Amasya Tarihi, I, p. 262) mentions a “Burak/Barak Beğ,” who held high-ranking military and administrative posts in Amasya after 1437 and died in 1444, and his family (the “Burakbey-zâde” family) descending from the Şadgeldi family, the ruling family in the region before the Ottoman takeover. It is highly likely that the aforementioned Barak Beğ, son of Mirza, was from this family, which might also explain the wealth and power of Barak Beğ and his family in the region, reflected in the registers of the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. 132 See the list of “mâlikâne holders” in Appendix II/B. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 81 pre-Ottoman local elite into the Ottoman polity, a process which seems to have been completed in the region of Amasya by the end of the fifteenth century.133 Regarding the records in the c. 1520 and 1576 registers, it becomes more difficult to trace the local roots of the timariots, though many still bore patronyms and titles which reveal such a connection and hence a continuity. Instead, there was an opposite trend, a steady increase in the number of timariots without such titles or even patronyms, which became gradually more apparent in the 1520s and 1576 (see Figure 6 below). Considering the fact that many timariots recorded in another register from around 1520 (TT95) with patronyms but without titles were indeed sons of notables and local religious persons,134 it might be assumed that the percentage of timariots of local origin might have been much greater than the register overtly reveals. What is most striking about these contrasting trends in the social composition of timariots in the region, as gleaned from their names, patronyms, and titles, is that nearly 90 percent of the timariots holding dirliks in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576 comprised individuals without patronyms or honorific titles. This proportion is much higher than Linda Darling’s observation of a similar trend (around 50 to 60 percent) elsewhere in the Ottoman Empire during the sixteenth century, up to the year 1580.135 This change was accompanied by a slight decrease in proportion, though not in number, of the timariots having a higher rank in terms of military and administrative titles, such as serasker, çavuş, cebecibaşı, kâtib, and kadı. It appears from such trends that, from the beginning of the sixteenth century, the gradual formation of a “typical” Ottoman sipâhi from a timariot with strong local ties to a more “royalist” one, the majority of whom were probably of devshirme origin, began to reveal itself. By the last quarter of the century, the process was complete.136

133 Only three families whose descendants held the revenues of certain villages as timars in all three registers between c. 1480 and 1576 have been traced; these are evlâd-ı Bünyâd, evlâd-ı Sekbantemür from the Pervâneoğulları family, and the descendants of Şeyh Hasan, serasker of Bafra in c. 1480. 134 Here, what is being referred to is cases where timariots bore common names in the region (such as Emirze, Şehsuvâr, Barak, Budak, Alişân, etc.), or cases where the patronyms appeared with honorific titles (such as Abdurrahman veled-i Mustafa Çelebi, Emin veled-i Mîr Mehmed, Hüseyin veled-i Emir Ali, Kaya veled-i Zünnûn Beğ, etc.), or to other cases where their local origins were clearly revealed (such as Mehmed veled-i Ali Çelebi bin Yörgic Paşa, records like “Pervâne evlâdından” or “Canikî,” etc.). 135 Linda T. Darling, “Nasihatnameler, İcmal Defterleri, and the Timar-Holding Ottoman Elite in the Late Sixteenth Century,” Osmanlı Araştırmaları / The Journal of Ottoman Studies, XLIII (2014), pp. 193–226. 136 Compare Kılıçbay, Feodalite, pp. 352–53. 82 chapter 3

40 military/administrative 30 notables and religious with patronyms 20 without patronyms or titles 10

0 c. 1480 c. 1520 1576 Figure 6 Social composition of timariots, c. 1480–1576 (%).

This transformation was also accompanied by another trend towards an increasing number of timariots with a smaller amount of revenue derived from the villages of the kazâ of Amasya. As can be seen in Table 3 below, the revenue was distributed among the timariots according to a wide spec- trum of revenue categories, varying between 1,000 and 10,000 akçes in c. 1480, whereas in c. 1520 and 1576 there was a clear concentration (around 75%) at a level between 2,000 and 5,999 akçes. In c. 1480 and c. 1520, 126 and 155 timariots respectively extracted a local revenue of less than 6,000 akçes. By 1576, the number of timariots receiving less than 6,000 akçes had increased to 212. This meant the fragmentation of village revenues among more than one timar holding, and hence timariots. Indeed, in 1576 there are many such cases with two, three, or even four timariots independently holding their shares of the total revenue of a village, usually at equal portions (hisse).137 Still, until the 1580s, this did not necessarily mean destructive competition over the same set

137 Such cases were rare in c. 1480, whereas the register of c. 1520 (TT95) does not give the village names in full; therefore, we cannot comment on the situation at this date. There were also a few instances where one timar was held jointly by more than one person, usually brothers. Some of these were held by members of local notable families; for instance, nine cousins from the Pervâneoğulları family recorded as “evlâd-ı Sekbantemür,” who were required to provide one eşkinci (TT95: 87). For other examples of this kind, see TT95: 84, 86, 90. In other cases, these brothers held a timar jointly and were recorded as ber vech-i münâsefe (TT15: 39, 51) or ber vech-i iştirâk or be-nevbet (TT15: 75, 77, 79, 81, 83). Or, in some cases, the shares of the partners within a timar were clearly stated; for instance, “timar-ı Yunus ve Hacı, [hâsıl, yekûn] 3,819 [akçes], rubʿ Hacı’nın bâkî Yunus’un” (TT15: 61). Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 83

Table 3 Revenue distribution among the timariots, c. 1480–1576 revenue c. 1480 c. 1520 1576 (in akçe) number (%) number (%) number (%)

Below 999 7 (4.21) 1 (0.50) 2 (0.80) 1000–1999 24 (14.45) 16 (8.55) 21 (8.40) 2000–2999 42 (26.50) 58 (31.01) 89 (35.60) 3000–3999 24 (14.45) 45 (24.06) 64 (25.60) 4000–5999 29 (17.46) 35 (18.71) 36 (14.40) 6000–9999 25 (15.06) 17 (9.09) 29 (11.06) 10000 and over 15 (9.03) 15 (8.02) 9 (3.60) Total * 166 187 250

* Note that only those timars whose revenues are clearly identified in the registers have been taken into account; 2 timars from c. 1480, 1 from c. 1520, and 10 from 1576 are excluded (for the total number of timariots for these three dates, see Table 1 in Appendix II/D). Also note that timar-holding fortress guardians (mülâzımân or müstahfızân-ı kalʿa) have not been included in the calculation. of revenue, which would have resulted—and eventually did result—in major injustice to the peasants. At times, however, there may well have been such attempts by share-holding sipâhis. As mâlikâne-holding notables, many timariots also had farms in villages for their own use, which were registered as hassâ çiftliks in villages.138 The register of c. 1480 recorded no hassâ çiftlik, and we find only one in the c. 1520 register.139 The virtual absence of such records in these registers does not necessarily mean that there were no hassâ çiftliks in the region before 1576. This was simply because these registers were summary ones and did not usually contain such information. The only existing detailed register of the region has entries of 179 hassâ çiftliks in 1576, usually one per village.140 Considering the fact that there were 316 villages in the whole kazâ of Amasya, whose revenues,

138 “Ve karyede yazılı olan hassâ çiftlikler ki karye sipâhileri zaptidegelmişlerdir, ol makûle hassâ çiftliklere mâlikâne sâhibleri dahl eylemeyeler,” from the 1574 kânûnnâme of Rûm (TK14: 3a). 139 TT387: 383. 140 However, we occasionally find villages with two hassâ çiftliks (for example, the village of Alicik in Argoma and Derzi in Geldigelen). This means that, in some cases, more than one timariot could choose to have hassâ çiftliks in the same village. 84 chapter 3 usually the dîvânî part, were allocated as a timar at this date, in only about 55 percent do we find hassâ çiftliks. Similarly, from 260 timar holdings in the kazâ,141 only 69 percent had çiftliks that belonged to timariots. It is understood from this state of affairs that, as was the case for the mâlikâne holders, not every timariot held a hassâ çiftlik. This is significant, since it reveals that each individual sipâhi having a çiftlik was not at all the norm, at least at this time and in this part of the Ottoman lands. A possible explanation is that some sipâhis who held only a share in a village of Amasya might have another, and perhaps a larger, share outside the district, and may indeed have owned çiftliks there. This, however, still does not account for the situation of sipâhis holding shares in more than one village all within the borders of Amasya district, but with no çiftlik recorded in those villages. Would this mean that many timariots in the late sixteenth century indeed basically lived off their revenue grants without a çiftlik to be cultivated for their own subsistence? If so, would this imply a potential utilitarian, and therefore rather dangerous, attitude towards “their” peasants, with whom they thus may not have developed a real and lasting relationship based on mutual interests? We may think that this was particularly the case for the bottom layer of timariots with a minimum income, who faced serious difficulty in equipping themselves for the campaigns that would soon start again in 1578 against Safavid Iran and which would continue simultaneously and almost incessantly on western fronts until 1638. In fact, the same applies also to the mid-income timariots obligated to provide one or two eşkincüs or cebelüs; it might even be thought that it was this group of timariots, in particular, who found it much harder to serve in campaigns with such heavy obligations. Such a critical balance between the obligations of the timariots and their source of income would then easily induce them to evade campaigns, especially those that they thought would yield no substantial war booty, as would indeed be the case with the campaigns that were to occur a few years after the compilation of the last tahrir register of the region in 1576 (see Chapter Five).142 When we look at those timariots holding hassâ çiftliks in the Amasya countryside around 1576, it can be seen that the average size of their farms

141 Again, timars held by fortress guardians are not included in this total. See the table in Appendix II/D. 142 Compare Gelibolulu Mustafa Âlî, Künhü’l-Ahbâr, III, Faris Çerçi (ed.) (Kayseri: Erciyes Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2000), p. 689; Kitâb-ı Müstetâb, in Yaşar Yücel (ed.), Osmanlı Devlet Teşkilatına Dair Kaynaklar (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1988), p. 11. Compare White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 150–51. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 85 was less than a full farmstead; i.e., çift or iki öküzlük, equal to a full-sized reâyâ çift.143 The Ottoman provincial law codes concerning the status and position of timariots gives the impression that this was indeed the accepted norm. This does not imply that the size of their çiftliks was necessarily much larger in earlier periods; however, in parallel to the increasing competition among the ever-enlarging pool of timariots expecting timar during the sixteenth century, these çiftliks became smaller and smaller over time. A çiftlik-holding timariot could either work his own land, have it cultivated by a share-cropper (ortakçı), or rent it to a peasant. In two cases in 1576, we find hassâ çiftliks that had previously been sold by the state treasury to villagers, the reason being the change of status in the revenue of those villages from timar to has, or that it was an imperial domain held directly by the sultan.144 Occasionally we come across records of retired (mütekâid) and dismissed (mâzûl) sipâhis holding pieces of land.145 It appears that the dismissed sipâhi was subject to taxes the same as the ordinary peasant, having lost his askerî status.146 Similarly, the son of the sipâhi (sipâhizâde) also paid the relevant taxes if he held a piece of land.147 …

143 But it was also the case that some hassâ çiftliks were bigger. For instance, the hassâ çiftlik in the village of Alicik in Argoma was as big as four çifts (TK26: 55b), and that of the village of Vayze was three çifts (TK26: 57a). 144 “Zikrolunan karye [Cender/Geldigelen] hass-ı hümâyûn iken hassâ çiftliklerün mîrî canîbinden fürûhtuna hükm-i hümâyûn vârid olmağla mezbûr hassâ çiftlik Halil bin Hacı Kemâlʾe satılduğuna ibraz itdiği hüccetin mûcebince kaydolundı” (TK26: 131b); “İşbu hassâ çiftlikler karye-i mezbûre [Yavrı/Geldigelen] hass-ı hümâyûn iken sayıldıkda karye-i mezbûre halkından Ahmed veled-i Hacı Ali ve İlyâs veled-i Kasım satun alduklarına irad itdikleri hüccet mûcebince deftere kaydolundı” (TK26: 120b). Compare Suraiya Faroqhi, “The Development of the Urban Anatolian Network during the Sixteenth Century,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, XXIII/3 (1980), p. 96. 145 Only in the 1576 register do we find four such records. 146 For example, the mezraa of Altıdîvân belonging to the village of Kıfcak in Geldigelen, “hâliyâ der tasarruf-ı Mustafa b. Mahmud, mâʿzûl sipâhi. Üç müdlük yerdir. Resmin ve behresin virürler [sic]” (TK26: 112b). 147 “Ve baʿzı sipâhi tâyifesi ve sipâhizâde (. . .) ellerinde kadimlik ber mûceb-i hüccet-i şerʿiyye çiftlikleri ve zeminleri olub humsin [= one fifth of the crop] ve resmin virmek üzere kaydolunmuşdur,” from the 1529 kânûnnâme of Rûm (Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 155). We find 9 sipâhizâdes in the 1520 register, while there were 22 recorded in 1576. Among them, only two brothers held a zemin land in the village of Harmanağıl belonging to Argoma (“zemin-i Hasan veled-i Yusuf der yed-i İsfandiyâr. Hâliyâ der tasarruf-ı Mehmed ve Mahmud veledân-ı Caʿfer, sipâhizâde, çift,” TK26: 42b). 86 chapter 3

In summing up the above examination of rural society in economic developments and its economic interaction with the state in the Amasya region, the first point to emphasize is the gradual marginalization of significant portions of each of these groups of rural society during the sixteenth century. Within an expanding population and growing economy, the peasants of Amasya appear to have increasingly felt the demographic pressure upon the limited arable lands, a pressure which became more and more acute between the second and third quarters of that century. By 1576, a sizeable population of landless and unmarried adult males had already become remarkably visible in the Amasya countryside. This indeed presents a picture of the marginalization of what might be called the “surplus population” of the village community, those with no secular means of subsistence. We have already seen that the situation was not much different in other parts of the province of Rûm. It was even worse in the arid wastelands of Karaman province. The rural populace of this neighbouring region experienced an even greater demographic pressure in all respects, with the added difficulty of a higher degree of migratory movements not only of these most disturbed segments of the peasantry, but also of the nomadic and semi-nomadic Turkomans of the Taurus mountain ranges and İç-İl province in the south. What is more, the low-level banditry and rural violence in these provinces appear to have arisen much earlier, and had already become chronic by the third quarter of the sixteenth century.148 The first signs of the explosive potential of these most vulnerable and dynamic segments of society emerged with their massive involvement in the conflicts among the Ottoman princes for the throne during the unstable conditions following the 1553 execution of Prince Mustafa, who had long been acting as the governor of Amasya and Konya provinces. As will be seen later, these peasants, in addition to the Turkoman warriors of the Rûm, Karaman, and İç-il provinces, were directly invited by the princes’ warring camps into the ensuing civil strife, thereby becoming the major source of manpower. The attraction of the promises offered to them—such as the prospect of entering the Ottoman military class, the distribution of firearms, and the still more practical and immediate results of being included in the payrolls—provided an irresistible incentive as a significant pull factor for these increasingly marginalised and vulnerable groups. This was the beginning of the large-scale militarization of the Anatolian countryside. However, it is important here to also point out the presence of such a pool of manpower already in the Amasya countryside; namely, those who were

148 White, The Cimate of Rebellion, pp. 104–21. Land, Society, And Empire (through 1576) 87 prone to leave their villages to seize any opportunity for gaining a livelihood outside their lands. As we will see in the last chapter, they would have even more such opportunities from the late 1570s onwards, as the Ottoman “Thirty Years Wars” between 1578 and 1606 with Safavid Iran and Habsburg’s Austria, which provided perfect conditions for them to engage in the lifestyle of soldier-bandits, leading to their becoming, at times, the main constituents of the Celâlî rebellions. The diminishing political and military power of the mâlikâne-holding local notables vis-à-vis the expanding timar-holding members of the askerî class gave way to a similar marginalization of the former. Unlike the destructive potential of the “pushed-and-pulled peasants,” this group’s marginalization did not create an immediate threat either to society as such or to the state. Rather, they were passive recipients of the empire’s policies of centralization during this period, in the face of which they attempted to keep hold on their privileges. As reflected in the tahrir registers of the 1520s and 1570s, most of them had already turned their holdings into family waqfs in order to maintain at least some of their economic power. Nevertheless, they would have a share in the eventual disorder that came with the spread of violence towards the end of the century. The course of events also affected, in diverse ways, the last group at the other end of the pendulum; namely, the timariots. As seen in the picture portrayed in the preceding sections, they emerged as the seeming winners of the competition for imperial revenue sources during the first half of the sixteenth century, as timar fief-holders of various sizes. However, it was not long before, in the period immediately following, their fortune also turned sour as the intensify- ing competition for the larger fiefs (zeâmet and hass) among the members of the higher echelons of the imperial households left ordinary timariots with increasingly smaller fiefs. This is where it seems that the timariots’ fate gradually merged with that of the disturbed peasants: the same long and exhausting wars of the last quarter of the century would equally restrain them, to the extent that they became marginalized even within the still expanding askerî class. This double-edged impoverishment of two major classes of the empire— the tax-paying peasantry and the tax-collecting timariots—would soon prove to be the most crucial development of late sixteenth-century Ottoman history, as will be seen in the last chapter. The 1576 tahrir register’s portrayal of rural Amasya thus presents a clear picture of a process of pressure, marginalization, and militarization: a dangerous combination of the most disturbed segments of the peasantry on the one hand and the lower-ranking masses of the imperial askerî class on the other, before 88 chapter 3 the eventual crisis and eruption of violence at the turn of the seventeenth century. The following chapter will take a closer look into the situation as reflected both in the tahrir register of 1576, as the testimony of the vulnerable peak of long-term sixteenth-century developments in demographic and economic structures, and in the 1643 avârız register, as a mirror reflecting certain dramatic consequences of the interim violence and the ensuing disorder in the Amasya countryside. chapter 4 The Collapse of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643

As already seen in the previous chapter, the Ottoman survey registers are an invaluable source of data about villages with their tax-paying population, arable lands, and taxes derived from agricultural produce. They also provide information about the nomads who moved constantly within certain areas. Although this data can contribute to a reconstruction of the historical geography of the Amasya region in the sixteenth century, unfortunately the limited nature of the information in the registers examined in this study creates a major obstacle for dealing with certain aspects of historical geography, as well as historical demography. Furthermore, thorough historical-geographical and demographical research and analysis require different skills and methods, as well as, perhaps most importantly, intensive field research.1 The author is neither a historical geographer nor an expert in historical demography; neither has he carried out proper field research, other than several occasional visits to the region with only a modest observation of the landscape, certain locations, and settlements. Therefore, this chapter will be concerned with some aspects of these two fields, relying almost exclusively on historical sources, and it is far from providing comprehensive enough data to reconstruct a full picture of the geography of past settlements. A fuller picture could be established through inter-disciplinary research involving the use of the techniques and methods of history, geography, archaeology, and even climatology. However, this kind of research is less familiar to those studying Ottoman history, although some work of this type has recently begun.2

1 See Alan R. H. Baker (ed.), Progress in Historical Geography (Newton Abbot: David & Charles, 1972) for general characteristics and the methods of historical geography; and Thomas Henry Hollingsworth, Historical Demography (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1969); Richard T. Vann, “History and Demography,” History and Theory, Special no. 9 (1969), pp. 64–78 and Edward A. Wrigley, Population and History (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1969) for those of historical demography. 2 Mesut Elibüyük, “Türkiye’nin Tarihi Coğrafyası Bakımından Önemli Bir Kaynak, Mufassal Defterler,” Coğrafya Araştırmaları, 1/2 (1990), pp. 11–42. Osman Gümüşçü, Tarihi Coğrafya Açısından Bir Araştırma: XVI. Yüzyıl Larende (Karaman) Kazasında Yerleşme ve Nüfus (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2001); Tarihi Coğrafya (İstanbul: Yeditepe Yay., 2006); Yunus Koç, “XVI. Yüzyılın İkinci Yarısında Köylerin Parçalanması Sorunu: Bursa Ölçeğinde Bir Araştırma,”

With such limitations in mind, this chapter will examine changes in rural structure; namely, the settlement patterns, population, and composition of society in rural Amasya between 1576 and 1643. This is undertaken through an in-depth analysis of the data contained in both the detailed tahrir register of 1576 and the avârız register of 1643, together with a limited number of twentieth-century maps and publications, such as official statistics relating to the conditions of rural life, gazetteers, and lists of the administrative divisions of the region. The results of this examination will be analyzed in the final chapter within the historical context of the period in consultation with other available sources. Another significant issue relates, once more, to the nature of both registers and the reliability of the data that they contain. Theoretically speaking, the purpose of the surveys from which these registers were compiled3 leaves no doubt about the “intended completeness” of the registers in terms of covering all settlements and arable lands in the designated area. The reader should be reminded that the tahrir defters or registers were prepared on the basis of individual villages and mezraas; therefore, there is no reason to presume that some settlements would have been intentionally excluded from registration, unless this is openly stated with reason(s) either in the defters themselves or in the relevant survey orders. The records in the registers of uninhabited, depopulated (hâlî), and even ruined (harâb) villages, as well as previously unrecorded (hâric ez defter) settlements, some of which were probably “newly created,” might be taken as further proof in this regard. However, we should not forget that the surveyors and registrars were merely human: they might have made mistakes when finalizing their notes and com- piling the registers; they could also have been misled or bribed by local authorities and inhabitants during the process of the surveys. Furthermore, the present study is aware of the possibility that in pre-industrial societies peasants may have intentionally evaded such surveys in order to avoid paying taxes. Unless such cases were discovered during or after the survey and reported to

Uluslararası XIII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, 4–8 Ekim 1999, Kongreye Sunulan Bildiriler, vol. III/3 (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2002), pp. 1961–1970. Recently there have been historical-geographical field surveys which include excavations of certain Ottoman settlements or areas by French and Turkish teams of scholars. See Bernard Geyer and Jacques Lefort (eds.), La Bithynie au Moyen Age (Paris: Editions P. Lethielleux, 2003). For the Karacahisar excavation, see http://www.turizminsesi.com/haber/ karacahisar-kazi-calismasi--4342.htm. 3 See Introduction and the information about the 1643 register in Appendix I. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 91 the central government,4 we will never know about these situations, except for cases of complaints about errors made concerning tax exemption, which were in fact not uncommon, as is clearly reflected in the mâliye ahkâm registers of the period and throughout the seventeenth century. However, regarding the registers employed in this study, no such report has been found in the mühimmes or the Amasya court registers consulted for the present study. Hence, it is assumed that both registers in their present form are equally complete, or incomplete for that matter; therefore, they are comparable in terms of the records of the settlements and population that existed at that time. Another point that bears making is that, unlike the mufassal register of 1576, the 1643 avârız register was intended to record only the tax-paying population and not to include the size of arable land and other taxable economic resources. Consequently, it excludes completely depopulated and ruined villages, as well as all uninhabited mezraas, although similar registers for other districts still provide at least the names of such villages.5 This situation, however, has its merits and makes this survey exceptionally important, since the 1643 register indicates and indirectly speaks of the extent of the “desertion” or abandonment of rural settlements in the countryside of Amasya during the first half of the seventeenth century.6 In the following sections, the records of both registers will be examined in detail. First, as the starting point for the comparison, the geographical and socio-demographic foundations will be reconstructed according to the mufassal register of 1576. Second, the comparison of this reconstruction with the situation in 1643 on the basis of the avârız register will clearly highlight the points of change in settlement patterns, population, and the composition of rural society in the kazâ of Amasya during the intervening period. Where possible, cross-references will also be made to the earlier situation, which has already been analyzed in the preceding chapters, aiming to give a fuller understanding of the trends and patterns in rural Amasya during the course of the sixteenth century before the beginning of the drastic changes that occurred at the end of that century.

4 For such cases during the process of survey, see M. Mehdi İlhan, “The Process of Ottoman Cadastral Surveys During the Second Half of Sixteenth Century: A Study based on the Documents From Mühimme Defters,” EXTRAS, Anuarul Instutului de Istoria si Arheologie “A. D. Xenopol,” (Iasi/Romania), XXIV/1 (1987), pp. 18, 20–21. 5 See Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne.” 6 For further discussion of the sources, see Appendix I. 92 chapter 4

Settlement Patterns

Geography and Physical Characteristics of the Study Area7 The sixteenth-century kazâ of Amasya corresponds to a large portion of the modern province (il) of Amasya together with the southeastern districts of Çorum. Today’s central district (ilçe, formerly kazâ) of Amasya, centered around the provincial capital city of Amasya, constitutes the core area of the present study (corresponding to the whole of the sixteenth-century nâhiyes of Bergoma and Yavaş-ili, the eastern part of Akdağ, and the northeastern portions of Geldigelen). The study area also covers the whole of the present-day ilçes of Suluova and Göynücek, which border the central ilçe to the northwest and to the southwest respectively (the western part of Akdağ, eastern part of Argoma, and southern portion of Geldigelen). To the northwest, the area under investigation covers the southern and western parts of the ilçe of Merzifon (sixteenth-century central Argoma and the eastern part of Gelikiras), and a small area, bordering Merzifon, in the very eastern portion of the ilçe of Gümüşhacıköy, also including the central town of the same name (the western part of Argoma). A very small portion of the ilçe of Taşova to the northeast (the easternmost part of Akdağ) is incorporated, stretching towards the south- east, to the southern edges of the Buzluk mountains; this part makes up the northwestern parts of the present-day ilçe of Zile (the southeastern part of sixteenth-century Geldigelen), belonging to the neighboring province of Tokat. In the southwest, the sixteenth-century kazâ of Amasya covers the modern district of Ortaköy in Çorum (the nâhiye of Aştagul), and, in the west, Mecitözü and the central ilçe of Çorum (the western part of the nâhiyes of Geldigelen and Gelikiras) (see Figures 7a and 7b below). In terms of topographical features, the study area varies from nâhiye to nâhiye, though for the most part there are only slight differences. The region consists of two major plains surrounded by plateaus and small mountains which are often broken up by narrow valleys along the rivers, especially in the eastern and southern parts of the region. The core lands of the region, which correspond to large portions of the sixteenth-century nâhiyes of Argoma and Geldigelen, consist of the alluvial lowlands of two plains, the plain of Merzifon in the north and the plain of Amasya (also known as “Geldingen,” a derivative of Geldigelen) in the south. These two plains, fed by three main rivers—the

7 The information provided in this section is entirely based on contemporary maps of the region, statistical surveys about Amasya and Çorum by the Ministry of Village Affairs, and the relevant sections (“Amasya” and “Çorum”) of Yurt Ansiklopedisi; their full titles are given in the last section of the bibliography. See also Metin Tuncel and Suna Doğaner, “Amasya’da Turizm: Coğrafî İmkânlar, Sorunlar ve Öneriler,” Coğrafya Araştırmaları, 1/1 (1989), pp. 47–68. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 93

Figure 7a Topographical map of the kazâ of Amasya (16th century).

Figure 7b Modern Province of Amasya. 94 chapter 4

Yeşilırmak, Tersakan, and Çekerek, which flow all year round—provide fertile land for intensive cultivation at altitudes between 300 and 600 metres. After the lowlands, moving south, west, and northwards, in the zone between 600 and 1,200 metres above sea level, there are plateaus and pasture-lands suitable for sheep-grazing. The northeastern part of the area corresponds to the sixteenth-century nâhiye of Akdağ and consists of narrow lowland strips on both sides of the river Yeşilırmak. These strips of land are followed by sudden steep slopes towards high hills and mountains as the altitude rises sharply from 300 metres to 2,100. In these mountainous and hilly eastern parts of the region from Akdağ down to southeastern Geldigelen, a few narrow valleys provide land that is especially suitable for animal husbandry. This part of the region seems to have contained most of the forests, but has now largely lost its wooded character.8 The climate of the region has a dual character, ranging from the mild Black Sea climate to the harsh continental extremes of the region of central Anatolia.9 The average rainfall in the region is slightly above that of the general level in Turkey, though significantly less than that of the Black Sea region. In the mountainous areas, the climate becomes colder, while the lowlands of the river valleys are more humid. We can assume that this twentieth-century topographic picture of the region is similar to that of sixteenth-century Amasya. This assumption is supported by some evidence from sixteenth- and seventeenth-century documents, such as the identified locations of the nomad groups and of villages with a population of etrâkiye and records of a limited number of grasslands (çayırs) attached to the villages in higher altitudes, as well as documents concerning the winter pastures (kışlaks) at the foot of the mountains which lie just outside the northwestern borders of the kazâ of Amasya.10 A detailed analysis of the records in the tahrir register of 1576 concerning the taxes from agricultural produce and sheep-raising also provide another set of historical data which can shed light on crop patterns as well as on the extent and volume of economic-agricultural activity in the areas in question, whose geographical characteristics differ con-

8 “Amasya,” in Yurt Ansiklopedisi, I (İstanbul: Anadolu Yay., 1981), pp. 412, 414. 9 For the general characteristics of the climate of the central Black Sea region, see Cevat G. Gürsoy, “Samsun Gerisinde Karadeniz İntikal İklimi,” AÜTDCFD, VIII/1–2 (1950), pp. 113– 129; Ahmet Nişancı, “Orta Karadeniz Bölümünde Mevsimlik Hava Tipleri Bakımından Önemli Devreler,” Coğrafya Araştırmaları, 1/1 (1989), pp. 69–84. 10 For example, see MD, 78: 775/2020; AŞS, 1: 120, 179. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 95 siderably. Such an analysis is not attempted in this study, however;11 it would obviously yield fruitful historical results in terms of a correlation between the physical and economic geography of the region.

Density of Settlement In the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Amasya region, the main rural settlement unit was the village or, in Ottoman Turkish, karye. Accordingly, the detailed tahrir registers were compiled mainly on a village basis. However, a number of arable lands, outside but usually attached to certain villages, were also recorded in the registers as “mezraa,” as taxable units in terms of the agricultural activity in these lands. The mezraa was not usually a unit of settlement; in most cases, it was cultivated as a supplementary engagement by the peasants of the village(s) to which it was attached.12 Some mezraas, however, appear to have been permanently inhabited by a number of peasants, thus forming separate villages in their own right, though often still recorded as “mezraa.” It is not clear from the registers and the general instructions given to surveyors why such mezraas were not granted the status of karye even in the subsequent surveys of the sixteenth century, while they were recorded as “karye” in the avârız register of 1643.13 Nonetheless, the number of inhabited mezraas was not remarkably high in 1520 and 1576 (four and fourteen respectively), and therefore the mezraas, whether inhabited or not, have not been taken into consideration in the following analysis.14

11 I have touched in earlier pages very briefly, and somewhat superficially, on the geographical differentiation of agricultural activity as gleaned from the 1576 mufassal register of Amasya (see Chapter Three, section “Peasants and nomads”). 12 For mezraa, see the works referred to in Note 9 in Chapter Three. 13 Here, one might point to the conservative nature of the Ottoman bureaucracy and the crucial importance of the accuracy of the records for the sake of their everyday use. This was not a general practice of recording the mezraas, however. As evidenced from other registers for different provinces, once inhabited permanently, such mezraas were usually recorded in the subsequent survey as “karye,” often with a clear statement to that effect. This was especially the case for regions where the nomadic Turkoman groups settled permanently. See Gündüz, “Konar-Göçer Aşiretlerin Rolü.” 14 However, the change in the number of both inhabited and uninhabited mezraas in the course of the sixteenth century provides important evidence in explaining some aspects of the historical demography of the region and will be dealt with in the following section on “Population.” 96 chapter 4

Table 4 Categories of rural settlements of the kazâ of Amasya as appearing in the registers, 1520–1643 nâhiye 1520 1576 1643* k. m. c. z. k. m. c. z. k. m. c. z.

Amasya (nefs) 3 – – – 3 1** – 1** 1 – – – Akdağ 49 2 1 – 48 9 1 – 31 – – – Argoma 116 22 – – 118 31 – – 64+2 – – – Aştagul 9 1 – – 9 1 – – 8+1 – – – Bergoma 14 – – – 15 1 – – 12 – – – Yavaş[ili] 32 2 – – 33 8 – 1 25 +7 – – – Geldigelen[âbâd] 127 13 2 – 131 33 3 – 82 +11 – – – Gelikiras (21 1 – –)*** 22 3 – 1 15 +3 – – – Total 371 41 3 – 379 87 5 3 238 +24 – – –

Abbreviations: k: karye; m: mezraa; c: cemaat; z: zâviye. * The numbers after + in the 1643 column show the number of “newly appeared” villages in the register of this date. ** The mezraa/zâviye of Şeyh Cugî was recorded in the 1520 and 1643 registers among the quarters (mahalle) of the city of Amasya. *** The nâhiye of Gelikiras did not exist in 1520 and these settlements were recorded under the dîvâns of Türnük and Semâyil, both belonging to the nâhiye of Argoma in 1520.

For the same reason, the two zâviyes or dervish hospices with a small number of inhabitants found in the 1576 register are also excluded from examination. One of these zâviyes (Şeyh Cûgî) was also recorded as a “mezraa.” Finally, a limited number of nomads or cemaats recorded in the registers are also left outside this analysis, though they probably had fixed locations within the borders of certain nâhiyes for their winter residence or kışlak. This sort of residence was different from that of the village settlement of peasants and was often subject to change; it was not always possible for the surveyors to find these nomads and record them in the registers. Hence, the cemaat records in the registers are unreliable and cannot be trusted to represent the actual situation. Therefore, in the following pages, the settlement patterns in the district of Amasya will be examined mainly on the basis of the village settlements recorded in the registers. However, in order to give a full picture, in Table 4 above, the numbers in all the categories of rural settlements are given as they appear in the registers from 1520 to 1643.15

15 The summary register of c. 1480, TT15, has not been taken into account in this analysis due to the possibility that a number of villages went unrecorded along with those which The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 97

As already noted in Chapter Three, in 1576 there were 379 villages in the kazâ of Amasya, which consisted of seven nâhiyes.16 Three, which had a large non-Muslim (Greek) population, were administratively attached to the city or nefs of Amasya. The nâhiye of Geldigelenâbâd, the largest, held nearly 35 percent of the villages, while Aştagul, the smallest nâhiye, had only nine percent; however, the average population per settlement in Aştagul was the highest in the whole kazâ. As can be seen in Figure 8, some nâhiyes had an exceptionally large number of villages within their wider geographical boundaries. For instance, the nâhiye of Argoma, which is more or less half the size of Geldigelen, had 118 villages, and thus was the most densely settled part of the whole area under study. Another interesting point is that the nâhiye of Akdağ, a substantial part of which was covered by the highest mountain in the region, had, in comparison with other nâhiyes, a considerable number of villages. This can be partly explained by the fact that the western parts of the nâhiye were open to the great plain of Merzifon, which would have provided suitable places for settlement. Considering the fact that the bordering nâhiye of Argoma also consisted of large lowlands in the same plain, such a topographical factor might also explain the high density of settlement in these two nâhiyes. Furthermore, it does not seem to be accidental that five of the inhabited mezraas were in this nâhiye; similarly, another seven—half of the total of fourteen inhabited mezraas—were found in the nâhiye of Geldigelen, whose lands were almost equally divided between the lowlands of the second largest plain in the region and the higher pasture lands surrounding it. This may be explained by the possibility that the peasants of these parts of the kazâ had a greater need to use these extra lands, mostly in the plains,17 not only for supplementary cultivation but also for permanent settlements. Earlier in the sixteenth century, around 1520, the state of affairs appears to have been the same, with only a slight difference in the number of villages (see Table 4). Two villages recorded in the 1520 register were not found in the 1576 register. On the other hand, we find ten newly appeared villages in 1576, two of which had existed in c. 1480. It is almost certain that these two villages

were to constitute the nâhiye of Gelikiras in 1576. Another reason is that this register does not give the number of taxpayers living in the villages; therefore, we cannot compare rural settlements of this date with those of the sixteenth century in terms of their sizes. Appendix IV, however, provides the list of rural settlements recorded in this register. 16 Seven of the villages, however, were uninhabited and ruined. 17 Three of these mezraas (Vermiş and Mengücek, attached to the village of Ulus, and Kurna, attached to Kıfcak), which were identified on the map, were indeed in the lowlands of the plains. 98 chapter 4 were somehow forgotten or escaped registration in the 1520 survey but were recorded in the subsequent registers.18 The remaining eight villages, however, seem to have come into existence after 1520; two of these were recorded in 1576 “together with” (maʿa) two other villages which had existed earlier. This implies that these two “satellite” villages, Çardaklu and Yenice, both belonging to Argoma, were adjacent to or had been separated from previously existing villages, with which they were recorded. Another change that occurred between the two dates was that seven mezraas previously lacking permanent inhabitants had become populated by 1576, while we also find three other inhabited mezraas at this date that had not previously existed. A contrasting process is found elsewhere in the case of the village of Sarılu (or Sarular), belonging to Akdağ. This village, located between the villages of Ziyere and Dragobed on both sides of the river Yeşilırmak, just outside the eastern border of the nefs of Amasya, seems to have become deserted, probably as a result of a flood sometime before 1520,19 and was recorded in the c. 1520 register as a “village” with no population. Not having managed to regain its population and flourish again as a village, the site of this former village remained uninhabited and consequently was reduced to the status of “mezraa” in subsequent registers.20 This overall picture shows that between 1520 and 1576, despite the disappearance of two villages in the nâhiye of Argoma, there was a visible increase in the number of villages (nine new villages). Two villages probably came into being by separating from two larger villages, while one of the ruined (harâb) villages (Pınarbaşı in the nâhiye of Geldigelenâbâd) was recorded as containing five peasant households in 1576. This change was also accompanied by an increase in the number of inhabited mezraas: ten mezraas became populated, thus developing into permanent settlements with a number of peasants. All this demonstrates the expansion of rural space with a trend towards more dense

18 These are Kârbânsaray-ı Kebîr and Gökçeli, also known as Küçe Mengücek, both belonging to Geldigelenâbâd; the latter was recorded in the 1576 register as “hâric ez defter,” meaning that it had gone unrecorded in the previous register. The former might probably have been found before and recorded in the previous register, compiled presumably in 1554– 55, which has not survived to the present. 19 We find the village of Sarılu in the register of c. 1480, but it is not possible to know whether it was populated at the time, since this register does not give population data. 20 “Termim ve taʿmir-i iʿmar idüb şenletmek içün ber vech-i çiftlik sadaka olunmuş imiş. Hâliya Saraycık nâm mevzîde mütemekkin olan [name illegible] Çelebi ziraʿat idüb resmin ve behresin virür ber mûceb-i defter-i atik. Bağluca ve Saray Yeri ve Hatuncuk Özi ve Kozluca nâmına olan yerler dahi mezraʿa-i mezbûre hududunda olan mevâziʿdir. Hâsıl: 50 [akçes]” (TK26: 80b; Compare TT387: 363). The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 99 settlement in the district of Amasya between 1520 and 1576. Apart from the assorted lands newly brought under cultivation, the doubling of the number of mezraas during this period is also likely to have been connected to this expansion, resulting from the peasant dwellers of the villages making as effective and intensive use of the available arable land as possible. As will be explained below in the second section of this chapter, these phenomena seem to have been directly linked to the population growth observed during this period and the resulting need for extra land for the subsistence of the additional peasants.

Size and Geographical Distribution of Settlements Another aspect of the settlement pattern is size, which is, again, closely linked to geographical features as well as to the economic structure of the region. There are many factors which tend to determine the size of a village, including whether it is situated in a mountainous area where the high plateau provides suitable pasture lands for animal grazing, in the lowlands of a plain suitable for intensive agriculture, near a commercial center, or on the main roads.21 The situation in the sixteenth-century kazâ of Amasya proves such a correlation between geographic-economic factors and the size of a settlement. As already noted, excluding the seven uninhabited and ruined villages, there were 372 populated villages in the whole kazâ in 1576. Those which had at least one or more households have also been considered “inhabited,” and hence are included in this total. There were five villages in the whole kazâ recorded with a minimal number of households; namely, two in each. The most populous villages in the region, on the other hand, had a population of more than four hundred taxpayers or nefer (i.e., adult males). We find only two such villages in 1576, Aştagul and Ortaköy, both in the nâhiye of Aştagul. As shown in Table 5 below, we observe a clear concentration of villages (42.96%) with a population of around fifty to ninety-nine taxpayers at the kazâ level, though this differs from one area to another. In the semi-mountainous nâhiyes of Akdağ and Yavaş-ili, for instance, most villages had less than fifty taxpayers. On the other hand, two of the three villages just outside the city of Amasya consisted of a population of well over a hundred taxpayers, with one of these villages, Ziyere, being one of the largest in the kazâ, with 339 taxpayers. The majority of the villages with recorded populations ranging from one hundred to four hundred taxpayers appear to have been concentrated in the lowlands of Argoma, Geldigelenâbâd, Gelikiras, and Aştagul.

21 For the determining role of physical geography and socio-economic factors on settlement pattern, see Bedriye Tolun-Denker, Yerleşme Coğrafyası. Kır Yerleşmeleri (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Coğrafya Enstitüsü Yay., 1977), pp. 22–49. 100 chapter 4

Table 5 Breakdown of the sizes of villages in 1576 nâhiye “nefer” 1–24 25–49 50–99 100–199 200–299 300–399 400–450 total

Amasya (nefs) 1 – – 1 – 1 – 3 Akdağ 13 17 12 6 – – – 48 Argoma 29 26 34 20 3 3 – 115* Aştagul 2 – 2 1 2 – 2 9 Bergoma 1 4 7 2 1 – – 15 Yavaş-ili 9 8 12 2 – – – 31 Geldigelen 25 26 40 30 6 – – 127 Gelikiras 2 5 9 3 2 1 – 22 Total 82 86 116 65 14 5 2 370* (%) (22.16) (31.85) (42.96) (24.07) (5.18) (1.85) (0.74)

* Note that two villages, Yenice and Çardaklu, were recorded with two other villages, so it is not possible to know the number of taxpayers in each village. Therefore, they have not been considered separately and have been counted together with the village with which they were recorded.

The average village size also varied in the nâhiyes (see Figure 8 below). Leaving aside the city of Amasya, Aştagul had the highest average population in the district, a total of 174.55 taxpayers, while Yavaş-ili and Akdağ had the lowest, with 48.45 and 52.83 taxpayers respectively. It is interesting to note that the average size of the villages in Bergoma was much higher than that of the adjoining Yavaş-ili and even higher than the average of Argoma in 1576. One explanation for this is that Bergoma covered most of the lowlands of the western parts of the basin and the topography appears to have provided suitable sites for settlement on both sides of the river Delice, which runs parallel to the main east-west trade route between the city of Amasya and Ezinepazarı, the central village of the nâhiye of Yavaş-ili. This village was also one of the sta- tions (menzil) for the Ottoman army on the way to campaigns in the east (see the map provided at the back of the book). The situation seems to have been more or less the same in the early sixteenth century. Apart from the substantial differences observed in the numbers of taxpayers between the 1520 and 1576 records, the average village size in 1520 was lowest in Yavaş-ili and highest, again, in Aştagul. However, Argoma, whose average village size was lower than those of Geldigelenâbâd and Bergoma, as well as those villages adjacent to the city of The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 101

250

200

Amasya (nefs) 150 Akdağ Argoma Aştagul Bergoma Yavaş [ili] 100 Geldigelen[abad] Gelikiras

0 1520 1576 1643 Detailed figures for the graph: (n: total number of taxpayers (nefer); v: number of populated villages):

nâhiye 1520 1576 1643 n v average n v average n v average

Amasya (nefs) 106 3 35.35 466 3 155.33 214 1 214 Akdağ 1340 46 29.13 2536 48 52.83 735 31 23.70 Argoma 4457 112 39.79 8108 117 69.29 1553 66 23.53 Aştagul 794 9 88.22 1571 9 174.55 150 9 16.66 Bergoma 497 14 35.5 1157 15 77.13 Yavaş[ili] 588 30 19.6 1502 31 48.45 1183 44 26.88 Geldigelen[âbâd] 4382 120 36.51 10910 127 85.93 2231 93 23.98 Gelikiras 1045 21 49.76 1892 22 86 362 18 20.11 total 13209 355 37.20 28146 372 75.66 6428 262 24.53

Figure 8 Average village size (in “nefer”), 1520–1643. 102 chapter 4

Amasya in 1576, had had a higher average than these three half a century earlier, in c. 1520. In terms of size, it appears that the villages in this nâhiye did not show as rapid a development as their counterparts in other parts of the kazâ during the sixteenth century. The most interesting development of this period, however, seems to have taken place in the immediate vicinity of the city of Amasya in the village of Ziyere, belonging to the nefs of Amasya, which around 1520 had 24 Greek taxpayers and in 1576 emerged as one of the largest villages in the whole kazâ with a mixed population of 238 Greek and 101 Muslim taxpayers. If there was no scribal error in the c. 1520 register and this village was really as small as it appears in this register at the time, the enormous increase (around fourteen- fold) in its tax-paying population over 56 years can partly be explained by the apparent shift in the ethnic composition of the village. It appears that a large number of Muslim families migrated to this village and settled after the 1520s, but it is still difficult to explain the tenfold increase in the non-Muslim population during this period by a natural increase in the birth rate. One possibility is that this village might have attracted some non-Muslim families from outside, perhaps even from the city of Amasya. It would be fruitful to combine these results derived from the examination of the data contained in the tahrir registers of the sixteenth century with comprehensive field research in order to obtain a more accurate picture of settlement patterns, as well as more concrete explanations for some of the changes observed during the period under study. Such a combination would provide us with a better understanding of the correlation between geographical- topographical characteristics and the patterns of settlement in rural Amasya, while also revealing continuities and changes in the relationship between the physical and human geography of the region from the sixteenth century to the present day. In the absence of such field research, an attempt is made here to demonstrate such a correlation by examining the situation in a more limited way, simply by categorizing the villages identified on twentieth-century maps according to altitude. The resulting figures, given in Table 6, may contain a small margin of error in locating villages on the map near the lines between the zones. Nevertheless, it is extremely revealing in terms of the spatial distribution of villages in the sixteenth century.22

22 It must be borne in mind, however, that, as Cook rightly pointed out, “what is reconstructed in this way is not the geographical distribution of sixteenth-century villages as such but that of those sixteenth-century villages which have survived, and there is not much reason to suppose that the latter will constitute a random sample of the former” (Cook, Population Pressure, p. 29, Note 2). The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 103

Table 6 Geographical distribution of villages in 1576 (according to altitude) zones number of villages %

300–600 meters 60 28.30 600–900 meters 90 42.45 900–1,200 meters 42 19.81 1,200–1,500 meters 20 9.43 over 1,500 meters – – Total 212

From 379 villages found in the register of 1576, only 212 (55.67%) can be identified on twentieth-century maps; the locations of a further 31 villages are somewhat doubtful. These doubtful cases, as well as eight villages which only appeared in the avârız register of 1643 and have been identified on the map, are not taken into consideration, though they are shown on the map appended to the present study. As seen in Table 6, 42.45 percent of the identified villages were located in the zone between 600 and 900 meters above sea level, while only twenty villages are found in the altitude band of 1,200 to 1,500 meters. No village settlement is identified above 1,500 meters, which constitutes a significant portion of the nâhiye of Akdağ. An overall characteristic of the whole kazâ in 1576 was that the vast majority of the villages were situated between 300 to 900 meters, though the zone from 600 to 900 meters above sea level contained a greater number of village settlements in the entire district. However, this picture may be deceptive when the 167 villages which have not been found and located on the map are taken into consideration: most of these villages were probably situated on the lowlands of the plains in the second half of the sixteenth century.23 Still, the picture portrayed in this table clearly indicates

23 The number of unidentified villages in the nâhiye of Argoma was higher than that of the identified ones (63 unidentified villages against only 55 identified ones); similarly, some 54 villages in Geldigelenâbâd, which constitute over 40 percent of the total for this nâhiye, have, again, not been identified and located on the map. It is then highly likely that most of these villages, the great majority of which were small settlements, were in fact in the plains and, as will be seen later in this section, they were among the first to disappear or become deserted in the period between 1576 and 1643. Fikret Yılmaz observes similar patterns in the northwestern Anatolian district of Edremit during the same period, where most of the villages appeared to be not on the plains but on the fringes of the mountains 104 chapter 4 that, of the late sixteenth-century villages, more villages have survived to the twentieth century from the 600- to 900-meter zone as compared to those of other zones, including the lowlands of the plains. Furthermore, yet another feature of the distribution of rural settlements as revealed in this examination is that the great majority of the most populated villages are also found in the altitude band of 300 to 900 meters above sea level, though we find a not insignificant number of villages with more than a hundred taxpayers at higher altitudes from 900 to 1,500 meters.24 These large villages located between 600 to 900 meters above sea level, however, distinguish themselves by an even higher population, as they contained more than 200 taxpayers as compared to those of other zones.

The Situation in 1643 The characteristics given above of the settlement pattern in the district of Amasya in the sixteenth century appear in many respects to have undergone drastic changes during the period from 1576 to 1643. These changes, the possible causes of which will be analyzed in Chapter Five, manifest themselves particularly in terms of the number and size of rural settlements; even the city of Amasya itself appears to have been greatly affected by this change, along with other major cities and towns of the province of Rûm.25 First of all, we observe a sharp fall in the number of village settlements recorded in the register in 1643: from 379 to 262, a decrease of 30.87 percent. Considering the fact that, in 1576, seven villages out of the total of 379 were uninhabited and ruined, the actual decrease in the number of populated villages during this period is (372 – 262 =) 110 villages (29.56%). However, 24 of the total villages of 1643 were “new;” that is, they had not existed in 1576 or before. Furthermore, 10 villages were previous mezraas that later developed into villages. In this case, what this picture presents is that 144 populated villages that had existed in 1576 (262 – 34 = 228; 372 – 228 = 144) appear to have disappeared or become totally deserted, corresponding to a loss of 38.70 percent.

where riverbeds open up to the plains. See Fikret Yılmaz, “16. Yüzyılda Edremit Kazası” (Unpublished PhD dissertation, İzmir: Ege University, 1995), pp. 41–47. 24 The breakdown of villages with a population of 100 taxpayers or more in 1576, according to altitude, is as follows: 24 villages in the 300- to 600-meter zone; 33 villages in the 600- to 900-meter zone; 13 villages in the 900- to 1,200-meter zone; and 3 villages in the 1,200- to 1,500-meter zone. 25 For the change in the populations of some of the major cities and towns in the province of Rûm during this period, see Appendix III. Compare Roland C. Jennings, “Urban Population in Anatolia in the Sixteenth Century: A Study of Kayseri, Karaman, Amasya, Trabzon and Erzurum,” International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 7 (1976), pp. 21–57. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 105

Table 7 Number of deserted villages in the kazâ of Amasya between 1576 and 1643 nâhiye 1576* 1643** % of decrease

Amasya (nefs) 3 1 66.66 Akdağ 48 18 37.5 Argoma 117 55 47.00 Aştagul 9 1 11.11 Bergoma/Yavaş[ili] 46 10 21.73 Geldigelen 127 52 40.94 Gelikiras 22 7 31.81 Total 372 144 38.70

* total number of populated villages. ** number of deserted villages.

Leaving aside the nefs of Amasya, which is not typical of the overall situation of the rest of rural Amasya, the areas corresponding to the 1576 nâhiyes of Argoma and Geldigelenâbâd, which had the largest area of fertile lowlands in the plains, appeared to have suffered most in this respect, losing 55 and 51 villages (47 and 40.94%) respectively (see Table 7). On the other hand, the nâhiye of Aştagul lost only one village, Kışla, but also gained another. The surviving villages of this nâhiye, however, underwent the heaviest loss in the whole district of Amasya in terms of their population. They were on the brink of total desertion: the average population of the villages, which in 1576 were among the most populous with an average of 174.55 nefers in this particular area, was drastically reduced to 16.66 nefers (see Figure 8). Only the nâhiyes of Bergoma and Yavaş-ili, which had been brought together under the name of Ezinepazarı by 1643, appear to have retained more or less the same number of villages (44 villages, as compared to 46 populated villages in 1576),26 while also keeping the highest average population per village; they had done relatively better than the others. This part of the kazâ of Amasya, which covered a large basin at a relatively higher altitude, was surrounded by high hills and mountains in the north and east and was further broken up by rivers on three sides. It seems that these topographical features of the area provided a

26 This nâhiye lost ten villages while gaining eight new ones, one of which, Morami, had been a mezraa in 1576. 106 chapter 4 suitable habitat for new settlements when the old ones became deserted, thus preventing the nâhiye from experiencing further loss of settlements. In terms of the previous size of the villages that had become deserted, the first point to make here is the fact that about 45 percent of the abandoned villages were the smallest, with less than 25 taxpayers in 1576. Considering the total number of villages with similar populations in 1576 (82 villages, as shown in Table 5 above), it becomes clear that nearly 80 percent (64 villages) had been totally abandoned in the period between 1576 and 1643. The proportion becomes smaller when moving towards larger villages; as seen in Table 8, none of the villages with more than 250 taxpayers disappeared from the register or had become fully deserted during the same period, though they suffered great loss in their population. The point here is that the vast majority of the lost villages that had previously had less than 25 taxpayers belonged to the nâhiyes of Akdağ, Argoma, and Geldigelenâbâd. This adds a complication which will be analyzed in the last chapter: most of these abandoned villages had been situated in densely settled lowlands in the plains; some, in fact, had emerged during the demographic expansion of the sixteenth century. This also confirms Hütteroth’s findings for the province of Karaman on the central Anatolian

Table 8 Deserted villages and their sizes in 1576 nâhiye “nefer” 1–24 25–49 50–99 100–199 200–250 total

Amasya (nefs) – – – 1 – 1 Akdağ 10 7 1 – – 18 Argoma 28 10 9 6 1 54 (+1)* Aştagul – – – 1 – 1 Bergoma – 2 1 – – 3 Yavaş-ili 5 1 1 – – 7 Geldigelen 20 9 15 7 1 52 Gelikiras 1 2 4 – – 7 Total 64 31 31 15 2 144 (%) (44.44) (21.67) (21.67) (10.48) (1.39)

* The number of taxpayers in the village of Çardaklu is not known because it was recorded in the register jointly with the village of Salurcu (see the list of settlements in Appendix IV). The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 107 plateau for the same period: here, the rate of abandonment in the mountain villages was 30 to 50 percent, but it was around 90 percent in the open plains.27 As an overall feature, on the kazâ level it appears that 87.5 percent of the total of abandoned villages (126 out of 144) in the region previously had a population of fewer than 100 taxpayers in 1576. This means that whatever happened in the period in question, it mainly affected the small-sized rural settlements,28 most of which seem to have been situated in the open lowlands.29 Villages with more than a hundred taxpayers also suffered drastic losses in their populations, but they did not become totally deserted during the same period.30 This phenomenon is best illustrated in the maps produced for this purpose (see Figures 9a and 9b below). Of some 86 villages with populations of a hundred taxpayers or more found in the 1576 register (see Table 5), about 85 percent (73 villages) have been identified and located on twentieth-century maps (see Figure 9a). As can be clearly seen in Figure 9b, only three of these identified villages managed to maintain their population of just over a hundred taxpayers by 1643. The rest simply became half-empty smaller villages31 or totally deserted32 during the intervening period. Finally, it must be noted that the situation in 1643 did not remain unchanged or characterize the subsequent centuries. From the twentieth-century maps

27 Wolf-Dieter Hütteroth, Ländliche Siedlungen im Südlichen Inneranatolien in den Letzen Vierhundert Jahren (Göttingen: Göttinger Geographische Abhandlungen 1968), pp. 184–5. Also see Wolf-Dieter Hütteroth, “Ecology of the Ottoman Lands,” in Suraiya Faroqhi (ed.), Cambridge History of Turkey, III (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 18–43. 28 Suraiya Faroqhi, citing the work of Jean Marie Pesez and Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie (“Les villages désértés en France, vue d’ensemble,” Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilizations, 20 (1965), pp. 257–290) points out that a similar pattern had been observed in France: it was the small villages (usually with a population of less than fifty households) that had disappeared in France (Faroqhi, “Anadoluʾnun İskânı,” p. 294). 29 Similarly, in other parts of Anatolia, in the Eskişehir and Konya regions for example, most of the villages which had disappeared after the late sixteenth century were also situated in the plains (see Necdet Tunçdilek, “Eskişehir Bölgesinde Yerleşme Tarihine Bir Bakış,” İstanbul Üniversitesi İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası, XV/1–4 (1953–54), pp. 189–208. Compare Faroqhi, “Anadoluʾnun İskânı,” p. 297. 30 However, as seen in Table 9, some seventeen villages with more than a hundred taxpayers had disappeared or become deserted by 1643. 31 For the precise proportions of loss of population of the villages between 1576 and 1643, see the list given in Appendix IV. 32 The villages which had disappeared or become deserted by 1643 are shown on the map provided at the back of the study with the sign (d). 108 chapter 4

Figure 9a Villages with more than 100 taxpayers (nefers) in 1576.

Figure 9b Villages with more than 100 taxpayers (nefers) in 1643. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 109 and village lists, it appears that a significant portion of the villages deserted between 1576 and 1643 re-emerged in time and survived to the twentieth century (43 out of 144 villages).33 The remaining 101 villages seem not to have recovered; that is to say, 27.15 percent of the populated villages which existed in 1576 in the kazâ of Amasya (101 out of 372) permanently disappeared. Having said that, it is highly likely that some might have indeed survived under a different name and/or only as small clusters of nearby villages defined as “adjacent mahalles” under early twentieth-century village law. They rarely show up in modern maps and rediscovering them requires further research. A simple comparison of the villages recorded in the registers with those listed in 1928 reveals the extent of the continuity and change in rural settlements in the region over the previous three-and-a-half centuries. According to the 1928 list, it appears that, in the nâhiyes of Akdağ and Ezinepazarı, which correspond to the sixteenth-century nâhiyes of Akdağ, Bergoma, and Yavaş- ili, the overwhelming majority of villages (92.8% for Akdağ and 87.1% for Ezinepazarı) were those which had existed in the registers of 1576 and 1643. The percentage, however, varies between 52 and 82 over the areas corresponding to certain parts of the sixteenth-century nâhiyes of Argoma, Aştagul, Geldigelen, and Gelikiras.34

33 See the following works given in the last section of the Bibliography: [Türkiye Cumhuriyeti Dâhiliye Vekâleti], 1928, and Harita Genel Müdürlüğü, 1946–47. 34 The numbers of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century villages in the totals given in the 1928 list are as follows: the central nâhiye of Amasya (corresponding to certain parts of the nâhiyes of Argoma, Akdağ, Geldigelen, Bergoma, and Yavaş-ili): 14 villages out of 18 (77.7%); the nâhiye of Akdağ: 13 villages out of 14 (92.8%); the nâhiye of Ezinepazarı: 27 villages out of 31 (87.1%); the nâhiye of Ilısu (corresponding to the southern part of Geldigelen): 14 villages out of 17 (82.3%); the nâhiye of Zara (corresponding to the north- central part of Geldigelen): 22 villages out of 30 (73.3%); the nâhiye of Varay (corresponding to the south-eastern part of Geldigelen): 9 villages out of 17 (52.9%); the nâhiye of Alevî (corresponding to central Argoma): 31 villages out of 39 (79.5%); the nâhiye of Türnük (corresponding to certain parts of Argoma and the western part of Gelikiras): 25 villages out of 36 (69.4%). With the additional 55 villages which were listed under the nâhiyes of Gümüşhacıköy, Merzifon, the central district of Çorum, and Mecidözü, the total number of villages which existed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in the kazâ of Amasya and also appeared in the 1928 list amounts to 210. The whole area corresponding to the sixteenth-century kazâ of Amasya, on the other hand, seems to have had only around 250 to 260 villages in 1928, almost equal to that of 1643. The situation seems to have slightly changed during the course of the twentieth century: there were about 275 to 280 villages in the same area according to the surveys carried out in the late 1960s and 1970s (see the lists given in Peter K. Doorn, “Population and Settlements in Central Greece: Computer 110 chapter 4

Here two points are of particular importance from the perspective of historical geography. First, the Amasya region as a whole appears to show a great level of continuity since the late sixteenth century in terms of the historical roots of rural settlements.35 Second, despite the observable origins of the great majority of the twentieth-century villages, the settlement pattern in the region appears to have undergone the first and perhaps the most serious breakdown, in which some 27.15 percent of villages disappeared, in the first half of the seventeenth century during the period between 1576 and 1643. However, further research is needed for the second half of the seventeenth century in order to better examine and undertake a detailed observation of the changes.

Population

The Ottoman provincial survey registers recording tax-paying subjects, both rural and urban, provide a valuable set of data which enables us to examine aspects of historical demography as well. As already noted earlier, the data these registers provide is mainly limited to two main categories of the adult male population: heads of households (hâne or müzevvec) and unmarried adult males (mücerred).36 Generally speaking, the Ottoman registers exclude the female population and children under the age of puberty, though they

Analysis of Ottoman Registers of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries,” in Peter Denley, Stefan Fogelvik, and Charles Harvey (Eds.), History and Computing, II (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989), pp. 193–208). In other words, the level of the density of rural settlement, though not the size, in the region under examination was at its highest in the late sixteenth century, and probably at its highest of all time. In republican Turkey, in 1924 a new “Village Law” (Köy Kânunu) was introduced, defining the “village” as a settlement with a maximum of 2,000 inhabitants (see Düstur, third edition, V, p. 696); dispersed settlements with a few houses were considered to be a village only when they had a common mosque, school, pasture land, or woodland (according to the second article of the same law). Considering the fact that the Ottomans recorded every single site which was permanently settled by a group of peasants to be a village, regardless of the number of inhabitants, it can be thought that very small Ottoman “villages” without one or all of the above qualifications might have been regarded by this 20th-century law as parts (probably mahalles) of larger settlements. Thus, the above comparisons regarding the density of rural settlements in the region between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries must be taken with great caution until further research is carried out. 35 For a similar study and result in an area in the Balkans which was under Ottoman dominion until the early nineteenth century, see Doorn, “Population and Settlements.” 36 For a detailed analysis of these terms and the categories referred to in the registers, see Cook, Population Pressure, pp. 63–66. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 111 occasionally give the names of widows, as bive or dul havâtin, who are recorded in the capacity of being heads of households.37 Therefore, they are uninforma- tive about the age and sex structure of the population in general and that of the family in particular.38 It must be remembered that these registers were prepared for fiscal purposes and, because they were seen as a taxable source, special attention was paid to the subjects of the empire in relation to their positions within the imperial taxation system. The registers not only record peasant subjects: as explained in the previous chapter, they also give the names of the sons of timar holders, religious functionaries, and occasionally private çiftlik holders, if any, in a given village. The analyses in Chapter Three have already demonstrated that it is possible to establish to a certain degree the approximate number of timar and mâlikâne holders living in the countryside on their farms, either within or just outside the villages. As for urban settings,39 in cities and towns, again all the adult male population are recorded in the registers according to their marital status (müzevvec or mücerred), as well as widows as heads of households.40 The only exception was military and administrative officials and personnel performing various duties concerning law and order in cities, as well as soldiers stationed

37 Women were exempt from the main Islamic taxes and customary levies. 38 Cook, Population Pressure, p. 8. 39 City dwellers were subject to all taxes, namely resm-i çift, bennâk, and caba, other than those related to land tenure; as for non-Muslims, they paid resm-i ispençe in addition to cizye. For a detailed analysis of aspects of the urban areas and their dwellers in the Ottoman Empire, see Suraiya Faroqhi, Towns and Townsmen of Ottoman Anatolia: Trade, Crafts and Food Production in an Urban Setting, 1520–1650 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); “Devecilik ve Anadolu Göçebeleri.” For the utility of the tahrir registers in the study of Ottoman urban history in comparison with the data contained in şerʿiyye sicils, see Özer Ergenç, “Şehir Tarihi Araştırmaları Hakkında Bazı Düşünceler,” Belleten, LII/203 (1988), pp. 667–683. 40 The 1643 avârız register indeed records some 173 “hânehâ-i ta‌ʾife-i havâtîn” in the city of Amasya; they must have been widows whose husbands had died without leaving an adult son, or else unmarried women who inherited the houses of their fathers during the difficult years preceding the survey of 1641–42. A note following their enumeration with aged persons (amelmânde) in the register reads as follows: “Zikrolunan havâtîn ve ʿamelmândelerin tekâlif-i ʿörfiyye virmeğe iktidarları olmayub lâkin evleri sebebi ile bir nesne hâric kalmamak içün sebt-i defter olınub merhamet ümidîle şerh virildi, fermân der-i ʾadlindir” (TT776: 54). This record points to the fact that these women and the elders were not capable of paying örfi taxes, so it was left to the personal decision of the sultan. 112 chapter 4 in the garrisons and fortresses. Among these, only those who held timars were recorded in a separate defter; namely, the summary (icmâl) register.41 Briefly, the records in the registers concerning the population of urban areas are far from reflecting the total population. The surveys were, however, supposed to give a more or less accurate account of the actual adult male population in rural settlements. As explained earlier, the avârız register of 1643 also records the population in the same manner as the tahrir registers of the sixteenth century in that it categorizes the adult male population according to their marital status (again as hâne or mücerred), and also gives a systematic record of the members of the askerî class settled in the villages, as well as widows as heads of their households. Given the limited nature of the records in both the tahrir and avârız registers, this section scrutinizes the situation in the district of Amasya in the context of changes in population size in general and marital differentiation among the adult male population in the changing structure over the period between 1576 and 1643. Table 9 below gives the totals of the adult male populations in the kazâ of Amasya at two points in the sixteenth century, c. 1520 and 1576, as well as that of 1643. The totals include all tax-paying peasants, nomads, and a small number of tax-exempt people recorded in the registers; namely, the timar and zeâmet holders, whose total numbers never reached two percent of overall population,42 but were not included in the totals of c. 1520 and 1576. However, due to their significance in the analysis, the members of the askerî class, who were not counted in the totals of c. 1520 and 1576 but were recorded in the 1643 register as residents in the villages, have been provided separately under the column 1643.43 We should also add the mâlikâne holders to the totals of the sixteenth century given in the table in order to get a fuller picture of the rural

41 However, the approximate numbers of those who are recorded neither in the detailed nor in the summary registers may be found in or inferred from other source materials concerning separate accounts of some sectors, such as cizye registers, şerʿiyye sicils, saray muhasebe defters, evkâf muhasebe defters, etc. For the importance of such a cross- reference of sources for the study of Ottoman demographic history, see Bekir Kemal Ataman, “Ottoman Demographic History (14th–17th centuries): Some Considerations,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, XXXV/II (1992), pp. 187–198. 42 It was 1.59 percent in c. 1520 (214 out of 13,454 taxpayers) and 1.04 percent in 1576 (300 out of 28,677 taxpayers). Compare Appendix II/D. 43 Out of 372 askerîs at this date, 159 were timar and zeâmet holders, which constituted 2.46 percent of the total of the adult male population recorded in the register; this proportion is slightly higher than that of the sixteenth century. Some 10 individuals recorded among the askerîs as çelebi and zâde, who were probably of local notables, are also included in this total. For further details about the askerîs in 1643, see the following section below. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 113

Table 9 Rural population in the kazâ of Amasya, 1520–1643 nâhiye c. 1520* 1576* 1643** hâne mücerred hâne mücerred hâne mücerred

Amasya (nefs) 90 16 312 174 193 +33 – Akdağ 892 546 1,463 1,163 637 +26 72 Argoma 2,986 1,545 4,326 3,963 1,202+130 221 Aştagul 458 336 809 762 85 +22 43 Bergoma 379 118 580 577 1 Yavaş-ili 432 156 810 717 956 +48 179 Geldigelen[âbâd] 3,246 1,205 6,479 4,645 1,910 +77 244 Gelikiras 688 361 975 922 252 +36 74 Total 9,171 4,283 15,754 12,923 5,235 +372 833

* All recorded individuals in the registers, including some 16 and 214 tax-exempt in c. 1520 and 1576 respectively, have been included in the totals. Only the timar and mâlikâne holders (for their approximate numbers at both dates, see the lists and tables in Appendix II) have been excluded. Also note that some of the 2,075 zemin holders in 1576 may be those who were not recorded among the individuals in the resm-i çift section in the register; therefore, the actual number of the population in 1576 may be slightly higher than the totals given in this table. But the resultant discrepancy cannot be greater than 4 to 5 percent. ** The numbers given after (+) in the hâne column in 1643 indicate the totals of the members of the askerî class, which were not included in the totals of the years of 1520 and 1576. These are timar and zeâmet holders, military and high-ranking religious officials, and a small number of local notables, who were settled in the villages and recorded in the registers as such. Religious functionaries such as imams, hatibs, sheikhs, dervishes, etc., on the other hand, have been included in the main total (5,235) for the sake of consistency, though some of these were also recorded in the register as “askerî” in 1643. Thus, the hâne totals of 1520 and 1576 can safely be compared with that of 1643 in terms of the groups they contain. 1 Note that the nâhiyes of Bergoma and Yavaş-ili were brought together and recorded in the 1643 avârız register under the newly formed nâhiye of Ezinepazarı. Therefore, the numbers given in the table for this date represent the combined totals of these two former nâhiyes. population of the district of Amasya at these two dates. Since neither of the registers gives a separate record of their exact numbers, we can only suggest an estimated total of 100 to 150 families for the sixteenth century, which amounts to no more than one percent of the overall total of households in the kazâ.44 What we can see in the table above is a considerable increase (71.78%) in the number of households (hânes) in the kazâ during the sixteenth century,

44 The lists of mâlikâne holders in c. 1520 and 1576, some of whom obviously lived in their çiftliks in the countryside, are given in Appendix II/A and B. But, again, it must be noted that there is no evidence to prove that all of them resided in the countryside. 114 chapter 4 between c. 1520 and 1576. In the same period, the number of unmarried males (mücerreds) also appears to have risen threefold (201.72%). Looking at the combined totals (nefers) of the two, households plus unmarried males, the overall increase in the adult male population recorded in the registers amounts to some 113.14 percent (from 13,454 to 28,677 nefers). The first point that should be made about this state of affairs is that this picture corroborates the rapid population growth observed in other parts of Anatolia during the sixteenth century.45 As noted in the above pages, the growth in the tax-paying population was accompanied by a visible increase in the number of rural settlements; for example, eight new villages and seven new inhabited mezraas in the region under examination between c. 1520 and 1576.46 Considering that no change to the kazâ borders had taken place during this period, we might then assume that the growth in the population was largely the natural result of essential demographic mechanisms where basically the birth rate far exceeded the number of deaths, particularly during the second and third quarters of the sixteenth century.47 Furthermore, we should not forget the fact that such a rapid population growth was a general phenomenon throughout the Mediterranean and Europe during the sixteenth century.48 The second point concerning the changes in the population in the same period during the sixteenth century is that the rise in the number of unmarried adult males was much higher (more than double) than the increase in the number of households in the district of Amasya. If there was no “unrecorded change in fiscal practice,” as Cook suggests, then “the surveyors made no serious attempt to record the bachelor population at the beginning [of the mid- fifteenth century] [. . .], and perhaps also increasingly included immature males towards the end [of the late sixteenth century].”49 Cook’s first assumption, that the surveyors made no serious attempt to record the bachelor population in the fifteenth century, might theoretically speaking have been the case for those bachelors who fell into the category of those unmarried males who had no living of their own and who worked on their fathers’ land (“kendü öz kârlarında olmayub atası yanında çalışan” or “ehl-i kisb olmayan mücerredler”).50 But,

45 See the works referred to in Note 8 in Chapter Five 46 See Notes 16–17. 47 For a discussion of other possible causes of population growth in this part of Anatolia, see İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants,” pp. 112–119. Compare idem, State and Peasant, p. 141ff. 48 See Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, The Peasants of Languedoc, translated with an introduction by John Day (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1974), p. 51ff. 49 Cook, Population Pressure, p. 27. 50 In order to clarify this confusing situation, one should look at the definition of the term “mücerred” in the provincial law codes (kânûnnâmes). We must be aware of a clear The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 115 since the 1520 kânûnnâme of the province of Rûm makes no such distinction among bachelors, and all were exempt from taxation,51 such an assumption cannot be valid for this case. Considering the fact that the situation of bachelors remained the same in the subsequent kânûnnâmes of the region,52 there is no reason to assume that the surveyors of the 1576 tahrir were more eager to record bachelors than those of the 1520s. As for Cook’s second assumption, that the surveyors might have increasingly included immature males towards the end of the sixteenth century, this seems equally speculative, because there was no financial benefit for the central government in artificially increasing the number of individuals who were entirely exempt from taxation. As for the moderate difference between the ratios of bachelors to all adult males in c. 1520 and 1576 (31.83% and 45.6% respectively), this increase can be explained by a rise in birth rate between 1520 and 1576. In this regard, we must remember that Cook made this assumption when he found a somewhat inexplicable discrepancy between the lowest and the highest level of this ratio (ranging between 3 and 48 percent) in three different areas in Anatolia in the period between 1450 and 1576. As seen from his summary tables,53 the difference between the lowest and the highest rates in each area during the sixteenth century, between the 1520s and the 1570s, however, is not so high (31 and 43% for Aydın, 20 and 37% for Hamid, and 29 and 48% for Tokat). It is more plausible to explain the unusually low proportion of bachelors (such as 3%) as compared to the married adults in the earliest registers from around the 1450s either by such a possibility as Cook refers to above, or by the unstable conditions that still prevailed in the immediate aftermath of the Ottoman takeover of these regions. A more meaningful question here would then be the

distinction made in the kânûnnâmes about this category: a) those who were capable of earning their own subsistence (“mücerred olub kisb ü kâra kâdir olanlar”) or those who had their own living (“müstâkil kisbi olan” or “ehl-i kisb olan”), and b) those who did not have their own living and worked on their fathers’ land (“kendü öz kârlarında olmayub atası yanında çalışan” or “ehl-i kisb olmayan mücerredler”). Wherever this distinction was made, the former were liable to pay a certain amount of tax (usually six akçes) as resm-i mücerred or resm-i caba. Here resm-i caba is used interchangeably with resm-i mücerred, and, when this was the case, the married “landless” peasant was denoted by the term “caba bennâk;” this was usually the case in some of the fifteenth-century registers. The latter, on the other hand, were not liable to pay any tax, but were recorded in the register in the capacity of being “adult male” and would-be taxpayer of the next survey (for a detailed analysis of this distinction, see Özel, “Kırsal Organizasyon,” pp. 78–83). 51 “Ve defterde hâli ʿani’r-rüsûm kaydolunan mücerredlerden nesne alınmaz.” See Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 150. 52 Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı, p. 150; tahrir register of Sivas dated 1574 (TK14): 3a. 53 Cook, Population Pressure, p. 26, Note 3. 116 chapter 4 following: is an increase of 12 to 19% in the proportion of unmarried adult males in these selected areas so high that it cannot be explained by socio-demographic factors as well as by socio-economic conditions, as argued in this book? And therefore, do we really need to suggest the possibility of other unknown, hypo- thetical factors, such as ambiguous attitudes on the part of the surveyors? In the absence of evidence for such a change in the fiscal recording practice, a more likely explanation for this phenomenon could be that, following the years of increasing birth rate, as Akdağ suggests, the economic deterioration in the Ottoman Empire in the second half of the sixteenth century might have had a negative effect upon the average age of marriage for bachelors.54 Whatever the reason, it is clear that, at the turn of the last quarter of the century, in every village of the district of Amasya bachelors constituted almost half of the adult male population,55 along with a considerable percentage of landless peasant families (at least 40 percent of the total households).56 This state of affairs can be seen as an indicator not only of a rapid growth in population but also of “population pressure” in the region; that is, an overpopulation in relation to the available arable land, as suggested by Cook for some provinces of Anatolia, including the neighboring areas of Amasya.57 Huricihan İslamoğlu-İnan, in her study of the same neighboring areas (namely Tokat), rejects such a notion of “population pressure” in the region by stressing various possible ways the peasants may have coped with the population growth, such as changing their diets, crop patterns, and land use.58 It is true that the peasants always had such options. Yet İslamoğlu-İnan seems to underestimate the extent and importance of the fragmentation of peasant holdings and fails to explain the reason(s) for the increase in the number of shared holdings by 1574–76. More importantly, her misinterpretation of the term “caba” as “unmarried landless male” for the Rûm province further prevented her from appreciating the implications of the significant decrease (28.69%) in the number of landless peasant households (cabas) between 1554 and 1574–76, a decrease which was accompanied by an even more significant

54 Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 73; compare Cook, Population Pressure, pp. 26, 32; Machiel Kiel, “Remarks on the Administration of the Poll Tax (Cizye) in the Ottoman Balkans and the Value of Poll Tax Registers (Cizye Defterleri) for Demographic Research,” Etudes Balkaniques 4 (1990), pp. 70–104. 55 In some villages, their proportions were even higher than those of married males. For such cases, see the list in Appendix IV. 56 See Chapter Two, section “Peasants and Nomads.” For a similar increase in the number of unmarried and landless peasants in the Edremit district see Yılmaz, “Edremit Kazası” pp. 215ff. 57 Cook, Population Pressure, p. 29. 58 İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants,” pp. 118–19. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 117 increase (32.19%) in the number of unmarried adult males (mücerreds).59 This failure, in turn, seriously undermines her other arguments relating to the role of “push” and “pull” factors in peasants leaving their villages in the later sixteenth century, as well as her central claim that external (political) factors were the principal determinants of the eventual disintegration of the peasant household economy at the turn of the seventeenth century.60 Similar to the changes in the settlement pattern, between 1576 and 1643 there were also drastic changes in the population structure. For example, in the district of Amasya, one of these changes manifested itself first and foremost in the total number of the settled rural population recorded in the 1643 avârız register. Second, the social composition of the rural population also underwent a major transformation, which will be dealt with separately below. Regarding the population, Table 10 below gives the comparative figures concerning the change in the total number of tax-paying adult males (nefer) recorded in the registers of both 1576 and 1643, showing the direction and extent of the change.

Table 10 Change in rural population between 1576 and 1643 (in nefer)* nâhiye 1576 1643 % decrease nefer nefer

Amasya (nefs) 486 193 60.28 Akdağ 2,536 709 72.04 Argoma 8,289 1,424 82.82 Aştagul 1,571 128 91.85 Bergoma/Yavaş-ili 2,684 1,135 57.71 Geldigelen[âbâd] 11,124 2,154 80.63 Gelikiras 1,897 326 82.81 Total 28,449 6,068 78.67

* For consistency, the 372 members of the askerî class, who were not included in the survey in 1576 but appeared in the 1643 register, are not taken into consideration. Similarly, some 228 nomads (cemaat), who were recorded in the 1576 register but did not appear in 1643, have also not been included in the comparison.

59 Ibid., p. 137, table 5.4. 60 For a critique of İslamoğlu-İnan’s argument, see Karen Barkey, “The State and Peasant Unrest in the Early 17th Century: The Ottoman Empire in Comparative Perspective” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1988), pp. 200–202. Compare her later publication: Bandits and Bureaucrats. The Ottoman Route to State Centralization (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1994), pp. 150–152: White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 60–63. 118 chapter 4

The figures point to an average decrease of 78.67 percent in the overall total of the kazâ between the two dates.61 As already noted, this sharp drop in the rural population was accompanied by the desertion or disappearance of some 144 populated villages (38.70%) in the kazâ during the same period.62 However, the extent of this downward trend in population varied between about 57 and 91 percent from nâhiye to nâhiye. The nâhiyes of Bergoma and Yavaş-ili appear to have retained nearly half of their previous population, while Aştagul lost more than 90 percent of its population. As can be seen in Table 7, these nâhiyes had the lowest percentages of lost settlements in the kazâ. This reveals that there was no positive correlation between the loss of settlements and a reduction in population. In other words, a higher percentage of deserted or vanished villages in a given nâhiye did not necessarily correspond to a higher percentage of loss in its population. However, such a correlation is apparent in the cases of Akdağ, Argoma, and Geldigelen[abâd]: these nâhiyes seem to have had equally high percentages in the loss of rural settlement and population. Figures 10a and b below better illustrates the drastic decrease in the number of tax-paying adult males in the population of the kazâ of Amasya and the varying degrees of loss according to the nâhiyes. As revealed in the registers, there is an overall decrease of 78.67 percent in the total tax-paying adult male population (nefer); however, this goes as low as 66.54 percent when we take into consideration only the total of married males (i.e., households or hânes). If we consider each of the 372 members of the askerî class, who were recorded separately in the 1643 register, as also being “hâne,” we find an average decrease of 64.17 percent; that is, the total of households at this date corresponds to slightly more than one-third of the total in 1576. In fact, it is the dramatic fall in the numbers of recorded bachelors (mücerreds) between 1576 and 1643 that creates a decrease in adult male population, as high as 78.67 percent. A comparison of the totals given in Table 10 reveals a decrease of 93.49 percent in the numbers of recorded bachelors between the two registers. Their proportions in the total adult male population also dropped sharply, from 45.02% in 1576 to 13.70% in 1643, to a level which is even further below the level in 1520 (31.83%). In the only surviving village

61 The 1576 total does not include some 300 timar and zeâmet holders, who were supposed to live in the countryside during times of peace, while they are included in the 1643 total. If we take these 300 dirlik holders into account (28,677 + 300 = 28,977), the decrease amounts to 77.77 percent. The totals of both 1576 and 1643, on the other hand, exclude the mâlikâne holders. 62 See Table 7. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 119

Figure 10a Rural population in 1576.

Figure 10b Rural population in 1643. 120 chapter 4

(Ziyere) in the nefs of Amasya, there were no bachelors recorded in 1643, while there had been 174 in 1576. On the other hand, in 1643, the proportion appears to have been still relatively higher (28.66%) for the nâhiye of Aştagul. No attempt will be made here to estimate the total population of the kazâ of Amasya apart from the figures given in Table 10. The question of a multi- plier is not discussed because it is a dubious and somewhat unnecessary endeavor, though it is almost customary among many “defterologists” to do so.63 It is unnecessary especially for a case study on Ottoman demographic history, where there is no source material for the Amasya region pertaining, either directly or indirectly, to the size and structure of the household, which must have differed from region to region according to various factors. Such an attempt, however, could prove useful and produce some rough estimations of a probable population of a large geographically or politically defined area for the purpose of general comparisons. Such attempts by F. Braudel and Ö. L. Barkan concerning the population of the Ottoman Empire in the sixteenth century in comparison with its counterparts in Europe or around the Mediterranean are well known.64 For a regional study with micro-level analysis, such as this, to give the figures in the categories as they appeared directly in the registers on a district basis will prove to be much more useful for future larger-scale comparisons using better tools that might be developed over time. Furthermore, as shown in this study, the figures in their present form in the registers are sufficient without any modifications to indicate the long-term trends in population.

Society

The social composition of rural society in the kazâ of Amasya also witnessed major changes between 1576 and 1643. In terms of their implications, these changes were not as dramatic as the fluctuations in settlement patterns and

63 For certain re-evaluations of the data contained in the tahrir registers and the problems they pose in this respect, see Mehmet Öz, “Tahrir Defterlerinin Osmanlı Tarihi Araştırmalarında Kullanılması Hakkında Bazı Düşünceler,” Vakıflar Dergisi, XXII (1990), pp. 429–439; Lowry, Studies in Defterology;” Kemal Çiçek, “Tahrir Defterlerinin Kullanımında Görülen Bazı Problemler ve Metod Arayışları,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları, 97 (1995), pp. 93–111; Ataman, “Demographic History.” Also see Colin Heywood, “Between Historical Myth and Mythohistory: The Limits of Ottoman History,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 12 (1988), pp. 315–345; Fatma Acun, “Osmanlı Tarihinin Genişleyen Sınırları: Defteroloji,” Türk Kültürü İncelemeleri Dergisi, 1 (2000), pp. 319–332. 64 See Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “ ‘Tarihi Demografi’ Araştırmaları ve Osmanlı Tarihi,” Türkiyat Mecmuası, X (1953), pp. 1–29; Braudel, The Mediterranean, I, pp. 402–418. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 121 population, yet they seem to have brought the native peasantry new complica- tions. Furthermore, certain of these changes constitute the earliest signs of a much wider long-term development; namely, the socio-political transformation that occurred in Ottoman Anatolia during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The main components of rural society analyzed in Chapter Three seem to have remained more or less unchanged; in this regard, the only visible difference was the absence of nomads in the 1643 register. However, this does not mean that there were no nomads living within the kazâ borders in the first half of the seventeenth century;65 it is simply because the 1641–42 survey orders did not include them. It is quite likely that the nomadic groups living in the region (together with the etrâkiye villages, as will be seen below) were also affected by the widespread banditry in Anatolia during the period under examination; there is evidence that they also dispersed.66 Figure 11 below presents the social composition of rural society as revealed by the avârız register of 1643. The avârız register of 1643 shows that the peasantry still constituted the main sector in rural Amasya, at 92.42 percent of the recorded adult male population. Unlike the tahrir register of 1576, no distinction is made in this register between native peasants and those who settled in villages but were predominantly engaged in sheep-raising (etrâkiye),67 while the customary division between Muslim and non-Muslim peasants was maintained; they were recorded separately. This time there were five villages with non-Muslim inhabitants,68 whose total amounted to only 212 nefers. Except for the newly appeared village of Pehlivan-ı Zimmî in the lands of the former nâhiye of Bergoma, none of these villages had a totally non-Muslim population. Non- Muslims constituted the majority only in the village of Zâne in Akdağ. It is

65 There are some references in the mühimmes of this period to nomads in the province of Rûm who changed their designated/recorded winter and summer pastures, so that it was not possible for the administration to find them and collect their taxes and dues. For an example, see MD, 81: 214/486. 66 See Topkapı Sarayı Maliye Defteri -TS.MA.d, file no. 132. I thank Onur Usta of Çanakkale University for providing me with a copy of this document. 67 It is worth mentioning that, out of fourteen villages which had had a population of etrâkiye in 1576, only four survived by 1643; the rest disappeared or became deserted during the intervening period. Among these was the village of Akviran in Argoma, with 250 taxpayers in 1576; similarly, the villages of Karacaviran in the same nâhiye and Çavuş in Geldigelenâbâd also had more than a hundred taxpayers at the same date. 68 These were Ziyere in the nefs of Amasya, Zâne and Hakala in Akdağ, Gürköy in Argoma, and the newly appeared village of Pehlivan-ı Zimmî in Ezinepazarı (the former nâhiye of Bergoma). 122 chapter 4

peasants (Muslim) peasants (non- Muslim) outsiders (“biruniyan”) “askeri” other

Figure 11 Composition of rural society in the kazâ of Amasya in 1643. Note that the askerî figure (456 nefers) given above contains all the askerîs recorded in the register under this category, including 84 hatibs and imams and 70 zeâmet and timar holders.

worth mentioning that an interesting shift took place in the populations of the adjoining villages of Hakala and Değirmenderesi in Akdağ. In 1576, the former was an entirely Muslim settlement, a small town with four mahalles, each of which had a mosque, while the latter was inhabited predominantly by non- Muslims. In 1643, there were no non-Muslims remaining in Değirmenderesi, but there were some twelve Muslim hânes. Even more interesting is that at this time we find a substantial non-Muslim population (73 hânes) in Hakala, with twice as many Muslims, revealing an interesting and very peculiar relationship between these nearby villages, as well as constant shifts of population. All this shows that the small non-Muslim community in rural Amasya was in further decline during this period, with their population undergoing severe depletion between 1576 and 1643 (from 922 to 212 nefers), a decline of 77 percent. Despite the emergence of a small new non-Muslim village, as mentioned above, only three major villages in the entire kazâ of Amasya appear to have retained relatively high non-Muslim populations: Ziyere, just outside the city of Amasya; Hakala, in Akdağ but, again, in the close vicinity of the city; and Gürköy in Argoma, not far from Merzifon, the second largest town in the district of Amasya.69 It would be interesting to discover whether the non- Muslims of rural Amasya had cause to leave their homes and take flight, as was

69 For the exact proportions of the non-Muslim populations of these villages to their Muslim neighbors, see the list of rural settlements in Appendix IV. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 123 the case during the same period for the abandonment of entire Armenian villages in certain districts of the province of Kayseri, with tens of thousands of Armenians taking refuge in the region between Istanbul and Edirne.70 Taking into consideration the undifferentiating character and impact of the Celâlî violence and terror that dominated the period in question, as well as the virtual non-existence of any historical records indicating that non-Muslims were particularly targeted for any reason, it is more likely that the non-Muslims of the Amasya district were just as affected by the developments of the period as the Muslims were. A comparison between the records of the registers in question reveals an even higher decline (79.08%) in the number of Muslim peasants still remaining in the half-deserted or severely depopulated surviving villages in rural Amasya during the intervening period. Their overall number fell from 27,448 to 5,740 nefers. The ages and family structure of the remaining peasantry also seem to have undergone a major change: on average, fewer than one-fifth of households had unmarried adult sons (mücerred). One may assume that, in 1643, there were perhaps much smaller families composed of older people with fewer bachelors of marriageable age, confirming Akdağ’s argument for a widespread case of late or non-marriage. Another less likely and highly hypotheti- cal probability was the existence of much younger couples with small children but no adult son. Alternatively, it is also possible that some of the bachelors recorded in the register may well have been orphans, whose parents had been victims of the Celâlî terror of the turbulent years prior to the survey, or who had died early due to epidemic and pestilence under the possible conditions of malnutrition during the consecutive years of drought and famine.71 If so, they were simply recorded as heads of households, not as the same mücerred as an ordinary tax-paying individual of the preceding century. Such a possibility, however, implies that the Ottoman government had for some reason changed the tax status of mücerreds, lifting their responsibility for paying a personal tax under the same name. They are therefore not recorded

70 The Travel Account of Simeon of Poland, Introduction and Annotated Translation by George A. Bournoutian (Costa Mesa-California: Mazda Publisher, 2007), pp. 33–34. Compare Rhoads Murphey, “Population Movements and Labor Mobility in Balkan Context: A Glance at Post-1600 Ottoman Social Realities,” in Melek Delilbaşı (ed.), South East Europe in History: The Past, The Present and the Problems of Balkanalogy (Ankara: Ankara University Press, 1999), pp. 91–94. Compare Naima, II, p. 808–809; Kâtip Çelebi, Fezleke, II, p. 167. 71 The Celâlî terror in the turbulent years, especially between the 1590s and 1610s, and its destructive effects on the established structure of rural life will be the subject of Chapter Five. 124 chapter 4 in the 1643 register as taxpayers in their own right, but are included in the survey only as orphans holding their parents’ lands and houses, acting therefore as the head of the household. This would further mean that the 1643 register recorded only a small portion of the bachelors who otherwise would have been in existence in the villages recorded, which means that all the analysis developed in this study to make sense of the drastic fall in the number of the bachelor population in rural Amasya around 1642–43 would become no more than mere speculation. However, considering the fact that these years were years of increasing taxes, including some newly introduced by the government, the very possibility of the imperial rule lifting the tax status of bachelors would be, again, no more than baseless speculation. Unlike the tahrir defters of the sixteenth century, the 1643 avârız register gives no hint about the arable land cultivated by the peasants, so we are not in a position to ascertain whether, under the circumstances, some of the bachelors in fact held land in their own right, being de facto heads of households during the time of the survey in 1641–42. If we accept the theory that the unstable conditions of the period, which will be analyzed in the following chapter, might have negatively affected the age of marriage, it may even be suggested that many of the bachelors who remained in their villages and were recorded in the 1643 register as such might have been middle-aged or, at least, well over the average age of marriage. The age of puberty (13–15 years old) or of being capable of earning their own living (18–20 years old or more?) according to the definition of “bachelor” (mücerred) in the Ottoman law codes do not make much difference in this respect. Whatever the case may have been, in 1643, the peasants still continued to live in greatly depopulated villages, representing what was left of the relatively prosperous and tightly-knit village community of the third quarter of the sixteenth century. Their standards of living must have also fallen drastically to a level far below that of the preceding two or three generations. When looking at the composition of the peasantry in 1643, there is a further change which is likely to be relevant to the above assumptions. The register gives the names of a significant number of individuals also as taxpayers among the peasants who were recorded as “birûnî” (plural “birûniyân”), a term literally meaning “outsider(s).” Here it refers, in Murphey’s words, to “migratory groups registered as permanent residents in one district, who took up residence temporarily in another, and were thus unregistered (hâric ez defter) in the tax rolls of their newly adopted homes.”72 In our case, however, they seem to have been

72 Rhoads Murphey, Regional Structure in the Ottoman Economy. A Sultanic Memorandum of 1636 AD Concerning the Sources and Uses of the Tax-Farm Revenues of Anatolia and the Coastal and Northern Portions of Syria (Wiesbaden, 1987), p. 89, Note 13. The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 125 registered in the avârız register of their new “homes” and were included in the avârız-hâne of their new villages.73 In addition, we find other cases in which outsiders who were currently residing in the villages of the district of Amasya were recorded in the register not as “bîrûnî” but with notes indicating their original places and the fiscal units in which they were counted.74 It is not clear from the records whether these migratory groups, in their new villages, were included in the avârız-hânes, the basic tax unit for avârız payments formed of several real households. On the other hand, the number of those recorded in the register as “birûnî” amounts to 400 nefers, which corresponds to 6.21 percent of the total recorded population of 1643. However, their proportion to the total of the rural population (5,954 nefers, including non-Muslims) is slightly higher, 6.71 percent. These figures indicate that nearly seven percent of the peasants in the district of Amasya around 1643 consisted of migratory groups, who had temporarily, or perhaps permanently, taken up residence in the countryside. The register gives no hint about their original homes75 or the reason(s) which compelled them to leave their homes and migrate to the Amasya region. In all probability, this state of affairs gives us at least an idea of the extent of the officially recorded displacement of rural populations in the Anatolian countryside in the first half of the seventeenth century. Returning to the point made above, the question remains: if the standards of living in rural Amasya were so low, and the remaining peasants were living under unfavorable conditions, why did a significant number of people choose to migrate to Amasya? There are two possible explanations that come to mind:

73 The following passage from the imperial order for the survey seems to have provided the legal framework in which these people were registered and included in the avârız-hânes of their present residences: “mukaddemâ kasaba ve karyelerinden kalkub âher kasaba ve karyelere varub tavattun eyleyen reʿâyâ tâʾifesi kalkub gideli zaman mürûr eylemekle kalkmadan ʿusret çekerlerse o makûle[le]ri yerlerinden kaldurmayub hâlâ sâkin oldukları kasaba ve karyelerde ʿavârız hânesine ve cizye defterine kayd eyleyesin” (see Appendix I/B, Doc. no. 1, lines 37–40). 74 In 1643, there were only 36 such cases in the whole kazâ. Ten peasants in the village and former mezraa of Virmiş, for instance, were recorded as “reʿâyâ-yı voyvoda-i Zile, sâkin-i karye-i m[ezbûr]” (TT776: 25). Twelve peasants from different villages were also recorded as such or as “ ʿan havâss-ı Zile.” A further twelve peasants, on the other hand, were recorded either with the name of their original villages (“ ʿan karye-i Eymir,” “ ʿan karye-i Pınarbaşı,” “ ʿan karye-i Gür,” etc.) or with their districts (“ ʿan Bozok,” “ ʿan Canik,” “ ʿan Taşâbâd,” etc.). 75 In an exceptional case, only three reâyâ from the village of Kolay in Hakala were recorded as “birûnî” with their original places, indicating probably the fiscal unit they were attached to (“ ʿan reʿâyâ-yı havâss-ı Sonisa,” TT776: 10). 126 chapter 4 a) the statement that standards of living in rural Amasya were so low at the time of the survey of 1641–42 is simply wrong; on the contrary, the peasants of the Amasya region were still living under reasonably good conditions, in fact so much so that this relatively higher standard of living attracted peasants from poorer areas in the province of Rûm; alternatively, b) the peasants of the Amasya region were indeed living on the edge of poverty, but, probably for security or other reasons, peasants from areas where the situation was even worse were induced to leave their lands in desperation, eventually finding themselves in the countryside of Amasya, where, this being a severely depopulated region, they found abundant vacant arable lands. The Amasya countryside in fact might not have been the first home of these migratory groups after leaving their original places of residence; some of these people might simply have happened to be there temporarily and were registered by the surveyors in 1641–42, and, being included in the avârız-hânes of their present villages, they were thus recorded in the register simply as “outsiders.” Considering the fact that their original homes and the fiscal units to which they were previously attached were not usually mentioned in the register, we might think that they had long been away from their original places and had been wandering around in search of relatively safer and stable habitation. The present state of research into the social and economic conditions of Anatolia in general and of the province of Rûm in particular has provided no evidence to prove that the Amasya region had any more relatively stable conditions for agricultural life than other parts of the province in the first half of the seventeenth century.76

76 A careful examination of the extant avârız registers belonging to other districts and cities of the province of Rûm, at least in terms of the extent of the “bîrûnîyân” population in the villages as well as urban areas, may yield fruitful results in this respect. A preliminary comparison between the 1575–76 tahrir register (see Yunus Koç, XVI. Yüzyılda Bir Osmanlı Sancağının İskân ve Nüfus Yapısı (Ankara: Kültür Bakanlığı Yay., 1989), Ek 2) and the 1642 avârız register (see MAD4874) of the livâ of Bozok, the neighboring district in the south of Amasya, reveals an even more radical change in the settlement structure and a more dramatic decrease in its population as compared to the kazâ of Amasya, but there were virtually no “birûnî” in this mountainous region. Similarly, Mehmet Öz points to a substantial decrease in population in the Canik region, while the number of rural settlements—despite the presence of many villages with different names— remained more or less the same between 1576 and 1642; he does not mention any records of “birûniyân” in this district. Mehmet Öz, “XVII. Yüzyıl;” “Bozok Sancağında İskan ve Nüfus (1539–1642),” in XII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, Ankara, 12–16 Eylül 1994, Kongreye Sunulan Bildiriler, III (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1999), pp. 787–794; “Population Fall in Seventeenth The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 127

Another change that occurred in the composition of rural society during the period under examination is the appearance of a significant number of the “askerî” class who, by 1643, seem to have established themselves as an integral part of village communities. The change was not limited to a comparative increase in their proportion in the total rural population, as new elements can also be observed within the askerî class, who were supposed to have no place in the rural structure of the “classical” Ottoman military and social establishment of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. From a total of 456 askerîs, who constituted 7.08 percent of the total rural population,77 64 were timar holders, recorded in the register as “erbâb-ı timar” or “merd-i timar,” and six were zeâmet holders, referred to as “zâim.” Compared to the number of dirlik holders in 1576, this figure reveals a drastic fall of 76.66 percent (from 300 to 70 timar and zeâmet holders). We are not in a position to measure the reliability of the records in this register and discover whether the above figure in regard to the askerîs represented the actual situation in 1643. Although there exists a summary register from the same date (TT780), which lists the zeâmet and timar holdings of the livâ of Amasya with the amount of the revenues which were assigned to these holdings,78 unlike the summary timar registers of the sixteenth century, it does not give the names of the holders.79 In other words, the surveyors simply listed the holdings, but not the holders. This list presents 247 timar and 11 zeâmet holdings in the nâhiyes which comprised the kazâ of Amasya. If we believe the records given in TT776, the detailed avârız

Century Anatolia: Some Findings for the Districts of Canik and Bozok,” Archivum Ottomanicum, 22 (2004–2005), pp. 159–171. 77 The proportion of askerîs to the total recorded rural population in the neighboring district of Canik in the same year was much higher, 12 percent (Öz, “XVII. Yüzyıl,” p. 202). 78 Douglas Howard, in his work on changes in the timar system during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, points out that the revenue figures given in the rûznamçe registers, daily records of timar bestowals, meant very little for the timars in actuality. Because of the peasants’ flight, many lands were left uncultivated and uninhabited; thus, this “uninhabited tract of lands could not have yielded the tax revenues which had been recorded for it in the late sixteenth century. Indeed, it is improbable, in view of this, that revenue figures for timars given in the rûznamçes have much relevance at all after the early seventeenth century” (Howard, “The Ottoman Timar System,” p. 223). A simple comparison reveals that the figures in TT780 were, with slight differences in some cases, identical to those of the timar icmâl register of 1576 (TK245). Therefore, as Howard suggests for the figures in the rûznamçe registers, these figures might also be expected to have little relevance to the actuality of the 1640s. 79 At the end of this seventeen-page defter (TT780), which seems to have been prepared as a complementary to TT776, is a note that reads: “Sûret-i defter-i icmâl-i Sultânî budur ki kayd olundı. Tahrîren fî evâhir-i şehr-i Receb sene isnâ ve hamsîn ve elf.” 128 chapter 4 register of 1643, 72.86 percent of the holdings (183 timars and 5 zeâmets) in the kazâ were vacant at this date, or about two-thirds of the timariots were not resident in the areas of their holdings in 1642–43. Considering the significant changes in the timar system during the period under study, we can assume that the reality lay in the combination of the two. Contemporary treatises, such as those of Ayn Ali (1609) and Koçi Bey (1631, 1640), on the dissolution of the timar system, as well as references to cases relating to malpractice in the process of timar bestowals and to the existence of vacant timars, are all well known.80 Although one should be cautious about possible exaggerations in their statements,81 it is evident from the conduct of a general timar inspection (yoklama) in 1632 that there were substantial numbers of vacant and unassigned timars in the empire in the 1630s. As Douglas Howard rightly points out, “the reason that these timars remained vacant is clear from the directive: a timar-holder could collect no revenue from them, because they were uninhabited. They were not productive, because the cultivators simply were not there.”82 Indeed, we learn from a contemporary record that, according to the results of the same 1632 inspection, more than nine hundred kılıç timars (i.e., initial units) in the province of Rûm had no holders. The villages whose revenues belonged to these timars were ruined, with their inhabitants having dispersed. It was decreed that these timars were to be assigned to new holders in pairs so that the villages would become inhabited and prosperous again.83 Among those who were counted in the register in the askerî class, there were 88 “sipâhi”s as distinct from “erbâb-ı timar.” Although the term sipâhi was used interchangeably with “timar holder” in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, here it appears to have referred either to a retired timariot or to a member of the Six Cavalry Divisions (altıbölük halkı) of the palace, who were generally

80 Ayn-ı Ali Efendi, Kavânin-i Âl-i Osmân; Koçi Bey Risâlesi, ed. Ali Kemalî Aksüt (İstanbul, 1939); Compare Rhoads Murphey, “The Veliyyüddin Telhis: Notes on the Sources and Interrelations Between Koçi Bey and Contemporary Writers of Advice to Kings,” Belleten, XLII/170 (1979), pp. 568–70. 81 See Abou-El-Haj, Formation of the Modern State. 82 Howard, “The Ottoman Timar System,” p. 222. 83 For references to a similar situation in 1615 and 1634, see MD, 81: 55/124; MD(zeyl), 9: 74/210. The latter, which is in fact extremely revealing in terms of the central arguments of this study, states: “eyâlet-i mezbûrede olan zeʿâmet ve timar fermân-ı şerîfim üzre yoklanub tashih olınub yoklanandan maʿadâ eshâbı olmayub ve reʿâyâsı perâkende ve perişân hâlî ve harâbe dokuzyüzden ziyâde kılınç dahi yoklanub eshâbı olmayub (. . .) ol makûle harâbe olub kimse rağbet itmedüği ikişer bin akçe kılınç timar kurrâyı şenletmek şartîle ikisini berâber üzre eyle erbâb–ı istihkâka tevcih olunmak emr idüb . . .” The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 129 known as kapıkulu sipâhis. The former does not seem to be the case, however, simply because we also find in the register a record of a retired sipâhi (müte kâid sipâhi);84 they cannot be retired timar holders. The latter then seems to be the only possibility, which can be further substantiated by evidence that kapıkulu sipâhis had in fact begun to be stationed in the garrisons of the major towns and cities of Anatolia since the revolt of Prince Bâyezid for the throne in 1558–59.85 It is also evident that they consolidated their power in local affairs during the turbulent years of the Celâlî rebellions and, by illegally acquiring lands and forming their own çiftliks in villages whose inhabitants had abandoned their homes or been compelled to flee due to depredation, they became settled in the provinces.86 As will be seen later in Chapter Five, there were many references in the mühimme records of this period to such cases in the province of Rûm as a whole; such was also the case for the region of Amasya. This is clearly confirmed by the 1643 register, in which many of the sipâhis recorded in the register did indeed hold çiftliks across the countryside of the district of Amasya, mostly on former reayâ lands.87 The kapıkulu sipâhis, however, were not the only military force sent to the Anatolian provinces during the same period; they were accompanied by other divisions of the palace, all of kul origin. In the register, we also find members of these military groups, whose salaries were paid in cash, settled in the villages of Amasya.88 Their number amounted to 169, and among them were the silahdârs, the Janissaries, the yayabaşıs, the ulûfeciyân, and many others,

84 TT776: 51. 85 Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 20. 86 Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, passim. 87 For example, in the village of Hakala there were four sipâhis, each holding çiftliks (TT776: 16). 88 They were usually registered in the following manner (example from the village of Terken in Zünnunâbâd) “Ali veled-i Hüseyin, [bölü]k) 34, silâhdâr, fî yevm 41 [akçes]” (TT776: 62); (from the village of Bulak in Merzifonâbâd) “Ali veled-i Mecid, [bölü]k 32, yeniçeri, mütekâʿid, fî yevm 13 [akçes]” (TT776: 73); (from the village of Gürköy in Merzifonâbâd) “Murad veled-i Abdullah, [bölü]k 9, ağa, fî yevm 8 [akçes]” (TT776: 71). Very few of them, however, resided in the city of Amasya, though they held çiftliks in villages (for example, a record in the village of Kılcak in Bâzı Geldigelen: “çiftlik-i Ali Ağa, sâkin-i şehr,” TT776: 90). Members of the Janissary corps as well as sipâhis in the provinces are known to have operated as money lenders to peasants in need, charging a high rate of interest (up to 30% per month) (Finkel, The Administration of Warfare, p. 69). For complaints about their other illegal activities in various parts of Anatolia in the 1590s, see Selânikî Mustafa Efendi, Tarih-i Selânikî, I–II, ed. Mehmed İpşirli (İstanbul: TTK Basımevi, 1989), pp. 263, 281–82. 130 chapter 4 whose daily salaries were also recorded beside their names.89 The combined total of these new elements (sipâhis and others) within the askerî class in 1643 amounted to 257 nefers, which corresponds to about 4 percent of the total recorded rural population in the district of Amasya. Apart from these military inhabitants in the villages, the remaining part of the askerî class recorded in the register comprised provincial administrators,90 military commanders,91 and a few people who were likely to be local notables.92 As for the local notables, who received a significant amount of rural revenue in the region throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, their position did not remain the same between 1576 and 1643. They also appear to have had experienced their share of the disorder which led to the virtual ruin of the socio-economic and political structure in the Anatolian countryside at the turn of the seventeenth century. The 1643 avârız register gives no categorical information about the notables apart from a few çiftlik holders in some villages whose titles imply their notable origins. From the first two imperial orders relating to the 1641–42 survey of the province of Rûm,93 it is understood that the notables were initially excluded from the survey and registration. If the above-mentioned individuals with such titles were in fact notables, they must have been included in the register, as in the case of the askerîs, because their homes and properties previously belonged to others, perhaps peasants, who had been counted in the avârız-hânes.94 Despite the lack of information in the 1643 avârız register about the notables, we find another imperial decree in the Amasya court register dating to

89 For example, (again from the village of Gürköy) “Mecit, [bölü]k 65, Merzifon, fî yevm 5 [akçes]” (TT776: 71). 90 There were çiftliks held by the kadı of Tokat in the village of Kılçak in Bâzı Geldigelen (“çiftlik-i Çelebi Efendi, kadı-i Tokad,” TT776) and the former district governor (of Amasya?) in the village of Hevâce Ali in Merzifonâbâd (“çiftlik i Mustafa Beğ, mirlivâ-i sâbık,” TT776: 72). 91 “Çiftlik-i Hasan, miralay-ı Amasya” (in the village of Kenger in Bâzı Geldigelen, TT776: 89). There were also the çiftliks of four pashas, whose positions were not mentioned in the register. Among them, a certain Ahmed Pasha had çiftliks in the villages of Salurca, Cörlü, Sinezi, Harmanağılı, and Uzunoba in Hakala (the eastern parts of the former nâhiye of Argoma) and in the village of Pehlivan in Ezinepazar (TT776: 13–16, 26). 92 For example, “Çiftlik-i Mehmed Çelebi” in the village of Cörlü in Hakala (TT776: 14); the çiftliks of “Hacıefendizâde,” “Beğzâde,” “Hacızâde Mehmed Efendi” in the villages of Zâre and Kutu in the nefs-i Geldigelen (TT776: 31–32). 93 See Doc. Nos. 1 and 2 in Appendix I/B. 94 See the document relating to the inclusion of the askerîs in the survey (Appendix I/B, Doc. No. 2). The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 131

1642 which concerns the notables on the occasion of the general survey of the province of Rûm.95 The decree was sent in August 1642 to the defterdâr of Rûm, Murad Efendi, who was already in charge of the survey of the province, and starts with the statement that the mâlikâne affairs in the province were also in chaos and disorder. It then goes on to instruct the defterdâr to forbid the present mülk and waqf holders from holding the mâlikâne revenues of villages and mezraas and to seize and register them for the state treasury. Those holders who still laid claims to the holdings should then go to Istanbul personally with their certificates to prove that they were the real mâlikâne holders. Until this was done, their holdings were to be held as reserve for the state treasury.96 The document does not openly state the reason(s) for this action by the central government. However, another document which follows the above-mentioned decree in the same court register, probably by the kadı of Amasya, makes it clear that most of the mâlikâne holdings in the province were not in fact held by their real owners; they had been acquired by others in one way or another.97 The immediate consequences of this radical action on the part of the state against the mâlikâne holders in the region of Amasya are not known, since the relevant defter has not been found in the archives. The only point which can be made here is that the mâlikâne revenues of the “mosques in which the khutba was recited” (hutbe okunan) and sultanic waqfs (evkâf-ı selâtîn) of the kâzâs of Amasya were not touched.98 From an imperial decree sent to the current defterdâr of Rûm two years later, in August 1644, we learn that a similar action was taken, this time against those mâlikânes who had escaped from the previous survey implemented by

95 AŞS, 4: 139. For the document in full, see Appendix I/B, Doc. No. 3. 96 “Vilâyet-i Rûm tahrîr olınub lâkin mâlikâne ahvâli muhtel ve müşevveş olmağla tasarruf idenler eğer vakf eğer mülk temessükleriyle südde-i saʿadetime gelüb ahvalleri görülmek lâzım ve mühim olmağın imdi mülk ve eğer vakıf her ne tarîkle olursa olsun o[l] makûle karyeler zabt idenlere minbʿad tasarruf itdirmeyüb sen ki defterdârsın mîrî içün zabt ve mahsûlün kabz ve defter idüb ve dâʿvet idüb temessükât ibrâz eyleyenlerin ellerinde olan temessükâtla der-i devlet-medârıma gelüb isbât-ı vücûd eyleyüb temessüklerine nazâr olundukdan sonra bâ-fermân-ı şerîfim ne vechile sâdır olursa mûcibiyle ʿamel eyleyesiz . . .” (AŞS, 4: 139). 97 “Eyâlet-i mezbûrede olan mâlikâne ahvâli muhtel ve müşevveş olub ekseri eshâbı ellerinde olmayub birer tarikle zabt eylemeleriyle . . .” (AŞS, 4: 139). 98 The tezkere sent by the defterdâr Murad to the kadıs of the kazâs of Amasya, Merzifon, Merzifonâbâd, Gümüş, Gelikiras, Havsa, Bâzı Geldigelen, Zeytun, and Gedegra about the implementation of this order reads: “Her biriniz taht-ı kazâlarınızda vâkîʿ hutbe okunan câmîʿ ve evkâf-ı selâtînden maʿadâ mülk [ve] evkâf karyelerinin mahsûlâtın mâʿrifet-i şerʿ ile zabt ve meʿmen yerde der anbâr itdiresîz . . .” (AŞS, 4: 138–139). 132 chapter 4 defterdâr Murad.99 The results of this second survey, however, seem to have been compiled in a register found in the archives and dated 1056/1646–47.100 According to the register, the whole or parts of the mâlikâne revenues of 21 villages and one mezraa from the nâhiyes of the kazâ of Amasya were seized by the state treasury. Although required in the instructions in the decree, the register does not provide the amounts of the revenues from these villages.101 This raises doubts as to whether this defter was indeed the outcome of the survey referred to in that imperial order; but, even if it was compiled as a result of a similar survey which might have been ordered in the following year, 1645, it still gives an idea of the situation in the mid-1640s. The picture illustrated by these imperial decrees and the records of the above register reveal that it was not only a small proportion of the deserted peasant holdings that fell into the possession of others—mostly members of the askerî class, both settled and newcomers, who had migrated to the region—but also many mâlikâne holdings in the kazâ of Amasya appear to have shared the same fate during the period from 1576 to 1643. It would be interesting to know how many of these mâlikâne holdings fell into the hands of the askerîs, who appear to have emerged during this period, greatly transformed, as a new component of the rural gentry. Here lies fertile ground for future research. In conclusion, parallel to drastic changes in settlement patterns and demographic fluctuations, it becomes apparent from the examination presented above that the socio-economic structure of rural Amasya also underwent a serious breakdown in the first half of the seventeenth century. This situation, however, seems to have been a general phenomenon over the whole of Anatolia

99 “Eyâlet-i mezburede vâkîʿ emlâk ve evkâf olan yerlerin bâʿzılar Celâlî istilâsından hâlî ve harâbe kalub eser-i binâdan bir nesne kalmamağın ahardan bâʿzı kimesneler hilâf-ı şart-ı vâkıf karyelerine ve mezraʿâlarına birer tarîkle müdâhele itmekle [one word illegible] lâzım ve mühim olduğı ecilden vezir-i sâbık zamanında yerlerinde yoklanub tahrîr ve defter olunması içün muharrir tâʿyin olunan Murad’ın tahrir eyledüği defter âsıtâne-i saʿâdetime geldikde emlâk ve evkâf eshâbı ʿale’l infirâd dîvân-ı hümâyûnuma geldiklerinde yedlerinde kadıya mâʿmulün-bih ve temessükleri görilüb muvâfık-ı şerʿ ve mutâbık-ı kânûn ve defter olunmağın evâmir-i şerîfim verilmeğin, imdi hâric kalub eshâb ve eser-i binâsı olmayanlar canîb-i mîrîden zabt olunmak fermânım olunmuşdur . . .” (AŞS, 4: 116). 100 MAD 6041. (“Sûret-i defter-i evkâf ve emlâk-ı kurrâ-yı mâlikâne der eyâlet-i Rûm ki ber canîb-i mîrî zabt kerden fermûde ber mûceb-i defter-i Murâd Efendi defterdâr-ı hazîne-i Rûm-ı sâbık el-muharrir ve bâ-fermân-ı âlî el-vâkîʾ, fî sene 1056,” MAD 6041: 4). 101 “Sen ki mübâşir-i mezbûrsun sen dahi eline virilen mühürlü ve nişanlu defterde mestûr olan karyelerin mâlikânelerin mîrî için zabt ve vâkî olan mahsûlâtın defter eyleyüb ve senevî ne mikdar akçe ve mahsûl hâsıl olur ve tahammülleri nedir asl ve hakîkat ile yazdırub . . .” (AŞS, 4: 116). The Collapse Of Rural Order: A Comparison, 1576–1643 133 and constituted a turning point in the gradual structural change of the empire. The members of the askerî class mentioned above seem to have emerged from the ruins of an earlier and relatively self-subsistent peasant economy. As we will see in Chapter Five, the askerî class played an important part in the Celâlî movements in Anatolia, and, by establishing themselves in the political and economic arena on the local level, they constituted the embryonic beginnings of a new class with a prospect of being de facto “landed aristocracy,” which was to form an essential part of the âyâns of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the next chapter, we will take a closer look at this crucial period in order to provide a possible explanation for both the drastic changes in the countryside of Amasya and the conditions that gradually paved the way for the overall transformation that the Ottoman Empire experienced during the very same period. Chapter 5 What Happened? An Assessment

Alimallâh ki bu devlet-i kâhire ahvâli yaramaz yola girdi (. . .) gittikçe ihtilâl mutezâʿid ü mütecâviz olmada (1595/96, Selânikî, 261b, 278a)

In Ottoman historiography, the period between 1576 and 1643 is not an unknown episode: it is essentially associated with the great imperial crisis that characterized the era. The crisis was accompanied by the rise of violence connected to widespread banditry and a series of rebellions generally linked to the Celâlîs. It is also known that the result was great destruction to the rural economy, ecology, and social order under the Celâlî terror, which reigned during the period in question and continued with periodic eruptions throughout the seventeenth century.1 Therefore, naturally, any question concerning what happened during the intervening period between the two imperial provincial surveys is bound to focus on this great destruction, together with the equally dramatic ecological and economic consequences of climatic changes associated with what is called the “Little Ice Age.”2 Thus, the task of this last chapter is to explore the period by: a) taking a closer look at the major developments and events occurring in Ottoman Anatolia, in general, at the turn of the seventeenth century; and b) evaluating these with particular emphasis on the historical evidence relating to the region of Amasya. Such an analysis will then help us to understand the nature of the changes in the Amasya countryside and to situate these changes within the wider historical context of the general crisis and transformation of the Ottoman state and society. It should initially be noted, however, that the empire-wide historical developments of the period and the circumstances that lay behind them have long been the subject of scholarly research and discussion among historians. Various attempts have been made to interpret both the nature and the

1 For the most recent re-evaluation of the Celâlî movements in this context, see Oktay Özel, “The Reign of Violence: The Celâlis (c. 1550–1700),” in Christine Woodhead (ed.), The Ottoman World (London and New York: Routledge, 2011), pp. 184–202. 2 Particularly see Sam White, The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Parker, Global Crisis.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004311244_006 What Happened? An Assessment 135 causes of the developments that occurred in the Ottoman Empire at the turn of the seventeenth century.3 Alternative interpretations of the period vary from the conventional approach developed around the terminology of

3 Among them, especially Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları; Cook, Population Pressure; Halil İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation in the Ottoman Empire, 1600–1700,” Archivum Ottomanicum, VI (1980), pp. 283–337; Suraiya Faroqhi, “Seeking Wisdom in China: an Attempt to Make Sense of the Celâli Rebellions,” in Rudolf Vesely and Eduard Gombar (eds.), Zafar Name: memorial volume to Felix Tauer (Prague: Enigma Corporation, 1996), pp. 101–124; “Political tensions,” pp. 117–130; each offering a different interpretation of the changes from a different point of view. In this respect, see also Rifaʿat ʿAli Abou-El-Haj, “Review Article: Metin Kunt, The Sultan’s Servants: Transformation of Ottoman Provincial Government 1550–1650.” Osmanlı Araştırmaları/Journal of Ottoman Studies, 6 (1986), pp. 221–246; “Fitnah, huruc ala al-Sultan and Nasihat: Political Struggle and Social Conflict in Ottoman Society, 1560s–1770s.” VIe Symposium du comité ınternational d’études pré-ottomanes et ottomanes [CIEPO], Cambridge, 1st–4th July 1984, (eds). J.-L. Bacqué-Grammont and Emeri van Donzel (İstanbul- Paris-Leiden: CIEPO, 1987), pp. 185–192; Formation of the Modern State; William J. Goldstone, “The Ecological Dynamics of Empires: Seventeenth-Century Crisis in Ottoman Turkey and Ming China,” in E. Cohen and M. Lissak and U. Almagen (eds.), Comparative Social Dynamics: Essays in Honor of S. N. Eisenstadt (Boulder: CO: Westview Press, 1985), pp. 31–47; “East and West in the Seventeenth Century: Political Crises in Stuart England, Ottoman Turkey, and Ming China,” Comparative Studies in Society and History, 30/1 (1988), pp. 103–42; Karen Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats. For other notable studies relating to the developments of the time and various aspects of the changes, mainly in Anatolia, see Mustafa Cezar, Osmanlı Tarihinde Levendler (İstanbul: Güzel Sanatlar Akademisi Yay., 1965); Mustafa Akdağ, “Timar Rejiminin Bozuluşu,” Ankara Üniversitesi Dil ve Tarih Coğrafya Fakültesi Dergisi, 3 (1945), pp. 419–431; “Genel Çizgileriyle XVII. Yüzyıl Türkiye Tarihi,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları, IV (1966), pp. 201– 247; Halil İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler,” T.T.K. Belgeler, II/3–4 (1967), pp. 49–145; “The Ottoman Decline and Its Effects upon the Reaya,” in Henrik Birnbaum and Speros Vryonis (eds.), Aspects Of the Balkans, Continuity and Change, Contributions to the International Balkan Conference, UCLA 1969 (The Hague: Mouton, 1972), pp. 338–354; Roland C. Jennings, “Firearms, Bandits, and Gun-control: Some Evidence on Ottoman Policy Towards Firearms in the Possession of Reaya, from Judicial Records of Kayseri, 1600–1627,” Archivum Ottomanicum, VI (1980), pp. 339–358; William Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, 1000–1020/1591–1911 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Werlag, 1983); Metin Kunt, The Sultan’s Servants. The Transformation of Ottoman Provincial Government, 1550–1650 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983); Suraiya Faroqhi, “Town Officials, Timar-holders and Taxation: The late Sixteenth-Century Crisis as Seen from Çorum,” Turcica, XVIII (1986), pp. 53–82; “A Great Foundation in Difficulties: Or Some Evidence on Economic Contraction in the Ottoman Empire of the Mid- Seventeenth Century,” Revue D’Histoire Magrebine, 47–48 (1987), pp. 109–121; “Agricultural Crisis and the Art of Flute-Playing: The Wordly Affairs of the Mevlevî Dervishes (1595–1652).” Turcica, XX (1988), pp. 43–70; Howard, “The Ottoman Timar System;” Linda Darling, Revenue- Raising and Legitimacy; Ariel Salzmann, Tocqueville in the Ottoman Empire: Rival Paths to the Modern State (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2004). 136 Chapter 5

“decline”4 to more recent analyses that refer to a larger framework of imperial crisis or breakdown and of state transformation, eventually leading to a re-emergence later in the seventeenth century with a major restructuring towards what Baki Tezcan has called the “Second Empire.”5 Before attempting to demonstrate and assess the historical events that are thought to have contributed to or directly caused the changes in the Amasya region as outlined above, it is imperative to first provide the reader with a brief picture of the historical context based entirely on the existing scholarship, in order to better situate the present study in general and the subsequent analysis in particular.

The Context Reviewed

At some time in the last quarter of the sixteenth century, presumably in the 1580s, when the Ottoman Empire was engaged in long and costly wars on two frontiers with the Safavids in the East and the Habsburgs in the West, a large- scale movement began among the Anatolian peasants.6 Either as a result of

4 For the literature of “decline” and its critiques, see Bernard Lewis, “Ottoman Observers of Ottoman Decline,” Islamic Studies, I/1 (1962), pp. 71–87; Douglas Howard, “ ʿAyn ʿAli Efendi and the Literature of Ottoman Decline,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin, 11 (1987), pp. 18–20; “Ottoman Historiography”; Abou El-Haj, Formation of the Modern State. 5 See Baki Tezcan, “The Second Empire: The Transformation of the Ottoman Polity in the Early Modern Era,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East, 29/3 (2009), pp. 556–572; The Second Ottoman Empire. Political and Social Transformation in the Early Modern World, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). For earlier works, see İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation;” Faroqhi, “Town Officials, Timar-holders and Taxation;” “In Search of Ottoman History” The Journal of Peasant Studies, 18/3–4 (1991), pp. 211–241; Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats; William Goldstone, Revolution and Rebellion in the Early Modern World (Berkeley: California University Press, 1991). 6 For the general situation in Anatolia in the second half of the sixteenth century, and the period after the 1580s in particular, see Akdağ, “Türkiye’nin İktisadî Vaziyeti,” pp. 497–569; Celâli İsyanları; İktisadî ve İçtimaî Tarih; Halil İnalcık, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğunun Kuruluş ve İnkişafı Devrinde Türkiye’nin İktisadî Vaziyeti Üzerinde Bir Tetkik Münasebetiyle,” Belleten, XV/60 (1951), pp. 629–690; “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 283–337; Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “XVI. Asrın İkinci Yarısında Türkiye’de Fiyat Hareketleri,” Belleten, XXXIV/136 (1970), pp. 557–607; Murat Çizakça, “Price History and the Bursa Silk Industry: A Study in Ottoman Industrial Decline,” The Journal of Economic History, XL/3 (1980), pp. 533–551; Cemal Kafadar, “Les troubles monétaires de la fin du XVIe siècle et le prise de conscience ottomane du déc- lin,” Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations, 46/2 (1991), pp. 381–400; Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats, 85ff. What Happened? An Assessment 137 economic deterioration7 and rapid population growth8 or pressure,9 or else due to the military needs of the state,10 or a combination of the two, young and probably landless peasants started to leave their villages. Although some became vagrants (levends) and soon joined the groups of brigands and bandits

7 This is the central theme of Mustafa Akdağ’s works. The main arguments of his thesis can be grouped under two categories: a) population growth, with a considerable increase in the number of unmarried males coupled with the limits of arable land; in other words, an increase in the number of landless unmarried male peasants accompanied by the lack of capacity of the villages to absorb this “surplus” population; and b) worsening economic conditions, mainly because of the monetary crisis, which started with the scarcity of liquid money and devaluation, coupled with a drop in agricultural production; the combination of these resulted in a sharp increase in prices. According to Akdağ, these two main demographic and economic factors coincided with the particular political and military conditions of the second half of the sixteenth century and led to the “breakdown of Ottoman [rural] social formation” and the ensuing depredations, which were caused by medrese students (suhtes) and then vagrants (levends and sekbans) respectively, both of peasant origin (about this last point, see especially Akdağ, Celali İsyanları). The first serious criticism of some of Akdağ’s arguments and generalizations, especially about the changes in the economic conditions of the empire and the nature and forms of the rebellions, came from İnalcık (see İnalcık, “Türkiye’nin İktisadî Vaziyeti.” See also Halil İnalcık, “Centralization and Decentralization in Ottoman Administration,” in Thomas Naff and Roger Owen (eds.) Studies in Eighteen Century Islamic History (Carbondale, Southern Illinois University Press, 1977), pp. 27–52; “Military and Fiscal Transformation”); however, many of Akdağ’s observations were confirmed by later studies. 8 A considerable increase in the population, both rural and urban, especially in the period from the 1520s to the 1570s, is one of the rare issues that later studies proved to be the case throughout almost all of Anatolia, parallel to a general growth in Europe in the sixteenth century. For Anatolia, see Barkan, “Tarihi Demografi”; Josiah C. Russel, “Late Medieval Balkan and Asia Minor Population,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, III (1960), pp. 265–274; Nejat Göyünç, XVI. Yüzyılda Mardin Sancağı (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1991); Leila Erder, “The Measurement of Pre-industrial Population Changes, The Ottoman Empire from the 15th to 17th Century,” Middle Eastern Studies, XI (1975), pp. 284–301; Roland C. Jennings, “The Population, Society and Economy of the Region of Erciyes Dağı in the XVIth Century,” in Jean-Louis Bacqué-Grammont and Paul Dumont (eds.), Contributions à l’histoire économique et social de l’Empire ottoman (Louvain: Peeters Publishers, 1983), pp. 149–250; “Urban Population,” pp. 21–57; Leila Erder and Suraiya Faroqhi, “Population Rise and Fall in Anatolia, 1550–1620,” Middle Eastern Studies, XV (1979), pp. 328–345; Faroqhi, “Urban Anatolian Network,” pp. 265–303; Faroqhi, “Peasants of Saideli;” Yediyıldız, Ordu Kazâsı; Arıkan, Hamit Sancağı; Feridun Emecen, XVI. Asırda Manisa Kazası (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1989); Mehmet Ali Ünal, XVI. Yüzyılda Harput Sancağı (1518–1566) (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1989); İsmet Miroğlu, XVI. Yüzyılda Bayburt Sancağı (İstanbul: Bayburt Kültür ve Yardımlaşma Derneği, 1975); Kemah Sancağı ve Erzincan Kazası (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1990); Mehmet Öz, “16. Yüzyılda Çorum Sancağı: Nüfus ve İktisâdî Hayat,” in Türk Kültür Tarihi içerisinde Çorum 138 Chapter 5 which had long been active in the countryside,11 most sought to join the provincial mercenary troops (sekbân and sarıca bölükleri) formed by order of the government in the 1590s, where they would be paid soldiers equipped with firearms. However, after a military campaign, once their employment in the service of the government or in the retinue of a provincial governor was ter- minated, they, acting as autonomous units, would also become brigands and roam the countryside. In İnalcık’s words, these “brigand-soldiers” imposed their own illegal taxes on the population and exacted money, food, and animals from the villages; when faced with resistance, they used force.12 In addition, provincial officials (ehl-i örf), with their large retinues, participated in the plunder by touring the countryside (devir) village by village under the pretext

Sempozyumu, 26–27 Temmuz 1991 (Çorum, 1998), pp. 5–17; “Tahrir Defterleri,” pp. 429–439; “Canik Sancağı’nda Nüfus;” Şimşirgil, “Taşra Teşkilatında Tokat;” İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants.” For Europe see Braudel, The Mediterranean; Michael Flinn, The European Demographic System, 1500–1820 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981); Stephen Lee, Aspects of European History 1494–1789 (London and New York: Routledge, 1988); Helmut Georg Koenigsberger, et al., Europe in the Sixteenth Century (London: Longman, 1989). 9 The growth in population does not necessarily mean that there was population “pressure” in terms of a serious imbalance in the ratio between the rate of population growth and the availability of arable land. However, as referred to in the preceding chapters, studies show that this was also the case for some regions of Anatolia, including the region of Amasya. We have already discussed the issue of the remarkable increase in the number of landless peasants, married or unmarried, and a certain degree of fragmentation of the reâyâ çiftliks. See Cook, Population Pressure; Öz, “Tahrir Defterleri,” pp. 429–439; İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants.” 10 In his seminal article on the military and fiscal transformation of the Ottoman Empire in the seventeenth century, İnalcık, regarding the peasants’ leaving the lands, suggests that the desperate need of the government for mercenary military men armed with firearms during the difficult years of war against the Austrians in the 1590s, as well as the desire of these peasants to become soldiers, were more direct and effective factors in this matter, though he accepts the merit of the theory of population pressure and economic breakdown (see İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 286–87). Compare Faroqhi, “Political tensions;” İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants.” 11 On levends in general and their activities in the Ottoman Empire in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in particular, see Cezar, Osmanlı Tarihinde Levendler. Compare Çağatay Uluçay, “Yavuz Sultan Selim Nasıl Padişah Oldu?,” İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi, 6/9 (1954), pp. 53–90; 7/10 (1954), pp. 117–242; 8/11 (1954), pp. 185– 200; Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları. 12 İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 292–97. What Happened? An Assessment 139 of inspection (teftiş bahanesiyle).13 Furthermore, at every level there were also the ever-increasing activities of ordinary criminals (ehl-i fesâd), either individually or in small groups.14 Unable to control the situation, the Ottoman government was often compelled to call the peasants to arms (nefir-i ʿâm) and allow them to form their own local militias (il-eris) under the supervision of their district kadıs in order to defend themselves against the Celâlîs and even against officials involved in oppression.15 On the other hand, contrary to this policy, the government sometimes ordered general inspections of the firearms in possession of members of the reâyâ.16 All this variety of increasing banditry and illegal activities in the Anatolian countryside was followed by the outbreak, from 1597–98 onward, of a series of rebellions in the provinces, further deteriorating the situation. Overwhelmingly composed of uprooted peasants and nomads, and often led by marginalized low-ranking members of the askerî class or provincial governors across Anatolian provinces, the rebel armies varied between ten to well over fifty thousand. Their continued attacks, until 1609, wreaked havoc on the environ- ment and the agricultural economy as well as on the cities. Based on his extensive research on dendrochronological evidence and contemporary narrative sources, Sam White points to the remarkable overlap between sharp fluctuations in climate and the outbreak of great rebellions in Anatolian provinces during this period and the rest of the seventeenth century.17

13 This kind of activity by provincial officials caused continuous complaints by the peasants and constituted one of the main subjects of the sultanic “justice decrees” (adâletnâmes) of the late sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. For an analysis of this phenomenon and the texts of some of these decrees, see İnalcik, “Adaletnameler.” Also see İnalcık, “The Ottoman Decline;” Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 283–353. 14 A cursory look at the mühimme records gives numerous examples of this kind. For general information, see Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları. However, the virtual absence of these records from before 1560 makes it impossible to compare the situation after this date with the situation in the first half of the century. 15 Village-level il-eri organization had been a common practice in the Ottoman Empire during the earlier parts of the sixteenth century. See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 370; İktisadî ve İçtimaî Tarih; İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 304–11. 16 For the increasing role and importance of firearms in this period in the Ottoman Empire, see especially Halil İnalcık, “The Socio-Political Effects of the Diffusion of Fire-Arms in the Middle East,” in Vernon J. Parry and M. E. Yapp (eds.), War, Technology and Society in the Middle East (London: Oxford University Press, 1974), pp. 195–217; Mücteba İlgürel, “Osmanlı İmparatorluğunda Ateşli Silâhların Yayılışı,” İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi, 32 (1979), pp. 301–318; Jennings, “Firearms, Bandits, and Gun- control,” pp. 339–358. 17 White, The Climate of Rebellion. 140 Chapter 5

At the peak of this devastation and anarchy came what is generally referred to as the “Great Flight” (Büyük Kaçgun) of peasants (1603–1606).18 Not being able to bear the hardship and violence (tahammülleri kalmayub), they left their lands and dispersed (perâkende ve perişân olub). Some tried to defend themselves by building fortified sites (palankas),19 but most sought refuge in already walled local cities or fled to Istanbul, Rumelia, Syria, or even to the Crimea.20 In 1608–1609, the Ottoman government took the situation under control, with Grand Vizier (Kuyucu) Murad Pasha using harsh methods in an attempt to crush the rebels. However, this was only a partial success: it did not ultimately bring peace and order to Anatolia, since brigandage by numerous Celâlî bands, in small or large numbers, as well as oppressive acts (zûlm ve taaddî) by provincial officials, would continue throughout the first half of the seventeenth century.21 Furthermore, with the ongoing revolt of Abaza Mehmed Pasha, a provincial governor in Anatolia, which lasted almost five years (1623–28), the sekbâns again came to prominence in Anatolia, this time providing enough manpower to challenge the Janissaries who exerted major political pressure on the Ottoman government.22 They continued to play an important part in

18 For this most violent part of the Celâlî rebellions and the consequences, see especially Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 355–501. Compare Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” 19 See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 450–51. 20 İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” p. 296. Some records in the avârız register of Tokat and its surroundings, dated 1009/1600–1 (“Celâlî havfından ehâlisi Kefe diyarına firar itmekle . . . ;” “Mahalle-i mezbûre halkı Celâlî havfından Erzurum tarafına firar itmekle . . .;” “Celâlî havfından nice kimesneler Kefe ve Erzurum taraflarına firar itmeğin . . .,” MMD15615, pp. 2–4), indicate that such flights and migration to safer places took place not only in the rural areas but also in the cities. To Linda Darling, this defter was the first independent avârız register found in the archives (Darling, Revenue-Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 91–92). 21 The documents in the mühimme series of this period and the continuing adâletnâmes, as well as the existing court registers of different regions of Anatolia, bear witness to the harassment of peasants in the succeeding period. Compare İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation.” 22 The rivalry between kapıkulu and timarlı sipâhis in general, and sekbâns and Janissaries in particular, in the provinces constitutes another characteristic not yet fully explored. In this period of turbulence, this conflict appears to have played an important part in the Celâlî rebellions. See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları; İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation;” compare Faroqhi, “Political Tensions;” Gabriel Piterberg, An Ottoman Tragedy: History and Historiography at Play (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2003); Baki Tezcan, “The 1622 Military Rebellion in Istanbul: A Historiographical Journey,” International Journal of Turkish Studies, 8 (2002), pp. 25–43. What Happened? An Assessment 141 a series of other governors’ rebellions throughout the remainder of the seventeenth century.23 Despite the serious problems they caused in the countryside during times of peace, the government’s continuing need for these sekbân companies in times of war made them indispensable. To this vicious circle of violence, an added burden on the Anatolian peasantry was the continuous wars on two fronts, especially those against the Safavids in Iran (şark seferleri), which were resumed in 1610 and lasted until 1639 with only short intervals in the hostilities.24 During this period of rebellions and anarchy in Anatolia in the first half of the seventeenth century, many villages were abandoned or ruined (hâlî ve harâb olub)25 and many lands were left uncultivated (boz kalub) for many years, with some of them passing into the hands of local members of the military (askerî) class.26 Moreover, visible climatic change and continuous fluctuations in weather conditions, the ensuing bad harvest years, drought, and the consequent drop in agricultural production, resulted in frequent famines.27 Although there are no exact figures about the extent of the death these caused, occurrences of plague and other epidemics may well have affected the Anatolian countryside as well as the urban areas during this period.28 We also have sporadic evidence showing that, during the first half of the seventeenth century, there was a considerable decrease in the rural

23 Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” 24 See Lütfi Güçer, XVI–XVII. Asırlarda Osmanlı İmparatorluğu’nda Hububat Meselesi ve Hububattan Alınan Vergiler (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Yay., 1964). Compare McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, p. 86. For the cost of warfare to the government as well as to the tax-paying subjects of the empire at the turn of the century, see Finkel, The Administration of Warfare; compare Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats, pp. 50–51. 25 For a general examination of this phenomenon, see Suraiya Faroqhi, “Agricultural Activities in a Bektashi Center: The Tekke of Kızıl Deli, 1750–1830,” Südost-Forschungen, 35 (1976), pp. 69–96 compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 488–99; Fikret Adanır, “Osmanlı Hakimiyeti Boyunca Güneydoğu Avrupa’da Gelenek ve Kırsal Değişim,” Toplum ve Bilim, 46/47 (1989), pp. 5–39. 26 See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 497–99; İnalcık, “Adaletnameler,” 73–74, 90–91; compare McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 60–72; Adanır, “Gelenek ve Kırsal Değişim,” pp. 15–17. 27 Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 452–54; Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 7–12. Compare White, The Climate of Rebellion. 28 Suraiya Faroqhi, Men of Modest Substance: House Owners and Hause Property in Seventeenth-Century Ankara and Kayseri (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), p. 54; Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department,” pp. 171–72; compare McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 86–87. 142 Chapter 5 and urban population in both parts of the empire, the Balkans and Anatolia,29 although certain cities and towns, such as Tokat and Gedegra (Köprü) in north- central Anatolia, saw an increase in population.30 Either a drop in the birth rate, which would be expected in such a period of anarchy and depredation, or flight and migration, mostly from the rural areas to the cities, might have played roles in both directions as well.31 This is a brief outline of what we know from the literature about the general characteristics of the situation in central Anatolia in the half-century between the 1590s and 1640s. They were major events in the period which had a direct impact on the settlement patterns and population, as well as on the composition of society in rural Anatolia. These were also factors which physically threatened the peasant masses and mobilized them in one way or another towards survival for most of the period. In this respect, it could be suggested that one general consequence was a considerable increase in the number of “mobile” (i.e., mostly unrecorded in the registers), and probably non-productive, population in Ottoman Anatolia at the expense of the settled cultivators (i.e., those who are supposed to be recorded in the registers).32

29 See Erder and Faroqhi, “Population Rise and Fall;” Bruce McGowan, “Osmanlı Avarız-Nüzül Teşekkülü, 1600–1830,” VII. Türk Tarih Kongresi, Kongreye Sunulan Bildiriler, II (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1981), pp. 1327–1331. On the other hand, Maria Todorova points out that this decrease, especially in the Balkans, cannot be explained by natural causes; instead, she stresses the role of “waxing islamization of the Balkans” and to a limited extent the flight of the peasants, who consequently evaded registration for taxation (see Maria Todorova, “Was there a Demographic Crisis in the Ottoman Empire in the Seventeenth Century?,” Etudes Balkaniques, II (1988), pp. 55–63). Compare Nenad Moacanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 1526–1690 (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2006); Özel, “Population Changes in Ottoman Anatolia.” 30 See the table (“Changes in the population of some major towns of the Province of Rûm, 1520–1643”) in Appendix III. 31 See Erder, “Pre-industrial Population Changes;” Osman Gümüşçü, “Internal Migration in Sixteenth Century Anatolia,” Journal of Historical Demography, 30/2 (2004), pp. 231–48. For the role of plagues, epidemics, wars, famine, and imbalance in the fluctuating birth and death rates in the population of Europe during the period 1300–1700, see Emmanul Le Roy Ladurie, “Peasants,” in Peter Burke (ed.), The New Cambridge Modern History, XII, Companion Volume (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), p. 126ff. 32 Some scholars also speak of a “renomadization” in some parts of Anatolia during this period. See Hütteroth, Ländliche Siedlungen, pp. 163–208; Mustafa Soysal, Die Siedlungs- und Landschaft- sentwicklung der Çukurova. Mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Yüreğir- Ebene (Erlangen: Erlanger geographische Arbeiten, 1976), p. 38; compare Faroqhi, “Agricultural Activities in a Bektashi Center,” p. 298. What Happened? An Assessment 143

This was probably one of the main reasons for the Ottoman government’s gradual abandonment of the traditional land surveys (arâzi tahrirleri) that had been carried out throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries on arable land and agricultural production, as well as on the tax-paying adult male population.33 The reason behind this was possibly that most of the tax income deriving from these sectors was not directed to the central treasury of the state. As also seen in the present study, it was assigned almost solely to the provincial

33 Compare Darling, Revenue-Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 91–100. For these tahrirs and a general introduction to the registers based on these surveys (tahrir defterleri), see Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Türkiye’de İmparatorluk Devirlerinin Büyük Nüfus ve Arazi Tahrirleri ve Hakana Mahsus İstatistik Defterleri,” İstanbul Üniversitesi İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası, II/1 (1940), pp. 20–59; II/2 (1940), pp. 214–247; “Research on the Ottoman Fiscal Surveys.” in M. A. Cook (ed.), Studies in the Economic History of the Middle East (London: Oxford University Press, 1970), pp. 163–171; Lajos Fekete, “Türk Vergi Tahrirleri,” Belleten, XI/42 (1947), pp. 299–328; Barkan and Meriçli, Hüdavendigâr Livası; Bernard Lewis, “Ottoman Archives as a Source for the History of Arab Lands,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1951), pp. 138–150; Halil İnalcık, Hicri 835 Tarihli Sûret-i Defter-i Sancak-i Arvanid (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1954); “Ottoman Methods of Conquest,” pp. 103–129; Gyula Kaldy-Nagy, “The Administration of the Sanjak Registration,” Acta Orientalia, XXI, (1968), pp. 181–223; “Der Quellenwert der Tahrir Defterleri für die Osmanische Wirtschaftgeschichte.” in Hans G. Majer (ed.), Osmanistiche Studien zur Wirtschaftsund Sozialgeschichte. In memoriam Vanko Boskow (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1986), pp. 76–83; Amnon Cohen and Bernard Lewis, Population and Revenue in the Towns of Palestine in the Sixteenth Century (Princeton and New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1978); Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Règlement Ottoman concernant le recensement (premierè moitié du XVIe siècle),” Südost- Forschungen, 37 (1978), pp. 1–40; Cvetkova, “Early Ottoman Tahrir Defters,” pp. 133–213; Bruce McGowan, Sirem Sancağı Mufassal Tahrir Defteri (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1983); Tibor Halasi-Kun, “Some Notes on Ottoman Mufassal Defter Studies,” International Journal of Turkish Studies (JTS), X (1986), pp. 163–166; İlhan, “Ottoman Cadastral Surveys,” pp. 17–25; Rhoads Murphey, “Ottoman Census Methods in the Mid-Sixteenth Century: Three Case Histories,” Studia Islamica, 71 (1990), pp. 115–126; Öz, “Tahrir Defterleri,” pp. 429–439; Bahaeddin Yediyıldız and Ünal Üstün, Ordu Tarihinin Kaynakları, I. 1455 Tarihli Tahrir Defteri (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1992). The compilation of tahrir defters or registers based on these surveys never entirely ceased after the last comprehensive tahrirs of the 1570s to 1590s, and continued in the seventeenth and even in the eighteenth centuries (see Cohen and Lewis, Population and Revenue, p. 5), though only in extraordinary circumstances, such as new conquests, for specific localities mainly in the European part of the empire. For the last defter of an area that subsequently continued to serve for many decades as the basis for revenue assignments see Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department,” p. 147. 144 Chapter 5 governors and the timarlı sipâhis as fief under the timar system.34 Instead, under the continuous wars of the late sixteenth century, the government began to regularly collect on a yearly basis the occasional levies collectively known as avârız-ı divâniye and tekâlif-i örfiye; portions paid in cash were sent by state agents directly to the central treasury.35 The government then began making a new kind of provincial survey (avârız-cizye tahriri), this time not on land and agricultural production, but solely on the basis of rural and urban population, in order to determine the human resources that were liable to avârız and tekâ- lif as well as cizye,36 and they produced the kind of detailed avârız registers such as the one employed in the present study.37 This new development also

34 Concerning the timar system and timarlı sipâhis in the Ottoman Empire, see İ. Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, “Kânun-ı Osmânî Mefhum-ı Defter-i Hakânî,” Belleten, XV (1951), pp. 382–399; İlhan Şahin, “Timar Sistemi Hakkında Bir Risâle,” İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi, XXXII (1979), pp. 219–254; Nedim Filibovic, “Bosna-Hersek Timar Sisteminin İnkişafı,” İstanbul Üniversitesi İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası, 15/1–4 (1953), pp. 155–188; Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Feodal Düzen ve Osmanlı Timarı” in Osman Okyar and Ünal Nalbantoğlu (eds.), Türkiye İktisat Tarihi Semineri (Ankara: Hacettepe Üniversitesi Yay., 1975), pp. 1–32; “Tarihi Demografi;” Sertoğlu, “Toprak Reformları,” pp. 68–71; Halil İnalcık, “Osmanlı Tımar Rejimi ve Sipâhi Ordusu,” Türk Kültürü, III/34 (1969), pp. 758–765; Gyula Kaldy- Nagy, “Timar Sisteminin Macaristan’da Tarımsal Üretime Etkisi,” Belleten, XXXVIII (1974), pp. 499–508; Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “Loi sur la transmission du Timar (1536),” Turcica, II (1979), pp. 78–102; Beldiceanu, Le timar dans l’État ottoman; Howard, “The Ottoman Timar System.” 35 For this process, see McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 108–110; İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 311–323; Darling, Revenue-Raising and Legitimacy. For these extraordinary levies see also Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Avârız,” İA, II (1949), pp. 13–19. Bistra Cvetkova, “Contribution a l’étude des impots extraordinaires (avarız-ı divaniye ve tekâlif-i örfiye) en Bulgarie sous la domination Turque: L’impot ‘nüzül’,” Rocznik Orientalistyczny, 23 (1959), pp. 57–65; Avdo Suçeska, “Die Entwicklung der Besteuerung durch die Avarız-i Divâniye und die Tekâlif-i Örfiye im Osmanischen Reich während des 17. und 18. Jahrunderts,” Südost Forschungen, XXVII (1968), pp. 89–130. Compare Halil Sahillioğlu, Koca Sinan Paşa Telhisleri (İstanbul: IRCICA, 2004) for the fact that the avârız taxes were practically regularized as an annual imposition as early as the 1580s. 36 McGowan, “Osmanlı Avarız-Nüzül Teşekkülü;” “The Study of Land and Agriculture in the Ottoman Provinces within the Context of an Expanding World Economy in the 17th and 18th Centuries,” International Journal of Turkish Studies, II/1 (1981); Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 112–113; Darling, “Ottoman Survey Registers,” pp. 23–26; Revenue- Raising and Legitimacy, p. 82ff. 37 For a recent study of one of the earliest avârız registers for the northwestern Anatolian district of Manyas, see Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne.” Although the cizye- paying non-Muslim subjects were also surveyed and included mostly in the same register along with the ordinary Muslim population, and occasionally recorded separately in What Happened? An Assessment 145 coincided with the increasing application of tax farming (iltizam)38 at the expense of the dirlik holders, and hence of the timar system in general. We see two major points in this story which provide a suitable framework for analyzing the changes that took place in rural Anatolia during the period under examination; namely, 1576 to 1643. The first relates to demographic-economic and climatic changes in the Ottoman Empire, especially in the second half of the sixteenth century. The second, partly connected to the first, concerns the military and fiscal needs of the Ottoman state to cope with the crisis faced at the turn of the seventeenth century. It seems that it was the combination of the two which resulted in a drastic and long-reaching change in the Ottoman countryside in general and in Anatolia in particular. The present level of our knowledge about the effects of these developments and events upon settlement pattern and population in the Anatolian countryside is still very poor in terms of micro-level quantitative analysis of different localities. However, as already seen in the above overview, we do know about the large-scale destruction of rural and agricultural structure caused largely by rebellions and banditry, as well as by the oppressive acts of provincial officials, phenomena which accelerated in the last quarter of the sixteenth century and exploded violently in the first decade of the seventeenth century. As far as the settlement pattern and population of rural Anatolia are concerned, the period between the 1590s and 1620s, or more specifically 1595–1609, is particularly crucial. It was during this period that the excessive violence and conflicts between the state forces and the rebels took place. Despite occasional active resistance (or rather, most of the time, the lack of it) or response by the peasants to plunder by provincial officials, the rebels and brigands made it virtually impossible for the rural populace to maintain their everyday routines in the same way as before. It is in this context, therefore, that the present chapter will take a closer look at the major events of the period in search of a possible explanation for the changes observed in rural Amasya in the period between 1576 and 1643. The historical assessment that follows below is based on extensive use of contemporary archival materials. The imperial orders for the provincial surveys

places where the non-Muslims constituted the majority, I call these registers “avârız registers” following the established Ottoman bureaucratic parlance that refers to them as such. 38 Concerning the iltizam system and its large-scale application in this period, see Abdul Rahim Abdul Rahman and Yuzo Nagata, “The Iltizâm System in Egypt and Turkey: A Comparative Study,” Journal of Asian and African Studies, 14 (1977), p. 180ff.; İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 327–333. For more recent studies, see Salzmann, Tocqueville in the Ottoman Empire; Erol Özvar, Osmanlı Maliyesinde Malikâne Uygulaması (İstanbul: Kitabevi Yay., 2003). 146 Chapter 5 around 1640 also provide the most direct evidence for the conditions that prevailed during the time of the survey for the region of Amasya; they are just as indicative of the appalling conditions as the resulting avârız register of the period. Among other primary sources consulted for this chapter are the out going imperial decrees contained in the mühimme registers, the court registers (sicils) of Amasya, covering the period after 1624, as well as published primary material of various kinds.39 Narrative sources, such as the chronicles of the period in question, treatises, and nasihatnâme advice literature by contemporary writers, as well as the accounts of a few travellers and diplomatic missions to the Ottoman capital, have also been consulted as valuable first-hand observations and contemporary interpretations of events.40

Nature and Climate at Work

Returning to the questions asked at the beginning of the chapter, we should begin with the possible contribution of natural disasters to the changes in Anatolia. It is evident from various sources that Anatolia witnessed many natural catastrophes from the beginning of the sixteenth century onwards, the consequences of which sometimes lasted for months or even years. To give an impression of how destructive such catastrophes could be in the conditions of the pre-industrial society of the early modern world, let us look at an early example of a complex disaster that occurred in Anatolia around 1500, at a time when the Ottomans were having severe problems dealing with a series of revolts, mainly by the heterodox nomadic Turkoman populations of Anatolia and fueled by the Shiʿite Safavids of Iran. It began with a serious earthquake in 1498;41 then, in the following years, a plague epidemic raged for three years across the land, causing a great loss of lives and accompanied by famine and a sharp rise in prices. The inhabitants of Bolu, for instance, were said to have lived on grass, having seen no bread for more than two months.42 Not long after, severe flooding caused by heavy rainfalls aggravated the situation. Finally, in 1509, there was a tremendous earthquake, referred to by chroniclers

39 The most important works in this respect are İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler;” Cengiz Orhonlu, Osmanlı Tarihine Aid Belgeler: Telhisler (1597/1607) (İstanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Yay., 1970) and Çağatay Uluçay, XVII. Asırda Saruhanʾda Eşkiyalık ve Halk Hareketleri (İstanbul: Manisa Hakevi Yay., 1944). 40 I have already discussed the nature of these sources in the Introduction. 41 Şimşirgil, “Taşra Teşkilatında Tokat,” p. 76. 42 Sohrweide, “Der Sieg de Safaviden in Persien,” p. 139. What Happened? An Assessment 147 as the “little doomsday” (küçük kıyâmet).43 A series of earthquakes lasted for forty-five days and caused enormous damage in Anatolia as well as in Istanbul; for instance, Çorum, a neighboring town of Amasya, was half destroyed.44 It is clear, then, that the population suffered terribly during such disasters in the first decade of the sixteenth century.45 The sources do not record any other complex natural disaster on such a scale during the latter part of the sixteenth century, though there are some occasional references to major earthquakes and epidemics either in Istanbul or in other areas of Anatolia; these either received a mention in some chronicles or concerned the government in one way or another. As far as the region of Amasya and the neighboring areas are concerned, three major earthquakes occurred in the Çorum, Tokat, and Amasya regions in 1543, 1579, and 1590.46 In his Amasya Tarihi, Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin, whose sources, according to his testimony, include sicils of Amasya as well as many local records such as chronicles and münşeat mecmuas, tells us how the aftershocks of the 1590 earthquake revived the issue of the coming of doomsday in the year 1000/1591, and adds that the inhabitants of the region spent two months in tents in open fields.47 Similarly, Selânikî and Hammer mention another major earthquake that affected both Anatolia and Istanbul, destroying many villages.48 The final large earthquake, however, seems to have occurred in northern Anatolia, including the Amasya region, in 1598. Despite the silence of Ottoman sources

43 For this event, see Nicolas Ambraseys and Caroline Finkel, “The Marmara Sea Earthquake of 1509,” Terra, 2 (1990), pp. 167–174. 44 Sohrweide, “Der Sieg de Safaviden in Persien,” p. 139. 45 The inefficiency of the Ottoman government, at both the state and local levels, in dealing with the socio-political developments in Anatolia during the same period seems to have led to total chaos that contributed further to the kızılbaş revolts. The extent and nature of these revolts are, to some extent, comparable to those of the Celâlîs at the turn of the seventeenth century. For a vivid description of kızılbaş activities in Anatolia, see Uluçay, “Yavuz Sultan Selim Nasıl Padişah Oldu?” For a possible continuity in terms of the character of the violence committed and the human agency involved between the kızılbaş rebellions and those of the Celâlîs, see Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” 46 See Nicolas Ambraseys and Caroline Finkel, The Seismicity of Turkey and the Adjacent Areas: A Historical Review, 1500–1800 (İstanbul: Eren Yay., 1995), pp. 47, 55–57. 47 “. . . Amasya ve mülhakâtında müdhiş bir zelzele oldu. On gün kadar devam itdi. Bütün ahâli meydanlara çıkub çadırlar altında iki ay kadar kaldı. Zelzelenin devâmı halk arasında mevcud kıyâmetin bin tarihinde kopacağı şâyiasının zuhuruna baʿis oldu” (Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, III, p. 336). 48 Selânikî, Tarih-i Selânikî, II, pp. 513–14; Hammer quotes from a Venetian source that some 4,000 houses were destroyed in an earthquake around this time. See Ambraseys and Finkel, Seismicity, p. 57. 148 Chapter 5 about this event, contemporary Venetian reports and Armenian sources speak of this “great” earthquake, whose aftershocks lasted four months.49 According to the Venetian sources, the event happened in the region of the Black Sea and “Amasya together with other towns was thrown to the ground; in two towns alone 60,000 men perished in the ruins of their houses.”50 Another report also places this event in the region of Amasya, adding that such an earthquake had not been seen for many years and that the sea advanced for a mile inland from the coast of the Black Sea, drowning many people. Since this earthquake was mentioned in the Venetian sources, it raises the suspicion that these sources might have confused the town of Samsun (Latin: Amisus) on the coast of the Black Sea with Amasya (Latin: Amasea). However, Armenian chronicles which confirm the occurrence of this event also state that many houses collapsed in Amasya and Çorum. It is thus understood that the effect of this particular earthquake covered the entire area of north-central Anatolia, including the Amasya region. There is no reference in the sources to other serious earthquakes in Amasya for the first half of the seventeenth century, until the next notable event in 1668.51 On the other hand, as stressed by Griswold, there are some incidents which relate to severe climatic changes, leading to unseasonable cold, unusually heavy rainfalls, flooding, and drought in various parts of Anatolia.52 For the region of Amasya, again Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin notes one instance in 1586, when a severe hailstorm (dolu) caused enormous damage to property and human lives were taken when many houses collapsed. This event was followed by a serious cyclone (fırtına) which swept away what remained after the hailstorm.53

49 Ambraseys and Finkel, Seismicity, p. 58. 50 Ibid., p. 58. The figure about the number of people killed in the two towns might be exag- gerated in the reports; it should, therefore, be treated with great caution. 51 For this major earthquake in the northern parts of Anatolia, see Nicolas N. Ambraseys and Caroline Finkel, “The Anatolian Earthquake of 17 August 1668,” in W. H. K. Lee et al. (eds.), Historical Seismograms and Earthquakes of the World (California: Academic Press, 1988), pp. 173–180. 52 Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, p. 50; William Griswold, “Climatic Change: A Possible Factor in the Social Unrest of Seventeenth Century Anatolia,” in H. W. Lowry and D. Quataert (eds.), Humanist and Scholar: Essays in Honor of Andreas Tietze (İstanbul and Washington, DC: The Isis Press, 1993), pp. 37–57; Kayhan Orbay, “Osmanlı Topraklarında Küçük Buzul Çağı’nın Etkilerine Dair Bazı Notlar,” Kebikeç, 23 (2007), pp. 85–93. For a list of such unusual events in the Ottoman territories relating to climatic change from the 1580s onward, see White, The Climate of Rebellion. 53 “996 senesi muharreminde Amasya, Merzifon, Ladik, Gedegra, Canik kazâlarına yumurta şeklinde ve her biri mütefâvit siklette ‘dolu’ yağdığından pek çok mevâşî, tayvar (davar?) ve What Happened? An Assessment 149

During the period in question, no serious epidemics like plagues directly affecting the Amasya region are recorded in our sources, though some cases are referred to elsewhere in Anatolia.54 The avârız register of the northwestern Anatolian district of Manyas, for instance, specifically records a group of villages totally depopulated due to a serious plague that occurred before the year 1604.55 We also know of a late instance of plague which occurred in eastern Anatolia, in the Erzurum region, in 1644–45. It resulted in a considerable number of deaths, to such an extent that the Ottoman government had to renew the survey of the region, which had been carried out only a year earlier, in order to determine the remaining population for avârız and cizye taxes.56 During the same period, the population of the region of Kayseri in central Anatolia was decimated for similar reasons.57 Although there is no evidence in the sources indicating such cases in the region of Amasya during this period of constant war and frequent famines, it is highly likely that there were similar unrecorded incidents in the Amasya region. Based on a systematic examination of the mühimme records, Lütfi Güçer notes famines in 18 years of the period 1578–1637 in various parts of the Ottoman Empire, four of which were also observed in the province of Amasya.58 Güçer, referring to drought as the cause of a few of these famines, seems to be inclined to attribute many others whose reasons were not mentioned in the mühimmes to similar climatic conditions, though he also gives plagues of locusts and rats in three cases (one of the locust attacks on crops was observed in the region of Çorum, the neighboring district of Amasya, in 1586). Even so, it would be wrong not to take into consideration the negative conditions caused by the large-scale destruction of rural structure and the dispersal of peasantry as a result of the Celâlî terror and depredations in Anatolia; therefore, such “human-made catastrophes” may well have been among the main reasons for the other cases.

hayvanâtı, insan ve nebâtâtı telef ve çok hâneleri, damları virân itdi. Müteʿâkiben bâd-i sar- sar gibi dehşetli bir furtuna kopdu, hasarât-ı azîme yapdı. Cesim ağaçları kökünden söküb çıkardı. Ahşâb hâneleri ekseriyetle devirdi, damlardan kiremitleri uçurdu. Dolunun yarım bırakdığı şeyleri tamamladı.” (Amasya Tarihi, III, p. 331). For an incident of flooding of the river Yeşilırmak in 1625, see AŞS, 1: 184. 54 For the occurrence of a taûn and vebâ or epidemic and plague in Istanbul in 1597, see Selânikî, Tarih-i Selânikî, II, p. 759. 55 Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne.” This might well be related to the same plague that swept Istanbul, referred to in the note above. 56 Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department,” pp. 171–72. 57 Faroqhi, Men of Modest Substance, p. 54. 58 Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 8–9. 150 Chapter 5

To sum up, natural disasters, epidemic diseases, and plague seem to have been not infrequent occurrences in Anatolia during the years between 1576 and 1643. The breakdown of the socio-political order and the destructive effects of the general depredation and turmoil on the very heart of daily life in rural Anatolia, phenomena which will be examined below, appear to have played a crucial role in providing fertile grounds for famine and pestilence. Furthermore, the possible impact of climatic change, conceivably linked to what is called the “Little Ice Age” of Europe, should not be totally ruled out.59 It is therefore not difficult to imagine that all this must have played an important part in the substantial loss of both settlements and population observed in the region of Amasya during the period under consideration. However, the changes in rural Amasya between 1576 and 1643 can only be partly explained by these natural catastrophes: the suitable conditions which provided the ground for famine and pestilence were not caused solely by such natural disasters. Examined in detail below are the other major events of the period, the human-made calamities, which appear to have played perhaps a greater role in the overall destruction of agriculture and the resultant changes in the Anatolian countryside.

The Celâlîs

As frequently noted earlier in this chapter, it seems that at the center of these calamities was what is generally called “the Great Celâlî Rebellions,” which took place in Anatolia at a time of a major imperial crisis of a military, administrative, and financial nature. These rebellions began at the turn of the century and continued at intervals up until 1628, causing unprecedented levels of damage, depredation, and devastation throughout Anatolia. This was accompanied by the highest ever peaks in both the number and the volume of brigandage, banditry, pillage, and plunder in the countryside by armed groups of varying sizes, ranging from small Celâlî bands often led by ex-members of the askerî class to the large retinues of provincial administrators. The chaotic socio- political atmosphere of the period, as well as the increasing conflicts within the ruling elite over revenue sources and the destructive effects of these events upon the existing rural structure and peasantry, were frequently referred to in various contemporary sources and official records; they are well outlined in a number of notable works mentioned at the beginning of this chapter.

59 Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, pp. 238–39; White, The Climate of Rebellion. What Happened? An Assessment 151

In these works, we immediately observe that around 1600, the province of Rûm was one of the centers in Anatolia which generated turmoil and was also badly affected by its consequences. Moreover, from the mid-sixteenth century on, the villages and the peasants of central Anatolia, including the Amasya region, had increasingly witnessed and suffered serious disturbances caused by brigand bands composed either of young runaway peasants (çiftbozan-levend taifesi) or rebellious medrese students (suhtes).60 Both their numbers and their unlawful activities, in the form of brigandage and banditry in the Anatolian countryside, had increased significantly after the fierce battles for the throne between the princes in the last years of Süleyman’s life61 and continued until the early 1600s. During this period, many villages were attacked or ransacked by the brigands, who were often equipped with firearms,62 causing serious loss of life. It appears from the mühimme records that the Amasya region, with its numerous medreses and its central position in the princes’ struggles for the throne in the 1550s, constituted suitable ground for such activities, providing significant human resources for these bands of brigands.63 Nevertheless, as is understood from the 1576 tahrir register of Amasya, the villages in the region were highly populated at this time, and young unmarried male peasants still constituted a substantial proportion of the total population. Despite the absence of tax registers from the 1550s to compare with those of 1576, this picture does not give the impression of a decrease in the number of inhabitants settled in the villages supposedly due to the large-scale flight of

60 For a detailed analysis of the conditions in which these brigand bands emerged, see Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 33–329; compare Cezar, Osmanlı Tarihinde Levendler. 61 See Turan, Kanuni’nin Oğlu. Compare Turan Gökçe, XVI–XVII. Yüzyıllarda Lâzıkıyye (Denizli) Kazâsı (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2000), pp. 36–46, 179. 62 For a detailed description of brigands disguised as Janissaries with firearms in the Iznik area in the early seventeenth century, see Mühimme Defteri (MD), 82 (1026/1618): 9/12 (Ankara: Devlet Arşivleri Genel Müdürlüğü, 2000). 63 Here are some typical examples of this kind in the region of Amasya during this time as reflected in the mühimme defterleri, abbreviated as MD (the numbers following the year(s) of incident(s) represent page and the document numbers respectively): MD, 3 (966–67/1558–60): 112/286; 166/452; 176/485; MD, 7 (976/1568–69): 882/2422; MD, 14 (978/1570–71): 692/998; MD, 16 (980?/1572–73): 277/532; MD, 26 (982–83/1574–76): 321/925; 338/973; MD, 27 (983/1575–76): 270/639; 308/736 (this one relates to the deportation of a group of suhtes to the newly-conquered island of Cyprus); MD, 28 (984/1576): 43/105; 296/740; MD, 31 (985/1577–78): 45/116; 46/117–118; MD, 44 (991/1583–84): 196/419; 202/425; MD, 46 (989–90/1580–81): 150/311; 308/703; 335/766; MD, 47 (990/1581–82): 92/234; MD, 48 (990/1581–82): 51/146; MD, 52 (992/1584): 213/555; 374/1011; MD, 64 (996/1587–88): 127/331; MD, 71 (1002/1593–94): 163/324. 152 Chapter 5 the peasants in the region. Furthermore, there is no record in the existing registers referring to cases of desertion of rural settlements, even in the rare records of empty and ruined villages. This state of affairs can be interpreted to mean that, in the 1570s, the villages in the kazâ of Amasya were still able to absorb the increasing young population. However, there must have been a significant number of people, presumably young, who were already involved in unlawful activities in the countryside, and therefore went unrecorded in the register. If so, one might suggest that the figures given in the 1576 register in fact under- represent the rural population. This minimum that the register reveals probably points also to the limits of the capacity of demographic absorption on the part of village economy and society, hence pointing to the upper limit of human resources in the region on which the Ottoman government of the time could levy taxes. It is not difficult to assume that the picture of rapid population growth and economic difficulties in sixteenth-century Anatolia demonstrated in the previous chapter may have already produced economic misery and rural impoverishment.64 As F. Braudel emphasizes in his Mediterranean, it was then only natural to observe that vagrancy and banditry renewed their vigor not only in the Otoman Empire but also in the whole of Europe during the same period, with the spread of different forms of everyday violence, a violence that became a “structure” of the times.65 Despite the ever-increasing and widespread activities of outlaws, or again, using Braudel’s words, misfits and rebels against society in the Anatolian countryside during the second half of the sixteenth century, the crucial events that were to lead to the eventual breakdown and collapse of social order and the destruction of rural structure in Anatolia came in the 1590s. They continued even more intensely thereafter, into the seventeenth century, which covers the entire time-span under examination. Throughout the period, three major types of destructive forces appeared to operate simultaneously in the countryside: a) the great rebellions of provincial governors or high-ranking officials, which also involved thousands of vagrants and brigand-soldiers (levends and sekbâns), who constituted the main human resource of almost all the Celâlî movements in Anatolia during the seventeenth century; b) the unlawful activities of the provincial administrators and officials (ehl-i örf), as well as the timar holders and even kadıs, such as the regular tours (devir) of district governors with their numerous retinues in the countryside, during which they exacted illegal dues, taxes, food, and animals

64 Compare Ladurie, The Peasants of Languedoc, pp. 84–98. 65 Braudel, The Mediterranean, II, pp. 734–756. What Happened? An Assessment 153 from the peasants; and c) similar activities by members of the kapıkulu regi- ments (kapı halkı or bölük halkı) stationed in the garrisons in Anatolia, such as Janissaries, sipâhis, silâhdârs, etc. In addition, there were the unending wars with external enemies, namely Safavid Iran in the East and Habsburg Austria in the West, as well as with the rebellious armies of various Celâlî leaders in Anatolia, all of whose direct and indirect costs on the Anatolian countryside and peasantry proved to be equally destructive.

Great Rebellions The great Celâlî rebellions of the period between 1596 and 1628 were usually led by ex-governor-generals or lower-ranking provincial administrators and officials. They were the most destructive forces of all in terms of the number of armed participants, who in many cases constituted substantial armies. The rebellious armies were mostly based in walled cities such as Urfa, Diyarbekir, Erzurum, and Sivas, and won many major battles against the government’s troops, whose commanding pashas sometimes even changed sides and joined the rebels, thus becoming Celâlîs. Moreover, some governors and district governors in Anatolia were in fact not much different from the Celâlî leaders in that they had large retinues under their command as well; in most instances, these were composed of thousands of levends and sekbâns. They also caused great damage and turmoil in the countryside, as well as in the towns and cities in which they resided. To give one example, Sarı Ahmed Pasha, the governor-general of the province of Rûm, had a retinue of some twenty-five thousand in 1604, most of whom were of the Celâlî type, as described in a contemporary source.66 This was also reported to the sultan in a telhis of 1011/1602–03: “Ahmed Pasha, who is at present the governor-general of Sivas, is [. . .] one of those creating disorder in Anatolia with a great number of bandits and levends under his command.” It is ironic to see the same pasha reappearing two to three years later as someone who had shown outstanding performance in the elimination of the Celâlî army of a certain Karakaş in the region (“Your servant Ahmed Pasha, the governor-general of Sivas, is highly beneficial with his retinue, renowned, and brave, and now he has shattered the accursed Karakaş and rendered great service to the religion and the state”). It is even more striking to note that the very same Celâlî leader, Karakaş, was later granted a governorship in Anatolia and that he, now Karakaş Ahmed Pasha, performed well against the army of another

66 Peçevi, Peçevi Tarihi, II, ed. Bekir Sıtkı Baykal (Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı, 1982), p. 246. 154 Chapter 5

Celâlî, Tavil [Halil]. Furthermore, if we believe the source, he established good relations with the reâyâ as well as with the local notables of his district.67 Another typical event in the region of Amasya was reported in 1607–08: the former governor-general of the province of Rûm, Yıldızlı İbrahim, had been ravaging the countryside around Amasya, Zile, and Gedegra with his men. His activity in the region reached such levels that all the sancakbeyis of the provinces were ordered to exterminate him and his army of brigands.68 It was also a fact that many of the great Celâlî leaders—such as Karayazıcı, Deli Hasan, Canbulatoğlu Ali, and Abaza Mehmed Pasha—were appointed, after they had revolted, by the Ottoman government as the governors of other districts where it was thought that they would be less damaging or sometimes even useful.69 However, in many cases, this was not a successful strategy, and the Celâlî leaders, now official governors, continued to behave as before in the districts they were meant to govern, simply by letting their armed retinues ransack and loot the villages. It is well known, for instance, that this is exactly what Karayazıcı and his men did around Çorum when he was appointed the sancakbeyi of this province.70 The brutality and destructive behavior of the rebellious armies became especially excessive before or after fierce battles with the Ottoman army, and they simply destroyed whole towns and even large cities, with the villages along their route having no defense against them. In this respect, the narrative sources commonly state that the damage inflicted by the Celâlî armies of Karayazıcı and his brother Deli Hasan in the province of Rûm between 1596

67 “. . . hâliyâ Sivas beğlerbeğisi olan Ahmed Paşa . . . nun yanında küllî eşkıyâ ve levendât olup Anadolu yakasında fesad edenlerin biri dahi budur” and “Sivas beğlerbeğisi Ahmed Paşa kulunuz kapusu mükemmel yarar ve namdâr ve şecâʿat-şiʿâr olup hususâ bu defʿa Karakaş dedükleri melʿûnı bozup dîn ü devlete azim hidmet etmişdür.” Orhonlu, Telhisler, pp. 49, 89, 132. This series of events is a good example showing the complexity of the Celâlî movements in Anatolia, as well as the changing positions of the Celâlî leaders over time. Compare Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats. 68 MD (zeyl), 8: 32/127; 107/516. 69 Here, the reference is to the government policy of sending the Celâlî armies to the front to fight against either the Austrians in the West or Safavid Iran in the East (see Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion). For detailed accounts of these rebellions and the changing characteristics of rebel-state relationships, see Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion. For a historical-sociological analysis of the same phenomenon in a comparative perspective, see Barkey, The State and Peasant Unrest. 70 Peçevi, Peçevi Tarihi, II, pp. 237–38. Compare Günhan Börekçi, “Factions and Favorites at the Court of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603–1617) and His Immediate Predecessors” (Unpublished PhD Dissertation, The Ohio State University, 2010), pp. 27–41. What Happened? An Assessment 155 and 1603 and that of Kalenderoğlu in central and western Anatolia in 1607– 1608 was the most destructive of all.71

All the Sultan’s Men The second type of destructive force involving the provincial administrators and other high-ranking officials, the kadıs and the timar holders, seems to have been the most persistent, creating an almost routine threat to rural life in Anatolia during this period. First, it should be noted that cases of complaints about the unjust and burdensome activities of the district governors, kadıs, and timar holders in Anatolia had already been common in the second half of the sixteenth century.72 Often, either through the local kadıs or directly from the people themselves, word of these incidents reached the imperial council (dîvân-ı hümâyûn); instructions were then sent, usually to the beğlerbeyis or sancakbeyis of the region, warning them about their or their men’s illegal activities, or else to local kadıs, ordering an investigation into these matters and a subsequent report to Istanbul.73 However, it was not uncommon to see the sancakbeyis and kadıs as conflicting independent local authorities, registering complaints about each other’s activities. In such cases, a third party, usually the kadı(s) of a neighboring district(s), was/were appointed to investigate the allegations.74 We find a reasonable number of complaints about these

71 Peçevi, Peçevi Tarihi, II, pp. 237–39, 312. For the activities of Kalenderoğlu and Tavil Halil in Anatolia and the appointment of the governor-general of the province of Rûm, Osman Pasha, to destroy the Celâlî armies in the region, see MD (zeyl), 8: 74/345; 120/590; 171/977– 78. In a telhis submitted to the sultan in 1010/1601, it was reported that Karayazıcı, after laying siege to the city of Sivas, sent his men to the regions of Tokat, Zile, and Turhal, the neighboring districts of Amasya, to plunder the villages and collect as much grain as possible in order to feed his army, because there had been no harvest grown in the region of Sivas (“[Karayazıcı, laying siege to the city of Sivas], top ve tüfenk atmakdan feragât edüb kalʿe etrafını sekbânlara bekledür, kimseden havf ve haşyeti yokdur; zahîreden kendünün dahi tamam müzâyakası vardur. Sivas etrafında yeni hâsıl yetişmedi, üçeryüz zorbaları Tokad ve Zile ve Turhal etrafında çıkup bulduklarını katl edüp kimesne tarlalardan arpa biçdirüp evlerinde buldukları zahîreleri alup, merkeblerine ve arabalarına yükleyüp gider- ler; reʿaya ekinlerin ve harmanların bıragub dağlar başına ehl ü ıyâllerün alub gitmişler.” Orhonlu, Telhisler, p. 22). For the attacks by the men of Abaza Mehmed Pasha on the major towns and cities of the province of Rûm in the mid-1620s, see Hüsâmeddin, Amasya Tarihi, IV, pp. 40–45. 72 See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları; İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler.” 73 For the ways in which complaints about all sorts of matters were made and reached Istanbul on the locals’ own initiative, see Faroqhi, “Political Activity.” 74 In one instance of this kind, recorded in the mühimme register dated 8 Muharrem 987 / 7 March 1579, the kadı of Kavak registered a complaint against the sancakbeyi of Canik. 156 Chapter 5 sorts of injustices and abuses of power by local authorities in the region of Amasya throughout the last four decades of the sixteenth century. However, as their effect on the everyday life of the peasantry was not generally reflected in the documents, it is difficult for us to comment on the extent of the negative impact of such activities on the rural life and structure of the region.75 Starting in the second half of the 1590s, however, the abuse of power by the provincial officials of Anatolia in general, as well as in the region of Amasya in particular, appears to have taken on new forms and to have increased both in frequency and volume. Among the most prominent unlawful brigand-like activities in the countryside were the regular visits or devir to the villages, usually by beğlerbeyis, sancakbeyis, and subaşıs, the latter being the commanders of the security forces under the governors, with their large retinues composed mainly of levends and sekbâns. Considering the special conditions of the period in which the Celâlî rebellions took place, the devirs seem to have become more and more unbearable for the peasants as the terror spread and took hold all over Anatolia, especially during the first decade of the century.76 The devirs of the ehl-i örf and their large retinues, as well as their other illegal activities in the countryside of Amasya, were indeed remarkably widespread. There are many references to such cases in the mühimmes and the court registers (sicils) of Amasya. The earliest example of this kind, involving the district governor of Amasya and his men descending upon villages of the region, was

In the meantime, the kadı of the neighboring district of Erim and the commander of the Kavak fortress registered a counter-complaint about the kadı of Kavak, with the kadıs of Amasya and Ladik being appointed to inspect the allegations made by both sides (MD, 36: 115/330). 75 For some instances found in the mühimmes relating to incidents involving beğlerbeyis, sancakbeyis, and subaşıs, see MD, 14 (978/1570–71): 672/971; MD, 15 (979/1571–72): 208/1740; MD, 27 (983/1575–76): 179/408; 210/482; MD, 28 (984/1576–77): 124/299; 381/990; MD, 29 (984/1576–77): 144/354; MD, 34 (986/1578–79): 121/263; MD, 35 (986/1578–79): 153/390; MD, 52: 991–92/1583–84): 176/446; 214/557; 253/663; 255/670; 353/994; MD, 68 (999/1590): 26/44; MD, 73 (1003/1594–95): 566/1232. For incidents involving the kadıs and their depu- ties (nâʿibs), who sometimes collaborated with the brigands and criminals, see MD (zeyl), 5 (999/1590): 21/68; MD, 74 (1004/1595–96): 79/283; MD, 75 (1013/1614–15): 215/443; MD, 78 (1018/1609): 154/394; 352/911; MD, 79 (1019/1610–11): 445/1129. 76 Halil İnalcık has published archival documents issued by the government and generally referred to by modern historians as “decrees of justice” or adâletnâmes, concerning the widespread occurrence of such activities in the Anatolian countryside, and he analyzed their effects upon the peasantry. See İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler;” “The Ottoman Decline.” Compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları; Uluçay, Saruhan’da Eşkiyalık. For an analysis of the motives and factors behind their unlawfulness and rebellious acts, see Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” What Happened? An Assessment 157 recorded in 1576–77, the very year of the compilation of the last tahrir register of the region.77 In 1609, however, a more serious incident occurred in which the sancakbeyi of Amasya, a certain Mustafa, was reported to have been touring the countryside (“il üzerine devre çıkub”) with some two hundred horsemen and exacting illegal dues, money, food, and grain from the villagers, thus causing enormous damage and suffering.78 Further evidence in the mühimmes from 1614, 1626, and 1631 refers to similar incidents on an even larger scale all over the province of Rûm.79 What these records commonly tell us is that when peasants who had previously left their villages returned to re-settle in their former lands, the sancakbeyis and the subaşıs of the province, as well as the beğlerbeyis themselves, all with large retinues, resumed their usual touring of the countryside, staying in the villages for many days, demanding illegal dues, and forcefully exacting food, grain, and animals from the villagers—literally robbing them to death. In 1641, when the avârız survey was being executed in the region of Amasya, the devirs by these provincial officials were still continuing, though not as frequently as before. In another record in the sicil of Amasya, dated April 1641, we find a group of people from the village of Gököyük of Geldigelen sending a petition to the imperial palace stating that, although they had been paying their regular taxes and dues properly, district subaşıs regularly visited the villages in the name of “devir” every three months, thus causing suffering through their maltreatment and illegal demands.80 It is also striking to see that the presence of governor-generals in their districts was no longer considered a source of security by the local people; on the contrary, they constituted a major threat to the very existence of the villagers during these turbulent years. A telling example of this was the case of the governor of Rûm whose seat had recently been transferred from Sivas to Tokat and who caused serious discontent among the inhabitants of the latter city. They presented a letter of complaint, dated 1018/1609–10, in which they claim that moving the governors from Sivas (their traditional seat) to Tokat under the pretext that “Sivas had been ruined by the bandits” had already proven to be destructive in the Tokat district and that the poor inhabitants of their district were prepared to disperse if the governors were not sent back to their previous

77 MD, 28: 391/1017. 78 MD, 78: 72/190. 79 MD, 80: 102/252; 103/253–54; 104/255–56; MD, 81: 55/124; MD, 85: 195/447. 80 AŞS, 4: 144. For similar events that took place in the villages of Gelikiras, whose revenues were assigned to the waqf of Medina, see also, AŞS, 1 (1034/1625–26): 168. 158 Chapter 5 seats.81 This was obviously not the only complaint of this sort, and it would not be wrong to assume that such devirs and similar unlawful aggression by members of the askerî class was one of the destructive legacies of the long war years between 1578 and 1606, later becoming especially acute under the conditions of chronic banditry and Celâlî terror in the Anatolian countryside, a phenomenon which strikingly resembles the cases of what Geoffrey Parker, borrowing from the contemporary Chinese term, refers to as “soldier calamity.”82 Such activities seem to have partly paved the way for another type of calamity in the countryside, which came from a different group. As will be seen below, these devirs by various groups often played an important role in the dispersal of peasants and abandonment of villages, either partly or wholly. This, in return, diminished the revenue sources of the zeâmet and timar holders. These latter represented the provincial end of the askerî class, becoming poorer and poorer and further marginalized in the Ottoman imperial mechanism of revenue distribution, or increasingly excluded from it, a phenomenon which became particularly acute from the 1580s onward.83 Not being able to afford the campaign requirements,84 they, too, tried every possible way to extract as much as they could from the peasants. The government often had to call for inspections of zeâmet and timar holdings in order to discover the exact number of real timariots, thus attempting to identify the de facto holders, who, in one way or another, had acquired most of the holdings while doing every- thing to avoid going on campaign and simultaneously draining the remaining

81 “Rûm beğlerbeğiliğinde olan kadılara hüküm ki, Tokad ahâlisi tarafından ordu-yı hümâyûna arz sunulub kadimden bu âna değin vilâyet-i mezbûreye beğlerbeği olanlar Sivas[’da] oturagelmişler iken hâlâ olıgelene muhâlif beğlerbeğiler ’Sivasʾı eşkıyâ harâb etmişdir’ deyu bahâne idüb Tokat’da oturmağla vilâyet-i mezbûre fukarâsının tahammülleri olma yub ekseri perişân ve perâkende olmak üzere oldukların bildirüb beğlerbeğiler kadimde oturdukları yerde sâkin olması bâbında emr-i şerîfim ricâ itdükleri ecilden . . .,” MD, 78: 23/59. Compare this to the rejection by the city dwellers of the chief rebel Kalenderoğlu’s entry into the city of Ankara for the reason that he came to Ankara as a Celâlî and not as a governor (upon his appointment to the city as a sancakbeyi after being pardoned by the sultan). See Mustafa Safi, Zübdetü’t-Tevârih, II, ed. İbrahim Hakkı Çuhadar (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2003), p. 61. 82 Parker, Global Crisis, pp. 28–29, 36. 83 See Özel, “The reign of Violence.” 84 “. . . her biri fakîrü’l hâl olub halleri mükedder olmağla meʿmur oldukları sefer-i hümâyû- numa kudretleri kalmayub . . .” (MD, 81 (1025/1616–17): 55/124); compare MD, 80 (1023/1614– 15): 104/255. What Happened? An Assessment 159 peasants in the villages.85 Therefore, it is not surprising to see the timar holders becoming the subject of complaints from the peasants, mostly concerning over-taxation and illegal demands,86 as well as records concerning the timar holders’ unending quarrels among themselves over the rights of holdings or with the peasants.87 Here, we can justifiably link these activities of the lower- ranking members of the askerî class in Anatolia directly to the sixteenth- century trend concerning the position of the timariots in rural Amasya. The lengthy analysis in the third chapter has already pointed to the growing competition among the ever-increasing numbers of timar holders over the limited revenue sources, as reflected in the 1576 register. It appears that, by 1600, this competition, which brought about the further marginalization of many small timariots in the provinces, turned into a fierce conflict among all levels of fief- holding dignitaries, eventually dragging many of them into unlawful activities of Celâlî type, as described above. Another group that actively participated in similar unlawful activities in the countryside comprised the military men of the palace of the sultan, who were often referred to in the sources as “kapu halkı” or “bölük halkı;” namely, the sipâhis, the Janissaries, the silahdârs, etc. As already noted earlier, they had long since come to be stationed in the garrisons in Anatolia for security reasons and gradually became rooted in the countryside, increasingly involved in local affairs and the local economy.88 An analysis of the records in the 1643 avârız register of Amasya shows that reference is made to cases in which, taking advantage of the general state of disorder in Anatolia, these military men

85 The following citation from a mühimme record gives an idea of the extent of cases either in the province of Rûm in general or in the region of Amasya in particular: “Rûm beğlerbeğisine hüküm ki, Amasya sancağı beği Hasan dâme izzihû südde-i saʿâdetime mektub gönderüb livâ-i mezbûrun icmâl mûcibince dörtyüz elli nefer zeʿâmet ve erbâb-ı timarı olub Arz-ı Rûm (Erzurum)’a zahîre nakl olunmak fermân olundukda ancak yüz neferi mevcûd olub maʿdâsı kendü havâ ü hevesinde olub ekserîsi bilâ-berât emr ile ve tezkere ile mutasarrıf olub bir hidmete gelmemeleri ile . . .,” MD, 78: (1018/1609): 491/1253); compare MD, 77 (1013/1604–05): 12/87; MD (zeyl), 9 (1044/1635): 74/210; AŞS, 3 (1044/1635): 103, 117. 86 For an example of this kind, see AŞS, 3 (1044/1634): 107; compare İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler,” pp. 72–73. 87 The sicils of Amasya for the second quarter of the seventeenth century contain numerous records referring to such cases in the region. 88 To give an example, in 1034/1625, the “güherçile mukataʿası” or tax farm of saltpeter of the livâs of Amasya and Çorum was reported to have passed into the hands of some people from the “bölük halkı” (AŞS, 1: 145; 170). 160 Chapter 5 acquired lands in villages and forced the previous inhabitants to work for them as coerced labour.89 As the Celâlî terror in Anatolia grew increasingly extreme, especially in the first decade of the seventeenth century, some members of the bölük halkı appear to have extended their illegal activities from individual criminal acts to systematic brigandage conducted in small groups. They also evaded campaigns and established their own çiftliks in villages, where some of the runaway peasants worked, either as forced labor or by choice so as to work on land in relatively safer places. There are references to such cases in the Amasya region and neighboring areas during the years from 1576 to 1643. From these records, it is understood that the bölük halkı were equally involved in attacking the villages and harassing the peasants,90 though some records refer to cases where the participants were brigands disguised as Janissaries or sipâhis.91 On the other hand, as will be seen below, their çiftliks appear to have provided a kind of shel- ter for many peasants; they must have been “protected” or at least felt secure in these farms. After all, the çiftlik-owning askerîs needed peasant labor, and it was to their own benefit to at least provide physical security, if not reasonable working conditions, for the peasants living and working on these farms. Within this framework, it would not be difficult for us to imagine a picture of emerging askerî çiftliks in former peasant lands in the Amasya countryside, as clearly reflected in the 1643 avârız register.

89 The following example, in which the peasants as well as zeâmet and timar holders and other prominent persons register complaints against the bölük halkı of Sivas and against Gül Hüseyin, refers to the earlier stages of this development in the province of Rûm: “nefs- i Sivas ve Gül Hüseyin’de sâkin olan dergâh-ı muʿallâm yeniçerileri ve bölük halkı reʿâyânın tapu ile mutasarrıf oldukları yerlerin cebren ellerinden alub kendüler ziraʿat itdirüb ve kendü yerlerin reʿâyâya imeci tarikîle cebren ziraʿat itdirüb ve cebren öküzlerin alub harmanların taşıdub bu sebeb ile reʿâyânın harmanları vaktîle kalkmayub kışa kalmağla buğday ve arpaların ve saʿir mahsullerin yağmurdan helâk olub züʿemâ ve erbâb-ı timara ve mîrîye ve evkâfa ve reʿâyâya küllî zarar ve noksan müretteb olub ve şehirde sâkin olanların kimisi tab- bâh ve kimisi kasâb ve hüttâb olub şehre gelen zehâʿiri cebren alduklarından . . .” MD (zeyl), 5 (999/1590–91): 112/351; compare Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 25–26. 90 For brigandage by members of the bölük halkı, usually sipâhis and their sons in the countryside of Amasya and the neighboring areas, see MD (zeyl), 6 (1001/1592–93): 61/144–145; MD (zeyl), 8 (1016/1607–08): 107/516; MD, 78 (1018/1609–10): 352/910; 551/1412; MD, 79 (1019/1610): 187/466; 445/1129. Compare Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” p. 101. 91 “bâʿzı eşkıyâ yeniçeri ve kapum halkı sûretine girüb reʿâyâya envâʿ-ı taʿaddî itdikleri . . .” (MD (zeyl), 5 (999/1590): 112/351). What Happened? An Assessment 161

Banditry Besides these major destructive forces operating simultaneously in the Anatolian countryside during the period under study, the sources also provide ample evidence of individual gangs of brigands involved in pillage and plunder, which seems to have been the most common feature of these turbulent years. As in all the other cases mentioned above, the primary targets of the brigands were the vulnerable villages and peasants who had very limited or no means of defence. It appears from the sources that the Amasya region and the neighboring areas were not exempt from these attacks. There were many such incidents in the region that were recorded in Istanbul, but there must have been more which went unrecorded. In recorded incidents, the brigands were either mentioned by their individual name or collectively referred to as “eşkıyâ ve ehl-i fesâd.”92 In fact, the whole of the province of Rûm had long been familiar with such activities, and both villages and villagers in this area had been badly affected since the 1590s.93 The remaining inhabitants of the villages do not seem to have been the only target of these gangs; nomads, too, were occasionally attacked by them.94 At the same time, the general pattern of relationship between the peasantry and the nomads was also one of apparent tension, which often appears to have turned into active aggression on the part of the nomads, causing clashes

92 The following are only a few examples: MD, 74 (1005/1596–97): 223/592; MD, 75 (1013/1604– 5): 258/539; MD, 78 (1018/1609–10): 128/336; 151/387–88; 237/625; 347/901. 93 It was common for military commanders who were on duty (muhâfaza) in the province to be appointed to deal with the numerous brigands in this province (“Sivas muhafazasında olan Davut Paşa’ya hüküm ki, ol canîblerde eşkıyâ ve ehl-i fesâd kesret üzre olub reʿâyâ ve berayâya zûlm ve taʿaddîleri olmağla reʿâyâ huzûr-ı hâl ve refâh-ı mâl ile kâr ü kisblerinde olmayub mütehaccir oldukları ilâm olunmağın (. . .) vilâyet-i mezbûrede ânun gibi ehl-i fesâd nâmında olub reʿâyâya taʿaddî ve tecâvüz üzre olanları her ne mahalde olursa sancakbeğleri ve kaimmakâmları ve muhâfazada olan sipâhiler mübâşeretleri ile ele getürdüb,” MD, 74 (1004/1595–96): 8/21). 94 For example, in an incident which happened in 1024/1615 in the province of Rûm, a group of nomads were attacked at night by a large number of brigands (1,200 horsemen and sek- bân) when they stopped outside a village on their way from the summer pasture; 12,000 sheep, as well as some horses, mules, donkeys, and camels, were stolen, and some 37 men were killed or wounded (“Rûm beğlerbeğisine hüküm ki, Yeni İl kazâsına tâbî Bayındır ta‌ʾifesinden Allahvirdi kethüdâ [and others] meclis-i şerʿe varub yaylaklarından gelüb gider iken [one word illegible] nâm karye kurbuna konduklarında bin ikiyüz mikdâru atlu ve sek- bân ile gice ile ʿale’lfiʿil evlerini basub on iki bin koyun ve bir mikdâr at ve katır ve deve ve merkebleri ve gayrı ve erzâkların garet ve hasarât virdiklerinden gayrı otuz yedi nefer adem- lerin tüfenk ve mızrak ve kılınç ile mecrûh [one word illegible] ve maktûl olub . . .,” MD, 81: 279/632). 162 Chapter 5 between these two sectors.95 There are some references in the sources to cases that took place in the province of Rûm during the period in which nomads attacked villages and agricultural land, thus constituting a significant threat to the peasantry and causing serious damage to agriculture as well.96 Although there is no recorded instance in the mühimmes of cases in the Amasya region, it is highly probable that the villages in the eastern and southern parts of the kazâ—bordering on the areas of Tokat and Bozok, which had substantial nomadic populations, or on their migration routes97—might have also been subject to such attacks by nomads. The mühimme records mention similar aggression by a group of Tatars in the province of Rûm as well as in the Amasya region in 1609. Coming from the east, 500 to 600 Tatars entered the province and moved westwards via Karahisâr-ı Şarkî (the modern-day Şebinkarahisar) to Amasya under the pretext of wintering (kışlak bahanesîle) in the region with the permission of the beğlerbeyi of Erzurum; they caused much damage to the animals and the inhabitants in the livâ of Amasya.98

The War Finally, it is necessary to point to the ever-increasing difficulties caused by long wars on two fronts and by constant military campaigns. During the 67-year period between 1576 and 1643, the Ottoman army was engaged in wars for some 35 years. In particular, the two thirteen-year wars with Iran (1578–1590) and with Austria-Hungary (1593–1606) were critical in that they exhausted the eco-

95 See Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 14–19. 96 “. . . yörük Türkmen ta‌ʾifesi (. . .) kurrâ halkının tarlaların tavarlarına yedirüb ve çiğnedüb ve harman zamanında terekelerin cebren alub ehâli-i vilâyete ve bi’lcümle reʿâyâ tâʾifesine ziyâde taʿaddî ve tecâvüzleri olmağla . . .” (MD, 81 (1025/1616–17): 6/13). See also MD, 80 (1023/1614–15): 107/261; 455/1075. 97 Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, p. 15. 98 “. . . Erzurum beğlerbeğisi tarafından tatardan beş-altı yüz nefer livâ-i mezbûra (Amasya) kışlak bahanesîle gelüb zahîreleri taʿyîn olunub varduklarında taʿyîn olunan zahîrelerin- den ziyâde küllî meʿkulâtımız alub ve öküzlerimiz boğazlayub ve ehl-i iyâlimize taʿarruz idüb bunlardan nicesin zûlm ve taʿaddîlerinin hadd ü hesâbı olmayub eğer üzerimizden refʿolunmazlar ise cümlemiz firâr ve terk-i diyâr itmekden gayrı çâremiz kalmamışdur deyu mukaddemâ dahi şekvâ eyledükleri ecilden . . .” (MD, 78: 142/363). On the same matter see also, MD, 78: 18/46, 384/988, 396/1016, 775/2020. It is highly likely that these Tatars were a part of a larger group who were migrating to Anatolia in desperation after witnessing a terrible famine in the Crimea during the previous summer; they also migrated further west along the northern coast of the Black Sea and drove the local inhabitants of Akkerman and Kili into Wallachia and Moldavia (see Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 10–11). Compare Yılmaz, “Edremit Kazası,” pp. 187–191. What Happened? An Assessment 163 nomic as well as human resources of the empire.99 Especially in the latter war, the Ottoman government was compelled to employ more mercenary troops, the majority of whom were made up of armed levends and sekbâns. Once these soldiers were demobilized after the campaign, they returned to their “usual” business—brigandage in the countryside, either as independent bands or in the service of provincial governments, thus contributing greatly to the general Celâlî depredation.100 The point here is that these wars were one of the main factors contributing to the development of the general disorder and chaos that reigned in Anatolia at the turn of the seventeenth century. Conditions seem to have remained more or less unchanged throughout the first half of the century, despite some temporary successes by the Ottoman army against the rebellious Celâlî armies and bands. This, in return, forced the Ottoman government to use all possible economic resources to maintain and supply its substantial army, which was divided into many parts and scattered all over the empire, fighting both external enemies on the borders and internal rebels in Anatolia. The maintenance of a large number of paid soldiers, both the standing kapıkulu army and the sekbân troops, required a vast amount of money. In a severe financial crisis,

99 For the severity of the difficulties, especially financial difficulties, during the wars with Austria-Hungary, see the documents, the telhises, published in Orhonlu, Telhisler, pp. 24–25, 27–34, 41–42. The following quotation well illustrates the extent of the financial crisis in the empire during this time (from vizier Yemişci Hasan Pasha to the sultan in 1010/1601): “3000 altun gönderesin deyu fermân olunmuş (. . .) pâdişâhım hâlâ hazinenin müzâyakası kemâlindedür (. . .) mesârıfe nihâyet yok nereden tahsil edeceğümüz bilemezüz (. . .) şimdi bir mevâcib dahi gelüp erişdi hazîne olmaduğundan aklumuz başumuzda değildür eğer memleket maʿmûr olup akça tahsili mümkin olsa devletlü pâdişâhumdan sakınur mıydum? (. . .) bu ihtilâl zamânında bu kadar hâzine taşradan tedârük olunmak makdûr-ı beşer değildür” (Orhonlu, Telhisler, pp. 30, 34). For the difficulties tax collectors encountered in collecting taxes in Zile, a neighboring district of Amasya, during these years, see Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” pp. 102–104. The Ottoman administration was so desperate to employ all its soldiers in the wars that, for example, immediately after the success of “Kuyucu” Murad Pasha against the major Celâlî rebels in Anatolia in 1018/1609, some thirty sipâhis who had previously been stationed in the Amasya fortress against brigands were ordered to join the campaign (MD, 78: 375/965). 100 According to Halil İnalcık, these “brigand-soldiers” played the most crucial role in the Celâlî rebellions of the period (İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation”). At the same time, Caroline Finkel has demonstrated that the number of the “tüfenkendâz” sekbâns recruited from Anatolia during the course of the wars against Austro-Hungarian armies was not significant, implying that they were not in a position to play such a significant role in the Celâlî rebellions in Anatolia (Finkel, The Administration of Warfare, pp. 40–46). 164 Chapter 5 the government had little choice but to turn to its tax-paying subjects (reâyâ) as the main source of revenue, hoping to make the most of them. The mechanism of the classical taxation system underwent major changes from the late sixteenth century onwards: tax farming gained momentum, the timar system went into decline, and the extraordinary levies were regularized and began to be collected annually. There were now more people than ever in the countryside trying to collect taxes, over which, in one way or another, they claimed to have the rights.101 Considering the increasing sale of offices and revenue holdings, either as iltizam or as timar, to close associates within the central bureaucracy, which was often seen as and referred to both in contemporary sources and modern historiography as “corruption,”102 there was no authority left on the ground able or willing to exert control over them. As the major by-product of this chaos, inevitably, came excessive demands on and over-exploitation of tax-paying subjects. Ultimately, again, the peasants paid the price and carried the overall burden.103 Such an overall picture, which is remarkably indicative of the period, reveals that long and costly wars went hand in hand with excessive demands and impositions on the Anatolian peasantry during this particular period of turmoil.104 Again, from contemporary sources it is possible to glean the degree of the negative effects of the constant wars on the province of Rûm in general, as well as on the Amasya region in particular. First of all, the region was on the campaign route to the east and was one of the main areas in which the army spent the winter during long campaigns. Both the preparations for war—especially the process of collecting provisions-in-kind (nüzül, sürsat, and iştirâ),105 as well as providing the necessary animals for transportation of

101 For these changes in the Ottoman fiscal system in the general framework of the government’s efforts to cope with its military needs, see İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Trans formation,” p. 311ff.; compare Abou-El-Haj, “Political Struggle and Social Conflict,” p. 185. 102 For an example referring to widespread corruption in zeâmet and timar allocations in the empire, see MD, 78 (1018/1609–10): 317/827. 103 Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, p. 24. 104 See Selânikî, Tarih-i Selânikî, I, pp. 292–93; II, pp. 786, 827–28 (“Reʿâyâ-yı memleket üstüne tekâlif-i şâkkanun pâyânı yok. Ve kefereye cizyelerinün zıʿfı tahmil olundı (. . .) sipâh-ı sal- tanat yiğirmi yıldur ale’d-devâm şark u garba sefer üzre olub, bir sene ârâm u karâr itmeyüp, bu mertebeye insan ve hayvan tahammül ü sabr eylemek saʿb u müşkil olup, mal ve menâl-i reʿâyâ vü berâyâ ve hazâʾin ve defâʾin vefâ itmeyüp . . .”). Compare Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” p. 103. 105 For a detailed analysis of these, and the ways in which the system operated during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, see Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 67–135. Also see What Happened? An Assessment 165 these provisions106—and the hosting of a portion of the army and their animals during the winter in pre-designated locations (kışlaks)107 required enormous effort and created extra hardship for peasants.108 There is also evidence in the sources referring to the difficulties that this entailed in the region and to various complaints made by the inhabitants.109

Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department;” Demirci, The Functioning of Ottoman Avâriz Taxation. 106 “. . . sefere kul ve kula zahîre lâzımdır ana göre mukayyed olub ol vechile kimseye taʿallül ve bahâne itdirmeyüb fermânım üzere zikrolunan nüzül zahîresin ihrâc ve reʿâyânın kendi davarlarına tahmil (. . .) ve noksan üzre getürmekden ve bir bahâne ile hilâf-ı emr-i defter reʿâyâya ta⁠ʿaddî ve tecâvüz eylemeden hazer eyleyüb . . .” (from a decree sent to the kadı of Amasya during the preparation of the army for the 1635 campaign to Iran, see AŞS, 3: 108). Compare AŞS, 3: 123, 127. 107 There were such kışlaks in the nâhiyes of Merzifon, Merzifonâbâd, and Gelikiras, and the whole livâ of Amasya was assigned as kışlak for the camels belonging to the state (mîrî develer) during the Baghdad campaign of 1625–26 (AŞS, 1: 120, 122). Compare Faroqhi, “Town Officials, Timar-holders and Taxation,” pp. 55, 76. 108 During the time when the nomads, who were supposed to provide certain kinds and numbers of animals, were not found in their usual places, the burden on the shoulders of peasants would increase, as they were asked to transport the provisions with their own animals to the places where the army was stationed (Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 31–32). When the government needed more animals, such as oxen or water buffalo, for transportation, they were purchased from the peasants at a fixed price determined by the government. This was a heavy burden on the peasants, who were living in despair during this particular period (for an example of such large-scale purchases in the province of Rûm and the livâ of Amasya in 1044/1635, see AŞS, 3: 116, 118, 121, 123, 125). Furthermore, these animals, once purchased, had to be fed properly and kept fit (“yağlanması ve çayırlanması”) for the difficult conditions of the campaigns. This usually meant that they were to be grazed on the best pasture lands available in the area. The following citation refers to such a case during the Erivan campaign of Murad IV in 1044/1635: “. . . sefer-i hümâyûnum içün iştirâʿ olunan (. . .) camuşun ve (. . .) kara sığırın cümlesi mübâşirîn ve mîrâhurlarîle her kangınızın kazâsına dâhil olursa her biriniz taht-ı kazânızda köyden köye varınca otlu ve sulu yerlerden alub gidüb ve yollardan gönderilüb . . .” (AŞS, 3: 102). See also, AŞS, 3: 106. 109 For example, in 1019/1610, the governor-general of the province of Rûm was reported to have collected excessive grain from the reâyâ under the pretext of the needs of the army (“asâkîr-i islâma dakik lâzımdır deyu zikrolunan kadılıklarda [Tokad, Amasya, Kazâbâd, Niksâr, and Sivas] olan reʿâyâdan ve bi’lcümle eyâlet-i Sivas’da olan reʿâyânın cümlesinden ziyâde tereke cemʿ ve tahkîr eyledüğin ʿilâm olunmağın . . .,” MD, 79: 18/46). Similarly, it was reported in 1018/1609 that, in the previous year, many soldiers wintered (kışlamak) in the Amasya region, during which time they pillaged the food, grain, and animals of the inhabitants of the region and caused great damage to the reâyâ (“Amasya canîblerinde geçen sene sipâh tâʾifesinden ve sâʾir asker halkından hayli kimesneler kışlayub [ahâlinin] emvâl 166 Chapter 5

These were the events that made their mark on the very heart of everyday life in the countryside: continuous, costly, and exhausting wars; excessive taxation; illegal activities and demands by provincial officials in the countryside; Celâlî rebellions and widespread pillaging and brigandage; nomad attacks on villages and agricultural areas; and finally, the occasional occurrence of natural catastrophes such as earthquakes, plagues, epidemics, and locust attacks on crops, as well as climatic changes that resulted in unseasonal cold, drought, heavy rainfall, and flooding. In this assessment, the intention is not to enumerate all the possible calamities that could happen anywhere and at any time in a pre-industrial agrarian society. The point, rather, is that it was the simultaneous occurrence of two or more of these events that seem to have played the most crucial and major part in the eventual collapse of the rural structure of most of Anatolia.110 What we see in the kazâ of Amasya during this period, then, are the grim consequences of such dramatic developments, both quantitatively and qualitatively, some of which can already be gleaned or seen clearly from the above analysis of events at the local level. However, based largely on contemporary records as well as on the archival sources which have been quoted extensively in this chapter, we will now look more closely and specifically at the major consequences that are directly related to the aspects analyzed in this study.

The Consequences

First of all, it would not be unreasonable to think that the most direct and immediate result of all these catastrophic events was a great loss of life. The examples given above would justify such an assumption, considering the spread of such an unprecedented level of violence in the Anatolian countryside during the period. It is true that a number of the major towns and cities of Anatolia were also subject to the direct assaults of the Celâlî armies and were often pillaged and destroyed.111 However, villages were different in that they were unable to provide security or protect their mainly peasant inhabitants, who were the real victims routinely at the mercy of either the Celâlî armies and bands or the large retinues of provincial officials. A natural disaster such

ve erzâk ve davarların ve zahîrelerin garet ve kasabât ve kurrâda füruht idüb reʿâyâya hayf ve gadr itmekle küllî havf târî olmuş iken . . .,” MD, 78: 775/2020). 110 Compare Parker, Global Crisis, pp. xxii, 2. 111 Compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 499–501; Jennings, “Urban Population,” pp. 21–57; Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” What Happened? An Assessment 167 as an earthquake, epidemic, or flood does not differentiate between urban and rural settlements; nonetheless, the primary victims of particular catastrophes such as famines or locust and rat attacks on crops must have been the poorer inhabitants of rural areas, the peasants, who lived, in Finkel’s words, “a pre- carious existence at the best of times.” Thus, as far as this particular period is concerned, it can safely be said that their lives had perhaps never been so dependent on “the mercy of all, from taxman to timariot, from exigencies of natural disaster to warfare.”112 And to this list we should also add the Celâlîs. Under such circumstances, therefore, it would hardly be speculation to assume that the trend that indicates a significant population growth in Anatolia during the greater part of the sixteenth century must have been reversed in the first half of the seventeenth century. Considering the severity of the events in terms of their long-term consequences, such a reversal in the mortality rate vis-à-vis a decreasing birth rate can be considered a serious demographic crisis in the Ottoman Empire during the seventeenth century.113 In fact, analysis of the 1643 avârız register of Amasya indicates a serious drop in both the settled rural population and in the city dwellers of the region. A cursory look at the similar registers for some other neighboring areas leaves no doubt that this was a general phenomenon throughout the province of Rûm in the same period.114 The second significant consequence of the events in our context, however, was the partial or total abandonment of many villages and the dispersal of

112 Finkel, The Administration of Warfare, p. 67. 113 McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, pp. 86–87; compare Todorova, “Was there a Demographic Crisis,” p. 61. See also Özel, “Population Changes in Anatolia.” 114 Going through the similar defter of the livâ of Bozok and comparing the figures in it with the data given in the 1576 tahrir register of the same livâ reveals an even more dramatic decrease in the settled population of this region. However, this particular region had a large number of nomadic tribes who were not firmly settled. It is therefore more likely that the drastic fall in the number of the settled tax-paying population in this region had more to do with other factors rather than with a significant decrease in the birth rate. The surveyors must have encountered difficulties in reaching or finding many of these semi- sedentary tribes during this particular period. For the situation in the districts of Canik and Harput see Öz, “16. Yüzyılda Çorum Sancağı,” pp. 190–193; Ünal, “17. Yüzyıl Ortalarında Harput.” The city of Tokat, however, seems to have been the only exception to this general decline in the province of Rûm: the tax-paying population (nefer) of the city remained more or less the same during this period. There was even a substantial increase in the number of household (hâne) figures in the city in 1642 (see the table in Appendix III). As had been the case during the second half of the sixteenth century (İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants,” pp. 185–86), this rise can be explained by migration to the city from other places, although there are some references to the flight of some of its inhabitants at the turn of the century. 168 Chapter 5 their inhabitants.115 As already seen in the cases mentioned above, there are numerous references to this phenomenon in archival sources of the period as well as in the survey orders for the 1643 register.116 Furthermore, contemporary writers and chroniclers also anonymously refer to such events, mentioning particularly that they became chronically widespread in Anatolia during this period.117 Research has shown that the years from 1603 to 1607 were particularly crucial in this regard, and these years have generally been referred to in Ottoman historiography as the period of the “Great Flight” (Büyük Kaçgun).118

115 For individual precedents of peasant flights from their villages in the last quarter of the sixteenth century see, İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler”; “The Ottoman Decline.” Compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları. A document (a request from the kadı of Tosya) published by Beldiceanu- Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” pp. 81–98, which is undated but attributed by the authors to the mid-sixteenth century or a later date, refers to a similar incident. My impression of the content of this document, however, is that it must have been written in the late 1610s or early 1620s. 116 See also, Güçer, Hububat Meselesi, pp. 20–21; Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, especially 446ff.; Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, pp. 49–50. Most of the references in the mühimmes and sicils to the incidents that victimized the villagers in the province of Rûm, including Amasya, either produced or signaled such results. 117 The following are some examples from these sources: “[since the time of Murad III] bu zamâna gelinceye değin her yıl gâhî Acem ve gâhî Rûm-ili’ne seferler olmağla Anadolu memleketlerinde reâyânın ekseri perâkende ve perîşân oldıklarından mâʿadâ niceleri dahî eşkıyâ ve celâlî olub kurânın dahi ekseri harâb ve yebâb olmuşdur”; “şimdikihâl Üsküdâr’dan Karamân ve Hâleb üzerinden Bağdâd’a varınca ve Sivas cânibinden Arz-ı Rûm (Erzurum) ’a ve Vân’a varınca kurâ ve mezâri’den dört bölükden ancak bir bölüğü maʿmur kalmışdır (. . .) vilâyetde reâyâ kalmamışdır” ([1620s], from the Kitâb-ı Müstetâb, pp. 17, 20]); “Velhasıl şimdiki halde reaya fıkarasına olan zulm ü taaddi bir tarihde ve bir iklimde ve bir padişah memleketinde olmamışdır (. . .) ve mukaddema Anadolu vilâyetlerinde Celâlî eşkiyası (. . .) zuhûr edüp Anadolu ve Karaman ve Sivas ve Haleb ve Şam ve Urfa ve Diyarbekir ve Erzurum ve Van ve Musul eyaletlerinde olan kura ve kasabatı garet ve yağma edüp, nice memleketler harab ve yebab oldu (. . .) reaya ve beraya perişan oldu” ([1632], Koçi Bey Risâlesi, pp. 48–50, also 96); “Öte yakanın (=Anatolia) ihtilâli ve Celâlilerin melâli hadden ziyade oldu,” Solak- zâde [Mehmed Hemdemî Çelebi], Solak-zâde Tarihi, ed. Vahid Çubuk (Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı Yay., 1989), vol. I, p. 241, vol. II, p. 513. See also Tarih-i Selânikî, II, pp. 755, 816–17; Peçevi Tarihi, II, p. 239; Naʿima, Tarih-i Naʿima, III (İstanbul: Matbaa-i Âmire, 1283/1866–67), pp. 113–115. For similar accounts from an Armenian source written by a witness of the Celâlî atrocity in the Kemah-Erzincan region in eastern Anatolia, see Hrand D. Andreasyan, “Bir Ermeni Kaynağına Göre Celâlî İsyanları,” İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi, XII/17–18 (1962–63), pp. 27–29. 118 It was Mustafa Akdağ who first used this term in his works (see Mustafa Akdağ, “Celâlî İsyanlarından Büyük Kaçgunluk (1603–1606), I,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları, II/2–3 (1964), pp. 1–50; Celâli İsyanları, describing the main character of the events of these years. He states that the term “Büyük Kaçgunluk” or “Büyük Firârî” was used by people at What Happened? An Assessment 169

The abandonment of villages and the dispersal of the rural population were usually described in the sources in the following manner, which appears to have become a cliché in sultanic decrees (hükms) of the time: “nice karyeler harâb ve virân olub,” “reʿâyâ tahammül idemeyüb ekseri perâkende ve perişân olub,” “reʿâyâ dahi yerlerin terk idüb,” “ahâlîsi dağılub celâ-yi vatan idüb,” etc. According to the sources, the phenomenon to which these phrases referred was primarily the result of the Celâlî terror (“Celâlî zûlmünden/istilâsından” or “Celâlî havfından” or “zaleme zûlmünden” or “eşkıyâ istilâsından/zûlmünden”) and the extreme cruelty involved in such activities in the countryside, a cruelty that was generally described with the standard formula of “zûlm ve taʿaddî,” prefixed with adjectives that usually indicate its excessive level, such as “küllî,” “ziyâde,” or “hadden ziyâde.”119 Whatever the reason for the abandonment of rural settlements in the countryside of Anatolia in the early seventeenth century, the imperial orders relating to the survey of the province of Rûm in the early 1640s make a direct and clear statement that its grave effects were still being felt in the region. What is more, they also clearly state that the primary cause of the situation was the Celâlî terror.120 Contemporary sources unanimously attest that the rural tax-paying population in central, north-central, and eastern Anatolian provinces such as Konya, Bozok, Amasya, Canik, Tokat, Harput, and Erzurum fled to safer areas, either to high mountains or to urban settlements with better protection.121 Mustafa Akdağ presents dramatic examples from the Ankara region: official inspection reports prepared for the imperial center reveal that, in the district of Bacı in 1604, 33 out of 38 villages were totally depopulated, while in the two districts of Haymana over 80 villages, once amounting to two-thirds of the rural population, had no inhabitants remaining. Similarly, in the Afyon region southwest of Ankara, officials found peasants in only ten villages.122 More recently, Günhan Börekçi has also found additional reports of the same kind, confirming the

the time and also recorded in sicils as such (Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 24, Note 2), without giving any reference to substantiate his claim. Since then, the term has been generally accepted by others and it has become customary among historians to call this period of the great Celâlî rebellions “Büyük Kaçgun[luk]” (See for example, İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” p. 297; Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, pp. 49–50). 119 For an evaluation of sultanic decrees from the point of view of diplomatics and the usage of clichés in them see, İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler,” pp. 86–89. 120 “Eyâlet-i mezburede vâkîʿ emlâk ve evkâf olan yerlerin bâʿzılar Celâlî istilâsından hâlî ve harâbe kalub eser-i binâdan bir nesne kalmamağın” (AŞS, 4: 116). 121 See Naʿima, Tarih-i Naʿima, II, pp. 808–9; Simeon of Poland, pp. 309–10; Andreasyan, Simeonʾun Seyahatnamesi, p. 29; Kitab-i Müstetab, pp. 17, 20; Koçi Bey Risâlesi, pp. 48–50, 96. 122 Mustafa Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları (1550–1603) (Ankara: Ankara Üniversitesi Basımevi, 1963), pp. 251–2. 170 Chapter 5 picture for the western provinces of Anatolia as well: most of the villages and towns located in the vicinities of modern-day Iznik, Manisa, Kütahya, Isparta, and Antalya suffered a 40 to 85 percent decrease in population in relation to the number of households previously registered for various tax purposes. Börekçi further points to the fact that petitions submitted to the imperial council mention numerous villages and small settlements in Kastamonu province which were almost totally deserted.123 Contemporary Mühimme records note that the cities of Eskişehir, Karasu, Kayseri, Akşehir and Alaiyye were nearly abondaned.124 The tax registers of the 1640s for other regions also show a dramatic drop in the recorded population in both urban and rural settlements. In Bozok and Harput in the province of Rûm, the number of rural taxpayers was barely 30 percent of that recorded in pre-Celâlî registers: some 70 to 80 percent of the rural population had disappeared from the tax surveys.125 In Manyas, the avârız register of 1603–1604 refers to the depopulation of some quarters of the town due to attacks by the “Celâlî bandits.”126 A similar register drawn up for the district of Antakya in the last quarter of the century also records many abandoned and ruined villages.127 Furthermore, in the Ayntab region, immigration into the city from its rural surroundings early in the century was followed in the 1650s by peasant flight and abandonment of villages, most probably as a result of Abaza Hasan Pasha’s rebellion.128 Katip Çelebi, visiting Anatolia twelve years prior to 1635, particularly emphasizes the large number of refugees flowing into the cities, especially to Istanbul.129 Simeon of Poland, who traversed Anatolia in the aftermath of the “Great Flight,” observed a similar picture, noting especially that half of the western Anatolian city of Bursa had been destroyed, burned, and depopulated by the Celâlîs; the situation was similar for Kayseri and Ankara.130 Evliya Çelebi confirms similar destruction elsewhere in Anatolia in the middle of the

123 Günhan Börekçi, “Factions and Favorites,” pp. 28–29. 124 See White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 183–84. 125 Özel, “Population Changes in Ottoman Anatolia;” Öz, “Bozok Sancağında İskan ve Nüfus;” “Population Fall in Seventeenth Century Anatolia.” 126 BOA. MAD. 614. See Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne.” 127 Çakar, “17. Yüzyılın İkinci Yarısında Antakya.” 128 Hülya Canbakal, Society and Politics in an Ottoman Town: Ayntab in the 17th Century (Leiden: Brill, 2007), p. 29. 129 Kâtip Çelebi, Düsturü’l Amel li-İslahi’l-Halel (İstanbul: Tasvir-i Efkar Matbaası, 1280), p. 127. Compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları (1550–1603), p. 254. 130 Simeon of Poland, pp. 60, 271–73, 277–78; Andreasyan, Polonyalı Simeon, pp. 27–29. What Happened? An Assessment 171

17th century.131 Referring to the sorrowful desolation of the Ottoman countryside where one could walk three days without encountering an inhabited settlement, the English ambassador to Istanbul, Sir Thomas Roe, commented in the 1620s that out of 553,000 villages that had existed in the entire empire in 1606 according to the tax surveys carried out, only 75,000 remained inhabited by 1619.132 Venetian sources of the time also report similar events taking place in Anatolian provinces.133 Such observations convey a sense of the contemporary perception of the degree of destruction of the Anatolian countryside in the first half of the seventeenth century.134 However, it would be wrong to assume that the Celâlî terror was the only reason for the peasants’ abandonment of their land; other possible reasons, such as plague and earthquakes, have already been indicated above. As rightly emphasized by certain scholars, the desire of poor peasants to enter the military class by taking advantage of the government’s urgent need for mercenary soldiers during this period must also have played a part in their leaving the villages.135 Many young and landless peasants must have welcomed this opportunity to leave their villages in search of a better life as mercenary soldiers (sekbâns), while many others directly joined the brigand bands, which appear to have become a way of life per se. It has already been demonstrated that, aside from a greater number of unmarried adult males, landless peasant families constituted more than 40 percent of the total tax-paying rural population in the kazâ of Amasya in 1576, and there were also a great number of vagrant peasants (levends) in Anatolia during the period in question.136 By either entering the service of provincial governors or becoming part of the temporary government mercenary troops, these peasants became, in Barkey’s words, “part of the semi-military forces with no regular relationship to the land or to

131 Evliya Çelebi , Seyahatname, II (İstanbul: İkdam Matbaası, 1314/1896), pp. 182–185. 132 Thomas Roe, The Negotiations of Sir Thomas Roe, in his embassy to the Ottoman porte, from the year 1621 to 1628 (London: ECCO Print editions (no date)), pp. 66–67. Compare Johann Wilhelm Zinkeisen, Geschichte des Osmanischen Reiches in Europa (Gotha, 1855), p. 784. See also similar observations on the situation in the Irish countryside in the mid- seventeenth century violence, Parker, Global Crisis, p. 24. 133 White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 173–79. 134 Griswold, The Great Anatolian Rebellion, pp. 172–3. 135 See İnalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation,” pp. 286–89; compare Faroqhi, “Political tensions;” Barkey, The State and Peasant Unrest, p. 214; İslamoğlu-İnan, “State and Peasants,” p. 185. Also see Yunus Koç, “Osmanlı’da Toplumsal Dinamizmden Celâli İsyanlarına Giden Yol ya da İki Belgeye Tek Yorum,” Bilig, 35 (2005), pp. 229–45; Arıcanlı and Kafadar, “A Reformulation of Celâli Rebellions.” 136 Cezar, Osmanlı Tarihinde Levendler; Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları. 172 Chapter 5 the cultivation of the land.”137 Simply put, they had no intention of going back to peasant life. It was these disaffected and uprooted peasants who eventually became the main participants in all kinds of Celâlî activities in the countryside of Anatolia, as well as in the Amasya region. Stated differently, in the final analysis, the peasantry constituted both the natural and principal source of manpower for Celâlî cadres, in addition to being the primary victims of the resulting turmoil. Thus, landless and unmarried peasants left their villages in pursuit of a better life, joining individual brigand bands or the mercenary sekbân troops; then, once they became Celâlîs, it was their former fellow peasants remaining in the villages who paid the price, becoming the primary victims of the ensuing violence. Consequently, the Anatolian peasantry seems to have no longer been a sector that produced wealth in this period; it was, on the contrary, the largest source of banditry and violence, and played the most crucial role in the eventual destruction of the countryside in Anatolia.138 Emphasizing the government’s facilitating and legitimizing role in the formation of large retinues by provincial governors, either as a protective measure against the activities of brigand levends in the countryside or as a way of recruiting more mercenaries for wars, Karen Barkey rightly points out the dilemma the government faced when the governors encountered great difficulties in feeding their retinues, and the eventual participation of these hun- gry and unhappy soldiers in the usual business of banditry. Barkey goes on to say that this legitimate militarization in the provinces gradually turned into widespread lawlessness and violence, thus blurring the distinctions between “official provincial lawlessness” and “unofficial provincial banditry.”139 It was under such circumstances that a great number of villagers abandoned their lands in the Amasya region and in the neighboring areas of the province of Rûm during this turbulent period. Seeking refuge in places which they thought were safer, they either moved to the large walled cities in the near vicinity,140 to Istanbul,141 and, as mentioned earlier, even to Kefe in the Crimea.

137 Barkey, “The State and Peasant Unrest,” p. 206. 138 For a lengthy discussion of the matter, see Özel, “The Reign of Violence.” 139 Barkey, “The State and Peasant Unrest,” p. 210. Compare Cook, Population Pressure, p. 40. 140 Faroqhi, Towns and Townsmen, p. 272. The city of Amasya during this period appears to have also been badly affected by the Celâlî terror, and, according to the 1643 avârız register, lost a significant proportion of its population (see the table in Appendix III). There is also evidence in the mühimmes referring to the destruction and desertion of some quarters of the city (“. . . ceddim Sultan Bâyezid tâbe serâhûnun câmî–i şerîfi etrafında olan mahalleler Celâlî istilâsından harâb olub ahâlisi dahi kaht-ü galâdan helâk olub cemaʿat kalmamağla . . .,” MD, 80 (1022/1613–14): 66/163). 141 See Peçevi, Peçevi Tarihi, II, p. 239. What Happened? An Assessment 173

Many also escaped to the mountains where the “evil-doers” could not easily reach them,142 while the inhabitants of some individual villages, or several of them in cooperation, tried to protect themselves by surrounding a large village or a suitable site with ditches or simple walls, called palankas.143 Not only did this large-scale peasant flight have a direct negative impact on agricultural output, but the imperial treasury was also badly affected, as it had lost a significant proportion of its tax base.144 There are many complaints recorded in the sources. Tax collectors complained that there were far fewer tax payers in the villages due to flight, and it was impossible to collect the amount of taxes that had been levied on the basis of the earlier situation and of the fiscal counts, while the remaining tax payers (reâyâ) objected to paying taxes that should have been paid by villagers who had fled.145 From their

142 For an example from the region of Amasya, see AŞS, 1: 181; compare Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, p. 493. 143 There were hundreds of palankas in various parts of Anatolia during this period. See Akdağ, Celâli İsyanları, pp. 494–95; Faroqhi, Towns and Townsmen, p. 273. For such palankas as a protective measure taken by the peasants in the region of Amasya during the period, see MD, 75 (1013/164): 275/576; MD, 78 (1018/1609): 16/40. It was also the case that these strongholds sometimes fell into the hands of brigands, thus becoming bases for their criminal activities in the countryside (see MD, 78: 615/1578; compare Faroqhi, Towns and Townsmen, p. 273). A decree sent to the sancakbeği of Amasya and the kadıs of the livâ in circa 1609–10 ordered the closing down of the palankas, which had become centers for the brigands (MD, 78: 491/1252). 144 As would be expected, during this period of turmoil a serious crisis in agriculture in Anatolia was observed. See Faroqhi, “A Great Foundation in Difficulties,” pp. 109–121; “Agricultural Crisis and the Art of Flute-Playing;” compare Finkel, The Administration of Warfare, p. 151; Murat Çizakça, “Incorporation of the Middle East into the European World- Economy,” Review, VIII/3 (1985), pp. 360–61. In 1604–05, the vizier Mustafa Pasha, in his telhis to the sultan, stated that there was a shortage of provisions in Anatolia (“Anadolu’da ise eşkıya tegallübünden zahîre kıllet üzere olmağla . . .,” Orhonlu, Telhisler, p. 90). Frequent occurrences of famine during this period were after all a clear indication of such a crisis. The author of the Kitâb-ı Müstetâb refers to a very severe famine in the province of Rûm (“Meselâ vilâyet-i Sivas’da bundan akdem bir kaht-ü galâ olmuş idi ki reâyâ kedi ve köpek ekl itdiklerinden maʿadâ âdem etini dahî ekl itdikleri meşhûr olmuş idi,” Kitâb-ı Müstetâb, p. 20). There are also references in the sicils to serious difficulties (müzâyaka) in the treasury of the province of Rûm during this period (see for example, AŞS, 1: 137; compare Kitâb-ı Müstetâb, p. 20). The sicils of this period also give evidence of lands left uncultivated for eight to twenty years in some villages of the kazâ of Amasya (see AŞS, 2: 63–64; AŞS, 3: 122; AŞS, 4: 118). 145 For examples of this kind of dispute between the tax payers and tax collectors in the region of Amasya, see AŞS, 1: 161, 168; AŞS, 3: 122; compare Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” pp. 108–110; Darling, “The Ottoman Finance Department,” 273–275ff. 174 Chapter 5 complaints in such situations and from subsequent demands made by the government, we can understand that the peasantry, or whatever remained of it in the countryside during the period under examination, was quick to pragmatically and quite politically turn this unpleasant fact into an actual threat to the government. Aware of their economic force, they began to increasingly spell out the “only option” left to them, which was “leaving their lands,” threatening the authorities unless this sort of injustice was removed, as manifested in such phrases as “perâkende ve perişân olmamız mukarrerdir.”146 Another development that the peasants’ abandonment of the villages partly engendered was, as also noted earlier, the askerîs’ acquisition of abandoned peasant lands, a phenomenon that led to the establishment of askerî çiftliks in the former reâyâ lands.147 It is evident from the documents that the askerîs were reluctant to give these lands back to the peasants who returned home after the most crucial years of the “Great Flight.”148 However, we are also informed by a document, dated 1635–36, that there were a significant number of peasants who had in fact moved to such askerî çiftliks and had been living there for quite some time; once asked to return to their original lands, they objected to leaving these çiftliks.149 Similarly, this caused discontent on the part of many

146 See Beldiceanu-Steinherr and Bacqué-Grammont, “Quelques causes de malaises,” p. 83; Suraiya Faroqhi, “Political Initiative ‘from the Bottom Up’ in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Ottoman Empire: Some Evidence of Their Existence,” in Hans Georg Maier (ed.), Osmanische Studien zur Wirtschafts- und Sozialgeschichte in Memoriam Vanko Boskov (Wiesbaden, 1986), pp. 24–33; “Political Activity Among Ottoman Taxpayers and the Problem of Sultanic Legtimation,” pp. 1–32. Also see the quotation given in Note 98 above. 147 Compare İnalcık, “Adâletnâmeler,” pp. 90–91. 148 The following example refers to the resistance of the askerîs to return the lands to their owners in the mid-1610s in the province of Rûm: “Rûm eyâletinde vâkîʿ olan kadılara hüküm ki, bundan akdem eşkıyâ istilâsından perâkende ve perişân olan reʿâyâ yerlerine varub sâkin olmak ve bağ ve bağçe ve yerleri eğer sipâh ve eğer yeniçeri ve eğer kuzzât ve sâʾirden her kimler alub zabt idüb tasarruf iderlerse vilâyet mâʾmûr ve abadân olmak içün girü ashâbına alıvirilmek fermânım olub mahsûs ve meşrûh hükm-i hümâyûnum verilüb tenbih ve teʿkid olunmuş iken girü sipâh ve yeniçeri tâʾifesinden bâʿzıları muhtevî(?) olmayub ʿyerlerini bize talâkla beyʿ itmişlerdir, bu bâbda ellerimizde fetvâlarımız vardur’ deyu taʿallül itmekle girü reʿâyâ yerlerinde iskâna mecâlleri olmaduğın ilân olunmağın . . .” (MD, 80 (1023/1614–15): 103/254). 149 “ra‌ʾiyyet ve raʾiyyet‌ oğullarından bâʿzıları kadîmî sâkin oldukları yerlerin ve yurdların bıragub varub kasabât ve kurrâda ve askerî çiftliklerinde tahassin idüb bunlar [züʿemâ and erbâb-ı timar] varub kaldırmak istediklerinde ʿon yıl mürûr itmişdir ve yirmi otuz yıldan berü vâkî tekâlifi de oturduğumuz yerde virüb ʿavârız-hâne kaydolduk’ deyu taʿallül idüb askerî taʿifesi dahi çiftliklerinde olan reʿâyânın kalkmasına mâʿnî olmağla zeʿâmet ve timarlarına What Happened? An Assessment 175 revenue-holding imperial dignitaries, namely the zeâmet and timar holders, who lost significant revenue sources from the villages assigned to them. It is understood from such records that the long-term effects of the large-scale peasant flight from the villages, especially in the first decade of the seventeenth century, persisted during the subsequent decades and constituted a significant problem, causing endless disputes between the three parties; namely, the peasants on the one hand, and the çiftlik-owning askerîs together with the revenue-holding zaims and timariots on the other. The government often issued decrees ordering the return to their places of origin of the peasants who had moved either to towns, askerî çiftliks, or other villages.150 However, it was sometimes accepted, quite pragmatically, that as long as these peasants paid their taxes wherever they resided, they did not need to return.151 Let us conclude this survey of the principal events in the Amasya region during the period between 1576 and 1643 by reiterating the main changes observed in settlement patterns, population, and society in rural Amasya, as revealed by the detailed analysis of two Ottoman tax registers. What was demonstrated in Chapter Four in this regard was, first of all, that by 1643 there was a significant decrease (38.70% on average) in the number of populated/inhabited villages in the kazâ of Amasya. Furthermore, most of the depopulated/vanished villages had been relatively small, and most were situated on the lowlands of the plains of the nâhiyes of Argoma and Geldigelenâbâd, although villages in other areas also lost substantial population. Accordingly, the overall total of the tax-paying rural population in the district fell drastically (78.67% on average). Within this figure, the number of bachelors in particular fell even more dramatically (93.49%). At best, only a few bachelors were recorded in villages in 1643. Finally, some significant changes were observed in the composition of rural society, the most important being the appearance of migratory groups or refugee individuals (birûniyân) recorded in villages, whose overall total reached about 7 percent of the entire recorded rural population of the kazâ of Amasya. Another group which emerged in the villages of the kazâ in 1643

noksan tereddid itdüğün bildirüb (. . .) ol makûle perâkende olan reʿâyâ ve reʿâyâ oğulları hususunda zamana iʿtibâr olunmayub (. . .) kaldırub kadîmî sâkin olduğu karyelerine gön- derib iskân itdüresin (. . .) emr–i şerîfime muhalif yeniçeri ve sipâhi ve sâʾir askerî taʾifesi‌ mâʿnî olurlar[sa] anun gibileri isim ve resimleri ile yazub arz eyleyesin ki (. . .) muhkem haklarından gelinüb emvâl [ve] erzâkları mîrî içün ahz oluna” (AŞS, 3 (1044/1635–36): 119); cf. AŞS, 3: 70; 89. For a similar case for the non-Muslim peasants in the region, see AŞS, 3: 6–7. 150 See MD, 80 (1023/1614–15): 104/256; AŞS, 1: 125; AŞS, 3: 12. 151 AŞS, 3: 122; AŞS, 4: 126. 176 Chapter 5 was a significant number of bölük halkı (4% of the recorded total of the rural population), constituting the majority of the askerî class at this time, while the number of the zeâmet and timar holders appears to have declined drastically (76.66%). Once all the main developments of the period outlined above are taken into consideration, it becomes apparent that an unprecedented number of human- made catastrophes in Anatolia constituted the primary factor in the changes in the kazâ of Amasya. Worsening socio-economic conditions in Anatolia and the military needs of the Ottoman government during the last quarter of the sixteenth century appear to have overlapped in the worst possible way; from this combination emerged the most disastrous events in the history of the Ottoman socio-political establishment at the turn of the seventeenth century. In the resultant period of turbulence, the “era of the Celâlîs,” Anatolian provinces witnessed a serious disorder involving almost all sectors of society, with all lives being at the mercy of violence and terror to various degrees. At the bottom of the social hierarchy was the peasantry: they were the primary victims of the violence. The frequent occurrence of natural disasters and fluctuations in climate during the period seem to have been no less destructive for certain regions. Therefore, they must also have played a significant role in all this as well. However, lacking a systematic record of any destructive and long-lasting impacts of climate change, as argued by Sam White for the Konya- Karaman region, and in spite of Geoffrey Parker’s convincing argument about the significant role of climatic factors in the seventeenth-century global crisis, it would still be speculative to interpret the extant documentation so as to claim that climatic factors played an especially significant role in the continuous depredations and ensuing large-scale changes in rural Amasya at the turn of the seventeenth century. Compared to the vast open plains of the central Anatolian plateau in Karaman province, where climatic factors proved to be just as crucial as the Celâlîs, the topographical features of the Amasya basin, with its transitional micro-climate, might well have protected the area to a reasonable degree against such fluctuations.152 In sum, as the basis for the above analysis, the first-hand material and contemporary sources make numerous and recurrent references to the primary causes of the developments which characterized this period in Anatolia as a whole and the Amasya region in particular. These were: a) continuous and

152 Indeed, Sam White not only rightly emphasizes regional variations and differences in terms of the impacts of climate change in the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Ottoman Empire, but he also draws attention to the diversity of the climatic zones across Anatolia. See White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 126–27. What Happened? An Assessment 177 costly wars and their negative effects upon tax payers; b) the large number of brigands and uncontrolled armed men in the Anatolian countryside; and c) an unprecedented level of violence associated with the Celâlî rebellions and chronic banditry. The overall result of these was large-scale abandonment of villages and peasant flights, which were accompanied by the destruction of the structure of rural agricultural life. The present study argues that the changes observed in the region between 1576 and 1643 were directly linked to these events. The numerical documentation contained in the 1643 register, compiled some thirty years after the most violent period and some ten years after the latest great rebellion, indicates the extent of the ruin of rural order. In particular, the Celâlî devastation and the events closely associated with it left profound marks upon rural life and the peasantry, with most of the destructive forces never fully abating in the Anatolian countryside but rather continuing at full speed with occasional eruptions throughout the century.

1643 Recontextualized

The above analysis clearly demonstrates the remarkable overlap and apparent connection between the major events of the period and the grim picture as reflected in the year of 1643. The question now is how to interpret and recon- textualize this picture. First, the 1643 register was prepared as a result of a survey whose purpose was to determine the existing taxable human resources in the region. The taxes involved were mainly avârız, which was imposed on all tax-paying subjects, both Muslim and non-Muslim, and cizye, which was imposed on non-Muslims only. Hence, the register was meant to include all peasants living in villages, with the exception, perhaps, of an unknown number of tax-exempt individuals in special situations. Since the inhabitants of many villages that had previously been exempt from taxes were included in the 1643 survey, and given the fact that the government was desperate for any possible source of revenue during this period of severe financial crisis, the possibility of a number of still exempt individuals who went unrecorded during the survey must have been insignificantly minimal and truly exceptional. In the Amasya district, even the villages whose inhabitants were connected to the harameyn evkâfs, who in some other provinces were still exempt from the avârız taxes,153 were included in the register. Although the askerîs and other tax-exempt groups did not

153 See Küpeli, “Klasik Tahrirden Avarız Tahririne.” 178 Chapter 5 usually pay avârız taxes in classical Ottoman practice, they were also counted and recorded in the survey, as they owned houses and other lands in the villages as well as in the towns. In the absence of any direct or indirect evidence for the categorical exclusion of any particular group of people on the grounds of tax exemption, we can assume that the figures in this particular register represent the entire rural tax-paying population that the surveyors were able to find in their places, including the askerîs. In other words, it provides us with the names and number of existing villages and their remaining population. Accordingly, the percentage of the decrease both in the number of still-inhabited villages and in their tax-paying inhabitants in the kazâ of Amasya between 1576 and 1643 also shows the extent of rural “desertion” in this respect. However, this picture should not be interpreted to mean that 38.70 percent of villages totally disappeared and that 78.67 percent of the rural tax-paying population simply died between 1576 and 1643. As already noted in Chapter Four, several of the villages which did not appear in the 1643 register were later re-populated and have survived to the present day; and what is more, we even find some 24 “new” villages that emerged during this period in different localities in the kazâ of Amasya—if this is not an illusion due to the possibility that some of these were the same villages, whose names the present author simply could not decipher. This may well be seen as a sign of internal migratory movements by the local population as well as a manifestation of a fundamental shift in settlement patterns from lowland plains to mountainous areas.154 Furthermore, a great number of people who were of peasant origin were still actively engaged in brigandage in the countryside, evading registration. Similarly, one may safely suggest that a significant portion also constituted the retinues of provincial governors and other officials; these did not show up in the register, either. It is also possible that some askerîs or others might have tried to hide some peasants working on their çiftliks. Let us remember that the imperial order sent to Mehemmed Murad Efendi, which was mentioned at the very beginning of this book, clearly states that such population movements to evade taxation were indeed among the principal reasons for the 1641–42 avârız survey. One can be certain that the tax-paying population in the Ottoman countryside made every possible effort to evade this survey as well. Therefore, the figures in the register in fact represent only the remaining villages with their remaining inhabitants that the Ottoman government of the time was able

154 Wolf-Dieter Hütteroth, “Ecology of the Ottoman Lands” in Suraiya Faroqhi (ed.), Cambridge History of Turkey, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 18–43. What Happened? An Assessment 179 to record and tax in 1643. This would, of course, explain the diminishing tax basis, and thus the great financial loss of the imperial treasury.155 At the most general level, the figures contained in the 1643 avârız register give us an idea of the degree of the ruin of rural life as well as of the remarkable human mobility in space, in this particular region of north-central Anatolia. They also offer insight into the aftermath of one of the greatest periods of turbulence and violence in Ottoman history in the early modern era. As already noted above, we may assume that this picture provides us first with an “official” testimony of the extent of desertion in the countryside of the kazâ of Amasya in the early seventeenth century, as well as showing the level of the erosion of the government’s tax base.156 Secondly, from this perspective it is possible to speak about a “demographic crisis.” In other words, in terms of a high mortality rate with a decreasing rate of birth during the period, the Malthusian scissors were at work in this part of the empire.157 Even if we assume that there were as many unrecorded adult men in the kazâ as those who were actually recorded in this register, and a similar number of peasants who had migrated outside the kazâ, there is still a significant decline (more than 40%, excluding the “outsiders”) in the overall rural population of the kazâ during the period in question. Such a decline should be seriously taken into consideration as far as seventeenth-century Ottoman demographic history is concerned. However, the real decline in population during the first half of the seventeenth century may well have been more than this. Here we should keep in mind the fact that the generation of the time around 1643 was not the same as the generation that had lived in the late 1570s, who produced the first generation of the great Celâlî masses of the 1590s. An important proportion of this initial group of large masses of uprooted peasants (i.e., first-generation Celâlîs and their hundreds of thousands of men) are expected to have died most probably unmarried and childless, leaving behind a shattered rural life with a seriously diminished population and a greatly reduced capacity for reproduction. To put it differently, the demographic consequence of such a dramatic and sudden rupture in the process of reproduction was a decreasing population

155 On this matter, see Oktay Özel, “Banditry, State and Economy: On the Financial Impact of the Celâli Movement in Ottoman Anatolia” in Halil İnalcık and Oktay Özel (eds.), IXth Congress of Economic and Social History of Turkey, Dubrovnik, 20–23 August 2001 (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 2005), pp. 65–74. 156 Compare Hütteroth, “Methods of Historical Geography,” p. 491. 157 Topçular Kâtibi Abdülkâdir Efendi, a contemporary writer, was devastated by the excessive volume of deaths that occured in those years in the provinces: “[in this time of sad- ness] ol kadar nüfûs maktûl olması makdûr-i beşer değildir.” Topçular Kâtibi, p. 458. 180 Chapter 5 in the peasantry of the Anatolian countryside. By 1643, the first generation of the Celâlîs was long gone, and the second- and third-generation peasants were born into conditions that continued to be characterized by disorder and destruction. More importantly, each generation reproduced its own Celâlîs, represented, now, by thousands of sekbâns of rural origin, who appear to have constituted a similarly mobile and restless mass with lives equally as precari- ous as those of the pre-1609 Celâlîs. This means that the 80 percent decrease in the recorded tax-paying population in Anatolia in the 1640s as compared to that of 1576 should be evaluated in terms of just such a demographic mechanism of diminishing rate of reproduction over generations. In this context, one can even argue that a greater portion of this 80-percent drop in the population of certain Anatolian provinces between the years 1576 and 1643 might well represent a real loss of population, pointing to a severe demographic crisis or perhaps even a “catastrophe,” as McGowan once argued. If this is true, such a demographic downswing may well be comparable to the centuries-long period of drastic shortage of labor vis-à-vis the land that followed the Black Death in late medieval Europe.158 Finally, this same picture also reveals that both the direction of the transformation of the composition of rural society and the relations of production in the rural economy in terms of the appearance of the askerîs and askerî-çiftliks in the villages are an indication of development towards a de facto private ownership of land. It seems that this was also accompanied by a parallel process during which Anatolia’s once “free” peasantry cultivating a piece of land in their own right was gradually dispossessed, eventually being reduced to mere laborers of various kinds and thus becoming dependent on the new type of rural notable that was emerging across the empire.159 The dispossession referred to here may not necessarily have taken the form of outright physical dispossession. Rather, in the case under examination in this study, where it is assumed that there were large tracts of arable land lying uncultivated due to the chronic violence and banditry in the countryside of Amasya, and in Rûm in general, we refer instead to indirect ways of inducing peasants—who were already dispersed and/or insecure and who could no longer continue their

158 For a detailed discussion of this, see Özel, “Population Changes in Anatolia.” Compare with “Part Two” of Moacanin, Town and Country (esp. pp. 230–232), for an exemplary discussion of the situation in the Balkan provinces during more or less the same period. For Europe and the whole globe, see Ladurie, The Peasants of Languedoc; Parker, Global Crisis, pp. 77ff., 105–09. 159 See Özer Ergenç, “XVIII. Yüzyılda Osmanlı Anadolu’sunda Tarım Üretiminde Yeni Boyutlar: Muzaraʿa ve Murabaʿa Sözleşmeleri,” Kebikeç, 23 (2007), 129–139. What Happened? An Assessment 181 everyday life on their own without protection—to take on different forms of dependency.160 Observing similar developments in other parts of the empire from the late sixteenth century onward,161 practically speaking, this was the beginning of the end of what Halil İnalcık once termed the “çift-hâne system,” which is thought to have constituted the foundation of the Ottoman peasant society and economy.162

160 On the different ways of dispossession of the peasantry, see McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe, especially pp. 56–73. 161 See Suraiya Faroqhi, “Land Transfer, Land Disputes and Askerî Holdings in Ankara (1592/1600),” in Robert Mantran (ed.), Memorial Ömer Lütfi Barkan (Paris: Bibliotheque de l’Institut Français d’Etudes Anatoliennes d’Istanbul, 1980), p. 94; Towns and Townsmen, pp. 261–63. 162 Halil İnalcık, “Village, Peasant and Empire,” in Halil İnalcık, The Middle East and the Balkans under the Ottoman Empire. Essays on Economy and Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Turkish Studies and Turkish Ministry of Culture Joint Series, 1993), pp. 137–160. Chapter 6 Conclusion

The principal findings of the present study and the analysis developed in the previous chapters not only confirm the accounts of contemporary observers, but they are also in accordance with our present knowledge of the “general crisis” of the turn of the seventeenth century.1 In terms of the sources of the period in question, our findings are clearly parallel to the insights provided by, especially, the grand-vizieral telhises and the outgoing imperial orders (firmans/mühimme registers) from the 1580s onwards, which bear clear testimony to such a crisis as a manifestation of an imperial transformation. As this study has demonstrated through the historicization of the 1643 avârız register, the overall picture of adaptation and reorganization of the bureaus of the Ottoman financial administration with reference to its orderly functioning in day-to-day matters in technical professional terms that Linda Darling points to2 might be misleading when taken as a reflection of the real conditions of everyday life for taxpayers. Referring back to the argument developed in the introduction regarding the nature of the literature of decline, Ottoman bureaucrats were basically doing their job in technical terms, not paying attention to or openly speaking of such extraordinary conditions unless and until they became directly relevant to their tasks. On any issues related to taxation, however, they appear to have shown no hesitation in making note of peculiarities and “abnormalities” in their reports, leaving the final decision to their superiors. There are numerous cases of such notes in archival collections and

1 The Ottoman crisis has in this respect long been the subject of comparative study with the European (and recently “worldwide”) “seventeenth-century crisis,” a fruitful endeavor upon which the present author has not dwelled here in detail. For the curious reader, however, there is already a body of literature attempting just such a comparison. For the most prominent examples, one can see the cited works of Faroqhi, Barkey, Darling, Goldstone and Parker. Compare Özel, “Population Changes in Anatolia.” For discussion of the matter in regards to Europe in particular, see the still useful Trevor Aston, (ed.), Crisis in Europe, 1560–1660: Essays from Past and Present (London: Routledge, 1965); Geoffrey Parker and Lesley Smith (eds.), The General Crisis of the Seventeenth Century (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1978); Geoffrey Parker, Europe in Crisis, 1598–1648, Sixth impression (London: Fontana History of Europe, 1990). 2 Linda Darling, “Ottoman Fiscal Administration: Decline or Adaptation?,” The Journal of European Economic History, 26/1 (1997), pp. 157–179; Süleyman Demirci, The Functioning of Ottoman Avâriz Taxation. Compare Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats, pp. 53–54.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004311244_007 Conclusion 183 in the material used in this study. Indeed, these records often made it possible to cross-check diverse evidence arguing for the collapse of rural order in Ottoman Amasya, and in many other parts of Anatolia for that matter. In fact, none of the major collections of contemporary sources, including those not directly used in the present study,3 provides evidence contradictory to the dramatic overall picture, which went hand in hand with the extreme violence that erupted at the turn of the seventeenth century. In terms of the demographic and historical-geographical aspects of this crisis in the history of the Anatolian provinces, the case of Amasya offers a prime example in which all the relevant offices of the central administration produced both qualitative and quantitative evidence for a sharp fall in the tax-paying population, for the mass desertion of rural settlements, and for the transformation of rural society in the countryside during the early seventeenth century. Thus, the first conclusion of the present study is that the contemporary narrative sources, including the authors of political advice literature as well as foreign observers, confirm the picture that the 1643 avârız register reveals—and vice versa. As an extension of this, the whole analysis of this book as a defterological study of the Ottoman 17th-century crisis also re-opens the scholarly discussion of the nature of these sources by providing new insights towards a critique of the “anti-declinist” literature in terms of its tendency to mechani- cally read and even stereotype certain source material, primarily that of the nasihatnâme type. Again, as pointed out at the introduction, whatever peculi- arity each of these sources may have had in terms of the political motivations behind their presentation of the major developments of their time—emphasizing some while trivializing others—collectively they indicate the devastat- ing effects of the events in the province of Rûm. Central to their portrayal of the gravity of the situation and the crisis that they refer to was the primary role of the Celâlîs (in terms of both rebellions and chronic banditry) and collective violence as the main destructive force in the countryside. Placed in this context, the 1643 avârız register emerges as a significant testimony to the eventual destruction of the rural structure and society in the region of Amasya at the turn of the seventeenth century. Secondly, a closer and more systematic analysis of the same register also indicates a great degree of dispersal of the rural population, which often resulted in the total abandonment of rural settlements. Although some of

3 Kayhan Orbay, “Celâlis Recorded in the Account Books,” Rivista degli Studi Orientali, vol. LXXVIII, 1–2 (2004), pp. 71–84; “Financial Consequences of Natural Disasters in Seventeenth-Century Anatolia: A Case Study of the Waqf of Bâyezîd II,” International Journal of Turkish Studies, 15/1–2 (2009), pp. 63–82. 184 Chapter 6 these village settlements appear to have later recovered partially, many others, especially the small ones established in the lowland plains during the sixteenth-century expansion, disappeared for good during the turbulence of the first half of the seventeenth century. It becomes also clear that the whole countryside in the region experienced a serious depopulation, amounting to upwards of 80 percent. A cursory examination of the sources of later periods, including the 1830s population censuses, indicates that neither the number of abandoned villages nor the loss of population referred to in this study were to be recovered significantly until the nineteenth century.4 Taking into account the similar pictures observed in neighbouring districts,5 what this study has argued then is that such a picture of depopulation, which appears to have continued for over two centuries in the north-central Anatolian provinces of Rûm, cannot be explained simply by the conjunctural desertion of villages or outward migration. Here, one can speak, once more, of a demographic crisis. As noted already, there must have been a serious decrease in the birth rate vis-à-vis increasing mortality during this period of extreme violence, wars, climatic fluctuations and famine throughout Anatolia. Considering the virtual non-existence of relevant historical data in our sources, we may never know its true extent. Even so, and whatever the case might have been in the Balkans and Syrian provinces during the same period,6 it is evident that serious population decline occurred in this part of the Ottoman Empire during the first half of the seventeenth century. At this particular point—i.e., the drop in population in general and a serious imbalance in the ratios of birth and death in particular— it is possible therefore to consider a crisis in terms of the mechanism of

4 See Oktay Özel, “The Question of Abandoned Villages in Rural Anatolia (Seventeenth to Nineteenth Centuries),” in Elias Kolovos et al. (eds.) Ottoman Rural Societies and Economies, Halcyon Days in Crete, VIIIth Workshop, Rethymno, Crete, 13–15 January 2012 (forthcoming by the Center for Mediterranean History, Crete). 5 Faroqhi, “Rural Society, I,” p. 195; Öz, “Bozok Sancağı;” Açıkel, “Tokat Örneğinde.” 6 For the Aleppo-Damascus regions there exist in the Ottoman Archives mufassal avârız registers from the 1640s to study such changes. However no systematic examination of these sources has been attempted in comparison with the late sixteenth-century tahrirs of the same regions. The same applies to the Balkan provinces, with the difference that Machiel Kiel has long been working on them. See for example: Machiel Kiel, “Hrazgrad-Hezargrad-Razgrad: The Vicissitudes of a Turkish Town in Bulgaria,” Turcica 21–23 (1991), pp. 495–563. Similarly, however, apart from a couple of works where he touches on the matter (see his works referred to in the present study), he has not published his comprehensive findings, which indicate, with a great variety from one region to the other, remarkable population movements, including radical losses of varying degrees in the tax-paying population of the Balkan provinces during the seventeenth century. Compare White, The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 206–07. Conclusion 185 demographic reproduction, with a lasting impact that can be observed more clearly in the subsequent two to three generations, whose life span corresponds more or less to the time around the 1641–42 avârız-cizye surveys.7 Third, the inability of traditional agriculture or the peasant household and subsistence economy to cope with the rapid population growth that manifested itself in the continuous fragmentation of peasant farms and a dramatic rise in the ratio of landless households and the unmarried adult males in the Amasya countryside during the second and third quarters of the sixteenth century can be interpreted as long-term structural changes that prepared the ground for both the crisis and the accompanying violence. The analysis of the sixteenth-century tahrir registers for the Amasya region confirms such a demographic pressure, which Cook long ago cautiously suggested for certain parts of Ottoman Anatolia during the same period. As previously emphasized by İslamoğlu-İnan for the Ottoman lands, the argument for the ability of peasants to cope with any demographic and climatic fluctuations surely has its merit. However, all such short-term practical measures taken by the peasants had their limits: they worked effectively only in good years, and they carried the risk of producing an even greater cycle of disorder in the end.8 In the absence of further details beyond our observation of modest-scale periodic shifts in crop patterns throughout Anatolia, in our case, such a potential ability on the part of peasants did not seem to work any more effectively, or at least was not effective enough to save them. In other words, we have no evidence that such measures delayed or prevented the eventual crisis and disorder that emerged in the north-central Anatolian provinces.9 One may even argue that the adverse conjunctural factors—such as political instability, the calamities of wars, increasing oppression and overtaxation (i.e., intra-elite conflict over the revenue sources) that the peasantry experienced were not simply complementary factors in the eventual imperial crisis of the late sixteenth century. These could well be seen as just the other side of the same coin: rapid population growth to the extent of pressure, in Malthusian terms. What is argued here is that it was primarily this long-term demographic pressure and the ensuing poverty that created suitable structural conditions for such complexities by first producing a sizeable surplus population in the Amasya countryside. This expanding segment of the populace was increasingly marginalised, particularly during the second half of the sixteenth century, and became more and more vulnerable to any of the above excesses

7 Özel, “Population Changes in Anatolia.” 8 Parker, Global Crisis, p. 66ff. 9 For a lengthy discussion of the issue, see White, The Climate of Rebellion, 59–73. 186 Chapter 6 inflicted upon them. Such factors eventually had a triggering effect on the rural masses, effectively becoming ticking time bombs that eventually exploded in the last quarter of the century. One might therefore consider these factors as basically exogenous but critical and/or perhaps necessary conjunctural vari- ables that acted to drive the most marginalized and vulnerable members (i.e., in this case, landless and unmarried adult males) of the rural population out of the village community. As such, the explosion of violence that erupted at the end of the sixteenth century and the ensuing turbulence that came with the Celâlî rebellions and chronic banditry at the turn of the seventeenth century can be seen primarily as an extension or perhaps an expected consequence (or a kind of domino effect) of this demographic pressure. Such a consequence, in turn, seems to have played the most crucial part in the eventual breakdown of the socio-political order and, at the same time, created conditions for the emergence of a new one. To put it in a different way, and borrowing Baki Tezcan’s formulation, the transition from the “first” to the “second” Ottoman Empire was accompanied by a tremendous loss of population that came with a chronic “climate” of violence and rebellion. The present study reveals clearly that Mustafa Akdağ was right when, long ago, he drew our attention to these phenomena for the first time. And W. D. Hütteroth was also right to observe the same development in Karaman province, where hundreds of rural settlements were temporarily abandoned or even disappeared completely during the seventeenth century. Thanks to the mufassal avârız registers of the seventeenth century, what this study reveals is that we are now in a position to reasonably quantify such a destruction and observe the early phases of a multi-faceted transformation of rural society. Furthermore, recent studies worldwide have also demonstrated that such phenomena were not peculiar to the Ottoman lands. Indeed, strikingly similar processes were experienced across the globe during the same century. This is where one can now safely draw a parallel to what Le Roy Ladurie formulated as the great agrarian cycle, which Goldstone later reintroduced as state breakdown, and which, most recently, Parker reinterpreted as the collapse of the old equilibrium in the context of the recently renewed debate over the “global crisis” of the seventeenth century. Fourth, it is within this framework that the additional contribution of the climatic fluctuations—to which Sam White has drawn our attention more than ever before in Ottoman studies, emphasizing their role in creating a “macro climate” for chronic violence in the late sixteenth-century Ottoman Empire—becomes especially meaningful. Along with his timely intervention in the discussion by pointing out the dramatic effects of the “little ice age” in the Ottoman lands, it is extremely revealing that most recent studies have also Conclusion 187 emphasized the role of the most humid climatic period, which coincided with the era of Süleyman the Magnificent (r. 1520–1566); i.e., the period of expansion in terms of both settlement patterns and the agricultural economy.10 This clearly indicates an apparent correlation between climate on the one hand and the economy and population on the other. In other words, the years of peak humidity strikingly overlap with Ottoman economic and demographic growth, as well as with military expansion, the results of which are discussed in the third chapter, but these years were then followed by the peak of dry seasons that coincided with the explosion of violence and rebellions in the Ottoman lands. Nevertheless, in spite of its significance in moments of crisis in pre-modern agrarian societies and clear evidence of its existence in our case as well, the present study of the 1643 avârız register in comparison with the 1576 tahrir register in the light of the major developments occurring in the period between these two registers demonstrates that climatic factors do not appear to have been the primary reason behind the collapse of rural order in the Amasya region in the early seventeenth century. Thus, against the conditions of long-term population pressure and collective violence (including wars), the climatic dimension of what Parker calls the “fatal synergy” between natural and human forces seems to have been no more than a periodic companion, rather than being the cause that can explain the dramatic picture observed after the storm in Amasya region.11 However, it goes without saying that our experimentation with an argument towards an explanation through such an analysis of causality in this book does not categorically rule out other possible interpretations. On the contrary, the complexity of the matter still allows for

10 White, pp. 138–39. See also Mehmet Kuru, “Locating an Ottoman Port City in the ‘New Age’ of the Mediterranean: İzmir 1580–1780” (draft manuscript of PhD dissertation to be submitted to Toronto University). I thank Mehmet Kuru for kindly allowing me to consult this manuscript. 11 As White himself clearly states, in the Ottoman case in general, “climate [. . .] was not the only culprit for the crisis, but part of an important historical conjuncture.” (p. 225). And he continues: “The direct effects of Little Ice Age weather—terrible as they could be— were probably not to blame for most losses. While thousands of reaya might have fro- zen to death or perished of cold-related illnesses, their losses could not account for more than a small fraction of the millions who disappeared in the crisis . . . However, in the Ottoman case, as in other Little Ice Age mortality crises, most deaths probably came from disease . . . To judge from European examples, these diseases usually proved the leading cause of death in times of crisis, particularly where disorder prevailed in the countryside and where the prospect of relief and protection encouraged flight to towns and cities.” The Climate of Rebellion, pp. 208, 210. 188 Chapter 6 creative approaches that would avoid any deterministic and/or reductionist single-factor analysis or approach.12 Fifth, the present research provides new evidence not only for the collapse of the old order, but, as emhasized above, also for the early stages of the gradual transformation of rural society and the relations of production in Anatolia during the same period. One of the principal findings of the present study in this respect is that the mâlikâne-holding notables of pre-Ottoman origins in the Amasya region had, by the 1640s, lost the political and economic significance that they seem to have had maintained to a reasonable degree through the third quarter of the sixteenth century. Having survived Mehmed II’s attempt at confiscating their holdings in the 1470s and the military-political challenge posed by the expanding influence of the timar-holding members of the kapıkulu class during the economic expansion of the sixteenth century, the local notables of rural Amasya experienced the final, decisive blow at the turn of the seventeenth century. Most of them lost their holdings, again, to the members of the very same askerî class, who managed to take advantage of the opportunity created by the conditions of violence and destruction in the countryside. Thus, this longstanding local aristocracy, a Seljukid legacy to the Ottomans, seems to have been eventually replaced by the newly emergent rural gentry of mostly askerî/kapıkulu origins during the period under examination. Further, as demonstrated by this study, the lands of runaway peasants also fell into the hands of these askerîs, who appear in the 1643 avârız register as çift- lik owners benefiting from the collapse of the rural order. Although it is practically impossible to know the volume of these lands lost by the peasants, one can speculate that the members of what may now be called the new “landed” aristocracy of the region of Amasya (and also of Rûm in general) were to con- solidate their power through the expanding system of tax farming that gradually took over, during the following period, for the dissolving timar institution as the principal mechanism of taxation in the Ottoman Empire. The changing position of the remaining peasantry as direct producers or as a seriously diminished source of labor in the Amasya countryside under the profound transformations that would occur simultaneously with the institutionalization of violence and banditry during the rest of the seventeenth century, remains a fertile topic for future studies. That said, in this period we already see the early

12 Geoffrey Parker and Sam White’s refined attempts at a different type of causation based around climate (“ecological pressures” and “climatic fluctuations”) are good examples of this, while also recognizing the complexities involved in telling such “overlapping stories.” See White’s brief repackaging of his argument, pp. 222–25. Compare Parker, p. 115. Conclusion 189 signs of how and in what forms the largely dispersed and radically decimated peasants—even with the presumed shortage of labor in the Amasya countryside—gradually became dispossessed, being driven by the askerîs from their former lands and/or forced to seek refuge, as potential rural proletariats, into what now became askerî çiftliks. It is also evident that some preferred to move to vakıf villages. Although the survey orders of the 1640s present the process of “dispersal” as attempts on the part of peasants to avoid paying ever-increasing taxes and to escape oppression by imperial officials with their large retinues, it would not be totally unreasonable to think that these were in fact forms of gradual dispossession of the peasantry that may have eventually led them towards becoming paid labour. In light of this, another important topic for further research involves whether this same process also induced a larger portion of the peasantry—those who still held a piece of land in their own names under conditions of chronic insecurity, continuous harrassment by local officials, and attacks by Celâlî bands still active in the countryside—to engage in various forms of sharecropping, a phenomenon seen elsewhere in Anatolia during later periods. Last but not least, the settlement pattern in Ottoman Amasya appears to have gone through the most serious disruption during this period of turbulence, with signs of renomadization and an apparent shift towards settlements in higher altitudes and, perhaps, a pastoral economy.13 The avârız registers, however, provide no clue as to whether, under such a crucial change in rural Amasya (as well as Anatolia as a whole for that matter) and within the process of the emergence of a “new equilibrium” as Parker suggests, the largely depopulated lowlands with new çiftliks provided a suitable ground for modest commercial or market-oriented agriculture and husbandry where the owners would employ the dispossessed or dependent peasants referred to above.14

13 Compare Hütteroth, “Ecology of the Ottoman Lands.” 14 See Erder and Faroqhi, “Population Rise and Fall;” McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Europe; Halil İnalcik, “The Emergence of Big Farms, Çiftliks: State, Landlords and Tenants,” in Ömer Lütfi Barkan, Paul Dumont and Jean-Louis Bacqué-Grammont (eds.) Contributions à l’histoire économique et sociale de l’Empire ottoman (Louvain: Peeters, 1983), pp. 105–126; Adanır, “Gelenek ve Kırsal Değişim;” Çağlar Keyder, “Introduction: Large-Scale Commercial Agriculture in the Ottoman Empire?,” in Çağlar Keyder and Faruk Tabak (eds.), Landholding and Commercial Agriculture in the Middle East (Albany, State University of New York Press, 1991), pp. 1–13; Giles Veinstein, “On the Çiftlik Debate,” in Çağlar Keyder and Faruk Tabak (eds.), Landholding and Commercial Agriculture in the Middle East (Albany, State University of New York Press, 1991), pp. 35–53. Compare Ergenç, “Muzaraʿa ve Murabaʿa Sözleşmeleri.” 190 Chapter 6

This issue also needs further research into other collections of Ottoman archival material, particularly those produced by the bureaucrats of the imperial chancery, which, under new circumstances, was still functioning as the center of a renewed imperial mechanism of redistribution of revenue sources.15

15 See Darling, Revenue-Raising and Legitimacy. Appendix I: Tahri̇r and Avârız Registers of Amasya

The Sources

The tahrir defters Although some districts of the province of Rûm—like Ordu, Canik, and Tokat—have complete series of mufassal or detailed defters from 1455 onwards, there is only one existing mufassal for the livâ of Amasya; it is the result of the last general survey of the region. These two-volume defters (TK26 and TK34) were compiled in 984/1576 as a result of the general survey of the province of Rûm; in fact, the survey seems to have been started in 1569. The presence of some references in this register (TK26: 37a, 46a, 56a, 137a) as well as in the existing icmâls or synoptic defters of the earlier surveys (TT15: 236; TT387: 358, 360, 375) to the earlier ones indicates that mufassal defters from the previous surveys had also existed. Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin (1976: 271) also mentions the defters relating to Amasya, which start from 816/1413. However, these seem not to have survived to the present (for the probable years of compilation of these earlier surveys/registers and their surveyors, see Table 11 below).

Table 11 The tahrirs and existing defters of Amasya sub-province (livâ)

Date name of surveyor mufassal icmâl

1413 (?) Hızır Beğ (?) __ __ 1455 (?) Umur Beğ (?) __ __ c. 1480 Tâceddin (?) __ TT15 c. 1520 Mehmed b. İbrahim [Mevlânâ __ TT387 Seydi, Dizdârzâde?] TT95 1554/55 (?) Atâî Beğ (?) [Atâî b. Celâl] (TT90) __ 1576 Ömer Beğ TK26 /34 TK245

There are four synoptic or icmâl registers, either belonging solely to the livâ of Amasya (as in 1576), or relating to the various districts of the province of Rûm, including Amasya. The first three icmâls (TT15 of c. 1480, TT387 and TT95 of c. 1520) are of this kind, while the last one, dating from 1576, belongs only to the livâ. Generally speaking, the icmâls vary in terms of format, content, and degree of detail. Since the contents of the icmâls of this particular region, unlike the mufassal

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004311244_008 192 Appendix I registers in general, are not comparable, certain aspects and questions that arise during the process of analysis—such as identifying the dirlik holders and determining the exact values of the shares they held on the basis of individual settlements—are not easy to clarify. Considering the fact that only one mufassal exists for the region, it is therefore not possible to conduct a cross-examination of the defters in terms of a thorough analysis of the changes in various aspects over a given period of time, unlike some of the neighboring areas of Amasya. As for the contents of the four icmâls, TT15 and TT387 are fundamentally different from the others and should be assumed to be equally as important as the mufassal of 1576. In fact, the absence of any other mufassal from the previous surveys automatically makes them essential for any study. Although the other two icmâls are the same in nature, they are different in format and content. These two can be distinguished from the others and may be identified as “mixed-icmâls” in the sense that they contain a great deal of information about mâlikâne holders and the revenues they held as well as the revenues allocated to timar holders: TT15 gives both names of the zeâmet/ timar holders, including eşkincülü timariots and their shares, but it does not provide the names of mâlikâne holders. On the other hand, a number of villages and mezraas are recorded in TT15 under the headings of “mâlikâne” and “emlâk.” In TT387 (the icmâl of the provinces of Rûm and Karaman), although the revenues are given in the two categories of “divânî ” and “mâlikâne” for each individual settlement, no mention is made of the names of zeâmet/timar holders and their shares. However, this information is given in TT95, a summary which seems to have been drawn up specifically for this purpose. In TT387, on the other hand, the names of mâlikâne holders and the shares of the revenues they held are given in detail. The major characteristic of this register is that it also gives the total number of the tax-paying inhabitants of the settlements and of certain tax-exempt people, if there were any, such as imams and sipâhizâdes, as “nefer,” broken down into the two categories of “hâne” and “mücerred.”1 From the contents and different nature of these two registers, it is obvious that this kind of “icmâl” was specifically designed before the first quarter of the sixteenth century. From this time on, it appears that the government no longer kept this sort of icmâl, and this coincides with the appearance of the “timar-icmâls.” These were the second and the most common type of icmâl registers across the empire in the sixteenth century. As already discussed in Chapter Three, the TT15 is of special importance in that it is the only surviving register of the region to provide us with valuable

1 For a discussion of both its nature and the date of its compilation, see Bahaeddin Yediyıldız et al., Ordu Yöresi Tarihinin Kaynakları III. 387 Numaralı Defter-i Karaman ve Rûmʾun Canik Livâsıʾna Ait Bölümü (1520) (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2002), pp. xv–xxiii; for a published edition of the register, see 387 Numaralı Muhasebe-i Vilayet-i Karaman ve Rûm Defteri (937/1530), 2 vols. (Ankara: Devlet Arşivleri Genel Müdürlüğü, 1997). Appendix I 193 information about the implementation of Mehmed II’s policy of converting mülk and waqf lands into timar in the second half of the 1470s. The register in question seems to have been the direct result of this particular event, aiming to record the new situation after a large-scale conversion in the province of Rûm. In this regard, TT15 could be the subject of closer examination together with similar registers, where available, of the provinces of Karaman and perhaps Anadolu. The subsequent icmâls of the Amasya region (TT95 and T245) are of the timar-icmâl type. The best example is the TK245, the synoptic register of the 1576 survey of the region. This register mainly contains three categories of information: a) the names of the dirlik holders (as has, zeâmet, or timar); b) the names of the settlements or individual çiftliks and bağ/bağces whose revenues, usually divânî shares, were allocated to dirlik holders; and c) the amounts of these revenues. The TT95 of c. 1520 seems to be the first example of this kind for the province of Rûm and is based on the same survey as TT387. It largely contains the same sort of information as TK245, but it does not give the names and revenues of all settlements; instead, it only provides the name of settlements whose revenues were allocated to a zeâmet or timar holder, referring to the others as “gayrihu.” Accordingly, it records the revenues as lump sums without a breakdown of the figures for each individual settlement. Apart from these, we have another “icmâl” register (TT780) dating from 1642–43. It appears, after comparison, that this register, consisting of only 18 pages, is based on or copied from the TK245 of 1576, in terms of the number of holdings and the amounts of the revenues, and that it does not give the names of current dirlik holders. It provides the name of only one settlement (the others are again referred to as “gayrihu,” as in TT95), as well as the total revenues coming from settlements that the holdings contain. The conclusion that TT780 is an incomplete “icmâl” register most likely copied from the previous one, TK245, can largely be inferred from the state of the timar system in the Ottoman Empire in the first half of the seventeenth century. In its present form, this register has no value for this study. These tahrir registers from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries provide us with valuable numerical or quantitative data for the period prior to the seventeenth century. It is imperative to note here that there is already a body of literature concerning the nature and reliability of the data contained in them, as well as their pitfalls and shortcomings in terms of a socioeconomic analysis of a region.2 To recapitulate, for the purpose of the present study, the tahrir registers basically contained the results of provincial surveys which were carried out at varying intervals (probably since as early as the late fourteenth century) in the Ottoman Empire in order to keep a record of all economic and human resources for the purpose of taxation. They are tax registers in nature and are often referred to as such. Since they enumerate

2 See the works given in Note 63 of Chapter Three. Compare Darling, “Nasihatnameler.” 194 Appendix I the taxable human resources of the empire, the tahrir registers might also be seen as population registers in content, but not as population censuses in the modern sense of the word. They basically contain three types of information: a) the names of the settlements,3 urban and rural, in a given province with the names of the tax-paying population of these settlements, as well as those who are tax-exempt, in the two categories of households (hânes) and unmarried adult males (mücerreds); b) the kind and amount of taxes to be collected from agricultural production, estimated on the basis of an average production of the previous three years, and other kinds of economic production, market and custom dues, fines from crimes, and personal taxes imposed on all adult males; and finally, c) the names of the persons or institutions to which these tax revenues are allocated and the shares of the revenue where it was split between more than one holder, which is especially the case in places under the mâlikâne-dîvânî or “half-estate and half-state” system.4 The tahrir registers as a source for historical inquiry pose certain technical problems resulting from the way in which they are presented, as well as problems regarding the reliability of the data in terms of the extent to which they represent the actual situation. In addition, they have limitations and shortcomings in terms of providing important information which would otherwise have enabled historians to study certain aspects of demographic history, such as the size and structure of households, the ages of unmarried male children, the rate of birth and death, and the like.5 All these have long been the subjects of discussion among historians, especially among defterologists. However, their limitations and shortcomings mostly become a problem when ask- ing questions about data that the defters cannot answer. For example, how reliable is the data in these defters as it pertains to the actual number of taxpayers in the population? As Erder and Faroqhi stress, “as the registers were compiled for tax purposes, even under the best of circumstances there must have been people who wished to evade the count.”6 The concealment of taxpayers may have also been easier in villages or among

3 They also give the names of nomadic tribes (cemaats) with the approximate location, usually kazâ or nâhiye, in which they lived temporarily. 4 See Chapter One and Two for the mâlikâne-dîvânî system. 5 For a preliminary investigation of the müsellem/piyâdegân defters containing limited information on these aspects, see Eugenie Bietry-Elifoğlu, “Some Notes on Methodology for Demographic Analysis of 16th Century Ottoman Military Registers,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin, 11/1 (1987), pp. 12–20; “Ottoman Defters Containing Ages of Children: A New Source for Demographic Research,” Archivum Ottomanicum, IX (1984), pp. 321–328. On these problems see also Geza Dávid, “The Age of Unmarried Children in the Tahrîr Defters (Notes on the Coefficient),” Acta Orientalia Academiae Hungariae, 31 (1977), pp. 347–357; Faroqhi, “Rural Society, I,” pp. 193–194. 6 Erder and Faroqhi, “Population Rise and Fall,” p. 267. Appendix I 195 nomads than in a town, and a certain number probably escaped the officials carrying out the registration.7 Although these are important points in evaluating the data in tahrir defters, we are not in a position to confirm the figures in these registers due to the lack of alternative sources. Under the circumstances, the only thing a historian can do is not to take the figures as absolute and to instead be tentative and cautious in one’s findings. Alternatively, every possibility should be taken into consideration in analyzing and interpreting the data, such as the conditions in which these surveys were executed, the aims of these surveys, and the meaning of the data included. On the other hand, there are some other questions, relating, for example, to the authenticity of the data in the defters—i.e., whether they are the figures of the actual survey or simply copied from the previous one8—which can, to some extent, be checked in various ways, and to which, through careful examination, an answer can be provided. Throughout this study, maximum attention has been paid to these sorts of queries in order to minimize any possible misinterpretations.

The “mufassal” avârız Register of 1643 We have already introduced the avârız registers in the introduction and briefly discussed both its nature and content for the present study. Similar to those Linda Darling refers to in her study for other regions, we have a series of documents concerning the process of the execution of the survey of the province of Rûm and some of the consecutive registers drawn up on the basis of this survey. These are the copies of two imperial decrees sent to the treasurer (defterdâr) of the province of Rûm, Murad. The first one, dated November 1642, orders a new survey of the province. This was required for a number of reasons related mainly to the flight of peasants or movements in the countryside and the disintegration of rural order, which during the preceding turbulent years caused enormous loss and difficulties in collecting taxes and other incomes belonging to the central treasury (namely avârız and tekâlif, cizye, mukâtaas, and “sâirʾ mâl-ı mîrîye müteʿallik olanlar”). The treasurer of Rûm was instructed to inspect and duly investigate the situation and register all Muslim and non-Muslim reâyâ by their names, including those who were not recorded

7 Indeed, we sometimes find some records in the defters concerning efforts by dirlik holders to conceal the actual number of their reâyâs from the surveyors “in order to show a lower income and thus legitimize their request for an increase in tax levies”. See Cvetkova, “Early Ottoman Tahrir Defters,” pp. 135–36, 145; compare Barkan and Meriçli, Hüdavendigâr Livası, pp. 20, 39–40. 8 In particular, the figures pertaining to the taxes and mukâtaas given in the defters might simply have remained unchanged for a long period of time, and therefore they may be far from reflecting the actual situation. For an example, see Ergenç, “Şehir Tarihi Araştırmaları,” pp. 679–681; compare Faroqhi, “Peasants of Saideli,” p. 221. 196 Appendix I in the previous avârız and cizye registers, as well as those who had moved from their original habitation and settled in tax-exempt sultanic, vizieral and other waqf lands, villages, and towns. On the other hand, those who performed public services—such as the guardians of passes and those who maintained bridges and roads) in return for tax exemption—were ordered to be excluded from avârız-hânes (i.e., not from the survey and recording) if their services were still necessary. Finally, the registrar was commanded to prepare separate avârız, cizye, and mukâtaat registers and send them to the Porte for imperial approval, giving no certificate to anyone without approval from the sultan. The second decree, dated January 1642, is an additional decree written two months after the first one. It ordered the surveyor, the defterdâr Murad, to include the sâdât or so-called descendants of the Prophet Muhammad, the ulemâ, and the salaried or dirlik-holding members of the askerî class who had settled in the villages and towns in the survey and to register them separately whether or not their houses and properties had previously been included in the reâyâ’s [avârız-]hânes.9 The register that belongs to the livâ of Amasya, TT776, was compiled at the beginning of January 1643 (evâsıt-ı Şevval 1052) and, along with the others, bears the signature of Mehemmed Murad, then defterdâr of the treasury of Rûm, who had also carried out the survey.10 In the introduction, we have emphasized the practice of keeping some individuals exempt from taxation for various reasons. Cases of the exclusion of certain exempt individuals from the avârız register can best be demonstrated by evidence from Amasya itself. We have an imperial decree, recorded in the Sharia Court Register of Amasya and dated 12 R.evvel 1054/19 May 1644, two years after the compilation of TT776. It concerns two villagers, Mehmed b. Abdülkadir and İlyas, from the village of İlarslan-divânı, who claimed that they were exempt from avârız because of their status of prayer (duâcı) for the sultan, and therefore were not included in the “avârız-hâne” in the current register (tahrir-i cedid defteri, i.e., TT776). However, the tax collectors demanded payment of avârız taxes contrary to the firman and the defter.11 After con-

9 For the full transliteration and English translations of these documents, see Appendix I/B below. 10 The author has consulted Professor Ahmet Yaşar Ocak’s copy of the Bozok register for a comparison; he is grateful to Prof. Ocak of Hacettepe University for allowing the use of his copy. 11 “. . . kazâ i mezbûra [Amasya] tâbî İlarslan-divânı nâm karye sâkinlerinden Mehmed bin Abdülkadir ve İlyas nâm kimesneler hâlâ dersaʿadetime arz-ı hâl idüb ’biz duâcı zümresin- den olmağla hâlâ muharrir-i cedîd ʿavârız-hâne kaydetmeyüb ve tasarrufumuzda ʿavârız alınmak icâb ider yerimiz yoğiken ʿavârız ve tekâlif-i sâʿire cemʿine meʿmûr olanlar mücerred celb-i mâl içün hilâf-ı emr ve defter ʿavârız ve tekâlif-i sâʾire taleb idüb rencide ve remîde eylemekden hâlî değildir, hayfdır, menʿi bâbında emr-i şerîf ricâ iderizʾ deyü bildirdükleri ecilden . . .” (AŞS, 4: 112). Appendix I 197 sulting the copy of the defter kept in the central treasury, officials saw that there were fourteen taxpayers (nefers) in that village and that these two men were not among them.12 Then, the governor (sancakbeği) and the kadı of Amasya received an imperial order giving assurance that taxes were not to be collected from these two individuals. When we look at TT776, there were indeed fourteen nefers plus one hâtib recorded separately.13 However, contrary to this particular example from Amasya, it is understood from a similar avârız register of the same date that a significant number of tax-exempt individuals and groups were included in the register of the neighboring Canik region.14 From this document and the above-mentioned imperial decrees ordering the survey of the province of Rûm, it is clear that, apart from those who retained their exempt status from avârız taxes, all taxpayers (reâyâ), together with the members of the askerî class as well as the ulemâ, sâdât, and other military men who were settled in the region, were recorded in this particular avârız defteri.15 However, it is not clear whether all of these askerîs were then included in the avârız-hânes, i.e. were liable to avârız taxes, which is irrelevant anywaw for our discussion in this book.

Survey Orders for the avârız Register of 1643

Doc. No. 1: (Amasya Şerʿiye Sicili, No. 4, pp. 149–150). Muharrer emr budur, Kıdvetü’l erbâbü’l ikbâl ʿumdetü’l ashâbü’l iclâl câmi-i vücûhü’l emvâl âmirü’l hazâʿini’l ahseni’l âʿmâl /2/ el-muhtass bi mezîd-i inâyeti’l melikiʾl bârî hızâne-i âmiremin Rûm canîbi defterdârı Murad dâme ulüvvühu tevkîʿ-i /3/ refîʿ-i hümâyûn vâsıl olıcak maʿlûm ola ki: memâlik-i mahrûsemde vâkiʿ olan ʿavârız hânesine dâhil olan /4/ müselmân ve

12 “. . hazîne-i ʿâmiremde mahfûz olan mevkûfât defterlerine nazâr olundukda hâlâ muharrir-i cedid karye-i mezbûrede ondört nefer bir hâne ve bir rubʿ ʿavârız-hânesi kayd ve tahrir eyleyüb lâkin mezkûrlara Mehmed bin Abdülkadir ve İlyâs nâm kimesneler ʿavârız hâneye dâhil olmamağın tahrîr-i cedid defterine muhâlif rencide olunmayalar deyu emr idüb . . .” (AŞS, 4: 112). 13 TT776: 12. For the problem of the registration in these registers of individuals or communities that were not actually required to pay and the ways in which such problems were solved, see Darling, Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, pp. 91–95; 100–108. 14 See Öz, “XVII. Yüzyıl,” pp. 203–204. It is difficult, however, to explain the reason(s) behind these two different practices in the two neighboring districts, and it remains a question which needs further examination. 15 This is also the case for other defters of the livâs of the province of Rûm, as well as the other parts of the empire from this date. See Darling, Revenue Raising and Legitimacy, p. 95; Ünal, “17. Yüzyıl Ortalarında Harput.” 198 Appendix I zimmî reʿâyâ ve harâcgüzâr ve kefere tâʾifesin mücerred ʿavârız ve cizye ve sâʾir tekâlifi virmemek /5/ içün kadîmî sâkin oldukları yerlerinden kalkub evkâf-ı selâtîn ve vüzerâʾ ve haremeyni’ş-şerîfeyn /6/ ve havâss-ı hümâyûn ve serbest ve muʿaf olan kasaba ve karyelere varub tavattun eylemeleriyle /7/ kadîmî hâneye kesr ve hazîne malına küllî noksan geldüğünden mâʿadâ her sene ʿavârız ve tekâlif /8/ ve sa⁠ʾir zahîre cemʿine meʿmur olanlar cemʿ ve tahsîlde ziyâde usret çeküb ve o makûle kadîmî /9/ yerlerinden kalkub âher yere varub sâkin olan reʿâyânın tekâlifi dahi yerinden mevkûd /10/ olanlara tahmil olunmak ile reʿâyâya küllî taʿaddî olduğu mesâmiʿ-i ʿaliyye-i hüsrevâneme ilkâ olunmağın /11/ imdi sen ehl-i müslim ve mukarrim ve müstakim ve mesâlih ve dîndâr ve mütebahhir ve pehrîzkâr ve nice defʿa hidemât-ı /12/ celîlede istihdâm olunub hidmetin meşkûr olmuş umurdîde ve kârgüzâr olduğun /13/ ecilden hüsn-ü tedbîrine ve ʿadâlet ve istikâmetine iʿtimâd-ı şerîfim ve iʿtikâd-ı hümâyûnum olmağın /14/ Sivas eyâletinde vâkiʿ harâcgüzâr zimmî reʿâyâsı ve ʿavârız hânelerini [ve] mukâtaʿâtı /15/ ve sair mâl-ı mîrîye müteʿallik olanları ber vech-i adâlet tahammüllerine göre tahrir ve defter eylemek üzere muharrir /16/ olman bâbında fermân-ı âlişânım sâdır olmuşdur, buyurdum ki; hükm-i şerîfim vusûl buldukda /17/ bu bâbda sâdır olan fermân-ı saʿâdetim üzre ʿamel idüb dahi katʿa tevakkuf eylemeyüb eyâlet-i mezbûrede /18/ vâkiʿ harâcgüzâr zimmî reʿâyâyı ve ʿavârız hânelerini ve mukâta⁠ʿât ve sa⁠ʾir mîrîye müteʿallik olanları /19/ yerlü yerinde hakk ve ʿadl üzre teftîş ve tefahhus eyleyüb kadîmî cizye defterine ve ʿavârız /20/ hânesine dâhil olanlardan mâʿadâ eyâlet-i mezbûrede vâkiʿ kasaba ve karyelerde sâkin olub /21/ hâric ez defter ve bilâ hidmet muʿâf olanları ve hâric ez defter kefere ta⁠ʾifes- ini ve şerʿan /22/ cizyeye müstehak emred ve mürâhık oğullarını kadîmî hâne-i ʿavârız ve cizye defterlerine dâhil /23/ olanlar ile maʿan hakk ve ʿadl üzre aʿlâ ve evsât ve ednâ itibarı ile tahammüllerine göre /24/ isimlerîle hâne ve ʿavârız ve cizye defterlerine kayd eyleyüb kadîmî menzilci ve köprücü ve derbendci /25/ ve sa⁠ʾir muʿâf olanları hâlâ üzerl- erine edâsı lâzım hidmetleri var ise ve edâ-yı hidmet /26/ iderler ise ve hidmet eylemeleri lâzım ve mühim olub canîb-i mîrîye ve fukarâya enfaʿ ise anun /27/ gibileri üslûb-ı sâbık üzre ellerinde olan atîk ve cedîd muʿâfnâmelerin ve defter-i cedîd-i /28/ hâkânî sûreti mûcebince hâlleri üzerine ibkâ eyliyesin ve illâ mevkiʿleri olmayub mücerred mukaddemâ /29/ köprücü ve derbendci ve menzilci ve mütekâʿid ve tekyenişîn ve zâviyedâr ve muʿtak kul ve sair /30/ tarîkle muʿâf olanlar “biz muʿâfız” dediklerine iʿtibar eylemeyüb ʿavârız hânesine kaydolacakları /31/ ʿavârız hânesine ve cizye defterine kaydolacakları cizye defterine kayd eyleyüb /32/ minbaʿd hâric ez defter bir nefer komayasın ve baʿzı karyelerin mukaddemâ hâne ve cizyeleri ziyâde /33/ olmağla ehâ[li] perâkende ve perişân olub harâbe olmağla hâneleri ve cizyeleri /34/ tahkîk olunmak lâzım geldikde o makûle karyeleri hâlâ kaç hâneye ve ne mikdâr cizyeye /35/ tahammülü var ise ana göre hakk ve ʿadl üzre yoklayub tahammüllerinden ziyâdesin tahkîk eyleyüb /36/ ve tahkîk olunan hâne ve cizyeleri hâlâ tahammülleri olanlara tahmil eyleyüb kesr-i hâneden /37/ ve nakz-ı cizyeden ictinâb eyleyesin ve mukaddemâ kasaba ve karyelerinden kalkub âher kasaba ve karyelere /38/ varub tavattun eyleyen reʿâyâ tâʿifesi kalkub gideli zamân mürûr eyle- Appendix I 199 mekle kalkmadan ʿusret /39/ çekerlerse o makûle[le]ri yerlerinden kaldurmayub hâlâ sâkin oldukları kasaba ve karyelerde /40/ ʿavârız hânesine ve cizye defterine kayd eyleyesin. Reʿâyâdan mücerred ʿavârız ve cizye ve sa⁠ʾir tekâlifi /41/ virmemek içün evkâf-ı selâtîn ve haremeyni’ş-şerifeyn ve vüzerâ ve sair evkâf ve serbest karyelere /42/ varub tavattun eyleyenleri dikkat ve ihtimâm ile yerlü yerinde yoklayub bâlâda mestûr olduğu /43/ üzere yerlerinde kalmak isteyenleri kaldurmayub hâlâ sâkin oldukları mahallât ve karyelerde ʿavârız /44/ hânesine ve cizye defterine kayd ve tahrir eyliyesin ve eyâlet–i mezbûrede vâki olan mukâtaʿâtı /45/ ve saʿir mâl-ı mîrîye müteʿallik olanları dahi onat vechile yerlü yerinde tefahhüs eyleyüb biʾlfiʿl /46/ kimlerin ʿuhdelerindedir ve nice tahammülleri vardır hakk ve ʿadl üzre tahrir ve defter eyleyüb katʿa /47/ meşkûk ve şebih? bir nesne alıkom- ayasın ve bi’lcümle eyyâm-ı adâlet-encâmda reʿâyâ ve berâyâ ki vedâʾiʿ-i âlemüʾs /48/ sırrı ve’l hâfiyâtdır cümlesi âsûdehâl olub bir ferde zûlm ve taʿaddî olduğuna katʿa rızây-ı /49/ hümâyûnum yokdur âna göre mukayyed olub hâlâ câdde-i hakdan ʿudul ve inhirâf eylemeyesin ve tahrîr /50/ eyledüğin ʿavârız ve cizye ve mukâtʿât defterlerini sıhhat üzre tahrir eyledikden sonra mühürledüb /51/ ve nişanlayub südde-i saʿâdetime gönderesin ki manzûr-ı âlişânım olub makbûl-ı hümâyunum oldukda /52/ mahallerinde hıfzolunub minbâʿd bu haseb ile amel oluna ve illâ yazduğun defterler rikâb-ı /53/ hümâyuna arz olunub makbûl-ı hümâyunum olmayınca tahrîr eyledüğin kasaba ve karyeler ehâlisine temessük virmeyesin /54/ ve bi’lcümle eyâlet-i mezbûrede vâkî ʿavârız hâneleri ve cizye ve mukâtaʿât ve emvâl-i sâirenin /55/ tahrîr ve defter olunmasın müstakil sana sipâriş olunmuşdur ve sadakat ve istikametler husûle gelmesi /56/ senden bilü[nü]r şöyle ki ber vech-i ʿadâlet tahrîr ve defter eylemekle cizye ve ʿavârız ve mukâtaʿât malının izdiyâdına /57/ bâʿis olasın; zuhûra gelen sayʿ ve hidmetin zâyiʿ olmayub meʿmul ve melhûzluğunuza ziyâde ihsan-ı /58/ kesretüʾl berekâtıma mazhar olursun ve bu bâbda temessük ve şikâyetin ve ʿarz ve cevâbın mesmûʿ-ı şerîfim ve makbûl-ı /59/ hümâyûnumdur tahrîr husûsunda sana muʿâvenet ve hidmet eyleyenleri arz ve iʿlâm eyledüğin takdirce hidmetleri /60/ zâyiʿ olmayub ʿarzın mucibince her birisine hallerine göre behremend ve ber-murâd olunurlar ve mâniʿ-i mezâhim? /61/ olanların dahi kezâlik ʿarzın mucibince sürʿatle haklarından gelinür. Elhâsıl tahrîr husûsunda kimesneye himâyet /62/ ve bir şahsa riʿâyet eylemeyüb cümlesin deftere kaydeyleyüb defterden hâric nesne alıkomayasın /63/ ve yazduğın defterler südde-i saʿadetime arz olunub makbûl-ı hümâyûnum olmayınca kimseye temessük virmeyesin /64/ ve lâzımü’l arz olan mevâddı yazub bâb-ı saʿadetmeʿâbıma iʿlâm eyleyüb ahsen-i vechile itmâm-ı hidmet /65/ eylemekde bezl-i makdûr ve sayʿ-i nâmahzûr eyleyesin şöyle bilesin ʿalâmet-i şerife iʿtimad kılasın tahrîren fi’l yevmiʾr râbi ve’l işrîn şehr-i Şaʿbanü’l muazzam li senet-i ihdâ ve hamsîn ve elf [14 Şaʿban 1051 / 18 November 1641].

be-makâm-ı Kostantiniyye el mahrûse vürûd fi’l yevm-i sâbî min şehr-i Rabiülevvel sene isneyn ve hamsîn ve elf [7 R.evvel 1052 /5 June 1642]. 200 Appendix I

Doc. No. 1: (English translation) The written command is as follows. The exemplar of the Lords of Good Fortune, the Pillar of the Possessor of Magnificence, the collector of all kinds of revenue distinguished by the increase of Grace of God the Creator, Murad (may his Loftiness endure), the defterdâr of the Rûm district of my Imperial Treasury: When my sublime tuğra arrives, let it be known that, in order to avoid paying avârız, cizye, and other dues, the Muslim and non-Muslim (zimmî) reâyâ and the groups of tributaries (harâcgüzâr) and unbelievers (kefere) abandoned the lands which they had previously inhabited, to settle in the Waqfs of Sultans (evkâf-ı selâtîn) and viziers (vüzerâ), the Two Holy Cities (harameyniʾş-şerifeyn), the imperial hass lands (havâss-ı hümâyûn), and the free (serbest) and exempt (muʿâf) towns and villages. This resulted in a decrease in [the number] of established (kadîmî) households (hânes) and a severe deficiency in the income of the treasury. Moreover, those commissioned to collect ʿavârız and dues (tekâlif) and other provisions had a great deal of difficulty in collecting [these dues and taxes], and since the reâyâ have left their old places and settled in other places, their dues are also imposed on those who remained. This is a severe injustice (taʿaddi) to the reâyâ. [All this] has reached my Exalted Royal Ears. Now, being a good Muslim, upright and reliable and pious and a very learned and sober person, you have repeatedly been employed in great services. As a skillful and experienced person who has my Noble Trust in his good management and uprightness and justice, and whose service is acknowledged, I have issued a Most Noble Firman (fermân-ı âlişân) appointing you as the registrar to register in a just manner and according to their capacity the tributaries (haracgüzâr), non-Muslim (zimmî) reâyâ and avârız-hânes and mukataât and other [income] which belongs to the treasury. I have decreed that, when my Noble Command arrives, acting in accordance with my Firman of Felicity issued for this matter, you should without delay inspect and investigate duly, rightfully, and justly the tributaries, non-Muslim reâyâ, avârız-hânes, mukataât, and other [income] which belongs to the treasury in the aforementioned province. In addition to those included in the old cizye register and avârız-hânes, [you should] record persons not included in the register (hâric ez defter), those exempted without performance of service, unbelievers not included in the register, the young and pre-adult (mürâhık) liable to pay cizye according to sharia as well as those included in the old hâne-i avârız and cizye registers. [You should record] their names correctly and justly [and their economic status] as aʿlâ, evsat, and ednâ according to their capacity, in the hâne, avârız, and cizye registers. You should leave the old menzilci and köprücü and derbendci and those exempted as they were previously, in accordance with their old and new certificates and the copy of the New Imperial Register (defter-i cedîd-i hâkânî), if they have services to carry out and to fulfil these services, and if their services are required and beneficial to the treasury, and to the poor. However, Appendix I 201 those with no exemption who were previously exempt by way of being köprüci, derb- enci, menzilci, retired, residents of dervish hospices (tekyenişîn), zâviyedâr, freed slaves (maʿtuk kul), or those exempted in one way or another, [you should] record them in the avârız-hânes and cizye register according to their situation, without considering their claim of exemption. Hereafter, you should not leave anyone out of the register. Some villages which previously had a large number of households and cizye that were ruined (harâbe olmağla), their inhabitants dispersed and become impoverished, when it becomes necessary to investigate their hânes and cizyes [you should] inspect those villages: how many [avârız-]hânes they are capable of [composing] and how much cizye they could bear. [You should] examine this correctly and justly, [and you should] inspect the surplus over their capacity and load [this surplus] onto those households which have been inspected and still have capacity to pay avârız and cizye. You should refrain from causing an excess in avârız and a deficiency in cizye. Since it has been a long time since those reâyâ who left their towns and villages have settled in other towns and villages, you should not resettle them if it causes distress; [instead] you should record them in the avârız-hâne and cizye register of the towns and villages they now live in. [You should also not] resettle those reâyâ who settled in evkâf-ı selâtîn and harameyniʾş-şerîfeyn and vüzerâ and serbest and evkâf villages in order to avoid paying avârız, cizye, and other dues, if they want to stay where they are. You should inspect them carefully and register them in the avârız-hâne and cizye register of the quarters (mahâllât) and villages. [You should also] duly investigate the mukâtaât and other [revenues] belonging to the treasury income, and rightfully and justly register them in terms of whom they are entrusted to and their capacities. You should never levy anything doubtful. I give no approval to any transgression or cruelty to a single person. The reâyâ and berâyâ, who are entrusted from the Unseen World (ki vedâyi-i âlemü’s-sırrı veʾl hâfiyâtdır), should all live in peace in this time of justice; bear this in mind and do not deviate from the Path of Righteousness. After preparing the avârız and cizye and mukâtaât register carefully, you should stamp and sign and send them to my Threshold of Felicity; after my consideration and approval, they are to be kept locally and to hereafter be acted on accordingly. Before sending the registers to me, you should not without my approval give any certificate to the people of the towns and villages you have surveyed. You are commissioned to register the avârız-hâne, cizye, mukâtaât, and other incomes of the entire aforementioned province. It is your responsibility to ensure such obedience and uprightness that by registering with justice you should cause an increase in the income from cizye and avârız and mukâtaât. Your effort and service will not be wasted, but you will receive an abundance of my munifi- cence, greater than your hope and expectation. If you submit the names of those who assisted and served you during the survey, they will also be rewarded according to your recommendation. Those who caused trouble will also be speedily punished in accordance with your submission. In short, you should not favor anyone during the survey; 202 Appendix I you should record them all in the register and should not omit a single item from the register. You should not give any certificate to anyone before submitting the registers to my Threshold of Felicity and without my approval. You should write to my Gate of Felicity about anything requiring submission; do your best by acting in the best manner. You should know this and trust in the Noble Tuğra. Written on 14 Şâʿban 1051 [18 November 1641].

[Written] in the Protected [city of] Constantinople Arrived, 7 Râbiüʾlevvel 1052 [5 June 1642].

Doc. No. 2: (Amasya Şerʿiye Sicili, No. 4, pp. 148–149). Kıdvetü’l erbâbi’l ikbâl ʿumdetü’l ashâbi’l-iclâl câmiü’l-vücûhü’l-emvâl-i ʿâmme-i lâzımü’l-emîn bâ hüsni’l-âʿmâl /2/ el-muhtass [bi-] mezîd-i inâyeti’l-meliki’l bârî hezâ ne-i âmiremin Rûm hazînesi defterdârı olub Sivas /3/ eyâletinde ʿavârız hânesi ve cizye tahririne meʿmûr olan Murâd dâme ulüvvühü tevkiʿ-i refîʿ-i hümâyûnum /4/ vâsıl olıcak mâʿlûm ola ki, hâlâ tahrîrine meʿmûr olduğun eyâlet-i mezbûrede vâkî kasabât ve kur- râda /5/ reʿâyâ hânelerin tahrîr eyledikde sâdât ve ulemâ ve sipâh ve yeniçeri ve sa⁠ʾir askerî ta⁠ʾifesinin dahi /6/ tasarruflarında olan evlerin ve mülklerin kaydı içün hâneye dâhil olan reʿâyâ hâneleri midir yohsa hâneye /7/ dâhil değil midir isim ve resimleriyle başka tahrîr ve defter eyleyüb südde-i saʿadetime irsâl eylemek /8/ emrim olmuşdur. Buyurdum ki; hükm-i şerîfimle vardukda bu bâbda sâdır olan fermân-ı celîlü’l kadrim ile ʿamel idüb /9/ dahi tahrîrine meʿmûr olduğun kasabât ve kurrâda reʿâyâ hânelerin tahrir eyledükde sâdât ve ulemâ ve sipâh /10/ ve yeniçeri ve sa⁠ʾir ʿaskerî tâʾifesinin dahi tasarruflarında olub ve mülkleri kadîmde reʿâyâ hâneleri midir /11/ yohsa hâneye dâhil değiller midir isim ve resimleri ile samimî üzre başka tahrîr ve defter eyleyüb /12/ südde-i saʿâdetime irsâl eyliyesin ki, baʿdehü fermân-ı şerîfimle ne vechile sâdır olursa âna göre /13/ ʿamel oluna; minbaʿd hâric ez defter bir kimesneyi komayasın şöyle bilesin ʿalâmet-i şerîfe iʿtimâd kılasın /14/ tahrîren fi’l yevmiʾs sâlis ve’l ʿişrîn min şehr-i Şevvâli’l mükerrem li seneti ihdâ ve hamsîn ve elf [13 Şevval 1051 / 15 January 1642] . be makâm-ı Kostantiniyye el mahrûse

Doc. No. 2: (English translation) The exemplar of the Lords of Fortune, the Pillar of the Possessor of Magnificence, he who makes the Treasury flourish by the Excellence of his Archives, distinguished by the increase of the Treasury of Rûm of my Imperial Treasurer, Murad (may his Loftiness endure), in charge of surveying the avârız-hânes and capitation tax in the province of Sivas: When the imperial Tuğra arrives let it be known that I have commanded that while you survey the reâyâ households of the towns and villages of the aforementioned province to which you are commissioned, you should also make a separate register of the houses and freehold possessions (evlerin ve mülklerin) of seyyids (sâdâd) and ulemâ Appendix I 203 and sipâh and Janissaries (yeniçeri) and other [members of] the askerî class with their names and dues, whether or not they are included in the [avârız-]hânes. I have decreed that, when my Noble Command arrives, you should act in accordance with the firman issued for this matter. While you survey the reâyâ households of the towns and villages to which you are commissioned you should also draw up a separate register of the possessions of sâdât and ulemâ and sipâh and Janissaries and other [members of] the askerî class as to whether their freeholdings were previously included in the reâyâ household and send it to my Threshold of Felicity. Then, you should act according to what is written in my Noble Command; hereafter, you should not leave anyone out of the register. Know this; trust in the Noble Tuğra.

Written on 15 January 1642. [Written] in the Protected [city of] Constantinople.

Doc. No. 3: (Amasya Şerʿiye Sicili, no. 4, p. 139) Kıdvetü’l erbâbü’l âʿmâl ʿumdetü’l ashâbi’l iclâl câmiʿ-i vücûhü’l emvâl âmirü’l hezâʾin bi-hüsni’l âʿmâl el muhtass bi-mezîd-i inâyeti’l meliki’l bârî hazîne-i Rûm defterdârı Murad dâme ʿuluvvühü ve mefâhirü’l kuzzât ve’l hükkâm maʿâdeni’l fezâʾil ve’l kelâm eyâlet-i Rûmʾda vâkiʿ olan kâdılar zîde fâzlühüm tevkîʿ-i refîʿ-i hümâyûn vâsıl olıcak mâlûm ola ki: Vilâyet-i Rûm tahrîr olınub lâkin mâlikâne ahvâli muhtel ve müşevveş olmağla tasarruf idenler eğer vakf eğer mülk temessükleriyle südde-i saʿâdetime gelüb ahvâlleri görülmek lâzım ve mühim olmağın imdi mülk ve eğer vakf her ne tarîkle olursa olsun o[l] makûle karyeler zabt idenlere minbʿad tasarruf itdirmeyüb sen ki defterdârsın mîrî içün zabt ve mahsûlün kabz ve defter idüb ve dâʿvet idüb temessükât ibrâz eyleyenlerin ellerinde olan temessükâtla der-i devlet-medârıma gelüb isbât-ı vücûd eyleyüb temessük lerine nazar olundukdan sonra bâ-fermân-ı şerîfim ne vechile sâdır olursa mûcibîle ʿamel eyliyesiz deyu fermânım olmuşdur buyurdum ki; Hükm-i şerifimle ( blank ) vardıkda bu bâbda sâdır olan emrim üzere ʿamel idüb dahi eyâlet-i mezbûrede mülk ve eğer vakf her ne tarîkle olursa olsun ol makûle karyeler ve mezraʿalar zabt idenlere minbaʿd tasarruf itdirmeyüb sen ki defterdârsın mîrî tarafından zabt ve mahsûlün ahz ü kabz ve defter eyleyüb dâʿvet idüb temessükât ibrâz eyliyenleri der-i devlet-medârıma gönderesin ki, temessükâtîle gelüb isbât-ı vücûd eyleyüb temes- sükâtına nazar olundukdan sonra fermân-ı şerîfim ne vechile sâdır olursa bu vechile ʿamel eyliyesin ve biʾlcümle (illegible) âsıtâne-i saʿadetime gelüb müceddeden ellerine emr ve berât virilmedikce müdâhele ve muʿâreze itdirmeyüb mirî içün ahz ü kabz ve defter eyliyesin. Fermân-ı şerîfime muhâlif kimesneye taʿallül ve nizâʿ ve ʿinâd ve muhâ lefet itdirmeyüb vech-i meşrûh üzere olan emrim yerine getiresin. Şöyle bilesin; alâmet-i şerîfe iʿtimâd kılasın. Tahrîren fî gurre-i şehr-i Cemâziyelâhir sene isneyn ve hamsîn ve elf [1 Cemâziyelâhir 1052 / 27 August 1642]. be-makâm-ı Kostantiniye el-mahrûse 204 Appendix I

Facsimile 1641 survey order Appendix Ii: Revenue Holders and Revenue Distribution

II.A. [Timarhâ-i] Eşkinciyân in c. 1480 and their Situation in Subsequent Registers c. 1480 * 1520** 1576**

1 Evlâd-ı Beğ Melek V + “evlâd-ı Beğ Melek + “be tarikü’l istishâb” (İskender Çelebi and Hâtun”(1) Şehsuvaroğlu) (9885) 6125 *** 2 Evlâd-ı Elvan Çelebi V? + “Elvan Çelebi zâviyesine + “hâliya der dest-i Ahmed (2) 1500 tasarruf olunur, hâliya Çelebi b. Nurullah Çelebi der dest-i Ahmed Çelebi ebnâ-yı Hamdullah ebnâ-yı Hamdullah” 3 Evlâd-ı Fethüddin 900 M + “Vakf-ı zâviye-i + “Vakf-ı evlâd-ı m[ezkûr].” Fethüddin” 4 Evlâd-ı Hacı Halil V + İskender [Çelebi] b. + Ali Beğ and Ayşe Hâtun (İskender) Mehmed [Çelebi] b. with Halil and Sitti Hâtun 7342 Hacı Halil / Vakf-ı türbe-i evlâd-ı İskender Çelebi / İskender Beğ “Vakf-ı türbe-i İskender Beğ ve Mehmed Çelebi”/Vakf-ı Mescid-i Sevincer 5 Evlâd-ı Hacı Nevruz M + “Vakf-ı evlâd-ı + “Evlâd-ı m[ezkûr].” (Ahmed, İlyas, Sâmi m[ezkûr].” and others) 10085 6 Evlâd-ı Hasan Ağa V +? Mehmed Çelebi b. Ali + “der yed-i Mehmed (Hamza and Mehmed) Beğ / Mahmud Çelebi b. Çelebi b. Ali Beğ. İstishâb (11809) 4335 Mehmed Çelebi. kaydolundu. Hâliya evlâd-ı vakıfdan Aişe Hâtun tasarrufundadır” 7 Evlâd-ı İbrahim Beğ M + Melek Hâtun Paşa and + “be tarikü’l istishâb” (Paşa, Selâmet and Selâmet Hâtun and Parsa Parsa Hâtun) 1130 Hâtun.

Table (cont.) c. 1480 * 1520** 1576**

8 Evlâd-ı Kâtib Muhiddin MV + “vakf-ı medrese-i + “Vakf-ı medrese-i (Selâmet, Mahmud, Muhiddin” Muhiddin v. Hacı der Kasım, Abdurrahman Hakala” and others) (7999) 6139 9 Evlâd-ı Kadı Şah M + “Ebnâ-yı Hevâce Beğ / + (Zeyneddin, Hevâce, Mehmed b. Zeyneddin b. Mezid and others) Kadı Şah”. 7346 10 Evlâd-ı Mahmud V + “Vakf-ı ebnâ-yı Mahmud + Çelebi (9120) Paşa b. Mehmed Paşa.” 6125 11 Evlâd-ı Mansur Beğ ? + “Vakf-ı ebnâ-yı Mansur ? (Pîrî, İshak, Mîr Beğ” Mehmed, Abdullah)(3) 3100 12 Evlâd-ı Osman Ağa V + Pîr Ahmed b. Şeyh + “hâliya mülk-i mevrûs-ı (Pir Ahmed and Ahmed, Yunus ve Şehsuvâr veledân-ı Kadem Paşa) Kadem Paşa binti Pîr 2845 Ahmed el mezkûr” 13 Evlâd-ı Pîr Mehmed V +Yusuf Çelebi and Pîr + “hâliya Seydi Ali ve Lütfi (Yusuf, Pîr Mehmed Hasan [Çelebi] b. Ali Hâtun ve Hadice Hâtun and Pîr Hasan) [Çelebi] evlâd-ı Yusuf Çelebi 8357 tasarrufunda” 14 Evlâd-ı Şâh Çelebi V + Evlâd-ı m[ezkûr]. + (with Mahmud Çelebi.) 5900 15 Evlâd-ı Yunus Beğ M – “vakf-ı medrese-i Firûz – (5909) 1220 Ağa” 16 Verese-i Mevlânâ M + + Selâhaddin (2393) 1675 17 Ahmed Beğ v. Horos ? + “Vakf-ı Ahmed Beğ b. ? and Ahmed Çelebi (4) Mehmed Beğ” 9536 18 Ali Çelebi v. Müeyyed M + + “Ali Çelebi b. Müeyyed 3670 Çelebi” Appendix iI 207

c. 1480 * 1520** 1576**

19 Ali and Satı v.Ahmed M – “mefrûzü’l kalem vakf-ı – Çelebi and Şâh Eslem Firûz Ağa” binti Hacı Osman and eytâm-ı evlâd-ı Hacı Yusuf 5700 20 Bâli v. Ramazan M – Bâli and Yunus, “mülk-i – “hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i 500 eşkinlü.” “hâliya mülk-i Emirze ber vech-i eşkün” mübeyyi-i Emirze 21 Binti Emrullah Halîfe M – “Sitti(?) Hâtun binti + 250 Emrullah Halîfe. Hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i Abdullah Beğ b. Sinan oldukdan sonra Amasya’da bina itdüğü medrese ve dârü’lhadisʾe vakf itmiş” 22 Esleme (?) Hatun M – – 1420 23 Gülbahar M + + 240 24 Hacı Adil M – “hâliya vakf-ı medrese-i – 585 Ayas Ağa” 25 Hacı Mîr Ali and Eşref M + “Vakf-ı evlâd-ı Eşref b. + “Vakf-ı türbe-i evlâd-ı and Ahmed Çelebi Hamza” Mevlânâ Şerefeddin Hamza and others Ağa” (870) 570 26 Hacı Sinan M + + “Hevâce Hacı Sinan” 220 27 Hasan (“Zâviye-i ? – – Hacı Nevruz’dan mensûh olub eşmek emrolundu”) 760 28 Hâtun ...... ? + ? “Vakf-ı imâret-i + 8765 Hâtuniye der Tokat” 29 Hâtun Paşa and Şahrûz V + “Şahrûz binti Behşâyiş + “Evlâd-ı Behşâyiş Beğ” Paşa binti Behşâyiş Beğ” Beğ. 3486 208 Appendix ii

Table (cont.) c. 1480 * 1520** 1576**

30 Hevâce İvaz and M + “Hevâce İvaz b. Hevâce + Abdullah v. Hevâce Mehmed” / “evlâd-ı Mehmed 4410 Hevâce Mehmed, hâliya mülk-ı mübeyyi-i Hasan Ağa” 31 Mahmud v. Hacı M + “Vakf-ı evlâd-ı Mahmud + “Vakf-ı evlâd-ı Mahmud Ahmed 284 b. Ahmed” Çelebi b. Hacı Ahmed” 32 Mehmed V – “Vakf-ı câmi-i Melek + 1416 İsmail ve câmi-i Yörgic Paşa” 33 Mehmed and Kadem V + Murad v. Mehmed ve + Murad v. Ahi Mehmed ve Paşa 1675 Kadem Hâtun Kadem Hâtun Paşa 34 Mehmed v. Cüneyd V? +”Vakf-ı Medrese-i + and Kaya Paşa and Torumtay, tevliyet der Mehmed and others tasarruf-ı evlâd-ı Mehmed (Trusteeship of the Çelebi b. Kaya Paşa” waqf of Torumtay) (9492) 8379,5 35 Mehmed Beğ v. Hızır V + “Vakf-ı imâret-i Mehmed + Medrese-i Hızır Paşa/ Paşa Paşa” / “Vakf-ı medrese-i İmâret-i Mehmed Paşa (17466) 16566 Hızır Paşa” / “Vakf-ı ebnâ-yı Mehmed Beğ” 36 Mehterce (?) Hâtun M – “Mülk-i mübeyyi-i – binti Ahi Mehmed merhum Ali Paşa ʿan 1675 kıbel-i Elvan Çelebi and İnʿam Paşa Hâtun” 37 Muhyiddin Hayrânî M + “Mülk-i verese-i + and Paşa Hâtun and Behşayiş” eytâm-ı Hacı Behşâyiş 2400 38 Müslim Hâtun M –? “Seyyid Nureddin –? and Tayyibe binti evlâdından İbrahim ve ʿİmâdüddin 600 Seydi tasarrufunda” 39 Paşa Hâtun and Paşa M – “Mülk-i Hâtun Paşa ve – Melek Paşa Melek, hâliya 585 vakf-ı medrese-i Ayas Ağa” Appendix iI 209

c. 1480 * 1520** 1576**

40 Pîrî Beğ v. Şâh V + “Hâliya der tasarruf-ı + 4920 Haydar v. mezkûr” 41 Saʾadet⁠ Hâtun M + “vakf-ı evlâd-ı Saʿadet + 250 Hâtun”

42 Satı and Şahrûz and M + “Vakf-ı evlâdlık üzere – İhsân Hâtun Ali Beğ maʾa⁠ İhsân Hâtun 2790 ve Satı Hâtun ve Şahrûz Hâtun” 43 Seydi v. Sinan M + “Seydi Çelebi b. Sinan + 1580 Ağa” 44 Şâh Eslem binti Şeyh M + “Eslemşâh Hâtun binti + Osman Şeyh m[ezkûr]” 3120 45 Yusuf and Ali v. Alp M ? __ +? “Mülk-i Ali Beğ” (“kadimden eşkincülü mülk”)(5) 3000 46 Hundi(?) Hâtun M +? “Vakf-ı Yusuf b. Hacı +? 3700 Mehmed cüzhevân-ı türbe-i Hundi(?) Hâtun”

* Type of freeholding ; abbreviations: [V: “Vakf-ı evlâd”; M: “Mülk”; VM: “Vakf and mülk”; ?: unclear]. ** Abbreviations used in the 1520 and 1576 columns: + : held by the same family; – : transferred to another person or vakıf; ? : doubtful situation. I have not given the full records in the 1576 column when they are virtually the same as in the 1520s; instead, I have indicated the situation by the abbreviation (+). ** The numbers beneath the names in the c. 1480 column show the amount of their revenues deriving from the villages in the kazâ of Amasya only. In the cases of those whose total revenues included villages from the neighboring areas, these totals are given in brackets before the regional revenue totals. (1) “Umur Beğ defterinde [1455 register] mâlikâne ‘Mahmud Çelebi v. Beğ Melek’ deyu kaydolunmuş” (TT387: 375). (2) This eşkincilü-timar is recorded among those of the “vilâyet-i Çorumlu” in the register (TT387: 194). (3) This eşkincilü-timar is recorded among those of the “vilâyet-i Tokat” in the register (TT387: 113). (4) This eşkincilü-timar is recorded among those of the “vilâyet-i Sivas” in the register (TT387: 154–155). (5) “Kadimden eşkincülü mülk imiş. Bir tarikle sekizde (?) iki sehem ahara satmış. Alan kimesneler dahi bir sehem bir çeşmeye ve bir sehem bir türbeye vakf itmişler. Vakfiyyetleri nesh olub küllî girü mezkûreyn adlarına mukarrer kılınub ber karar-ı sâbık eşeler deyu emrolundu” (TT15: 6). 210 Appendix ii

II.B Mâlikâne Holders, 1520–1576 (According to TT387 and TK26)

Name M/V* 1576

1 Abdullah M + 2 Ahmed Beğ b. Mehmed Beğ V + (“ber mûceb-i defter-i Tâceddin”) 3 Ali Fakih b. Yaʿkub V “vakf-ı ʿam der tasarruf-ı ʿAli Fakih b. Yaʿkub” 4 Ali b. Emir M + 5 Ali [Çelebi] b. Halil M + 6 Ali Beğ ve İhsan Hâtun ve Sitti(?) V + Hâtun ve Şehzâde Hâtun 7 Ali Çelebi b. Ebuʾlkâsım V ? “evlâd-ı Turahan ve Devlethân [no:116] tasarrufunda ve nısfı Ali b. Halil [no:5]”1 8 Ali Çelebi b. Müeyyed Çelebi M “hâliya mâlikâne vakf-ı evlâd–ı Ali Çelebi b. Müeyyed Çelebi” 9 Ali Paşa (“merhum” or deceased) M “hâliya vakf-ı imâret-i hod” (see the list of vakıfs) 10 Bâli Beğ b. Mustafa M + 11 Bâli ve Yunus (eşkinlü) (“hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i Emirze”) M + 12 Bülbül(?) Hâtun (“valide-i Sultan Ahmed oğlu Murad Han”) V + “Vakf-ı imâret-i valide-i Sultan Ahmed” (f.61a) 13 Cemal(?) Paşa ? – 14 Cüzhevân-ı türbe-i Hacı Hamza V + 15 Dilşâd Hâtun V + 16 Ebnâ-yı Abdurrahman V ? 17 Ebnâ-yı Ahmed Fakı M + 18 Ebnâ-yı Ali and Mehmed V + (from “evlâd-ı Kadı Şâh” no: 37) 19 Ebnâ-yı Emir Beğ b. Halil? V + 20 Ebnâ-yı Güç Arslan b. Elvan V ? 21 Ebnâ-yı Hamdullah Çelebi V + 22 Ebnâ-yı Mahmud Paşa b. V + Mehmed Paşa 23 Ebnâ-yı Mansur Beğ V + Appendix iI 211

Name M/V* 1576

24 Ebnâ-yı Mehmed Beğ V + 25 Ebnâ-yı Mevlânâ Abdurrahman V + 26 Ebnâ-yı Suluca Beğ V ? 27 Ebnâ-yı Tursun (be-tarîkü’l V + istishâb) 28 Elhac Hamza b. Hacı [elhac] Kasım “cihet-i + tevliyet” 29 Ebnâ-yı Zeyneddin (see “evlâd-ı V + Kadı Şâh” no: 37) 30 Evlâd-ı Ali Beğ [b. Mehmed Beğ] (eşkinlü) and Sultan Hâtun bint-i Mehmed Beğ M + 2 31 Evlâd-ı Beğ Melek Hâtun V + 3 32 Evlâd-ı Çavuş Mehmed M ? 33 Evlâd-ı Çoban Beğ V + 34 Evlâd-ı Elvan M + 35 Evlâd-ı Emir Hasan [Çelebi,1576] V + (“Mihriban Hâtun tasarrufunda”, be-tarikü’ş şerʿ) 36 Evlâd-ı Emirze V ? 37 Evlâd-ı Fatma Hâtun V + 38 Evlâd-ı Hevâce Mehmed M – “hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i Hüseyin Ağa, vakf-ı câmi ve medrese” 39 Evlâd-ı İskender Çelebi b. Mehmed V + Çelebi 40 Evlâd-ı Kadı Şah (“ebnâ-yı Hevâce V + (see no: 29) Beğ and ebnâ-yı Ali ve Mehmed b. Zeyneddin”) 4 41 Evlâd-ı Kethüdâ V + 42 Evlâd-ı Mahmud [“Çelebi,” 1576] V + b. [“Hâcı,” 1576] Ahmed 43 Evlâd-ı Mehmed Beğ b. Hacı V ? Ahmed (“der tasarruf-ı Kasım Beğ b. Mehmed”) 44 Evlâd-ı Mevlânâ Seydi Ali V + 212 Appendix ii

Table (cont.)

Name M/V* 1576

45 Evlâd-ı Hacı Nevrûz (“ber mûceb-i M/V + defter-i Umur Beğ”) 46 Evlâd-ı Saadet Hâtun M? + 47 Evlâd-ı Sekbantemür (eşkinlü) M/V + 48 Evlâd-ı Selâmet Beğ and V + Maksud Beğ 49 Evlâd-ı Şah Çelebi V + 50 Evlâd-ı [Mevlânâ, 1576] V + Şeref [eddin, 1576] b. Hamza [Ağa, 1576] 51 Emir b. Seydi Beğ (eşkinlü) M + 52 Eslem Şah Hâtun bint-i Şeyh M + Osman 53 Fatıma (from “evlâd-ı Kadı Şâh”) V + 54 Görice(?) M + a part of it “be tarîkü’l istishâb” 55 Gülbahar Hâtun M + 56 Hacı b. Hacib(?) M + 57 Hacı Hamza and Hacı Pîrî/Ali? Beğ V + 58 Hacı Turmuş b. Ahmed M + 59 Hamza b. İsmail M + “evlâd-ı Hâmza ve İsmail” 60 Hamza(?) Ağa M ? 61 Hâtun Paşa bint-i Hevâce İsâ M + 5 (half of the mâlikâne is eşkinlü) 62 Hâtun Paşa ve Selâmet Hâtun M “Hâtun Paşa ve Selâmet Hâtun (see no. 61) ve Parsa, be tarikü’l istishâb” 63 Haydar Beğ (?) M “be tarikü’l istishâb” 64 Hayreddin (be tarikü’l istishâb) M –“hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i fahrü’l müderrisîn Mevlânâ İlyas b. Hasan” 65 Hevâce Hacı Sinan M + 66 Hevâce İvaz b. Hevâce Mehmed M see no. 38 67 Hevâce Mehmed M see no. 38 68 Hızır b. Turak M + 69 Hüseyin Ağa (“ser rikâbî ”, 1576) M + Appendix iI 213

Name M/V* 1576

70 “İmam” (“ ʿan kıbel-i evlâd-ı Selâmet V + Beğ ve Maksûd Beğ”) 71 İskender b. Mehmed b. Hacı Halil M “hâliya evlâdından [Hacı] Halil ile Sitti Hâtun tasarrufundadır” 72 İskender Çelebi M “be mûceb-i mülknâme” 73 İsmail and Sultanşah and Mahmud M + and Eğlence and Behşâyiş (be-tarikü’l istishâb) 74 Kadem Paşa [Hâtun] binti Hacı M? “hâliya oğlu Bünyâd Ahmed (be tarikü’l istishâb) tasarrufunda” 75 Kutlu Melek [Hâtun] (“hâliya oğlu V + [Hâyreddin] tasarrufunda”) 76 Kuvad(?) Beğ V ? 77 Kürd V ? 78 Mahdum Paşa b. Ali V + 79 Mahmud Ağa M ? 80 Mahmud Ağa (“ez tevaşiyân-ı M “[Şimdikihâlde] İhsân Hâtun dergâh-ı âlî”) ’nısf beyʿ itdüm nısfı bi’lfiʿil tasarrufumda mülkümdür’ deyu nizaʿı vardır” 81 Mahmud Beğ M + 82 Verese-i Mahmud Beğ b. Ahmed M “verese-i Mahmud Beğ ve Beğ (be-tarîkü’l istishâb) Şâh Ağa binti Ahmed Beğ be tarikü’l istishâb, hâliya mezkûr karyenin [Akcaviran|Akdağ] mâlikânesinin sülüsânı mülk–i Şâh Paşa Hâtun binti Süleyman Beğ”

83 Mahmud Çelebi and Yaʿkub⁠ V/M + Şâh[Paşa] [Çelebi] v. Burak Beğ (be tarîkü’l istishâb) 84 Mahmud Çelebi b. Mehmed Çelebi M? “mülk-i eşkinlü” 85 Mecid(?) Beğ b. Müeyyed V + 86 Mehmed Paşa b. Hızır Paşa M + 87 Mehmed Beğ (father of Sultan M ? Hâtun) 214 Appendix ii

Table (cont.)

Name M/V* 1576

88 Mehmed Çelebi b. Ali Beğ V “ber mûceb-i vakfiyye ve istishâb kaydolundı, hâliya evlâd–ı vakıfdan Aişe Hâtun [binti Mahmud b. Mehmed Çelebi] tasarrufundadır” 89 Menteşe Çavuş M + 90 Mevlânâ Musa b. Ali Paşa M + 91 Mevlânâ Pîr Mehmed b. Pehlivan M + 92 Mevlânâ Saʾdullah⁠ M + 93 Mevlânâ Selâhaddin M ? 94 Mevlânâ Şemseddin V + 95 Murad b. Mehmed M? “Murad ve Bünyâd v. Ahi Mehmed” 96 Ferruh(?) Çelebi (“mülk-i kadim”) M “be tarikü’l istishâb, hâliya Ferruhzâde kıbelinden mülk-i mizânı olub vakf-ı ahar uhde-i Şeyh Abdurrahman” 97 Müeyyed b. Ali and Seyyid Osman M “be tarikü’l istishâb” 98 Müeyyed b. Ali M + 99 Müslihiddin ve Seydi Hahmud ibn M + Hevâce Ömer 100 Paşa Hâtun bint-i Mehmed Çelebi M “be tarîkü’l istishâb, Şimdikihalde evlâd-ı vakıfdan Emir Hüsam b. Saʿdullah” 101 Pîr Ahmed b.Şeyh Ahmed (a part V “hâliya mülk-i mevrûs-ı of it be tarikü’l istishâb) Şehsüvar veledân-ı Kadem Paşa binti Pîr Ahmed el-mezbûr” 102 Pîr Hasan [Çelebi] b. Ali [“Çelebi,” V + 1576] 103 Pîr Ahmed ve Hacı Keremüddin V/M + ve Fazlullah ve Hacı Baba/Paşa? 104 Pîrî Beğ (“hâliya der tasarruf-ı M + Haydar veled-i mezkûr”) Appendix iI 215

Name M/V* 1576

105 Said and Budak and Fâzıl and M “mülk-i eşkinlü-i Emrullah v. Bünyâd (“evlâd-ı Emrullah”) Bünyâd ve Bâyezid v. Fazlullah, (eşkinlü) hâliya der dest-i Said ve Budak ve Kubad ve Fazıl ve Bünyâd evlâd-ı Emrullah v. Bâyezid” 106 Selâmet and Yahya and Süleyman M + and Hundi (evlâd-ı Mehmed Paşa?) 107 Selâmet Hâtun and Parsa Hâtun M + (sisters of “Paşa Hâtun”) 108 Seydi b. Hevâce Mehmed M ? 109 Seydi Çelebi b. Sinan Ağa M + (be tarikü’l istishâb) 110 Seydi Selâmet V + 111 Seyyid Ali M ? 112 Seyyid Nureddin (“hâliya V + evlâdından İbrahim ve Seydi tasarrufunda”) 113 Sinan Ağa [b. Abdullah!] M + 114 Tâceddin M “Vakf-ı imâret-i Tâceddin Beğ” 115 Tanrıvirmiş b. Alâʾaddin V “Tanrıvirmiş ve Aydın veled-i Alâʾaddin, be tarikü’l istishâb”

116 Turahan and Devlethan (“evlâd-ı V + see no.7 Ali Çelebi b. Ebuʾlkasım”) 117 Yunus Beğ b. Abdullah (“ser bevvâbîn[-i merhûm Sultan M + Ahmed]”) 118 Yusuf b. Hacı Mehmed (“cüzhevân-ı türbe-i Hundi(?) V + Hâtun”) 119 Yusuf b. Husun (“hâliya mülk-i mübeyyi-i Veyis”) M ? 120 Yusuf Çelebi b. Ali Çelebi M “Seydi Ali ve . . . Hâtun ve Hadice Hâtun evlâd-ı Yusuf Çelebi tasarrufunda” 216 Appendix ii

Table (cont.)

Name M/V* 1576

121 Yusuf Çelebi b. Arif(?) Çelebi V ? (the same person as no.120?) 122 . . . b. Selâhaddin M ? 123 . . . Hâtun and Hatice Hâtun (evlâd-ı Yusuf Çelebi) V ? 124 Şâdmân? b. Kaya Paşa M/V “hâliya nısıf mâlikâne Şâdmân Çelebi evlâdı tasarrufundadır” (f. 40a); “hisse-i Şâdmân Çelebi hâliya vakf-ı der türbe-i Pîr İlyâs” (f. 35a)

* Type of freeholding : V: “vakıf;” M: “mülk;” MV: “vakıf ” and “mülk;” ? : unclear. Abbreviations used in the 1576 column: + : held by the same family; – : transferred or sold to another person; ? : doubtful situation. Records in the register are not given in full when they are virtually the same as in the 1520s; instead, the situation has simply been indicated by the abbreviation (+). 1 It is understood from a marginal note or derkenar dated 1047 (TK26: 187a) that in 1637 there were no living offspring to benefit from their mâlikâne share and it was decided to transfer the revenue to the upkeep of a mosque in the city of Amasya. 2 “Mâlikânenin rubʿ hissesi Sultan hâtunun defterlü mülküdür. Hâliya mezkûre hatun zikrolunan hisseden hâsıl olan mahsûlü düşenbe ve pencşenbe günlerinde rûhi’içün birer cüzʿ kıraat-i mecîd tilâvet olunmağla vakf taʿyin itdüğü ber mûceb-i vakfiyye kaydolundu” (f. 125b). Cf. Hüsameddin, Amasya Tarihi, I: pp. 215–16. 3 “Umur Beğ defterinde mâlikâne Mahmud Çelebi v. Beg Melek deyu kaydolunmuşdur” 4 In c. 1480: “ez evlâd-ı Kadı Şâh,” “eşkincü”. 5 “Sülûs-i erbaʿa mülk-i eşkünli ber mûceb-i defter-i Umur Beğ ammâ mûceb-i mektub-ı kadı mülk-i Hâtun Paşa binti Hevâce İsâ be tarikü’l istishâb ve nısıf mâlikâne sülûs-i erbaʿa bâ emr-i pâdişâhî mezbûre Melek Hâtun’a buyrulub eşkinci emrolundu ki hissesince hidmed ide” (f. 106a).

II.C. Pious Foundations (vakıfs or waqfs) and the Revenues Allocated to them in 1520

Name Revenue (1576)

1 Vakf-ı Ulemâ 7,072 + 2 İmâret-i Ali Paşa (“merhum,” in Istanbul) 1,722 + 3 İmâret-i Bâyezid Paşa 9,821 + 4 İmâret-i Devlet Hâtun (“mâder-i Sultan 100,344 + Mehmed Han b. Yıldırım Hân,” in Merzifon) 5 İmâret-i Hâtuniye [Mihri[mâh] Hâtun], 40,788.5 + “valide-i Sultan Bâyezid,” in Tokat] Appendix iI 217

Name Revenue (1576)

6 İmâret-i Mehmed Paşa b. Hızır Paşa 6,710 + 7 İmâret-i Sinan Paşa (in Hacı Hamza) 175 + 8 İmâret-i Sultan Bâyezid 10,734* ? 9 İmâret-i Torumtay 6,641? + 10 İmâret-i Yaʿkub Paşa 5,630 + 11 İmâret-i Yaʿkutiye 14,337 + 12 İmâret-i Yörgic Paşa 34,576.5 + 13 Dârü’şşifâ (medrese) 2,587 + 14 Medrese-i [Dizdâr] Abdullah Beğ [b. Sinan] see “câmi” + 15 Medrese-i Atabeğ 7,042 + 16 Medrese-i Ayas Ağa 4,629 + 17 Medrese-i Muhiddin (in Hakala) 2,296 + 18 Medrese-i Firûz Ağa (in Havza) 19,356 + 19 Medrese-i Hacı Halil (in Gümüş) 2,134 + 20 Medrese-i Halifet 1,826** + 21 Medrese-i Hızır Paşa 21,883.5 + 22 Medrese-i Hüseyin Ağa (“rikâbdârbaşı,” 1576) 2,632.5*** + 23 Medrese-i Sultan Bâyezid [II] see “imâret” + 24 Medrese-i Torumtay 5,160 + 25 Medrese-i Yörgic Paşa 2,700 + 26 Câmi (in Terziköy/Geldigelen) 685 + 27 Câmi (“ʿan kıbel-i Devlet Hâtun,” in Doğmuş/ 4,451.5 + Geldigelen) 28 Câmi and Kârbansaray (in Ezinepazarı) 3,901 + 29 Câmi (in Hakala) 2,880 + 30 Câmi-i atik (in Lâdik) 1,554 + 31 Câmi and Dârü’lhadis [of Dizdar 2,440 + Abdullah Beğ] 32 Câmi-i Hüseyin Ağa 1,388.5 + 33 Câmi-i Melek İsmail 1,072.5 + 34 Câmi-i Pervâne 7,351 + 35 Câmi-i Yörgic Paşa (in Amasya) 4,230 + 36 Mescid-i Câmi-i Çat 2,169 + 37 Mescid (in Mihmadlu/Bergoma) 1,465 ? 38 Mescid (in Örenkuş/Bergoma) 390 + 218 Appendix ii

Table (cont.)

Name Revenue (1576)

39 Mescid (in Sevincer /Bergoma) 122 + 40 Mescid-i Fatma/Mâsume Hâtun (in Amasya) 1,472.5 + 41 Mescid-i Hacı Ahmed Çelebi b. Hacı Hamza 720 + 42 Mescid-i Hatice Hâtun (in Bursa) 9,208 + 43 Mescid-i [Kilârî] Süleyman Ağa 8,386 + 44 Türbe-i Hundi Hâtun bint-i Yörgic Paşa 755 + 45 Türbe-i İskender Beğ and Mehmed Çelebi 122 + 46 Türbe-i Mehmed Beğ 855 + 47 Türbe-i Sultan Paşa Hâtun **** + 48 Türbe-i Şeyh [Pîr] İlyas (“ʿan kıbel-i Hân-ı âzâm Bâyezid Hân” [II]) 2,010 + 49 Türbe [-i Muhyiddin], 1576] 925 + 50 Türbe [-i Hevâce Turak ve Hevâce Hasan(?), 122 ? 1576] 51 Zâviye (in Banbuklu/Aştagul) 390 + 52 Zâviye (in Kıfcak/Geldigelen) 159.5 + 53 Zâviye-i Ece (in Varay/Geldigelen) 470 + 54 Zâviye-i Ahî Darbhâneci 3,140 + 55 Zâviye-i Ahî Dursun(?) (in Kazâbâd/Tokat) 387.5 + 56 Zâviye-i Ahî Saadeddin 1,023 + 57 Zâviye-i Ahî Yusuf (in Sarıkusun/Yavaş?) 447 + 58 Zâviye-i Çadırcı/Çavrıcı (nezd-i Amasya) 2,586 + 59 Zâviye-i Elvan Çelebi (in Elvan Çelebi/ 22,930 + Geldigelen) 60 Zâviye-i Fethüddin 1,023 + 61 Zâviye-i Hacı Ali (“çaşnigir”) 2,200 + 62 Zâviye–i Hacı Mahmud Çelebi 6,522.5 + 63 Zâviye-i Hacı Hamza Beğ (in Ezinepazar/ 1,650 + Yavaş) 64 Zâviye-i Hayreddin (in Hayreddin/ Argoma) see no. 21 + 65 Zâviye–i Hevâce Ali 1,301 + 66 Zâviye-i Hızır Paşa 1,533.5 67 Zâviye-i Mehmed Paşa [Çelebi, 1576] b. Hamza Beğ 3,498 + 68 Zâviye-i [Hacı, 1576] Nevruz (in Çay/Aştagul) 850 + Appendix iI 219

Name Revenue (1576)

69 Zâviye-i Selâmet Hâtun 2,120.5 + 70 Zâviye-i Seyyid Yahya (in Hakala) 20,006 + 71 Zâviye-i Şeyh Şâdi (in Şeyh Şadi/Yavaş) 3,905 + 72 Zâviye-i Şeyh Cugi (a part of it “ ʿan kıbel-i 4,324 + merhûm Hızır Paşa”) (in Şeyh Cugi/Amasya) 73 Zâviye-i Şeyh Nusret/Nasrullah 2,224.5 + 74 Zâviye-i Şeyh Osman 1,260.5 + 75 Zâviye-i Şeyh . . . (hâric ez defter) 700 + 76 Zâviye-i . . . Baba 929.5 + 77 Hânkâh-ı Mihrî(?) Hâtun (in Tokat) 1002.5 + 78 Şehzâdeler vakfı 4,503 + 79 Mevlevîhâne 3,339 + 80 Çeşme-i İlyâs 925 +

Total 464,067.5

* Note that most of the vakıf buildings not specified in the list are located in Amasya. Symbols for the 1576 column are: +: existing; ?: doubtful. ** With the medrese of the same sultan. See no. 23. *** Mâlikâne revenues of the six villages which were allocated to this vakıf are not given in the register, probably by mistake (see p. 378). **** With the câmî of the same person. See no. 32. ***** With türbe-i Mehmed Beğ. See no. 46.

II.D. Zeâmet and Timar Holdings/Holders, c. 1480–1576

Type c. 1480 c. 1520 1576 (TT15) (TT95) (Tk245)

Zeâmet holdings/holders 41 52 133 Timar holdings 1964 1885 2606 Timar holders 2737 2098 2879 Eşkinci timar holdings 46 (5)10 __ Eşkinci timar holders 65+11 (9)12 __ 220 Appendix ii

Notes 1 These zeâmet holders and the revenues allocated to them are: 1. İbrahim Beğ, zeâmet-i Hakala: 28,413, p. 32. 2. Firûz, çaşnigir, zeâmet-i Bulak: 38,648, p. 32. 3. and 4. Zeâmet-i İskefsir: 10,933 and Mecidözü: 11,634, p. 30. Among the villages which constitute these two zeâmet holdings of the neighboring nâhiyes were Aleviler, Tavre, Ortaköy, and Pınarbaşı of the nâhiyes under examination; it is therefore included in these zeâmets in this total. 2 These zeâmet holders and the revenues allocated to them are (p. 70): 1. İlyas, ser piyâdegân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 28,500. 2. Muzaffer, Dulkadir: 20,000. 3. Mustafa, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 23,049. 4. Emirze veled-i Mehmed Beğ: 30,036. 5. Hamza Çelebi veled-i Ahmed Beğ, ber vech-i zeʿâmet: 5750. 3 These zeâmet holders and the revenues allocated to them are (pp. 5–8 ): 1. Bekir: 20,000. 2. Ömer veled-i İlyas Beğ: ? [illegible]. 3. Ali, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 16,650. 4. Mustafa, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 18,650. 5. Yunus, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 7500. 6. Mustafa Kethüda veled-i Süleyman: 15,332 7. Mimar Mehmed, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 30,000. 8. Mehmed, ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı âli: 22,000. 9. Faik kethüda: 14,000. 10. Abdülvâsî: 6500. 11. Ferruh: 17,000. 12. Mehmed, külhânî: 19,000. 13. Sinoblu Ahmed: 7000. 4 Of this total, 28 timars are held by “mülâzımân-ı kalʿa-i Amasya.” 5 Although no fortress guardian is mentioned among the timar holders in TT95, the timar-icmâl register of c. 1520, there are 40 villages with some mezraas qualified as “timar-ı müstahfızân” or “merdân” of the fortress of Amasya in TT387. In this case, this total might not represent all of the timar holders of the region under consideration. It also should be borne in mind that in the majority of cases only one of the settlements which constitute one timar holding (for instance, “timar-ı Ali Çelebi”) is mentioned by name in TT95, whereas the others are referred to as “gayrihu” (for instance, “karye-i Alevîler tâbi-i Argoma ve gayrihu,” or “karye-i Sarulu ve gayrihu tâbi-i Yavaşili”). Therefore, some of the rural settlements of the kazâ of Amasya considered might well have been the constituents of the timar holdings of the timar (or zeâmet) holders of the other/neighboring nâhiyes or kazâs of the region. Another point worth mentioning is that eleven of these timar holdings were held by more than one person (total: 23) as “be-nevbet;” in other words, these people were to go to campaigns in turn. For example: Timar-ı Budak ve Esen Beğ, be-nevbet, karye-i Habil ve gayrihu tâbi-i Geldigelen, 4559, p. 77. There are also six timar holdings whose holders (10 persons) were required to provide “eşkincü”s in return for the revenues (sometimes only a certain portion) allocated to them. For example: Timar-ı Abdülbâki, eşkincü eşdürir, karye-i Yenice tâbi-i Akdağ, 2506, p. 78; Timar-ı Mansur ve Ferhad ve Mustafa ve Çavuş Mehmed, ikisi eşer, karye-i Mahmudlu ve gayrihu tâbi-i m. [Geldigelen], 4952, p. 83; Timar-ı İbrahim ve Şehsuvar, be-nevbet, Pervâne evlâdından oldukları ecilden bile kayd olundı, karye-i Ulus tâbi-i Geldigelen, mâlikânenin kırk sehemden onyedi sehemi mülk-i eşkünleridir, 2600, p. 87 . 6 This total does not include those held by the “müstahfızân” of the fortress of Amasya. 7 Of this total, 63 are guardians of the fortress of Amasya. 8 23 timar holders out of 209 are classified as “be-nevbet”. See Note 5 above. 9 In 1576, no fortress guardian is mentioned among the timar holders in TK245. For an explanation of this situation see Appendix II, Table 11, Note 15. Thus, this total does not include the timar-holding “müstahfızân” of the fortress of Amasya. 10 This amount has been included in the total of timar holdings. See above, Note 5. 11 For details see Appendix II/A. 12 Counted in the total of timar holders in the table. Appendix iI 221

II.E. Revenue Distribution, c. 1480–1576 (*) revenue recipients revenue c. 1480 c. 1520 1576

Hashâ-i pâdişâh 263,6131 53,8822 93,4993 Hashâ-i mîr-i mîrân __4 20,1405 __6 Hashâ-i mîrliva __7 6,8288 60,3179 Timarhâ (züʿemâ/sipâhiyân) 971,13410 990,79611 1,483,82412 Timarhâ (mülâzımân-ı kalʿa) 69,36713 97,89314 __15 [Timarhâ-i] Eşkincüyân 170,516.516 __17 __18 Evkâf and emlâk 101,84819 813,961.520 273,24221 Vakf-ı Medîne __22 135,02723 190,52424 unspecified __ __ 29,25025

Total 1,576,478.5 2,118,527.5 2,130,656

(*) These totals do not include the revenues given under the heading “hashâ” (both “pâdişâhî” and “mîrliva”) as lump sums which do not specify the nâhiyes or villages from which these revenues were extracted. Only those “hass” revenues specifically given with the names of villages where they come from have been included in this table. Thus, the “hashâ” figures given in this table do not represent all the “hashâ” revenues (such as “mukataʿas”, “niyâbethâ”, “resm-i ağnâm” etc.) of the region under examination. See Notes 1, 2, and 3 below. Notes 1 The figures which constitute this total are given under the heading of hashâ-i Amasiyye without being specified in the register. Given the fact that Amasya was a prince-sancak at the time and Bâyezid, the son of Mehmed II, was the prince-governor of Amasya in c. 1480, it can be suggested that the heading “hashâ-i Amasiyye” in this register represents only the hass of this prince-governor. Another piece of evidence supporting this assumption might be the fact that the income sources listed under this heading (see below) were held by the prince- governor of Amasya until 1512–13 in the district of Canik (see Öz, 1990, pp. 184–186). Following this heading we also find another hass record (hashâ-i Lalâ-i Sultan Bâyezid tâle bekâhû, p. 22). This makes it clear that, at the time of the survey, the only hass revenues in this region were granted to the prince-governer of Amasya, Bâyezid, and his lalâ or tutor. Also note that the total given in this table includes only the revenues specified with the name of the villages from where they were to be collected. The following categories have also been included in this total: Mahsulât-ı çeltik of nâhiyet-i Geldigelen, fî sene: 21,120, p. 10; ʿan mukataʿa-i tamga-i siyâh ve bâc-ı bazâr of nefs-i Hakala, fî sene: 1800, and that of the village of Ağcavirân of Akdağ: 1972, p. 10; Niyâbethâ of nâhiyes of Geldigelen and Tanunözü, Bergoma, and Yavaş-ili, Akdağ, fî sene: 35,781, p. 10; Resm-i ağnâm of nâhiyes of Geldigelen, Bergoma, and Akdağ, fî sene: 25,778, p. 10; Cizye of vilâyet of Amasya (the total of 14 villages): nefer: 688, cizye: 17,200. Apart from the hass revenues of 263,613 akçes given in this table, the following figures are also grouped as “hashâ” in TT15, and excluded from the total: [hashâ-i] nefs-i Amasiyye maʿa tevâbihâ, 300,000 akçes, p. 9; Mukataʿa-i yava ve beytüʾl mal ve mâl-i gâʿib-i vilâyet-i Rûm, onbinden aşağı vâkiʿ olan, fî sene: 150,000, p. 10; Hashâ-i vilâyet-i Argoma ki Merzifon dimekle maʿrufdur maʿa tevâbihâ ve Osmancık nevâhisinde olan hâsıllar dahi bunda mukayyeddir: mukataʿa-i nâhiyet-i Katu ve divân-ı Hâlîfet ve Kulıköy tâbi-i Argoma maʿa niyâbet-i Simre, fî sene: 84,000, p. 14; Cizye-i vilâyet-i Amasiyye, der nefs-i Amasiyye: 273 [nefer?]/ 6825 [akçes]. 222 Appendix ii

2 This total includes only those “hashâ” revenues coming from the villages specified in the register. Apart from this total, the following categories are also recorded as “hassâ-i hüdâvendigâr”: Mahsûl-i bağ ve bağçe-i Sultan Ahmed der nefs-i Amasiyye, fî sene: 1555, p. 354; Mahsûl-i beytü’l mâl ve mâl-i gaʿib ve mâl-i mevkud der kazâ-i mezkûre: 21,740, p. 354; Mahsûl-i birûnî ve post ve yava: 2500, p. 354; Mukataʿa-i dârü’l hadis, fî sene-i kâmile: 50,000, p. 354; Mukataʾa–i mizân-ı harir, fî sene: 33,333, p. 354; Mahsûl-i mevkûfât ve mâbeyn-i timarhâ-i vilâyet-i Rûm, fî sene: 20,000, p. 354; Niyâbet ʿan nısf-ı bâd-ı havâ ve ʿârûs-ı timarhâ-i sipâhiyân ve merdân-ı kalʿa [and âdet-i ağnâm of Argoma] of the nâhiyes of Akdağ, Bergoma, Yavaş, Aştakol, and Argoma: [total] 46, 146, pp. 362, 374 and 378. 3 This total includes only the revenues of the villages specified in the registers (both detailed and synoptic). The following categories are also given as “hashâ-i hümâyûn” in the synoptic register (TK245, ff. 3a–4a): Beytü’l mâl ve mâl-ı gâʿib ve mâl-ı mevkud ve kaçgun der kazâ-i Amasya, fî sene: 22,500; Mahsûl-i post ve yava, fi sene: 2000; Mahsûl-i bağ-ı Sultan Ahmed der İvasil, hâsıl: 1000; Mahsûl-i bağ ve bağçe-i Sultan Ahmed der Sevâdiye, hâsıl: 500; Mahsûl-i Dârü’lhadis der nefs-i Amasya, fî sene: 50,000; Mahsûl-i mizân-ı harir der nefs-i Amasya, fî sene: 45,000; Mahsûl-i mevkûfât ve mâbeyn-i timarhâ-i sipâhiyân-ı vilâyet-i Rûm, fî sene: 50,000. Compare these categories with those given in Note 2. 4 See Note 1 above. 5 Divânî shares of three villages (Katu, Karaman, and Kulı) of the nâhiye of Argoma. Two of these villages are recorded as “mukataʿa-i tamga” in c. 1480. See Note 1. 6 We do not see this category in 1576. The villages (Katu, Karaman, and Kulı) whose revenues constituted “hass-ı mîr-i mîrân” in 1520 form the zeʿâmet of Ali (ʿan çavuşân-ı dergâh-ı ʿâlî ) in 1576 (TK245, f. 6a ). 7 See Note 1 above. 8 This total includes only the dîvânî shares of the villages of Ziyere, Dragobed, and Lis (?) of nefs-i şehr and that of Aydoğdu of Geldigelen. Apart from the revenues of these villages, the following categories are also recorded as “hashâ-i mîrlivâ” in the register, TT387: ʿan mahsûl-i nefs-i Amasya gayr ez bağ ve bağçe-i merhûm Sultan Ahmed tâbe serahu: 162,638, (p. 355); niyâbet ʿan nısf-ı bâd-ı havâ ve ʿârus-ı timarhâ-i sipâhiyân ve merdân-ı kalʿa -i nâhiye-i mezbûre [= Geldigelen] der tasarruf-ı mirlivâ-i Amasya, hâsıl: 32,336, (p. 356). 9 This total includes only the revenues of the villages specified by their names in the register. Apart from this, the revenues coming from the following categories given at the end of each nâhiye in the mufassal register, TK26, belonged to the mîrliva of Amasya as “hass:” Niyâbet ʿan nısf-ı bâd-ı havâ ve nısf-ı ârûsâne-i timarhâ-i sipâhiyân ve merdân-ı kalʿa ve nısf-ı âdet-i ağnâm ve nısf-ı deştbânî gayr ez havass-ı hümâyûn ve timarhümâ-i serbest. The total revenue of this category of the nâhiyes of Geldigelenâbâd, Argoma (with Merzifon), Akdağ, Aştagul, Bergoma, and Yavaş-ili amounts to 82,122 akçes and it has not been included in the total given in the table. From the records in the icmâl register (TK245, f. 3b), it appears that there were some other categories whose revenues were granted as “hass” to the mirlivâ of Amasya, Mustafa Beğ. These are as follows: Mukataʿa-i tamga ve ihtisâb ve boyahâne ve bozahâne ve bazar-ı esb ve bazar-ı rişte ve bazâr-ı keyl maʿa tamga-i akmişe, fî sene: 52,000; Mukataʿa-i kaban ve şemhâne ve iki yük? tamgasıyla? (could not be read properly) resm-i keyl, fî sene: 26,000; Bâd-ı havâ ve cürm-i cinâyet ve ârusâne ve yava ve mürde ve bahâ-i abd-ı abık, fî sene: 18,000; Bâc-ı hamr-ı gebrân ve Yahudiyân-ı nefs-i şehr; hâricden gelen hamrın batmanından birer akçe ve hamr için gelen üzümün hımlinden üçer akçe alına, fî sene: 8,000; Mahsûl-i öşr-i bağât ve şıravât der Sevâdiye, fî sene: 800; ispenç-i gebrân-ı nefs-i şehr, fî sene: 8000; Mukataʿa-i zemin-i bozahâne, fî sene: 500. With these categories, the total revenue of “hashâ-i mîrliva” amounts to 255,739 akçes (this total is 255,735 akçes in TK245; 4 akçes smaller than my own count). But note that this total contains only the kazâ of Amasya The same person also held revenues from a number of villages of the kazâs of Ladik (23,639 akçes), Gedegra (25,052 akçes), and Zeytun (6,396 akçes) (ff. 4a–4b). 10 21,805 akçes of this total constitute “mevkûfât” which had previously been converted [into “timar”?] (mevkûfât ki sâbıkan döndürülmüşdü, p. 247), and that of 26,027 akçes of mâlikâne shares are alloted as “timar.” Also, 79,813 akçes of this total are recorded as “iki başdan.” 89,628 akçes which constitute four zeamet holdings have also been included in this total. Appendix iI 223

11 164,192 akçes of the divânî shares are allocated to various vakıfs. This amount, therefore, has been included in the total of 814,312,5 of “evkâf and emlâk.” See also Note 20. According to TT95, the synoptic register of about the same time as TT387, 101,585 akçes constitute four zeâmet holdings, whereas I have found only two villages (nefs-i Hakala and Değirmenderesi of Akdağ) whose divânî shares of 32,944 are recorded as “ber vech-i zeʿâmet” in TT387 (p. 362). 12 This total has been reached by calculating the figures (usually divânî and occasionally also mâlikâne shares) which are allocated to zeâmet and timar holders in the mufassal register, TK26. The total revenue of the timar and zeâmet holders in TK245, the icmâl of the same survey, are 1,136,103 akçes, out of which 193,632 constitute thirteen zeâmet holdings. The significant difference between the two is most probably due to the fact that: a) there are some damaged pages in TK245 containing some figures which are illegible; and b) some forty-five settlements, in comparison with TK26, are absent among those whose revenues were allocated to the timar holders of the kazâ of Amasya in this register. The revenues of a large portion of these settlements belonged to the müstahfızân / mülâzımân of the Amasya fortress as “timar” in the earlier registers. Since the timars belonging to the müstahfızân of the same fortress are recorded separately in TK254 in 1576, the one I was not able to examine (see Note 15 below), it seems obvious that those settlements are left out of TK245; this largely explains the discrepancy between the totals of TK26 and that of TK245. 28,060 akçes of this total come from the mâlikâne shares in TK26 compared to 27,100 in TK245, the synoptic one. This small difference may be accounted for by the illegible parts of TK245 due to the above-mentioned damages. A further 62,550 akçes are recorded as “iki başdan” or “mâlikâne ve divânî ” [counted as “timar” and included in the total given in the table]. On the other hand, 273,242 akçes of divânî shares are alloted to various waqfs, and have therefore been included in the category of “evkâf and emlâk.” Also see Note 21 below. 13 Of this total, 6,743 akçes come from mâlikâne shares. 14 Of this total, 47,000 akçes come from certain villages of the nâhiye of Geldigelen; however, the amount recorded in the register was 46,830. In this instance, as for all figures in the table, the author’s own calculation has been relied upon. 15 There is no such category in either mufassal or icmâl of 1576. This time, they are recorded separately in another register, TK254, which contains all the müstahfızân of the province of Rûm, but the present author was not permitted to use this register due to governmental restrictions on it. However, since all the settlements of the region are recorded in the mufassal register (TK26) with their revenues, it is obvious that some portion of these revenues must have belonged to mülâzımân or müstahfızân of the Amasya fortress (compare Note 12 above). This also means that the number of dirlik holders given in the icmal register (TK245) is incomplete and does not represent all of them for this date (cf. Appendix II/D, “Zeâmet and timar holdings/holders”). 16 In c. 1480, over seventy people, who were most likely the members of local noble families, all mâlikâne holders, hold “timar” and are recorded under the heading “eşkincüyân” in TT15. For details, see Chapter Three, section “Timariots” and Appendix II/A. 17 In 1520, there are only six eşkincülü mülk holders, benefiting varying portions of mâlikâne shares of 7,303.5 akçes (but this time not as “timar”). This total has been included in the total of 813,961.5 akçes of “evkâf and emlâk” in the table. 18 In the mufassal register (TK26) of 1576, again there are six eşkincülü mülk holders among the mâlikâne holders and one of them (Allahvirdi veled-i Mirza Beğ) also holds divânî shares of some villages as “timar” (karye-i Dragobed, üç rubʿ mâlikâne mülk-i eşkinlü-yi Allahvirdi veled-i Mirza Beğ, sefer vâkîʿ oldukda bir eşkincü eşdürür). The same person is seen among the timar holders in the icmâl register (timar-ı Allahvirdi veled-i Mirza Beğ, sefer vâkîʿ oldukda bir eşkincü eşdürür, karye-i Dragobed, timar maʿa mâlikâne mülk-i eşkinlü and karye-i Hânesevi?, divânî ve mâlikâne mülk-i eşkinlü). 19 This total includes those revenues allocated as “mâlikâne” and “emlâk” and recorded seperately in the register. The heading under which “mâlikâne” revenues are given together with the names of the settlemens reads as follows: Mâlikâne-i vilâyet-i Rûm ki keyfiyetleri defterde mezkûr değil (p. 221). 224 Appendix ii

20 Of this amount, 464,067.5 akçes are alloted to various pious foundations (see Appendix II/C), whereas the rest (353,642 akçes) are held as “mülk” or freehold (of which 7,303.5 are “eşkinlü”) and “vakf-ı evlâd” or family vaqfs. 21 This sum was obtained by adding the figures of divânî shares which were allocated to vakıfs. See Note 12. Note that TK26, the mufassal register of 1576, does not give the mâlikâne shares of the settlements; therefore, this sum does not represent the whole revenue held by freeholders (= mülk-holders) or allocated to the vakıfs (including “vakf-ı evlâd”). 22 TT15 does not contain this category since the “holy lands” of Islam were to be conquered by the Ottomans some thirty-seven years after the compilation of this register. However, only two villages of the nâhiye of Gelkiras, whose revenues were to constitute this category as “iki başdan” in 1520, were mentioned in c. 1480. 23 This sum consists of the “iki başdan” revenues of 22 villages and one mezraa of the two divâns (Semayil? and Türnük) of the nâhiye of Argoma; these divâns were to be the constituents of the nâhiye of Gelikiras/Güllikiras in 1576. Seven villages (Tanun and Ağcaviran of Geldigelen and Aleviler, Bulak, Güçbeği, Hacdar, and Karadekin of Argoma) whose mâlikâne shares (21,687 akçes) are alloted to the “vakf-ı Medîne” have also been included in this total. 24 This time, 24 settlements (two are mezraas) of the nâhiye of Gelikiras/Güllikiras are recorded as “vakf-ı Medîne-i münevvere” (19 of them as “iki başdan”). The seven villages whose mâlikâne shares were alloted to the “vakf-ı Medîne” in 1520 are recorded as the same in 1576, but this time we cannot find out the amount of the revenues, since only the divânî shares are given in the register. See Note 21 above. 25 This amount consists of the income of some settlements whose revenues are unassigned in the register. However, since all of them had been “timar” in 1520, it might be assumed that they were most likely to have been “timar” in 1576. Appendix Iıı: Urban Population in the Province of Rûm, 1520–1643(*)

Town 1520–22 1574–76 1642–43

nefer nefer increase (%) nefer decrease (%)

TOKAT 1888 (365) 3868 (1258) 104.9 38581 0.3 AMASYA 1879 (465)1a 2835 (1069) 50.9 17362 38.8 Merzifon (Amasya) 1485 (423) 1783 (770) 20.1 957 (33)3 46.3 ÇORUMLU 1339 (432) 2984 (1234) 122.9 __ __ SİVAS 1312 (296) 3386 (312)3a 158.1 __ __ İskilib (Çorumlu) 591 (269) 1133 (474 ) 91.7 __ __ Gümüş (Amasya) 535 (190) 1176 (524) 119.8 317 (30)4 73.1 Lâdik (Amasya) 418 (157)5 833 (248)6 99.3 2607 68.8 Zile (Tokat) 416 (170) 1046 (287) 151.4 __8 __ SAMSUN 378 (3)9 512 (254)9 26.2 134 (58)10 74.2 Osmancık (Çorumlu) 412 (138)11 802 (?)12 94.7 __ __ Bafra (Samsun) 336 (28)13 734 (358)13 118.5 396 (7) 46 Gedegra (Amasya) 5414 97 (42)15 79.7 73916 +661.9

(*) The figures given in the table for Tokat, Amasya, Sivas, Çorumlu, Merzifon, İskilib, Gümüş, and Zile in 1520–22 and 1574–76 are taken from S. Faroqhi, “Taxation and Urban Activities in Sixteenth-Century Anatolia”, IJTS, 1/1 (1979/80), table 1a–1b, pp. 39–41. The sources for the others are given in the footnotes below. Faroqhi counts all entries in the registers, including bachelors (mücerreds) and the religious functionaries, as “nefer” and gives the breakdown of this total as “hâne” and “mücerred.” For the others, I have therefore applied the same method as Faroqhi for the sake of consistency for a comparison and given the number of bachelors, where possible, in brackets in italic. Notes 1 TT 772: 41. 1a Fifty-nine fortress guardians (müstahfızân-ı kalʿa ) are not included. 2 TT 776: 9. 3 TT 776: 155–166. 3a Ömer Demirel gives this number as 3376 (see Sivas şehir Hayatında Vakıfların Rolü,1700–1850, Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 2000, p. 187). 4 TT 776: 75–77. 5 TT 387: 366. 6 Tk 34: 110b–113b. 7 MAD 3845 (avârız-hâne register, dated 1051): 37. 8 MAD 4068 (dated 1053/1644), housed in the Prime Ministerial Ottoman Archive (Istanbul), belongs to the kasaba-i Zile and is of the same kind as TT776 and TT772. Unfortunately, this register has not been examined fully.

9 Öz, Canik, p. 58: Together with 13 service men in the castle, the number amounts to 391. The number for 1576 appears as 516 elsewhere (p. 64, Table 5). Compare Öz, “Tahrir Defterlerine Göre Canik Sancağında Nüfus,” p. 189. Twenty fortress guardians both in 1520 and 1576 are not included in the totals given above. 10 MAD 3880: 4–6; cf. Öz, Canik: p. 59–60, 64. 11 TT38: p. 398. 12 Suraiya Faroqhi, “Fatih Döneminden Evliya Çelebi Seyahatine Kadar Çorum,” Çorum Tarihi, ed. Hitit Festival Komitesi (no place and date of publication), pp. 81–120 (see Table 2). 13 Öz, Canik, p. 64, Table 5. 14 TT387: 681. Twenty fortress guardians (merd-i kalʿa) are not included. 15 TK34: 41a. 16 TT776: 103–107. Appendix IV: Rural Settlements with their Tax-Paying Population (c. 1480–1643)

Abbreviations for the List

[cm] cemaat d. depopulated (hâlî) e. etrâkiye h. hâric ez defter i identified on the map (followed by the modern name of the settlement) i,? doubtful identification / location on the map [k.] karye m. mixed population (Muslim / non-Muslim) [mz] mezraa nd. alias or nâm-ı diğer nm. non-Muslim population r. ruined (harâb) tb. belonging to . . . (tâbî-i . . .) u. unpopulated [z.] zemin (those recorded with “zemin” lands) [zav.] zâviye + existing – / n.e. non-existent * those constituting the nâhiye of Gelikiras in 1576 (see the list of Gelikiras) ? doubtful reading/transcription (due to ? original appearance in the defters)

Note a) those names with . . ./. . . indicate alternative readings/transcriptions of the same name b) those names in ( ) without using the abbreviation (nd.) are the other names which appear in different defters for the same settlement c) those names or a part of a name in [ ] are the other versions of (or prefixes/ suffixes added to) the same settlements in different defters

d) figures in ( ) show the number of bachelors or mücerreds and are included in the totals preceeding them. These totals include all individual entries (i. tax-payers; ii. tax-exempt individuals; and iii. müsellems) in the defters. Those using “zemin” lands (unless they are the total inhabitants of a village and are recorded as “zemin”, see the abbreviation [z.] above) and “mevkûf zemin” lands are excluded, as are “çiftlik” holders. e) those settlements with ...... are the ones whose name were not deciphered.

AMASYA (nefs) c. 1480 1520 1576 1643

1 Dragobed? [i.?] + 70 (11) nm. 109 (34) m. _ 2 Şeyh Cugî _ u. [mahalle] 20 [mz] 12 [mahalle] (nd.Kelkis/Helkis? ) [i: Yuvacık] 3 Şeyh Cugî [zav.] [i] + _ u. _ 4 Lis (?) + 12 (1?) nm. 18 (6) nm. _ 5 Ziyere [i: Ziyaretköy] + 24 (4) nm. 339 (134) m 214 m.

AKDAĞ

1 Anduz (nd.Yıkılgan) + 9 (2) 21 (7) 13 (1) [i: Yıkılgan] 2 Adadipe [i,?] + 17 (5) 23 (11) 3 Ağca/[Ak]viran + 53 (19) 70 (25) 17 (1) [i: Akören] 4 Aktaş [i] + 15 (7) 27 (8) _ 5 Alaçam [i] + 12 (4) 11 (4) _ 6 Alan [mz] + _ _ _ 7 Aluc Ovacuğı + 59 (27) 118 (55) 30 (3) [i,?: Ovacık] 8 Aluç Ovacuğı [mz] _ _ u. 5 [k.] 9 Bağdekin? + 31 (16) 50 (19) 3 10 Baraklu [i: Baraklı] + u. 3 _ 11 Başalan [-ı bâlâ] + 23 (6) 38 (14) 8 (Kiranbaşalan) [i: Kıranbaşalan] Appendix Iv 229

AKDAĞ

12 Başalan [-ı zîr] + 37 (15) 52 (23) 35 (7) (Derebaşalan) [i: Derebaşalan] 13 Bekirlü + 10 (4) 6 [z.] _ 14 Bereketlü + 19 (11) 31 (12) _ (nd. Kavakalan) 15 Boyaluca [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kavakalan) 16 Burçak /Bürecan ? + u. 6 [z.] _ 17 Çayan + 17 (6) 30 (14) _ 18 Çukurviran + 17 (9) 33 (13) 11 (9) [i: Çukurören] 19 Değirmenderesi _ 183 (61) 187 (57) m. 12 (2) [i: Değirmendere] 20 Deredamı + 14 (7) 27 (12) _ 21 Divanlu + 21 (6) 41 (12) 10 22 Divanluca + 50 (24) 72 (38) _ 23 Gündeş[lü] [i: Direkli] + 20 (16) 95 (44) 47 (10) 24 Gömüalan [i] + 17 (10) 28 (9) 14 (2) 25 Hakala (nefs) + with 174 (90) 48 (2) m. [i: Yolpınar] Değirmenderesi 26 Hoca [mz] _ u. u. _ (tb. Hakala) 28 Homare + 21 (7) 24 (9) _ 29 Ilıcak + 28 (13) 34 (10) _ 30 İbemi [i: Yassıçal] + 39 97 (56) 40 (3) 31 Karaağaç [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Zâne) 32 Karakilise + 35 (17) 64 (35) 11 (2) [i: Karakese] 33 Kara Umca? [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Tavre) 34 Kavakalanı + 11 (4) 19 (7) 8 35 Kavakalanı + 50 (19) 97 (42) 13 (nd. Boyaluca) [i: Boyalı] 230 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

AKDAĞ

36 Kışlacık + 53 (10) 95 (32) 41 (1) (nd...... kışlası) [i: Aydınlık] 37 Kışlacık [-ı kızık] + 26 (10) 55 (24) 31 (7) [i: Kızılkışlacık] 38 Kızsekü [Kızılsekü] + 19 (9) 37 (18) 13 [i: Kızseki] 39 Kiranpa [i: Elmakırı] + 18 9 [z.] _ 40 Kocaköy + 7 (3) 10 (5) _ 41 Kordak/Kurdak + 10 (1) 28 (14) _ 42 ...... divanı [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kordak) 43 Kozalan/Kuzalan + 19 (6) 38 (20) _ [i: Kuzalan] 44 Kürtler [i] + 24 (10) 35 (21) 16 (1) 45 Lap [i: Duruca] + 2 2 _ 46 Memlük + 21 (11) 36 (15) 12 (3) 47 Mörek/Mürek + 83 (30) 142 (66) 21 [i: Ormanözü] 48 Sarucalar + 2 10 (6) _ 49 Sarılu [i: Yeniköy] + u. u. [mz] _ 50 Seyfe[lü] [i: Seyfe] + 22 (11) 32 (13) 26 (4) 51 Soku [i] + 42 (16) 87 (46) 16 52 Sofular [i,?] + 26 (11) 47 (28) 21 (1) 53 Şahne[lü] + 11 (5) 13 (4) _ 54 Şeyhler/Şeyhlü + 10 (3) 8 (2) 10 (4) 55 Tavre [i: Eğribük] + 41 (10) 64 (20) 27 56 Yenice[lü] + 50 (29) 159 (88) 75 (9) [i: Yeşilyenice] 57 Yenicelü [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Zâne) 58 Zâne + 46 (9) 151 (63) 97 [i: Çiğdemlik] 59 ...... [mz] (tb.Zâne) _ _ u. _ 60 ...... [cm.] _ 98 (47) u. _ 61 Yörükân [cm.] _ _ 90 (52) _ Appendix Iv 231

ARGOMA

1 Abdülcabbar [mz] _ _ u _ (tb. Akviran) 2 Adadipe + 47 (13) 90 (36) _ 3 Ağar? + 2 4 [z.] _ 4 Akdoğan [mz] + _ 101 (43) _ Akpınar* 5 Akviran [i: Akören] + 128 (72) e. 250 (109) e. _ 6 Alala [i: Ortaova] + 184 (79) 380 (195) 83 (16) 7 Alabedirlü? + d. 7 [z.] _ [i: Alabedir] 8 Alakadın [mz] + u. 8 [z.] _ (tb. Gülbulas) 9 Alevi[ler] [i: Suluova?] + 85 (23) 168 (82) 47 (5) 10 Alicik [i] + 74 (26) 136 (64) 18 (3) 11 Alilerci + 20 (9) 34 (18) _ Alişar* 12 Arucak [i] + 43 (13) 80 (37) 15 13 Atabeğ + 16 (5) 26 (9) _ 14 Avşar [i,?] + 49 (23) 75 (27) 29 (2) 15 Bağluca + 38 (18) 82 (49) 20 (4) 16 Basati? + 12 (4) 23 (9) _ 17 Bilecük _ 16 (4) 55 (37) _ Boğacık* 18 Bula Hacı [Yulu Hacı] + 25 (5) 46 (28) 20 19 Bulak [i] + 191 (84) 314 (144) 65 (8) 20 Çağla? [mz] _ _ u. h. _ 21 Çakalar/Çagalar? [i,?] + 62 (21) 122 (71) 11 (1) 22 Çakallar [i] + 57 (19) 118 (56) _ 23 Çakırca + 36 (12) e. 61 (27) _ 24 Çakırlu + 3 [7] [z.] _ 25 Çakırlu [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Akviran) 26 Çardaklu [i,?] _ _ see Salurcu _ 27 Çayır [i: Çayırköy] + 38 (9) 25 (11) 18 (2) 28 Çayır [mz] _ u. u. _ 232 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

ARGOMA

29 Çifane? [mz] _ u. u. _ (tb. Kürtler) 30 Cörlü/Corlu + 9 33 (19) 8 (6) [i: Cürlü] 31 Dekinböri? [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kolay) 32 Dereköy [i] + 57 (19) 182 (107) 50 (6) 33 Derzi _ 46 (18) _ _ 34 Depecik + 3 3 [z.] _ 35 Deveci [i] + 15 (1) 38 (26) 17 (5) 36 Döğer + u. u. _ 37 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kolay) 38 Emir Mehmed + 26 (12) 41 (20) _ Eski Ekin* 39 Eslemez [Esnemez] + 38 (16) 64 (36) 22 (3) [i: Esnemez] 40 Etrâk + 23 (7) 49 (29) _ 41 Eymir (tb. Vayze) [i] + 45 (15) 102 (56) 29 (2) 42 Eymür [i: Eymir] + 20 (4) 28 (8) 20 (8) Eymirlü/Eymir* 43 Eymirlü/İmadlu? [mz] + 74 (26) _ 12 [k.] 44 Feroz/Faroz _ 67 (22) 76 (44) 23 (5) [i: Ortayazı] Geçüd* 45 Gediklü [mz] _ _ u. _ Gelkiras (maʿa tevâbihâ)* 46 Göl [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kürtler) 47 Güçbeği [i,?] _ 48 (17) 96 (34) 26 (7) 48 Güdeles[Güdelez] + 27 (10) 55 (32) 7 [i: Kanatpınar] 49 Gül[lü] bulas + 19 (6) 24 (11) _ 50 Geli[köy] + 24 (6) 64 (35) 4 [i: Yeşilören] Güni* Appendix Iv 233

ARGOMA

51 Gür/Kör[köy] + 139 (50) m. 280(107) m. 70 (5) m. [i: Yolüstü] 52 Hacdar _ 12 (5) 15 (8) _ 53 Hacet [i: Hacat] + 15 (2) 12 (4) _ 54 Hacı[köy] + 153 (58) 320 (187) 19 (3) [i: Gümüşhacıköy] 55 Hacı Ali [mz] + _ u. 10 (1) [k.] (tb. İnaldı) 56 Hacı Bayram[lu] [i] + 24 (2) e. 57 (33) e. 21 (maʿa Laçin) Hacı Halil [mz] (tb. Koltak)* 57 [Hacı] Hasan / [Hasan + 43 (12) 100 (41) _ Hacı] 58 Halas [Halaz] + 20 (8) 39 (19) _ [i: Doluca] 59 Halifet + 13 (5) 17 (4) m. _ 60 Haneşoy? + 31 (14) 59 (34) _ 61 Harmanağılı [i] _ 45 (12) 60 (28) 22 (1) 62 Hayreddin[ce] + 25 (11) 52 (32) 8 [i: Hayreddinköy] 63 Hocaağılı + 36 (14) 38 (15) _ 64 Ilıca [mz] _ u. 1 _ (tb. Kürtler) 65 İl-arslan [i: Eraslan] + 52 (6) 127 (69) 15 66 İmerd [i: Balgöze] + 50 (9) 87 (1) 13 (1) 67 İnaldı + 83 (38) 137 (78) 22 (2) (maʿa Yenice) 68 Kabaklu + 4 (1) 2 _ Kamışlu* 69 Karaboğa[Karabuğra] + 11 (5) 5 [z.] _ 70 Karaburc? - 26 (11) 23 (10) _ 71 Karadekin + 16 (4) 12 [z.] _ Karadekin* 72 Karadepe [i] + 34 (16) 43 (23) 18 (3) 73 Karamağara [i] _ 28 (11) 34 (11) 3 234 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

ARGOMA

74 Kara[ca]kaya + 32 (15) 52 (29) 19 (4) [i: Karacakaya] Karacainehan?* 75 Karaca[virân] + 55 (20) e. 133 (72) e. _ [i: Karacaören] 76 Karaman [i,?] _ 8 (2) 19 (5) _ 77 Karga? [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Bulak) 78 Kargucak [mz.] + u. 13 _ (tb. Kulaguz) 79 Karkın [mz.] + _ u. _ (tb. Deveci) 80 Karataş [mz.] _ u. u. _ (tb. Gülbulas) 81 Katu/Kanu + 57 (15) 75 (34) _ 82 Kavacık + 17 (1) 34 (22) _ 83 Kayaalişar [Kayaluşar] + 1(3) 21 (15) _ [i,?] 84 Kayacık _ 67 (12) 190 (100) 44 (2) 85 Kazanlu [Kazganlu] _ 15 (6) 26 (12) 16 (3) (tb.Vayze) [i: Kazanlı] Kıran* 86 Kızanlu + 8 24 (16) _ 87 Keçi[köy] [i: Keçi] + 38 (15) 37 (5) 27 (4) 88 Kolay [i] + 87 (27) 189 (109) 47 (4) Koltak* 89 Kulaguz + 18 (5) 19? [z.] _ 90 Kulı[Kulu][köy] + 38 (6) 63 (22) 26 (5) [i: Kulu] 91 Kurnaz [i] + 32 (7) 43 (19) 17 92 Kuşcu[lar] + 17 (4) 21 (11) 14 (1) Kuzsaray* 93 Küçük Oyumağaç [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Oyumağaç) 94 Küplüce [i] + 40 (16) 50 (21) 3 95 Kürtler [i: Çayırözü] + u. 2 [z.] _ Appendix Iv 235

ARGOMA

96 Kürtler + 38 (12) 79 (41) 37 (10) 97 Laçin [i,?] + 5 (1) 17 (7) (see Hacı Bayramlu) 98 Laçin [mz] + u. u. _ 99 Manol? + 36 (9) 58 (30) 11 100 Memlük [mz] _ u. u. _ (tb. Monados) 101 Memük/Memlük? [mz] _ u. _ _ (tb. Z. Danişmend) 102 Mendkes? + 21 (8) 38 (19) _ 103 Migros/Mikeros + 117 (46) m. 106 (44) m. 23 (3) [i: Uzunyazı?] 104 Mihmad[köy] + 26 (13) 19 (11) _ 105 Mirdehor [i: Oğulbağı] + 39 (6) e. 72 (39) e. 15 106 ...... [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Mirdehor) 107 Monados [Monodos] + 33 (16) 75 (31) _ 108 Musaören [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Yüzbeği) 109 Nasranî [Nasranlı] + 13 (5) 24 (15) _ (tb. Vayze) [i,?] 110 Necmeddin [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kürtler) 111 Nûştekin? + 56 (15) 128 (66) ? [i: Çaybaşı] 112 Oğuzlu + 13 (6) 36 (18) _ 113 Orfanos? + u. u. ? (nd...... ) [mz] 114 Oruc Gâzi + 2 19 [z.] _ 115 Oyumağaç + 17 (1) 29 (11) 8 [i: Oymaağaç] 116 Ömer _ u.d. 15 _ 117 Öyük? _ 17 (5) 45 (24) 28 (3) 118 Özartuk [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. İnaldı) 119 Salurcı [i: Saluca] + 118 (22?) 137 (6) 53 (6) (maʿa Çardaklu) 236 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

ARGOMA

120 Saraycık [i] + 30 (16) 51 (26) 7 121 Sarayözü + 15 (5) 26 (10) 2 122 Sinezi [i: Kutluköy] + 46 (10) 78 (35) 7 (1) 123 Soba + 13 (1) 8 (2) _ Şehrî * 124 Şeyh [mz] + u. _ _ (tb. Yenice) 125 Şeyh Yeni [i] + 60 (20) 91 (49) 38 (3) 126 Şücâʿüddin + 19 (8) 32 (14) _ [i: Şücâiye?/Aşağıbük] 127 Temürağıl _ 4 (2) 10 (5) _ 128 Todar + e. 7 (1) 16 (8) _ 129 Togan Arslan [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. İlemin)* 130 Türnük [i: Sarıbuğday] _ 101 (52) 220 (123) 102 (19) 131 ...... - süflâ + 23 (5) 54 (29) 9 132 ...... - ulyâ + 45 (11) 109 (59) 17 (4) Uluköy * 133 Uzunoba [i] _ 16 (6) 38 (22) 29 (4) 134 Vayze [i: Çayüstü] _ 78 (35?) 132 (71) _ 135 Yağma [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Alala) Yaʿkub Hacı * 136 Yaʿkub[köy] + 42 (18) 74 (33) 26 (6) [i: Yâkubköy] 137 Yalnızağaç [i: Yalnız] + 47 (17) 95 (52) 33 (2) 138 Yan[köy] + 60 (16) 156 (92) 19 (17) 139 Yarbeğlü? - 42 (7) e. 92 (49) _ 140 Yavı? [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Alicik) 141 Yaylacık [i] + 23 (6) 60 (24) _ 142 Yeni[köy] [i,?] + 5 (1) 5 [z.] _ 143 ? (unnamed) [mz] _ u. _ _ (tb.Yeniköy) 144 Yenice _ _ (see İnaldı) _ Yenice* Yenice* Appendix Iv 237

ARGOMA

145 Yenice [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Mendkes) 146 Yenice[köy] [i: Yenice] + 11 (2) 20 (10) _ 147 Yenicesu [mz] _ u. _ _ (tb. Saraycık) 148 Yıva/Yuva + 44 (16) 68 (26) 10 (1) 149 Yıvad/İyvad? _ 14 (6) e. _ _ (tb. Vayze) 150 Yıvala [Iyvala] + 49 (17) 83 (43) 12 (1) [i: Esentepe] 151 Yürecikağıl + 38 (8) 58 (26) _ 152 Yüzbeğ[i] [i: Yüzbeyi] _ 33 (9) 46 (23) 18 (16) 153 Zeminhâ-i Danişmend + u. _ _ [mz] 154 Zugi/Zugu + 58 (22) 114 (65) 26 (3) [i: Gökçebağ] 155 [mz] (tb.Yarbeğlü) _ _ u. _ 156 ...... [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Alilerci) 157 ...... harman [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Çakırca) 158 ...... [mz] _ u. _ _ (tb. Oyumağaç)

160 Fakih _ _ _ 31 161 Paşayeri _ _ _ 14

AŞTAGUL

1 Akpınar [mz] + u. _ _ (tb. Banbuklu) 2 Aştagul (nefs ) + 152 (54) 404 (226) 30 (23) [i: Aştavul (Ortaköy/Çorum)] 3 Banbuklu [Penbelü] + 6 21 (16) 5 [i: Penbelü] 4 Çay[köy] + 101 (28) 254 (158) 35 (2) [i, (Mecitözü/Çorum)] 238 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

AŞTAGUL

5 İncesu [i, (Ortaköy)] + 31 (14) 55 (27) 14 (2) 6 Kara[ca]şar[şehr] [i] _ 105 (38) 220 (15) 18 7 Kârbânsaray [-ı sagîr] + 13 (6) 14 (6) 7 (1) [i: Kervansaray] 8 Ortaköy + 307 (167) 415 (217) 21 (15) [i: Ortaköy (Çorum)] 9 Pınarbaşı + 48 (18) 105 (62) _ 10 Yağma + 31 (11) 83 (35) 6 11 Sorgum? [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb.İncesu) 12 Kışla [i] _ _ _ 14

BERGOMA

1 Bergoma (nefs ) [i,?] + 35 (6) 53 (32) _ 2 Gâveklü/Güvenlü? + 9 (2) 31 (5) _

3 Girab [i: Yeşilöz] + 31 (7) 76 (18) 55 (10) 4 Halifelü [i: Halifeli] + 11 (3) 30 (17) 17 (4) 5 Haniske [i: Yolyanı] + 35 (12) 159 (85) 66 (13) 6 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kalʿaköy) 7 İlyas [i] + 71 (28) 129 (65) 44 (9) 8 Kalʿa[köy] [Çamkalʿa] + 103 (20) 248 (128) 97 (27) [i: Kale] 9 Kayı [i: Karaçavuş] + 17 (3) 28 (17) _ 10 Keşlik [i] + 42 (7) 85 (37) 13 (2) 11 Kürtler [i: Ardıçlar] + 30 (5) 81 (50) 18 (5) 12 Mihmadlar [i: Mahmatlar] + 32 (6) 82 (39) 13 (1) 13 Onkuş/Uzunkuş? + 11 (2) 36 (21) 21 (3) [i: Uzunkuz?] 14 Uygur [i] + 30 (5) 54 (28) 19 (3) 15 Sevincer [i] + 40 (12) 59 (33) 10 (3) 16 Tatar [i] _ _ 6 (2) h. 35 (1) Appendix Iv 239

YAVAŞ[İLİ]

1 Ağılcık + 30 (9) 74 (40) 30 (7) 2 Armud[yurdu]/ + 7 (1) 12 [10 z.] _ [Armudlu] 3 Avşar [i] + 31 (8) 55 (28) 16 4 Bayad [i: Bayat] + 16 (5) 34 (17) 7 (1) 5 Bayındır + 21 (6) 72 (42) 14 (1) 6 Beğdili + 4 (1) 14 (7) _ 7 Böke [i] + 4 26 (11) 7 (2) 8 Çeltek + 4 13 (8) _ 9 Danişmendlü + 17 (8) 35 (18) _ 10 Efte [i: Sarımeşe] + 12 (2) 48 (27) 52 (2) 11 Eymiroğlanı + 2 3 [z.] _ 12 Ezinepazarı [İnepazar] + 36 (5) 99 (53) 64 (15) (nefs ) [i: Ezinapazar] 13 Gökçeviran [mz] + _ u. _ (tb. Efte) 14 İmük [Ümük] + 43 (14) 84 (38) 20 [i: Ümük] 15 Kara İbrahim [i] + 16 (5) 32 (16) 10 (2) 16 Karalu [Karaali] _ 18 (3) 45 (22) 27 (5) [i: Karaali] 17 Karataş [i] + 19 (1) 61 (21) 23 (2) 18 Karsan [i] + 33 (14) 64 (28) 17 (2) 19 Kayı [i] + 33 (7) 52 (22) 9 (2) 20 Kayı-yı diğer - 8 (3) 20 (6) _ 21 Fındıklu [mz] + _ u. (maʿa) _ (tb. Efte) [i] 22 Keçilü [Karakeçilü] [i] + 14 (5) 21 (11) 18 23 Kızılca[köy] [Kızılca-i + 11 (2) 36 (13) 17 (1) kebir] [i: Eskikızılca] 24 Morami [mz] + u. 15 (5) 21 (6) [k.] (tb. Türkmancıklar) [i: Sarıyar] 25 Oğlanlar obası + 28 (8) 78 (44) _ 240 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

YAVAŞ[İLİ]

26 Saraycık [i] + 5 10 (4) 43 (6) 27 Sarayözi [i] + 32 (7) 107 (55) 27 (2) 28 Sarıalan [i] + 44 (11) 126 (60) 22 (5) 29 Sarıkusun + 28 (9) 58 (29) 25 30 Selâmet [i: Salamut] + d. u. _ 31 Şeyh Şâdi [i] + 27 (6) 92 (32) 23 (1) 32 Türkmancıklar? _ 8 (4) 2 [z.] _ 33 Verseke + 16 (8) 38 (19) 22 (2) 34 Yağcı [i: Yağcıabdal] _ _ 23 (8) h. 26 (1) 35 Yurd obası + u. u. _ 36 Zıgala [i: Aydınca] + 21 (4) 68 (29) 37 (8) 37 ...... [mz] + _ u. (see Fındıklu) _ 38 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Kızılca) 39 Uğurlu [mz] (tb. Efte) _ u. u. _ 40 Yarıca? [mz] (tb. Efte) + _ u. _ 41 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Karalu) 42 Şeyh Bâyezid [zav.] _ _ 10 (4) _ (tb. Efte) [i,?] 43 Balalan [i,?] _ _ _ 18 (2) (tb...... ) 44 Fatımanigâr? _ _ _ 36 (3) (Türkmancıklar?) 45 Derbendciağılı [i,?] _ _ _ 9 (1) 46 Kızılca-i sagîr _ _ _ 26 (3) [i: Küçükkızılca] 47 Pehlivan [i,?] _ _ _ 38 (3) 48 Pehlivan-ı zimmî [i,?] _ _ _ 13 (2) 49 Saray _ _ _ 20 (2) 50 Gököyük Abdalları _ _ _ 38 (9) Appendix Iv 241

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

1 Ağılcık + 17 (2) 9 [z.] _ 2 Ağılcık (tb. Konac) + 17 (1) 10 _ 3 Ağulu _ _ u. _ 4 Ahi Hüsam + [mz] 3 9 [z.] _ 5 Ahi Doğan + 18 (8) 40 (19) _ 6 Ahi Öyük + 33 (6) 76 (29) _ 7 Ahlat Alanı [mz] _ _ u. _ 8 Ahurcuk (tb. Zâre) + 21 (5) 37 (18) 18 (1) 9 Akcaşar [Ağcaşehr] [i] + 10 (3) 11 _ 10 Akviran [Akcaviran] + 34 (8) 75 (39) _ 11 Akşar? [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Konac) 12 Alan[Alanakdağ] + u. u. _ (nd. Beğalanı) [i,?] 13 Alakadı [Alikadı] + 36 (5) 91 (47) _ [i: Alakadı] 14 Alancuk [i: Alancık] + 33 (2) 101 (46) 7 15 Alpviran/Altıviran? _ 25 (7) 64 (26) 30 (7) [i: Alören (Mecitözü|Çorum)] 16 Altıdivan [mz] _ _ 1 _ (tb. Kıfcak) 17 Alperen + 21 (7) 57 (31) _ (nd. Öyük) 18 Atabeğ [i] + 53 (16) 89 (41) 16 (1) 19 Avkad [i] + 40 (10) 140 (69) 29 (8) 20 Aydoğdu [i] + 15 (1) 13 [z.] _ 21 Badanos[Bendenos] + 21 (8) 31 (17) 8 (1) [i: Yeşilova (M.özü/Çorum)] 22 Bağlagu[n] + 12 (4) 4 [z.] _ 23 Bağluca [i: Bağlıca] + 59 (19) 117 (53) 66 (8) 24 Başermen[i] + 33 (4) 45 (18) 16 [i: Başpınar] 25 Bayboğa [mz] + u. u. _ 26 Bebük [i: Boğazkaya?] + 41 (3) 89 (23) 27 (2) 242 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

27 Bekiş [i] _ 10 (2) 27 (12) 8 (1) 28 Beyler [i,?] + 64 (22) 125 (66) 23 (11) 29 Boğa[köy] [i: Boğaköy] + 60 (21) 203 (99) 49 30 Boltu [i] + 4 e. 38 (6) e. _ 31 Bulduklu [i] + 50 (8) 179 (76) 142 (27) 32 Cağana _ 49 (13) 114 (61) 53 (12) [i: Elmapınar (M.özü)] 33 Candar/Cender + 46 (15) 128 (61) 29 (2) [i: Kışlabeyi] 34 Cogan/Cavgan ? + 27 (5) 55 (29) _ [i: Damlaçimen] 35 Cugi + 84 (33) 128 (60) _ 36 Çalan _ 6 8 [z.] _ 37 Çapan [i] + 10 (3) 14 (7) 3 38 Çavuş [i] + 35 (5) 122 (1) e. _ 39 Çay[köy] [i: Sığırçayı?] + 18 (6) 7 [z.] 35 (2) 40 Çayır[köy] [i] + 17 48 (21) _ 41 Çulpara [i: Çulpara] _ _ u. h. _ 42 Dadu [i: Kavakçayırı?] + 57 (12) 107 (57) 28 (7) 43 Danişmend[lü] oğlanı - 8 (1) 20 (11) 5 [i,?] 44 Dedem [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Aydoğdu) 45 Delü Hasan + 27 (14) 38 (16) 35 (2) [i: Delihasan] 46 Delüler [mz] + u. u. 7 (2) (tb. Gerne) 47 Depecik + 4 (2) 7 [z.] _ 48 Derzi[köy] [i: Terziköy] + 70 (19) 123 (66) _ 49 Devlet oğlanı [i, (M.özü)] + 50 (16) 83 (43) 14 (3) 50 Doğan[köy] + 5 32 (13) 4 51 Doğmuş [i,?] + 42 (14) 67 (29) 8 52 Efkeri [i: İkizyaka] + 23 (11) 48 (30) 9 53 Elvan Çelebi [i, (M.özü)] + 111 (40) 207 (102) _ 54 Eymür[Eymirlü] + (with 21 (10) e. 50 (31) e. _ Yeniköy) Appendix Iv 243

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

55 Ezine oğlan[i] + 5 (2) 18 (8) _ 56 Fakı Ahmed [Ahmed Fakı] _ 14 (4) 32 (17) 5 (1) [i] 57 Şgâni [i, (M.özü)] + 79 (11) 223 (126) 26 (2) 58 Geldigelen (nefs ) [i,?] + 39 (7) 103 (57) 28 (2) 59 Gerne [i: Ağılönü] + 111 (36) 167 (87) 48 (2) 60 Geykoca + 19 (2) 55 (21) 5 [i: Keykoca (M. özü)] 61 Gökcüğez + 18 (3) 41 (18) _ 62 Gökçay/Gökçeli? + _ 56 (17) h. 7 (1) (nd. Küçe Mengücek) [i,?] 63 Gökçeli [mz] [i] + [k.] e. _ u. _ 64 Gököyük [i] + 26 (11) 68 (38) 36 (6) 65 Göne? [mz] _ _ u. 34 (tb. Gökcüğez) 66 Göricek (tb. Saraycık) + [mz.] 38 (5) e. 67 (31) e. _ [i: Körücek (M. özü)] 67 Gücemid + u. 3 [z.] _ 68 Gülistan + 19 (8) 43 (18) 6 69 Güni + 44 (10) 115 (69) 41 70 Habil Hacı + 28 (9) 67 (37) _ 71 Hacıköy [i: Mecitözü] + 79 (21) 114 (48) 13 (2) 72 Hacıköy (tb. Zâre) [i,?] + [mz.] u. r. _ 73 Hızır[köy] [i: Hıdırlık?] + 18 (1) 62 (24) 15 (3) 74 Hisarkavak [i, (M.özü)] + 24 (1) 88 (41) 26 (3) 75 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Hisarkavak) 76 Horgu + 38 (9) 106 (53) _ [i: Köprübaşı (M.özü)] 77 Hüseyin (nd...... ) + 51 (15) e. 85 (36) 12 78 Ilıca/Etlice? + 27 (8) 46 (18) 21 (tb. Zâre) [i,?] 79 Ilısu [mz] [i] + u. u. _ 80 İğdecik [mz] _ _ u. 8 (1) [tb. Çapan] 81 İlgâzi [tb. Zâre] [i] + 77 (26) 148 (76) 10 (1) 244 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

82 İltekin [i,?] + 28 (7) 27 (12) 18 (3) 83 Kalʿacık + 11 (3) 32 (13) 9 (2) [i: Kalecik (M.özü)] 84 Karıbağ/Kurubağ? + 11 (3) 23 (10) _ 85 Karaağaç [mz] (tb. Dadu) _ _ u. _ 86 Karacaviran (“ ʿan karye-i _ _ 14 (4) _ Kozluca”) [i, (M. özü)] 87 Karacaviran [i] + 4 4 [z.] _ 88 Karaçam [mz] _ u. u. _ (tb. Hacı) 89 Karakaya [i] + 19 (5) 54 (28) 12 90 Karasenir [i] + 19 (6) 32 (14) 33 (7) 91 Kara Yaʿkub [mz] [i] _ _ u. _ 92 Kârbânsaray [-ı kebir] + _ 195 (94) 17 (1) [i: Kervansaray] 93 Karlı[köy] + 80 (22) 154 (82) 40 (4) 94 Kavaklu [i, (M.özü)] + 27 (4) 41 (22) 7 (2) 95 Kavay [i: Kayacık] + 34 (7) 66 (32) 3 96 Kargı? [i,?] + 15 (3) 27 (14) 6 97 Kayı [i, (M.özü)] + 10 (2) 24 (8) _ 98 Kefge + 49 (9) 104 (46) _ 99 Kenger + 21 (11) 59 (40) 7 100 Kethüda [mz] + _ _ _ (tb. Doğan) 101 Kıfcak [i: Kılcak] + 37 (13) 48 (24) 17 (2) 102 Kızılca[köy] [i] + 50 (20) 101 (51) _ 103 Kızoğlu [i] + 24 (11) 34 (10) 8 (1) 104 Konac - 29 (5) 90 (56) 12 (1) [i: Konaç (M.özü)] 105 Kozluca [i] + 21 (6) 66 (34) 5 106 Kurna [mz] + u. 6 _ 107 Kutu[obası] [i: Kutu] + 43 (6) 87 (48) 11 108 Kuyucak + 30 (3) 61 (30) 11 (1) [i: Koyucak (M.özü)] 109 Kuzluviran + 98 (22) 221 (120?) 29 (1) (i: Kozören (M.özü)] Appendix Iv 245

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

110 Kuzdamı [mz] _ _ u. _ 111 Köycüğez [i] + 47 (17) 73 (39) _ 112 Küre kavağı + 10 (3) 25 (11) _ 113 Kürtler [i: Meşeliçiftliği] + 51 (18) 111 (61) 14 (1) 114 Kürtler [i: Yeşiltepe] + 26 (7) e. 74 (36) e. 7 (1) 115 Mahmudlu + 16 (3) 30 (12) 4 [i: Mahmutlu] 116 Mengen + 57 (26) 105 (63) 13 (1) 117 Mengücek [mz] _ _ 12 (3) _ (tb. Ulus) 118 Moramil [i: Bağlarüstü] + 82 (17) 157 (65) 64 (15) 119 Musa[köy] [i] + 36 (12) 48 (18) _ 120 ...... [mz] _ _ u. h. _ (tb. Musa[köy]) 121 Ortaköy [i] + 84 (23) 176 (85) 25 (3) 122 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Ortaköy) 123 Öyük + 36 (11) 61 (31) _ 124 Öyük [mz] _ 25 (9) 60 (32) _ (tb. Gülistan) 125 Öyük [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Saraycık) 126 Pınarbaşı (tb. Doğmuş) + r. 5 r. 21 [i, (M.özü)] 127 Piraziz + [mz.] 4 8 (4) _ 128 Porsucak + u. 2 [z.] _ 129 Saraybulargu + 38 (10) 72 (37) _ [Saraybulad] 130 Saraycık [i,?] + u. e. 29 (12) e. _ 131 Saray-ı Sekbantemür + 43 (8) 92 (45) _ [i: Bektemür?] 132 Sazdoğmuş [i,?] + 45 (15) 79 (42) _ 133 Sekiviran + 15 (3) 20 (7) _ [nd. Güğercinlik] 134 Selâmet [mz.] + u. [k.] u. _ (with Musaköy) 246 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

135 Serkis + 19 (6) 55 (33) 22 136 Soma [i: Tuzluçal] + 23 (6) 81 (46) 12 137 Sorgu oğlanı + 72 (14) 175 (58) _ [i: Sorkoğlanı (M.özü)] 138 Şâmice - 14 (4) 45 (25) _ (i: Işıklı (M.özü)] 139 Şerefder [i: Ayvalıpınar] + 32 (7) 72 (33) 33 140 Şeyh Seki? [mz] _ u. h. 10 (2) _ 141 Şeyhalan? [mz] _ 8 (2) 31 (16) 16 142 Şeyhler [i: Şıhlar] + 26 (4) 55 (27) 20 (1) 143 Tanun [Zünnun] [nefs ] _ 69 (9) 152 (74) 21 [i: Söğütyolu (M.özü)] 144 Tekye [i,?] + 6 4 [z.] 52 (4) 145 Tercüman? [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Zekeriya) 146 Tergen + 26 (7) 71 (6) 10 (1) [i: Terken (M.özü)] 147 Ulus [i: Toklucak] + 123 (53) 194 (98) 24 148 ...... [mz] (tb. Ulus) _ _ u. e. _ 149 Varay [i: Gediksaray] + 116 (37) 258 (129) 75 (7) 150 Vermiş [mz] [i] _ _ 8 (3) h. 60 (11) [k.] 151 Yağmur[köy] [i] + 46 (12) 90 (40) 64 (11) 152 Yaruktaş [mz] + u. u. _ (tb. Bağlagu[n]) 153 Yassı [i: Yassıkışla?] + 11 (3) 8 (3) _ 154 Yassı öyük [mz] + u. u. _ 155 Yavru [i] + 46 (10) 144 (69) 62 (14) 156 Yeni[köy] [i] + 30 (8) 84 (51) _ 157 Yenice [mz] + u. u. 16 (1) [k.] (tb. Karadoğan) 158 Yıkılgan + 63 (20) 94 (55) m. _ 159 Yördenik / + 41 (6) 142 (87) 39 (1) Yördenkend? [i: Sıracevizler] 160 Zâre + 125 (45) 226 (118) 68 (6) [i: Doğantepe] Appendix Iv 247

GELDİGELEN[ÂBÂD]

161 Zekeriya oğlanı + [mz] 8 (1) 7 (2) _ 162 Zugalluk? + 28 (10) 31 (15) 5 163 ...... [mz] (tb. Dadu) _ _ u. _ 164 ...... viran [mz] _ _ 2 [z.] _ (tb. Hüseyin) 165 ...... [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Başermeni) 166 Kiranpa [cm] + 14 d. _ 167 Etrakiyye-i Kiranpa + 22 82 (47) _ [cm] 168 Yörükân-ı Kiranpa [cm] _ _ d. _ 169 Ağcakoyunlu _ _ _ 42 (1) 170 Armağan _ _ _ 13 (2) 171 Gaffarlu [i: Gafarlı] _ _ _ 31 (4) 172 Saray _ _ _ 12 173 Uğurlu? _ _ _ 13 174 ...... _ _ _ 22 175 ...... _ _ _ 7 (2) 176 ...... _ _ _ 6 (1) 177 ...... _ _ _ 9 178 ...... _ _ _ 22 (5) 179 Tekye? _ _ _ 52 (4)

GELİKİRAS/ GÜLLÜKİRAS

1 Akpınar [i] _ 45 (18)* 37 (19) _ 2 Alişar [i] _ 134 (62)* 229 (123) 29 3 Boğacık [i, (Çorum)] _ 18 (5)* 50 (29) 18 (1) 4 Elmalı [i, (Çorum)] _ 57 (19)* 93 (43) _ 6 Emirlü [Eymür] _ 22 (4)* 52 (26) 15 (1) [i: Kıreymir] 5 Eskiekin (i, (Çorum)] _ 43 (8)* 120 (59) 9 7 Feroz/Faroz _ _ 91 (32) 28 (2) 8 Geçüd _ 51 (21)* 57 (30) _ 9 Gelikiras/Güllükiras (nefs ) _ 215 (82)* 306 (167) 83 (54) (maʿa tevâbihâ ) [i: Çatalkaya] 248 Appendix Iv

Table (cont.)

GELİKİRAS/ GÜLLÜKİRAS

10 Güni [i: Selimiye?] _ 122 (46)* 204 (101) 21 11 Hacı Halil [mz] _ 4 5 _ (tb. Koltak) 12 Kamışlu [i] _ 23 (5)* 27 (4) _ 13 Karaca inehan? _ 7 (1)* 19 (9) _ 14 Karadekin + 29 (8)* 67 (34) _ 15 Kavacık [i, (Çorum)] + 27 (7) 42 (19) 11 (2) 16 Kıran _ 27 (7)* 58 (30) 9 17 Koltak [i, (Çorum)] _ 20 (5)* 35 (20) 15 (4) 18 Kuzsaray _ 48 (15)* 99 (43) 12 [i: Kuşsaray (Çorum)] 19 Şehrî _ 19 (5)* 54 (27) _ 20 Turgut [mz] [i, (Çorum)] _ _ u. _ 21 Uluköy _ 40 (11)* 116 (52) 16 (3) 22 Yaʿkub Hacı _ 58 (25)* 77 (33) 28 (2) [i: HacıYâkub] 23 Yenice [i: Çamlıca] _ 26 (4)* 37 (20) 16 nm. 24 Yenice _ 14 (3)* 22 (2) 11 25 ...... viranı [mz] _ _ u. _ (tb. Akpınar) 26 Hıdırlık [zâv.] _ _ u. _ (tb. Gelkiras) [i,?] 27 ...... _ _ _ 21 (3) 28 Kalburcı _ _ _ 6 29 Gümüşdekin _ _ _ 14 (2) Bibliography

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Tapu-Tahrir Section (TT) 1. TT15 mixed-icmâl, Rûm (late Mehmed II, Fâtih) 2. TT387 mixed-icmâl, Rûm and Karaman (926 / 1520) 3. TT95 timar-icmâl, Rûm (931–32? / 1524–26) 4. TT776 avârız/detailed, Amasya (1052 / 1643) 5. TT780 “timar-icmâl”, Amasya (1052 / 1642) 6. TT772 avârız/detailed, Tokat, nefs (1051 / 1641–42)

Mâliyeden Müdevver Section (MAD ) 1. MAD3845 avârız-hâne, general (1051 / 1641–42) 2. MAD15615 avârız-hâne, Tokat (1009 / 1600–1) 3. MAD2533 cizye, Rûm (1052 / 1642) 4. MAD7517 cizye, general (1048–52 / 1638–42) 5. MAD3880 avârız/detailed, Canik (1051 / 1641–42) 6. MAD6041 (zeyl) evkâf-emlâk, Rûm (1056 / 1646–47) 7. MAD4878 avârız/detailed, Bozok (1052/1642) 8. MAD334 rûznamçe (903/1493 on)

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Uncatalogued MD 74, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 85, 87.

Zeyl MD (zeyl) 5, 6, 8, 9.

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abandonment of villages 17, 71, 91, 106–107, n. 155, 181 n. 161, 192, 225, 249–253, 255, 123, 129, 141, 143, 158, 167–169, 170–172, 257–262, 264–267, 269–271 174, 177, 183–184, 186, 200 Antakya 4, 170, 256 Abaza Hasan Pasha 170 Antalya 170 Abaza Mehmed Pasha 140, 154 “anti-declinist” literature 183 Abdulfettah, Kemal 25 nn. 17–18, 39 n. 48, Argoma 36, 37 n 45, 50–51, 53–54, 56 n. 44, 40 n. 50, 252 57, 59, 61 n. 64, 67, 75, 80 n. 128, 83 Adâletnâme 18 n. 140, 85 nn. 143, 147, 92, 96–100, 103 Afyon 169 n. 23, 105–106, 109, 113, 117–118, 121 ağa 41, 129 n. 88 nn. 67–68, 122, 130 n. 91, 175, 218, age and sex structure 111, 117, 123 220–222, 224 age of marriage 116, 123, 124 Armenians 47, 123, 148, 168 n. 117 agency 18 n. 31, 147 n. 45 Asia Minor 20, 137 n. 8, 268 Ahmed (son of Barak Beğ/Bey) 80 askerî 1, 8, 10–11, 17, 27, 33, 41, 48 n. 12, 67, 78, Ahmed Beğ (grandson of Uzun Hasan) 72, 85, 87, 112–113, 117–118, 127–128, 130, 73, 80 nn. 128, 130, 206, 210, 213, 220 132–133, 139, 141, 150, 158, 160, 174 n. 149, Akdağ (the district of Amasya) 11 n. 19, 25 176, 180, 188–189, 196–197, 202–203 n. 18, 28 n. 23, 30 n. 31, 36, 47, 50–51, 53 askerî çiftliks 160, 174, 189 n. 35, 57, 58 n. 50, 61, 92, 94, 96–100, 103, askerî class 1, 10, 17, 33, 41, 67, 78, 87, 112–113, 105–106, 109, 113, 116–118, 121–123, 129 117–118, 127–128, 130, 132–133, 139, 150, nn. 85–86, 136 n. 6, 137 n. 7, 213, 158, 176, 188, 196–197, 203 220–223 askerîs’ acquisition of peasant lands 159, 174 akıncı 63 n. 76 assorted lands (balta yeri) 99 Akkoyunlus 22 n. 4, 32, 72–73 Aştagul 36, 50–52, 54, 67, 75, 92, 96–97, Akşehir 170 99–100, 105–106, 109, 113, 117–118, 120, Alaiyye 170 218, 222, 237 Ali Açıkel 4 n. 3, 48 n. 15, 52 n. 26 Atâî Beğ [Atâî b. Celâl] 191 altıbölük halkı (see Six Cavalry Divisions) Austria 153, 162, 163 n. 99 128, 153, 159–160, 176 avârız-hâne 9, 11, 125–126, 130, 174 n. 149, Amasea 148 196–197, 200–202, 225, 249 Amasya Tarihi (see Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin) avârız-ı dîvânîye 8, 60 28 nn. 24, 26, 30 n 32, 33 n. 40, 64, 80 Ayn Ali 17, 77, 128 n. 131, 147, 148 n. 53, 155 n. 71, 216, 261 Ayntab 170, 256 Amisus 148 animal husbandry (also see sheep-farming) Babâî 23 40, 49, 94, 189 Bacı (district of Ankara) 169 Ankara 3 n. 2, 4 n. 3, 20 n. 3, 22 n. 4, 23 nn. 5, Bafra 81 n. 133, 225 7, 24 n. 14, 25 n. 16, 28 n. 26, 29 n. 27, 33 Baki Tezcan 7, 136, 140 n. 22, 186 n. 40, 34 n. 41, 35 n. 42, 39 n. 49, 44 n. 3, Balkans 2, 8, 27 n. 22, 33 n. 40, 39 n. 49, 44 45 n. 6, 46 n. 9, 48 n. 15, 63 n. 75, 64 n. 3, 47 n. 11, 63 n. 76, 65 n. 82, 79, 110 n. 80, 84 n. 142, 89 n. 2, 123 n. 70, 126 n. 35, 116 n. 54, 135 n. 3, 142, 181 n. 162, n. 76, 135 n. 3, 137 n. 8, 141 n. 28, 142 184, 256, 258, 261–262, 264 n. 29, 143 n. 33, 144 n. 34, 151 nn. 61–62, Banditry and brigandage 37, 86, 121, 134, 153 n. 66, 158, 168 n. 117, 169–170, 179 137–140, 145, 150–152, 151 n. 60, 154, 156 Index 273

n. 75, 158, 160–161, 163, 163 n. 99–100, Candaroğulları 28 166, 171–172, 173 n. 143, 177–178, 180, 183, Canik 2, 4, 22 n. 4, 28, 48 n. 15, 50 n. 24, 32 186, 188 n. 39, 52, 53 nn. 31, 36, 57 n. 49, 58–59, Barak Beğ/Bey 79–80, 80 nn. 128–131 125 n. 74, 126 n. 76, 127 n. 77, 137 n. 8, 148 Battle of Kösedağ 27 n. 53, 155 n. 74, 167 n. 114, 169, 191, 192, Bayezid II (the sultan) 23 n. 73, 7, 28 n. 26, 197, 221, 226, 249, 257, 266, 267, 270 37, 56 n. 42, 60 n. 63, 64, 69, 72–73, 216, Caroline Finkel 77 n. 118, 129 n. 88, 141 n. 24, 218, 269, 271 147 nn. 43, 46, 48, 148 nn. 49, 51 163 bee-keeping 49 n. 100, 167, 173 n. 144, 253, 259 Beğ Melek/Melik 67 çavuş 81 Bergoma 36, 50–51, 52, 53 n. 35, 67, 92, 96, cebecibaşı 81 100, 105–106, 109, 109 n. 34, 113, 117, 118, cebelü 77 121, 121 n. 68, 217, 218, 221–222, 238 Çekerek river 54, 94 beylerbeyi 20, 27, 77 Celâlî 2, 6, 12, 17, 87, 123, 129, 132 n. 99, 133, beylikçi kalemi 17 134, 140, 149, 150, 152–154, 155 n. 71, 156, Bezm ü Rezm (see Aziz bin Ardeşir Esterabadi) 160, 163, 166, 168 nn. 117–118, 169–172, 20 n. 3, 28 nn. 25, 26, 30 176–177, 179, 186, 189, 253 birth rate 102, 114–116, 142, 167, 179, 184 Celâlî armies 154, 155 n. 71, 163, 166 birth-death ratio 184 Celâlî bands 140, 150, 189 birûnî/birûniyân 3, 124, 124 n. 114, 125, 126 Celâlî rebellions 87, 129, 153, 156, 163 n. 100, n. 76, 175, 222 168 n. 118, 140 nn. 18, 22, 166, 177, 186 bive (see dul havâtin, vidows) 111 Celâlî terror 2, 123, 134, 149, 158, 160–171, 172 Black Death 180 n. 140 Black Sea climate 94, 162 n. 98 cemaat 39 n. 48, 47, 61, 61 n. 68, 62 Black Sea 94, 148 nn. 70–71, 96, 117, 172 n. 140, 227 Bozok 2, 4, 4 n. 3, 63 n. 75, 125 n. 74, 126 Chingizid privileges 72 n. 76, 162, 167 n. 114, 169–170, 170 n. 125, “çift-hâne system” 181 184 n. 5, 196, 249, 267 çiftlik 46, 51, 75, 83–85, 98 n. 20, 111, 129 n. 88, Bruce McGowan 3, 7, 8 nn. 5, 7, 9 n. 11, 10, 130, 160, 175, 188, 228 167 n. 113, 141 nn. 24, 26, 28, 142 n. 29, cizye 1, 2, 9, 10, 55, 111 n. 39, 112 n. 41, 125 n. 73, 143 n. 33, 144 nn. 35–36, 180, 181 n. 160, 144, 149, 177, 185, 195, 198, 200, 202, 221, 189 n. 14, 251, 265 249 Bulak 75, 129 n. 88, 220, 224, 231, 234 Climate and climate change 6, 14, 94, 134, Bülbül Hâtun 64, 210 139, 145–146, 148, 166, 176, 184–186, 187 “Burakbey-zâde” family (See Barak Beğ/Bey) n. 11, 188 n. 12 80 n. 131 collapse of the old order/equilibrium 186, 188 bureaucracy/bureaucrats 13–14, 16–17, 18, collapse of the rural order/structure 37, 152, 35, 95 n. 13, 164, 182, 190 166, 188 Burhaneddin 28 commercial/market-oriented agriculture Bursa 18 n. 31, 89 n. 2, 136 n. 6, 170, 218, 253, 189 256, 264 competition over fiefs 87 Buzluk mountains 92 confiscation 65, 70, 72, 76 Byzantine(s) 20, 34, 76, 120 n. 63, 260 Constantinople 202–203 Çorum 92, 109 n. 34, 135 n. 3, 137 n. 8, 147, caba 48, 51, 52 n. 28, 53, 59 n. 58, 61 n. 64, 149, 154, 159, 167 n. 114, 226, 237, 238, 62 n. 70, 111 n. 39, 114 n. 50, 116 241, 247–248, 258–259, 266, 271 Canbulatoğlu Ali 154 Çorumlu 209, 225 274 Index

Crimea 140, 162 n. 98, 172 drought 123, 141, 148–149, 166 crisis 2, 7, 12, 13 n. 23, 16–17, 73, 88, 134, 136, dul havâtin (see bive, vidows) 111 137 n. 7, 145, 150, 163 n. 99, 173 n. 144, Dulkadırlu 61 180, 182 n. 1, 183–185, 187 crop patterns 94, 116, 185 early modern 7, 14, 73, 146, 179 earthquakes 146–147, 148 n. 51, 166–167, 171 Danişmend Gazi 20 ehl-i fesâd 139, 161 defterdâr 10, 80 n. 130, 131, 132 n. 100, ehl-i örf 27, 41, 138, 152, 156 195–196, 200 elite formation 73 defterhâne 17 Elvan Çelebi 64, 75, 205, 208, 218, 242 defterologists 120, 194 Emirates (see Principalities) 20, 27–29, 31, Değirmenderesi 55, 122, 223, 229 34–35 Deli Hasan 154 emirs 20, 28, 30–32 Delice river 100 Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie 7, 107 n. 28, 114 demographic crisis 167, 179, 184 n. 48, 142 n. 31, 186 demographic fluctuations 17, 120, 132 epidemics 123, 141, 142 n. 31, 146–147, 149 demographic pressure (see population n. 54, 150, 166–167 pressure) 6, 86, 185–186 Eretna (Bey) 28 density of settlement 46, 50, 51, 54, 55, 95, Eric Wolf 42 n. 54 97, 99, 106, 109 n. 34 Erzurum 104 n. 25, 140 n. 20, 149, 153, 159 dependent peasantry 181 n. 85, 162, 168 n. 117, 169, 263 depopulation 4, 54, 90–91, 123–124, 126, 149, eşkincü/eşkinlü 66–69, 71, 73, 210–212, 169–170, 175, 184, 189, 227 215–216, 223–224 desertion 12 n. 22, 91, 98, 103 n. 23, 104–107, eşkincülü timariots 192 109, 118, 121, 123, 132, 152, 170, n. 67, 172 eşkincüyân 66 n. 84, 70 n. 100 n. 140, 178–179, 183–184 Eskişehir 107 n. 29, 170, 269 destruction of rural structure and economy eşkiyâ 154 n. 67, 158, 160 n. 91, 161, 168 n. 117, 1, 117, 130, 132, 134, 152, 172, 177, 183, 188, 169, 174 n. 148 195 Esterabadi, Aziz bin Ardeşir (see Bezm ü devir (see regular tours of governors) 138, Rezm) 30 152, 156–158 etrâk/etrâkiye 40, 47, 56 nn. 42, 44, 56–57, Devlet Hâtun 216, 217 61–62, 94, 121, 227 devshirme 37, 74, 78, 81 Europe 3 n. 2, 7, 8 n. 7, 9 n. 11, 10 n. 14, 114, dirlik (see fief) 8, 10 n. 16, 22 n. 4, 24, 69, 76, 120, 123 n. 70, 137 n. 8, 141 nn. 24, 26, 28, 118 n. 61, 127, 145, 192–193, 195–196, 223 142 n. 31, 144 nn. 35–36, 150, 152, 167 disappearance of villages 31, 73, 98, 104, 106, n. 113, 180, 181 n. 160, 182 n. 1, 189 n. 14, 107 nn. 28–30, 32, 109–110, 118, 121 n. 67, 253, 264, 265–266, 268 170, 178, 184, 186, 187 n. 11 evasion of registration 178 displacement of population 125, 169, 183 evkâf-ı selâtîn 131, 198, 199, 200, 201 dispossession 180, 181 n. 160, 189 Evliya Çelebi 170, 171 n. 131, 226, 251, 259 divân 17, 221 Ezinepazarı 100, 105, 109, 113, 121 n. 68, 217, dîvân-ı Semâyil 37 n. 45 239 Diyarbekir 63 n. 75, 153, 168 n. 117 double tithe (see iki başdan taʿşir) 22 n. 4, factional politics 18 43 famine 123, 141, 146, 142 n. 31, 149–150, 162 Douglas Howard 14 nn. 24, 26, 127 n. 78, 128, n. 98, 167, 173 n. 144, 184 135 n. 4 Fernand Braudel 120, 152 Dragobed 60 n. 63, 98, 222–223, 228 feudal 16 n. 29, 42 n. 55, 73 Index 275 fief (see dirlik) 69, 79 n. 124, 87, 144, 159 n. 38, 56 n. 41, 60 n. 59, 64 n. 80, 65 financial crisis 163, 177 n. 81, 73 n. 107, 76, 77 nn. 117–118 78 fiscal reform 36, 64, 66, 69, 78 nn. 121–122 79 n. 124, 135 n. 3, 136 flexibility and pragmatism 30, 35, 78 nn. 5–6, 137 nn. 7–10, 138, 139 nn. 13, floods 146, 148, 166 15–16, 140 nn. 20–22, 141 n. 26, 143 n. 33, forced labor 160 144 nn. 34–35, 145 n. 38, 146 n. 39, 155 fragmentation of peasant farms/holdings n. 72, 156 n. 76, 159 n. 86, 163 n. 100, 164 8, 116, 185 n. 101, 168 nn. 115, 118, 169 n. 119, 171 n. 135, 174 n. 147,179 n. 155, 181, 262–263, Gedegra 37, n. 45, 131, n. 98, 142, n. 53, 148, 251, 261267 154, 222, 225 hâne 51, 62 n. 71, 110, 112–113, 118, 167 n. 114, Geldigelen/Geldingen 36, 46 n. 9, 47, 50–51, 192, 197–198, 200, 225 53 n. 32, 54, 57, 60 n. 60, 61, 62 n. 71, 67, harâb 90, 98, 141, 158, 168 n. 117, 169, 172 75, 79, 83 n. 140, 85 nn. 144, 146, 92, 94, n. 140, 227 96–97, 100, 105–106, 109, 113, 117–118, 129 harâcgüzâr 198, 200 n. 88, 130 nn. 90–92, 131 n. 98, 157, harameyn 75, 177 217–218, 220–224, 243 hâric ez defter 90 Gelikiras/Güllikiras 37 n. 45, 50–51, 54, 59, hâriç raiyyet 45 n. 6, 49, 49 n. 20, n. 21, 62 75, 92, 96, 99–100, 105–106, 109, 113, 117, n. 71, n. 72 131 n. 98, 157 n. 80, 165 n. 107, 224, 227, Harput 4, 137 n. 8, 167 n. 114, 169–170, 197, 247 269–270 Geoffrey Parker 7, 134, 158 n. 82, 166 n. 110, Hasan Ağa 67, 205, 208 171 n. 132, 176, 180 n. 158, 182 n. 1, 185 Hasan Kâfî [el Akhisârî] 17 n. 8, 186–187, 188 n. 12, 189, 267–268 hass 85 n. 144, 87, 200, 221–222 Gököyük 157, 240, 243 hassâ çiftliks 49, 83, 85 Golden Age 13, 263 Hâtuniye 69, 207, 216 Göynücek 92 Haymana 169 “great agrarian cycle” 7, 186 hereditary rights 70, 74, 78 Great Flight (Büyük Kaçgun) 140, 168, 170, 174 Hevâce Mecdüddin Ibrahim (pervaneci) 72 Greeks 47, 57 n. 45, 97, 102, 120 n. 63, 260, 269 Hezarfen Hüseyin 17 Gümüş 36, 37 n. 45, 60, 61 n. 64, 75, 131 n. 98, Hırzü’l Mülûk 17 217, 225 historical demography 89, 95 n. 14, 110, 183 Günhan Börekçi 14 n. 26, 154 n. 70, 169, 170 historical geography 12 n. 22, 89, 110, 183 n. 123, 256 Hızır Beğ /aşa 33, 67, 191, 208, 217–219 Guy Bois 41, 256 household size and structure 120 human-made catastrophes 149, 176 Habsburgs 87, 136, 153 Hungary 77 n. 118, 162, 163 n. 99, 259 Hacı Halil 67, 205, 213, 217, 233, 248 Huricihan [İslamoğlu] İnan 6, 44 n. 3, 48 Hacı Şadgeldi Pasha 28, 80 n. 14, 50 n. 22, 114 n. 47, 116, 117 n. 60, 137 Hacı Yusuf 67, 207 nn. 8–10 167 n. 114, 171 n. 135, 185, 262 Hacıköy 75, 243 Hüseyin Baykara 72 Hakala 55, 75, 122, 125 n. 75, 206, 217, Hüseyin Hüsâmeddin (see Amasya Tarihi) 219–221, 223, 229, 130 nn. 91–92 28 n. 24, 64, 80 n. 131, 147–148, 191 hâlî 61, 90, 128 n. 83, 132 n. 99, 141, 169 n. 120, 196, 227 İç-İl 86 Halil Berktay 34 n. 41, 42 n. 55, 45, 64 n. 80 iki başdan taʿşir/iki öşr (see double tithe) Halil İnalcık 6, 3 n. 2, 13 n. 23, 14, 27 nn. 20–22, 22 n. 4 44, 47 n. 11, 48 nn. 12–13, 15, 50 n. 24, 55 ıkta (military fief) 29, 31–32 276 Index il-eri 139 n. 15 Kânûnnâme (sultanic law codes) 46 n. 8, 48 Ilkhanids 20, 30, 32, 34 n. 13, 49 nn. 18, 21, 56 n. 41, 58, 59 n. 56, iltizam (see tax farming) 58 n. 54, 145, 164 83 n. 138, 85 n. 147, 115 İlyas 196, 205, 212, 218, 220, 238 kapı halkı 153 imâret 33, 60 n. 60, 64 n. 78, 69, 207, 208, kapıkulu army 163 210, 215, 217 kapıkulu class 188 Imperial Council (Dîvân-ı Hümâyûn) 155, kapıkulu sipâhis 129 170 Karahisâr-ı Şarkî (modern Şebinkarahisar) imperial crisis 134 61 n. 64, 162, 252 imperial transformation 7, 64 n. 80, 73, 82, Karakaş Ahmed [Pasha] 153 117, 121, 133–134, 137 n. 10, 180, 182–183, Karaman 9 n. 11, 32, 63, 86, 89 n. 2, 104 n. 25, 186, 188 106, 168 n. 117, 176, 186, 192–193, 222, 234, Imperial Treasury (Hazine-i Âmire) 2, 8, 16, 249–250, 257, 259, 263, 270 69, 71, 143, 173, 179, 195, 197 Karamanids 22 n. 4, 32, 34 infra-elite conflicts 18, 73, 185 Karasu 170 institutionalization of violence 188 Karayazıcı 154, 155 n. 71 Iran 20, 23, 84, 87, 141, 146, 153, 154 n. 69, 162, Karen Barkey 7, 15 n. 28, 16 n. 29, 18 n. 31, 45 165 n. 106, n. 5, 63 n. 76, 78 n. 122, 117 n. 60, 135 n. 3, Irene Beldiceanu-Steinherr 22 n. 4, 27 n. 22, 136 n. 5–6, 141 n. 24, 154 nn. 67, 69, 29 n. 30, 29 n. 27, 31 n. 36, 32, 32 n. 38, 171–172, 182 n. 1–2, 255 62 n. 73, 63 n. 75, 63 n. 74, 66 n. 84, 66 Kastamonu 28, 63 n. 75, 170 n. 86r, 68, 68 n. 91, 74 n. 108, 143 n. 33, Kâtib Muhiddin 67, 206 144 n. 34, 160 n. 90, 163 n. 99, 164 n. 104, kâtib 17, 80 n. 129, 81 168 n. 115, 173 n. 145, 174 n. 146, 250, 255 Katip Çelebi 9 n. 9, 170 İsâ (son of Barak Beğ) 80 Kaya Paşa 67 İskilib 225 Kayseri 25 n. 16, 57 n. 45, 63 n. 75, 84 n. 142, Islamic law (Sharia) 35, 65 n. 81, 71 n. 101 104 n. 25, 123, 135 n. 3, 141 n. 28, 149, 170, İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı 23 n. 7, 33 n. 40, 64 251, 258, 260, 263, 269 n. 79, 69 n. 97, 144 n. 34, 251, 269 Kefe 140 n. 20, 172 Isparta 170 Kemankeş Mustafa Pasha 2 ispençe 56 n. 41, 111 n. 39 Keranpa 61 Istanbul 2, 13 n. 23, 23 n. 5,25, 27, 39 n. 49, kılıç timars 128 123, 131, 140, 147, 149 nn. 54,–55, 155, 161, Kışla village 105 170, 172, 181 n. 161, 216, 225, 249, 250–261, kışlak 62, 94, 96, 162, 165 n. 107 263–269, 271 Kitâb-ı Müstetâb 17, 84 n. 142, 168 n. 117, 173 iştirâ 164, 165 n. 108 n. 144, 251–252 Iznik 151 n. 62, 170 kızılbaş 23–24, 56 n. 42, 57 Koçi Beğ / Bey 17, 128, 168 n. 117, 169 n. 121, Jack A. Goldstone 7, 15 n. 28, 135, 136, 182 251, 265 n. 1, 186, 259 Konya 86, 107 n. 29, 169, 176 Janissaries 129, 140, 151 n. 62, 153, 159–160, Köprü 142 203 Kostantiniyye 199, 202–203 John Woods 72 Köy Kânunu 109 n. 34 Joseph von Hammer 147 kul 37, 74, 129, 165 n. 106, 198, 201 Kütahya 170 Kadı Burhaneddin 28 kadı 1–2, 25, 27, 29, 31, 81, 130 n. 90, 131, 155, laborers 49, 180 165, 168 n. 115, 197, 216 Ladik 35 n. 42, 36, 37 n. 45, 75, 148 n. 53, 155 Kalenderoğlu 155, 158 n. 81 n. 74, 222, 266 Index 277 lalâ 221 Mecca 75 landed aristocracy 30 Medina 60, 75, 157 n. 80, 224 landlessness and landless peasants 48, 49, Mediterranean 14 n. 27, 40 n. 51, 114, 120, 137 51, 52 nn. 27–28, 30, 53, 54, 61 n. 64, 86, n. 8, 152, 184 n. 4, 187 n. 10, 256, 264, 114 n. 50, 116, 137, 171–172, 185, 186 267–268 late marriage/non-marriage 123 medrese 33, 60 n. 60, 137 n. 7, 151, 206–208, Leila Erder 137 n. 8, 142 nn. 29, 31, 189 n. 14, 211, 217, 219 194, 257 Mehemmed Murad Efendi 1–3, 10, 33 n. 40, levends (see vagrants) 137, 138 n. 11, 152–153, 129 n. 88, 131, 132, 163 n. 99, 165 n. 108, 156, 163, 171–172 168 n. 117, 178, 195–197, 200, 202–203, Linda Darling 3, 9, 73 n. 107, 81, 135 n. 3, 140 208, 210, 214 n. 20, 182, 195 Mehmed b. Abdülkadir 196 Little Ice Age 134, 150, 186, 187 n. 11 Mehmed b. İbrahim [Mevlânâ] 191 livâ 1–3, 20, 23 n. 6, 24 n. 14, 25, 36, 37, 56 Mehmed I (the Sultan) 216 n. 41, 77 n. 120, 126 n. 76, 127, 159 n. 85, Mehmed II (the Conqueror, Sultan) 27 n 21, 162, 165 nn. 107–108, 167 n. 114, 173 29 n. 30, 36–37, 63, 64 n. 80, 65, 67–69, n. 143, 191, 196 71–74, 78, 80, 188, 193, 221, 249, 255–256, local aristocracy/notables (also see mâlikâne 261, 267 holders) 1, 5, 22, 24, 27, 30–31, 33 n. 40, Mehmed Paşa (son of Hızır Paşa) 33, 67, 155 33–35, 37, 40–41, 43, 63–64, 64 n. 80, 65 n. 71, 206, 208, 210, 213, 215, 217–218 n. 81, 67–76, 71–76, 78–79, 81, 82 n. 137, Mehmet Kuru 187 n. 10 83, 87, 112 n. 43, 113, 130, 133, 154, 188 Mehmet Öz 4 n. 3, 22 n. 4, 35 n. 42, 44, 52 locust and rat attacks 149, 166–167 n. 29, 120 n. 63, 126 n. 76, 137 n. 8 mercenary troops (see sekbâns) 138, 163, 171 mahalle 64 n. 78, 96, 228 Merzifon 36, 37 n. 45, 75, 92, 97, 109 n. 34, Mahmud Çelebi (son of Barak Beğ) 67, 71 122, 130 n. 89, 131 n. 98, 148, 165 n. 107, n. 102, 79, 80 n. 129, 205–206, 208–209, 216, 221–222, 225 213, 216, 218 mevkûf 53, 58 n. 51, 62 n. 71, 228 mâlikâne holders 1, 32, 37, 40–41, 46, 49, mevkûfât 69, 197, 222 62–64, 66, 68–71, 73–75, 78, 80 n. 132, mevkufcu 66 84, 111–113, 118 n. 61, 131, 192, 223 Michael A. Cook 6, 18 n. 31, 48 n. 13, 48 n. 15, mâlikâne holdings 1, 3, 31, 66–67, 69–71, 50 n. 24, 52 nn. 27, 29, 57 n. 49, 102 n. 22, 74–75, 131–132 110 n. 36, 111 n. 38, 114–116, 135 n. 3, 137 mâlikâne 1–2, 22, 29 n. 30, 31–35, 37, 40–41, n. 9, 143 n. 33, 172 n. 139, 185, 255–256 43, 46, 49, 62–71, 73–75, 78–80, 83–84, Middle East 36, 47 n. 11, 64 n. 80, 136 n. 5, 139 87, 111–113, 118 n. 61, 131–132, 188, 192, 194, n. 16, 143 n. 33, 173 n. 144, 181 n. 162, 189 203, 209–210, 212, 216, 222–224 n. 14, 255–256, 262, 264, 269, 270 mâlikâne-dîvânî 22, 29 n. 30, 31, 43, 63, 64 migration 3, 86, 140 n. 20, 102, 124–126, 132, n. 80, 194 142, 162, 167 n. 114, 175, 178–179, 184 Malthus/Malthusian scissors 179, 185 Mihrî Hâtun 219 Mamlukids 22 n. 4, 32, 34 Mihrimâh Hâtun 69 Manisa 1137 n. 8, 146 n. 39, 70, 257, 269 military aristocracy 42 Manyas 4, 144 n. 37, 149, 170, 264 military class 37, 48 n. 12, 86, 171 Margaret Venzke 22 n. 4, 32 military elite 72, 73 marginalization of peasants and askerîs military fief (also see ıkta) 24, 31, 32, 76 86–87, 159, 185 mîrî 29, 47, 48 n. 12, 78, 85 n. 144, 131 n. 96, Marxist historians 42 n. 55 132 nn. 100–101, 165 n. 107, 174 n. 149, 203 Max Weber 42 n. 55, 270 mîrlivâ 23 n. 6, 24, 27, 36, 37 n. 45, 77, 222 278 Index

Mirza 71 n. 102, 79, 80 n. 131, 223 Ömer Beğ 52 n. 30, 56 n. 42, 191 modern state 14, 73 Ömer Lütfi Barkan 14, 22 n. 4, 29 n. 27, 44 Mongolians 20, 27, 64 n. 80, 73, 262 n. 1, 66 n. 86, 67 n. 90, 120 n. 64, 136 n. 6, mortality rate 167, 179 143 n. 33, 144 nn. 34–35, 181 n. 161, 189 mücerred (bachelors) 9, 47, 48 n. 14, 49, 59 n. 14, 258, 262 n. 55, 61 nn. 64, 66, 110–113, 114, 117–118, oppression (zûlm ve taaddî) 140, 145, 169 123–124, 137 n. 7, 151, 192, 194, 196, 198, Ordu 22 n. 4, 54, 56 n. 41, 57 n. 49, 58–59, 85 225, 228 n. 137 n. 8, 143 n. 33, 147, 115 nn. 51–52, mühimme 129, 139 n. 14, 140 n. 21, 146, 149, 191–192, 251, 270 151, 155 n. 74, 159 n. 85, 162, 182 orphans 123, 124 mülk 29, 64 n. 80, 65–71, 74, 78, 131, 193, 203, Ortaköy 75, 92, 99, 220, 237–238, 245 206–216, 220, 223–224 Osman Turan 28 n. 23, 29 nn. 28, 30, 31, 34 Murad Pasha (Kuyucu, Grand Vizier) 140 Osmancık 221, 225 Murat Dağlı n. 33, 30 öşr 1, 43, 63, 222 müsellems 47, 58, 59, 228 Ottoman law codes (kânûn- see kanûnnâmes) Mustafa (sancakbeyi of Amasya) 157 124 Mustafa Akdağ 6, 25 n. 16, 53 n. 35, 44, 135 overpopulation 116 n. 3, 137 n. 7, 138 n. 11, 139 n. 13–15, 140 overtaxation 159, 164, 166, 185 n. 18–19, 22, 141 n. 25–27, 151 n. 60, 155 n. 72, 156 n. 76, 166 n. 111, 168 nn. 115–116, paid labour 189 118, 169, 170 n. 129, 171 n. 136, 173 palankas 140, 173 n. 142–143, 186, 253 patrimonial state 42 n. 55 Mustafa (the Prince, şehzâde) 37, 86 Pehlivan-ı Zimmî 121 mütekâʾid sipâhi 129 periodization 16 n. 29 müzevvec (married) 110, 111 Petra Kappert 23 nn. 5, 7 24, 33 n. 40, 37 n. 46, 64 n. 79, 263 nâhiye 11 n. 19, 25, 37 n. 45, 46 n. 9, 47 n. 10, pious foundation 69 49–51, 53 n. 33, 54, 57, 59, 61–62, 67, 71 Pîr Mehmed 67, 206, 214 n. 102, 79, 92, 94, 96–100, 102–103, Pîrî Beğ 67 105–106, 109 n. 34, 113, 117–118, 120–121, plague 141, 142 n. 31, 146, 149–150, 166, 171 130, 194, 222–224, 227 political advice literature (see nasihatnâmes) nasihatnâme (see political advise literature) 12, 18, 183 15, 17–19, 146, 183 population decline 107 n. 31, 118, 123, 126 natural disasters 146, 150, 176 n. 76, 118, 167, 170, 179–180, 184, 186 nefir-i ʿâm 139 population flight 1, 122, 127 n. 78, 139–140, “new equilibrium” 189 142, 151, 167 n. 114, 169–170, 172–173, 175, Nicoara Beldiceanu 22 n. 4, 27, 29 nn. 27, 179, 187 n. 11, 195 30, 31 n. 36, 32, 62 n. 73, 63 n. 74–75, 64 population growth 5, 99, 114, 116, 137, 152, n. 80, 65 n. 81, 66, 68, 74, 76 n. 115, 77, 167, 185 143 n. 33, 144 n. 34, 160 n. 90, 163 n. 99, population pressure 6, 86–87, 116, 137, 140, 164 n. 104, 168 n. 115, 173 n. 145, 174 n. 185, 187 146, 250, 255 poverty 87, 126, 185 nizâm-ı âlem 3 pre-industrial society 39, 42 n. 54, 90, 146, nomads/nomadic tribes 20, 39–40, 41, 47, 166, 187 56–57, 61, 62 n. 71, 86, 89, 94, 95 nn. 11, pre-Ottoman 1, 5, 22, 27, 29–30, 32–33, 35–37, 13, 121, 96, 112, 117, 121, 139, 146, 161–162, 41, 63–64, 67–68, 74–76, 78, 80, 188 165 n. 108, 166, 167 n. 114, 194–195 Principalities (see Emirates) 22, 28, 31 non-Muslims 8, 47, 55, 78, 97, 102, 121–122, private ownership (see mülk) 180 144 n. 37, 174 n. 149, 177, 195, 200, 227 provincial cavalrymen (see timariots, timarlı nüzül 144 n. 35, 164, 165 n. 106, 256 sipâhî) 41 Index 279 provincial mercenary troops (sekbân and rural society 5, 16, 39–43, 63, 76–77, 86, 91, sarıca bölükleri) 138 120–121, 127, 175, 180, 186, 188 provincial officials 22 n. 4, 33, 41, 64, 138, 139 rüsûm-ı örfiyye 22 n. 4 n. 13, 140, 145, 156–157, 166 rûznamçe registers 127 n. 78 reâyâ 8, 10–11, 29 n. 30, 41, 48 nn. 12, 15, 53 sâdât 10, 196, 197, 202, 203 n. 35, 58, 62, 78, 85, 125 nn. 73–75, 137 Şadi Paşa 58 n. 9, 139, 154, 161 n. 93, 162 n. 96, 164, 165 Safavids 23, 36, 84, 87, 136, 141, 146, 153, 154 n. 109, 168 n. 117, 169, 173–174, 195–198, n. 69, 253 200, 202–203 Şâh Çelebi 67, 206 rebellions and revolts 57 n. 49, 134, 137 n. 7, sâhib-i arz 49 139, 141, 145–146, 147 n. 45, 150, 152–153, Sam White 7, 14, 134 n. 2, 139, 176, 186, 188 154 n. 69, 163, 183, 187, 259 n. 12 reconciliatory policy 34–35, 63, 73 Samsun 225 regular tours of governors (see devir) 152 sancakbeyi 24 n. 14, 27, 67, 77, 154, 155 n. 74, relations of production 180, 188 157, 158 n. 81 renomadization 142 n. 32, 189 Sarı Ahmed Pasha 153 reproduction capacity 179 sekbâns 138, 140–141, 152–153, 156, 161 n. 94, resm-i ağnâm 8, 221 163, 171–172, 180 resm-i tapu 48 n. 12, 49 n. 21 Selânikî [Mustafa Efendi] 129 n. 88, 134, 147, revenue distribution 8, 22 n. 4, 158 149 n. 54, 164 n. 104, 168 n. 117, 251 revisionist approach 14–15, 45 Selim I (the Sultan) 36 Rifaʿat Ali Abou-El-Haj 7 Seljukids 20, 22–23, 27, 29–34–35, 39, 64, 65 ruled subjects (see reâya) 41 n. 80, 76, 188 ruling class (also see askerî) 27, 41 serasker 80–81 ruling dynasty 63 settlement patterns 12, 90–91, 96, 99, 102, Rûm 1–2, 9, 20, 24, 28–29, 31–32, 34–35, 46 104, 110, 117, 120, 132, 142, 145, 175, 178, n. 8, 48 nn. 13–14, 49 n. 18, 50 n. 22, 52 187, 189 nn. 29–30, 56 nn. 41–42, 58, 63 n. 75, 64, settlement/village size 50, 84, 97, 99, 100, 105 66, 68, 70 n. 99, 72, 75–76, 77 n. 120, 80, seventeenth-century crisis 176 83 n. 138, 85 n. 147, 86, 104, 115–116, 121 Şeyh Cûgî 96 n. 65, 126, 128–131, 132 n. 100, 142 n. 30, sharecropping 85, 189 151, 153–154, 155 n. 71, 157, 158 n. 81, Sharia court registers (see sicils) 146, 156, 196 159 n. 85, 160 n. 89, 161–162, 164, 165 Sharia 71 n. 101 nn. 108–109, 167, 168 nn. 116–117, sheep-farming (see animal husbandry) 40 169–170, 172, 173 n. 144, 174 n. 148, 180, n. 51, 49, 62, 94, 121 183–184, 188, 191–193, 195, 197, 200, shortage of labor 180, 189 202–203, 221–223, 249–250, 259–260, sicils 157, 196 263, 268–270 silâhdârs 153 Rumelia 76, 140 Simeon of Poland 123 n. 70, 169 n. 121, 170, runaway peasants (çiftbozan-levend taifesi) 250 151, 160, 188 Simre-i Ladik 37 n. 45 rural disorder 1–2, 13, 87–88, 130–131, 153, sipâhizâde 78 n. 121, 85 159, 163, 176, 180, 185, 187 n. 11 Sir Thomas Roe 171 n. 132, 268 rural gentry 40–41, 73, 132, 188 Sivas 2, 20, 28, 115 n. 52, 153, 154 n. 67, 155 rural lawlessness 129 n. 88, 139, 151–152, 155, n. 71, 157, 158 n. 81, 160 n. 89, 161 n. 93, 156, 159–160, 166, 172 165 n. 109, 168 n. 117, 173 n. 144, 198, 202, rural militarization 37, 86, 87, 172 209, 225, 249, 257 280 Index

Six Cavalry Divisions (see altıbölük halkı) telhises 18, 163 n. 99, 153, 155 n. 71, 173 n. 144, 128 182 “soldier calamity” 158 Tersakan river 94 soyurghal 72 timar defterdârı 17, 80 state breakdown 186 timar system 2, 8, 22 n. 4, 27, 29, 47, 63, 69, state centralization 7, 63 n. 76, 87 76, 127 n. 78, 128, 144, 164, 193 state formation 7, 63 n. 76 timar 2, 8, 10 n. 16, 17, 18 n. 31, 22 n. 4, 24, 27, state transformation 136 29, 32, 35, 37, 40–41, 47, 48 n. 15, 49 state-society relations 15, 45 n. 18, 62–63, 66 n. 84, 67–71, 76–80, struggle for throne 24, 86, 151 82–85, 87, 111–113, 118 n. 61, 127–128, 144, subaşıs 76 n. 116, 156–157 152, 155, 158, 160 n. 89, 164, 174 n. 149, subsistence economy 185 175–176, 188, 192–193, 209, 219–220, suhtes 137 n. 7, 151 222–224, 249, 255 Süleyman (the Magnificent, Kânûnî, the timariot (timarlı sipâhi, see provincial Sultan) 9 n. 11, 11 n, 19, 13 n. 23, 37, 151, 182 cavalry) 25, 32, 40, 42, 49, 63, 67, 76–78, n. 2, 187, 213, 215, 218, 220, 257, 263 80–81, 83 n. 140, 84–85, 128, 167 Sultan Ahmed (the Prince) 64, 80 n. 130, 154 Timur 28 n. 70, 210, 215, 222, 256 Timurid Empire 72 Sultan Bayezid (the Prince) 37, 60 n. 60, 69, Tokat 2, 4, 8 n. 8, 20, 48 n. 15, 52, 57 n. 49, 69, 129, 172 n. 140, 217, 221 92, 115–116, 130 n. 90, 137 n. 8, 140 n. 20, Sultan Yakub (Akkoyunlu, son of Uzun 142, 146 n. 41, 147, 155 n. 71, 157, 158 n. 81, Hasan) 72 162, 167 n. 114, 169, 184 n. 5, 191, 207, 209, Suluova 92, 231 216, 218–219, 225, 249, 252, 268 Suraiya Faroqhi 23 n. 5, 39 n. 49, 44, 49 n. 19, Torumtay 33, 208, 217 61 n. 65, 62 n. 70, 76 n. 113, 85 n. 144, transhumance 40 n. 51 107 nn. 27–29, 111 n. 39, 135 n. 3, 136 n. 5, transition processes 35, 36 137 n. 10, 137 n. 8, 140 n. 22, 141 nn. 25, Turkomans 20, 23, 33 n. 40, 34, 40, 56 n. 42, 28, 142 nn. 29, 32, 149 n. 57, 155 n. 73, 57, 86, 95 n. 13, 146, 270 165 n. 107, 171 n. 135, 172 n. 140, 173 Türnük 96, 109 n. 34, 224, 236 nn. 143–144, 174 n. 146, 178 n. 154, 181 n. 161, 182 n. 1, 184 n. 5, 189 n. 14, ulemâ 8, 10, 196–197, 202–203 194–195, 225, 226, 257, 259, 261 ulûfeciyân 129 surplus extraction 42 Umur Beğ 191, 209, 212, 216 surplus population 6, 86, 185 urban population 112 sürsat 164 Urfa 153, 168 n. 117 Syria 2, 25 n. 17, 34, 46 n. 9, 124 n. 72, 140, Uzun Hasan 72 184, 252, 261, 265 vagrants (levends) 137, 152 Tâceddin 58, 191, 210, 215 vakf-ı evlâd 66, 71, 79–80, 209–210, 224 Tanun/Tanunözü 221, 224, 246 vakıf/waqf 31, 33, 60, 64 n. 80, 65–66, 68–74, Taşova 92 78, 80, 131 n. 96, 157 n. 80, 189, 193, 196, Tatars 162 208–209, 216, 219 Taurus mountain 86 Varay 75, 109 n. 34, 218, 246 Tavil [Halil] 154 Venetians 147 n. 48, 148, 171 tax erosion 179 village law (Köy Kanunu) 109 tax exemption 58, 59, 65, 91, 177–178, 196 violence/collective violence 6, 16–17, 86–88, tax farming (iltizam) 8, 145, 164, 188 123, 134, 140–141, 145, 147 n. 45, 152, 166, tekâlif-i örfiye 8, 11, 60, 144, 256 171 n. 132, 172, 176–177, 179–180, 183–188 Index 281

William J. Griswold 135 n. 3, 150 n. 59, 154 Zâne 11 nn. 19–20, 121, 229–230 n. 69, 168 nn. 116, 118, 171 n. 134, 148, 260 Zare 75 Wolf Dieter Hütteroth 25 n. 17, 25 n. 18, 39 zeâmet 63, 78 n. 123, 87, 112–113, 118 n. 61, 127, n. 48, 40 n. 50, 46 n. 9, 12 n. 22, 106, 107 158, 160 n. 89, 164 n. 102, 175–176, n. 27, 142 n. 32, 178 n. 154, 179 n. 156, 186, 192–193, 220 189 n. 13, 252, 260 zemin 48, 50 n. 24, 52–53, 59 n. 56, 61 n. 64, 62 n. 71, 85 n. 147, 113, 222, 227–228 Yâkub[şâh] [Çelebi] (son of Barak Zeytun 37 n. 45, 131 n. 98, 222 Beğ) 79–80 Zile 2, 92, 125 n. 74, 154, 155 n. 71, 163 n. 99, Yavaş [-İli] 36, 47 n. 10, 50–52, 53 n. 35, 92, 225 96, 99–100, 105–106, 109, 113, 117–118, Ziyere 60 n. 63, 98–99, 102, 120, 121 n. 68, 122, 218–219, 221–222 222, 228 Yeşilırmak 11 n. 19, 94, 98, 148 n. 53 Zulkadriye 32 Yıldızlı İbrahim 154 Yörgic/Yörgüç [Paşa] 33, 81, 208, 217, 218 yörük 47 n. 11, 162