THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

ASTROLOGY IN THE SERVICE OF THE EMPIRE:

KNOWLEDGE, PROGNOSTICATION, AND POLITICS AT THE OTTOMAN COURT,

1450s–1550s

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO

THE FACULTY OF THE DIVISION OF THE HUMANITIES

IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF NEAR EASTERN LANGUAGES AND CIVILIZATIONS

BY

AHMET TUNÇ ŞEN

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

AUGUST 2016
Copyright © 2016 Ahmet Tunç Şen

All rights reserved

 Table of Contents
Acknowledgments................................................................................................................... v
Abbreviations .......................................................................................................................... x
Notes on Transcription and Dates .......................................................................................... xi
Abstract ................................................................................................................................ xiii

Introduction––The Study of “Wretched Subjects” in the Early-Modern Ottoman History.... 1

Sources and Their Problems ............................................................................................. 15
Theses Proposed in the Dissertation ................................................................................. 27

Chapter One––The Most Mathematical of all Occult, the Most Occult of all Mathematical
Sciences: The Epistemological Status of Astrology in the Medieval Islamicate Intellectual
Context .................................................................................................................................. 32
I. 1. Introduction .............................................................................................................. 32
I. 2. Astrology and its Branches ...................................................................................... 36
I. 3. Astrology in the Medieval Islamicate Classification of the Sciences ...................... 59
I. 4. Polemics Against Astrology and Astrologers .......................................................... 79

Chapter Two—How to be a Munajjim in the Ottoman Realm, 1450s–1550s: Vocational

Training, Sources of Learning, and Venues of Knowledge ................................................ 104
II. 1. Introduction........................................................................................................... 104
II. 2. State of the Field and the Problems of Terminology ............................................ 110
II. 3. What did a Munajjim Need to Know? ................................................................. 119
II. 4. The Venues of Training on Astrologically Valid Knowledge .............................. 138

Chapter Three––Royal Patronage of Astrology, the Office of the Court Munajjims, and the
Special Case of the Reign of Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512) ..................................................... 164
III. 1. Introduction.......................................................................................................... 164
III. 2. The Royal Patronage of Munajjims at the Ottoman Courts and the Reign of
Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512) ............................................................................................... 171
III. 3. The Motives and Ramifications of Bāyezīd II’s Celestial Pursuits ..................... 198
III. 4. Individual Stories of Select Munajjims................................................................ 213

Chapter Four––Chronicling the Past, Mirroring the Present, Divining the Future: Taqwīms
(Almanac-Prognostications) in the Ottoman context .......................................................... 237
IV. 1. Introduction .......................................................................................................... 237
IV. 2. Taqwīm as a special form of writing, Taqwīm as a specific genre in medieval and
early modern Islamic literary tradition ........................................................................... 241
IV. 3. Taqwīm à l’Ottoman ............................................................................................ 262
IV. 4. Taqwīms and Ottoman History Writing ............................................................... 279
IV. 5. Taqwīms and Contemporary Recognition............................................................ 293

iii
Chapter Five—From Bolstering Royal Claims to Expressing Self-Aggrandizement: Political
and Personal Dynamics of Casting Horoscopes ................................................................. 305
V. 1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 305
V. 2. Nativity Books as a Means of Self-Propaganda ................................................... 310
V. 3. Choosing the Most Auspicious Time for the Sultan and the Self ......................... 317

Conclusion .......................................................................................................................... 336

Appendix A: The list of astral experts at Bāyezīd II’s court, 1503-1512. .......................... 340
Appendix B: The list of books on ʿilm al-nujūm and ʿilm al-hayʾa at the Palace library
(1502-3)............................................................................................................................... 342
Appendix C: The list of examined extant taqwīms from the mid-fifteenth to the early-
seventeeth century ............................................................................................................... 353

Bibliography ....................................................................................................................... 364

iv
 Acknowledgments

I have accrued many debts in the long process of working on this dissertation. It is

now a great pleasure to thank these people and institutions that offered their time, support,

and guidance over the many years of my training, research, and writing.

First and foremost, I would like to thank the members of my dissertation committee,

Professors Cornell H. Fleischer, Hakan T. Karateke, and John E. Woods for their constant

support in the past years. I am greatly indebted to Cornell H. Fleischer, my dissertation

advisor, who is indeed the main reason for me to have come to Chicago to pursue doctoral

studies in early modern Ottoman cultural and intellectual history. Throughout this long

journey I have continuously enjoyed his intellectual guidance, true mentorship, unique

historical and philological erudition, and unwavering encouragement. I am also grateful to

Hakan T. Karateke for his readiness to help in all sorts of academic and moral challenges

over the past years of dissertation research and writing. I owe a lot to John E. Woods for his

genuine interest in my project and generously sharing his unmatched knowledge on sources

and problems of the post-Mongol Persianate world.

As a graduate student at the University of Chicago I have benefitted over the past

eight years from the knowledge of model scholars and great teachers. Although not directly

involved in my dissertation research and writing, I would like to extend my thanks to

Professors Ahmed El Shamsy, Franklin Lewis, Fred Donner, Holly Shissler, Orit Bashkin,

and Persis Berlekamp for their contribution to my scholarly formation and for being always

ready to offer their intellectual and moral support. I cannot express enough my gratitude to

v
ostād Saeed Ghahremani and al-ustādha Kay Heikkinen for spending many hours to

introduce me to the beauty and challenges of Persian and Arabic.

As my formal training was not in the history of science, the suggestions, comments,

and questions I received from several prominent scholars in this field were immensely

helpful to review and sharpen my views expressed in the dissertation. Although they did not

have the chance to read the dissertation partly or in toto, I should thank Professors İhsan

Fazlıoğlu from Istanbul Medeniyet University, Jamil Ragep from McGill University, Robert

Morrison from Bowdoin College, and Sonja Brentjes from Max Planck Institute for our

informal conversations during conference meetings or through e-mail exchanges, by means

of which have I greatly benefited from their vast knowledge and insights about the history of

science in the post-classical Islamicate realm. Benno Van Dalen and Julio Samsó also timely

shared through e-mail a number of unpublished works that enriched my arguments in the

final stages of dissertation writing. Needless to say all shortcomings and errors that remain in

this dissertation are my sole responsibility.

I would never have been able to finish this dissertation without the financial support

of various institutions. The Division of the Humanities at the University of Chicago

supported the first five years of my PhD studies in Chicago and granted in my final year the

much-needed dissertation writing fellowship that permitted me to timely finish the

dissertation. The generous supports of the American Research Institute in Turkey and the

Social Science Research Council enabled me to conduct my research in the manuscript

libraries and archives in Turkey and major European cities.

vi
 Speaking of the libraries and archives, I should thank to numerous scholars,

librarians, and archivists in different corners of the world for allowing me to have access to

the much-needed primary source materials. Zeynep Çelik Atbaş and her collaborators at the

Topkapı Palace Museum Library provided a peaceful environment to discover the gems of

their manuscript collection. Buket Özdemir from the Topkapı Palace Museum Archive made

available to me several important documents despite the ongoing cataloging process in the

Palace archive. Tahsin Tahaoğlu from the Boğaziçi University Kandilli University Library

provided me with the images of texts now held in the rich astrological collection of that

library. I am extremely grateful to İsmail Erünsal and Kenan Yıldız for generously sharing

with me several important terekes of the past munajjims and muwaqqits that they chanced

upon during their own research. Marlis Saleh, now the director of the Middle East Collection

at the Regenstein Library, made available many treasures kept at the “cage.” Without the

help of the staff at the Ottoman Archives of the Prime Minister’s Office, Süleymaniye

Library, Center for Islamic Studies (İSAM) in İstanbul, Library of Istanbul Archaeology

Museums, Istanbul University Rare Works Library, Istanbul İsmail Hakkı Konyalı Library,

Bibliotheca Medicea-Laurenziana in Florence, Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris,

Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana in Rome, British Library in London, and Bodleian Library

in Oxford, the research of this dissertation would have never been possible.

Various parts of this dissertation have been presented and discussed in front of

different audiences. I am particularly thankful to the organizers and participants of the Early

Modern Workshop, the Middle East History and Theory Workshop, and the Franke Institute

for Humanities Dissertation Writing Group at the University of Chicago.

vii
 As a graduate student it is a big fortune to receive guidance and moral support from

intellectual ağabeys and ablas. I am lucky to have found around a great many of them and I

now would like to express my thankfulness to Abdurrahman Atçıl, Ertuğrul Ökten, Evrim

Binbaş, Günhan Börekçi, Hasan Karataş, Kaya Şahin, Judith Pfeiffer, Matthew Melvin-

Koushki, Nikolay Antov, Nükhet Varlık, and Sinan Ciddi for their willingness to listen and

offer advice.

I have also enjoyed the company of friends and peers in Chicago and elsewhere, who

helped and supported me in the past eight years in various ways. Mehmet Kuru, Aykut

Mustak, and Emre Erol, the members of my old crew from Sabancı University have

witnessed the every little bit of joy and misery during this long journey. I cannot express

enough my gratitude to aziz Bill Walsh, who was always ready to offer his tremendous

linguistic skills and historical knowledge to correct and refine my narrative. I was extremely

lucky to have spent my entire PhD life working closely with Christopher Markiewicz on

thematically and periodically overlapping subjects. With his critical insights and generosity

to share his knowledge, Chris has contributed to this dissertation much more than he now

probably thinks. I am also thankful to Basil Salem, whose true friendship to taking up the

different sorts of existential crises caused by the ups and downs of a graduate student’s life

was one of the most rewarding experiences of my PhD life in Chicago. I would also like to

extent my thanks here to Alidost Numan, Amir Toft, Annie Green, Andrea Brown, Carlos

Grenier, Claire Roosien, Emin Lelić, Ercüment Asil, Fatih Kurşun, Ferenc Csirkes, Hasan

Siddiqui, Hasan Umut, İpek Hüner-Cora, Jeremy Vecchi, Maddy Elfenbein, Mehmetcan

Akpınar, Michael Bechtel, Mohamad Ballan, Nagihan Gür, Nicole Beckman Tessel, Pascal

viii
Held, Richard Heffron, Sam Hodgkin, Süleyman Dost, Theodore Beers, Toygun Altıntaş,

Yaşar Tolga Cora, and Zahit Atçıl for their friendship and collegiality I have greatly enjoyed

over the past years.

This long journey could not have been completed without the unwavering support of

my family in Turkey. I am sure they had a difficult time to understand why my absence has

prolonged this much but they have always maintained their faith in me despite the emotional

burden of physical distance. A few futile words cannot pay, of course, my debt to their

patience and perseverance but I would like to thank my parents, my elder sisters, my brother-

in-laws, and my nephew and niece for keeping up my spirits throughout.

Finally, it is more than pleasure to acknowledge my incalculable debt to Sümeyye,

my wife and fellow traveller in life, who has been the mainstay of this dissertation. I am

eternally thankful to her for her constant presence, affection, and patience to keep sharing all

the joys and challenges of life with me. It is to her that this worthless dissertation is lovingly

dedicated.

ix
 Abbreviations

BEA The Biographical Encyclopedia of Astronomers

BML Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana

BnF Bibliothèque Nationale de France

BOA Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivleri

EI2 Encyclopedia of Islam, second edition

EI3 Encyclopedia of Islam, third edition

EIr Encyclopeadia Iranica

IRCICA Research Centre for Islamic History, Art, and Culture in Istanbul

İA Milli Eğitim Bakanlığı İslam Ansiklopedisi

İÜ İstanbul Üniversitesi

OALT Osmanlı Astronomi Literatürü Tarihi

OASTLT Osmanlı Astroloji Literatürü Tarihi

SK Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi

TDVİA Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi

TOEM Tarih-i Osmanî Encümeni Mecmuası

TSMA Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Arşivi

TSMK Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Kütüphanesi

TTK Türk Tarih Kurumu

x
 Notes on Transcription and Dates

For the Romanization of texts written in Arabic, Persian, and Ottoman Turkish, I used a

slightly modified version of the conventional transliteration system established by the IJMES

(International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies). The modification I applied is as follows: In

for [‫ ]خ‬in Ottoman Turkish I used [ḫ] instead of [h].

For the ease of readers, I have included the transliterations of all passages that I partially

or fully translated from primary sources. Some of my readings are necessarily tentative, thus I

will appreciate if the wider scholarly community may offer alternative readings to my work.

Turkish words in Arabic and Persian texts, and some of the common appellations still

used in modern Turkish are transliterated according to the conventions of modern Turkish.

Hence Beg not Bīg; Paşa not Pāshā; or Çelebi, not Çelebī. This holds true for the Anglicized

versions of the place names.

I follow the rules of Arabic transliteration whenever I refer in the main text to some terms

or concepts common in all three languages. The reader will thus find taqwīm and not takvim;

munajjim not müneccim; muwaqqit not muvakkit; ʿulāmāʾ not ulema; or mudarris not müderris

when these words are used in the main body in isolation from particular text or context. The use

of original words for the terms instead of their equivalance in English is a deliberate choice for

the purposes of this dissertation, as words and phrases commonly used in English do not always

fully capture their historical and cultural nuances. For the extended quotations from original

sources provided in the footnotes, however, I transliterate the words according to the language

conventions in which the original passage was written. Therefore the readers should not consider

it an inconsistency to find in these quoted passages such multiple uses as taqwīm (Arabic),

xi
taqvīm (Persian), and taḳvīm (Ottoman Turkish), because each one is transliterated according to

the transliteration conventions of the language in which the original passage is written.

With regard to the names of individuals transliterated in the Roman alphabet, I also try to

follow the transliteration conventions of the language that predominated in the context of the

concerning individual’s activity. Thus, the names of those individuals particularly tied to the

Ottoman context are transliterated using the Turkish guidelines, and others according to their

own contentions. (Hence Meḥmed II not Muḥammad II; Ṭaşköprīzāde not Ṭāshkuprīzāda; Yūsuf

b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī not Yūsuf b. ʿUmar al-Sāʿatī; or Shukrullah Shirvānī not Shirwānī). It is not

always easy, however, to detect in which linguistic context did the individual flourish. This is

especially true for the period (i.e. from the mid-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth century) and

subject matter (i.e. émigré scientists and munajjims) examined in this dissertation. The constant

flow of scholars from one particular geographic context to another where the cultural and

linguistic boundaries were much more fluid than currently presumed present a major challenge.

Could we really assume, for instance, Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī or ʿAlī Qūshjī as “Ottoman” astral

experts, while the whole cultural and political concept of “Ottoman” was still in the making and

while these individuals are known to have gained prominence in different politico-cultural

contexts? Keeping this challenge always in mind, in such cases where the name and epithet of

the individual give an idea about his linguistic background and context, I follow the

transliteration conventions of that particular language. (Hence Salmān-i ʿAjam, not Selmān-ı

ʿAcem; Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed from Bursa, not Najm al-Dīn b. Sayyid Muḥammad, or

Mevlānā Kūçek el-Amāsī, not Mawlānā Kūchak al-Amāsī).

Dates are given according to the Common Era unless otherwise is specifically noted.

xii
 Abstract

This dissertation explores the intellectual, cultural, and political history of knowledge in

the late-medieval and early modern Ottoman context by examining the fifteenth-and sixteenth-

century Ottoman astrological corpus. This corpus consists primarily of taqwīms (almanac-

prognostications), occasional horoscopes, textbooks imparting astrological principles, and the

examples of the zīj literature written in Persian and Ottoman Turkish. This dissertation argues

that exploring hitherto neglected astrological sources and visiting the lives of hitherto

marginalized astral experts (munajjims) provides important insights into the intersecting

dynamics of science, politics, and culture in the late-medieval and early modern Ottoman and

Islamicate culture.

This study consists of three major parts, each undertaken with a combination of different

historiographical approaches. The first part (Chapter 1) examines the intellectual and cultural

history of astrological practice in the late-medieval and early modern Islamicate culture. I argue

that contrary to the scholarly convictions in the historiography of Arabic science, astrology

retained its prestigious status as a learned discipline with complex astronomical and

mathematical underpinnings. The heightened interest during this period in the eastern Islamic

lands in conducting observational enterprises and updating the available celestial data in the

astronomical tables was inextricably related to the need for undertaking more accurate practice

of astrology.

The second part (Chapter 2 and Chapter 3) of the dissertation focuses on the social

history of munajjims in the Ottoman realm and tries to understand the complex social and

patronage dynamics within which they functioned. By tracking their career trajectories from their

xiii
vocational training to professional service, this part addresses several questions about the

contents, mechanisms, and institutional structures of learning and practicing astrologically valid

knowledge.

The third, and the last, part (Chapter 4 and Chapter 5) examines in a detailed fashion the

personal and political implications of the ever-changing textual contents and constituents of

almanac-prognostications (taqwīm) and other occasional horoscopes. By documenting the

political significance and public recognition of astrological prognostications, this part

demonstrates the ability of often-marginalized astrological texts to provide surprising

complementary details about the early modern Ottoman political culture.

xiv
 Introduction––The Study of “Wretched Subjects” in the Early-Modern
Ottoman History

In 1950, George Sarton, who is usually considered the true founder of the modern

academic discipline of the history of science, wrote a brief review of a book on Mandaean

astrology. Reflecting the general scholarly biases of his time, Sarton dismissed the work as a

“wretched collection of omens, debased astrology and miscellaneous nonsense ultimately

derived from Arabic, Greek, Persian and of all the superstitious flotsam of the Near East.”1 For

Sarton, modern historical scholarship should not take seriously the astrological and cognate

divinatory texts, unless they are instrumentally used to illustrate the progress of human

civilization. For instance, in his own three-volume magnum opus, Introduction to the History of

Science, Sarton justified the reasons he had to refer in his study to astrology and other

“intellectual delusions” by saying that it is not possible to outline “the progress [of humanity]

without giving … a brief account of the intellectual delusions, which often delayed our advance

or threatened to sidetrack it.”2

No later than a year after Sarton published his book review, another important historian

of science Otto Neugebauer, himself the leading authority on ancient mathematics and

astronomy, wrote a one-page long reply to Sarton under the title “The Study of Wretched

Subjects.” In his short but influential reply Neugebauer condemned his colleague’s stance and

1
George Sarton and Frances Siegel, “Seventy-Sixth Critical Bibliography of the History and
Philosophy of Science and of the History of Civilization,” Isis 41/3-4 (1950), 328-424, these
words are found on page 374. The work reviewed by Sarton was Ethel Stefana Drower’s study
entitled “The Book of the Zodiac: Sfar Malwaˆsia.”
2
George Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, v. 1 From Homer to Omar Khayyam
(Baltimore: The Williams and Wilkins Company, 1927).
1
pointed out the importance of studying these texts, which, he wrote, provide “an insight into the

daily life, religion and superstition, and astronomical methods and cosmogonic ideas” of

individuals living in the past. For Neugebauer, Sarton’s words destroy the very foundations of

historical and philological studies, that is, “the recovery and study of the texts as they are,

regardless of our own tastes and prejudices.”3

Although it is difficult to say that Neugebauer’s insightful remarks have decisively won

the battle in modern scholarship, over the last few decades a substantial amount of literature has

accumulated especially in European historiography, acknowledging the significance of

astrological sources for historical purposes. Since astrology, as a focal point of medieval and

early modern worldview, had repercussions in a wide array of contexts ranging from social and

political to intellectual and cultural, different studies have highlighted diverse aspects to which

the study of astrological practice and textual,as well as visual artifacts could be applied. Several

studies have examined, for instance, the courtly interest in astrology from the perspective of the

political and ideological claims of medieval and early-modern dynasties.4 Historians of science

scrutinized the influence of astrological concerns and activities on the development of new

astronomical theories and instruments.5 Cultural and intellectual historians have explored the

3
Otto Neugebauer, “The Study of Wretched Subjects,” Isis 42/2 (1951), 111.
4
While the literature on the topic is vast, I find the following monographs useful due to their
relevance with regard to the questions about the courtly patronage of astrology in the early
modern Ottoman context: Hillary M. Carey, Courting Disaster: Astrology at the English Court
and University in the later Middle Ages (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992); Monica Azzolini,
The Duke and the Stars: Astrology and Politics in Renaissance Milan (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 2013); Darin Hayton, The Crown and the Cosmos: Astrology and the
Politics of Maximilian I (Pittsburgh, Pa.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2015).
5
For the role of astrological preoccupations in Copernicus’ scientific endeavors, see: Robert S.
Westman, The Copernican Question: Prognostication, Skepticism, and Celestial Order
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011). The same also applies for Kepler, another
2
complex social and intellectual dynamics underlying the scientific enterprises of past astrologers

and their professional careers.6 Many social and religious historians have delved into the heated

debates among the learned individuals of the medieval and early modern times as regards to the

epistemological validity and religious permissibility of astrology.7 The role accorded to the

astrological theory and practice within the broader religious and apocalyptic discussions of the

late medieval and early modern European world has also received substantial scholarly

consideration.8 Last but not least, the ways through which astrological symbolism was visually

expressed have grasped the attention of art historians.9

important figure of the so-called “Scientific Revolution.” See: Patrick Boner, Kepler’s
Cosmological Synthesis: Astrology, Mechanism, and the Soul (Leiden: Brill, 2013). Galileo’s
astrological activities at the court of Cosimo II de Medici has also been examined in the
following study: Mario Biagioli, Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of
Absolutism (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1993).
6
The leading example is Anthony Grafton’s micro historical study of a Renaissance astrologer’s
life. See: Anthony Grafton, Cardano’s Cosmos: The Worlds and Works of a Renaissance
Astrologer (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999).
7
For a compact analysis of the conflicting views of some of the leading Renaissance thinkers,
see: Steven Vanden Broecke, The Limits of Influence: Pico, Louvain, and the Crisis of
Renaissance Astrology (Leiden: Brill, 2003).
8
See especially the following works: Laura Ackerman Smoller, History, Prophecy, and the
Stars: the Christian Astrology of Pierre D’Ailly, 1350-1420 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1994); Paola Zambelli (ed.), “Astrologi hallucinati”: Stars and the End of the
World in Luther’s Time (Berlin; New York: W. de Gruyter, 1986).
9
The pioneering work in this area is Aby Warburg’s brief examination of the astrological
iconography of the Schifanoia Palace. See: Aby Warburg, Italienische Kunst und Internationale
Astrologie Im Palazzo Schifanoja Zu Ferrara ; Piero Della Francesca’s Constantinsschlaecht in
Der Aquarellcopie von Johann Anton Rambouse (Roma: Maglione & Strini, 1922). For a concise
but inspiring analysis of the power of astrological symbolism in the Renaissance thought and art,
see: Eugenio Garin, Astrology in the Renaissance: the Zodiac of Life, tr. by Carolyn Jackson and
June Allen (London; Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1983). For the impact of astrological
science upon the Renaissance visual culture, see: Mary Quinlan-McGrath, Influences: Art,
Optics, and Astrology in the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,
2013).
3
 In the Ottoman, and to a certain extent Islamic studies, however, the old Sartonian

reluctance has dominated the field, preventing scholars from recognizing astrology as a

legitimate object of historical study, and astrological texts as valuable historical documents. This

modern scholarly disdain has several reasons, the foremost of which is the “embarrassment

factor” that pushes researchers, especially the historians of science and intellectual historians, to

pass over astrological materials in silence, lest these texts and documents reproduce the

Orientalist perceptions as regards to the overall incompatibility of exact, rational sciences with

Islamic doctrines.10 Ever since the late nineteenth century when French orientalist Ernest Renan

gave his controversial lecture “L’islamisme et la Science” in which he argued that Islam is

inherently irrational and essentially incapable of producing real “science”, “Muslim” scholars

and modern historians of “Arabic” sciences have gone to great lengths to disprove this line of

thinking.11 Although the scholarship that has pointed out the global importance of the “scientific”

achievements attained in the Islamicate past, especially in the so-called post-classical era, is a

welcome development that helps unseat the established misperceptions and Orientalist biases

about the perennial question of science vs. religion (or read Islam), the excessive emphasize upon

the “legitimate sciences” ––legitimate in the sense of modern, positivist, progressive scientific

standards–– has inevitably led to the marginalization of astrological materials in relevant

historical studies.

10
I borrowed this term from Ann Geneva, who raised it as one of the major factors of the unfair
treatment of astrological materials in modern Anglo-Saxon academic environment. See Ann
Geneva, Astrology and the Seventeenth Century Mind: William Lilly and the Language of the
Stars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995), 3.
11
For the English translation of Ernest Renan’s lecture, see Sally P. Ragep’ translation Islam and
Science. A Lecture presented at La Sorbonne 29 March 1883 by Ernest Renan, accessible at:
https://www.mcgill.ca/islamicstudies/files/islamicstudies/renan_islamism_cversion.pdf
4
 With respect to the trends in modern Ottoman studies, the dearth of scholarly interest in

Ottoman astrological materials is not surprising indeed, given the fact that throughout the almost

century-long history of modern Ottoman historiography, cultural and intellectual history as well

as the history of science have attracted much less attention as opposed to the political, social, and

economic history.12 Up until October 2015 the only attempt to produce a general survey book on

the history of science in the Ottoman world was that of Adnan Adıvar’s brief survey, La Science

chez les Turcs Ottomans, which he first published in 1939 with a certain teleological bent

characteristic of the time.13 It is true that since the publication of Adıvar’s book, many individual

contributions have appeared in the history of astronomy, mathematics, medicine, geography, or

applied sciences; and from the mid-1980s on, thanks to the collaborative research projects

coordinated by the Research Centre for Islamic History, Art, and Culture (IRCICA) in Istanbul, a

series of reliable bio-bibliographical catalogs have been produced to inventorize all the available

scientific manuscripts from the Ottoman period.14 In all these scholarly efforts, however,

12
For the brief history of the trends in modern Ottoman historiography, see: Oktay Özel and
Gökhan Çetinsaya, “Türkiye’de Osmanlı Tarihçiliğinin Son Çeyrek Yüzyılı: Bir Bilanço
Denemesi,” Toplum ve Bilim 91 (2001-2), 8-38.
13
Adnan Adıvar, La Science chez les Turcs Ottomans (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1939). The work
was translated in the early 1940s into Turkish with substantial additions. See: Adnan Adıvar,
Osmanlı Türklerinde İlim (İstanbul: Maarif Matbaası, 1943). In October 2015, Miri Shefer-
Mossensohn published the second derivative work ––with limited use of new primary sources––
on the Ottoman scientific enterprises. See: Miri Shefer-Mossensohn, Science among the
Ottomans: The Cultural Creation and Exchange of Knowledge (Austin, TX: University of Texas
Press, 2015). In between the works of Adıvar and Shefer-Mossensohn, one may also consider
consulting Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu’s collected essays in Science, Technology, and Learning in the
Ottoman Empire (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate Variorum, 2004).
14
Up until 2011, IRCICA completed the following published catalogues: History of Astronomy
Literature during the Ottoman Empire (in 1997) in two volumes, History of Mathematical
Literature during the Ottoman Empire (in 1999) in two volumes, History of Geographical
Literature during the Ottoman Empire (in 2000) in two volumes, History of Music Literature
during the Ottoman Empire (in 2003) in one volume, History of Military Art and Science
5
astrology and sister divinatory sciences have received the minimum possible scholarly attention.

It is highly telling that in his preface to the latest issue of the IRCICA’s catalog series, which was

published in 2011 with the aim of introducing Ottoman astrological lore, Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu

expressed, as the editor of the catalogue series, a late apology for having deliberately dismissed

such a rich body of astrological materials for so long:

“While we were preparing the first two volumes on astronomy we had chosen to leave
aside the works on astrology on account of the latter generally being considered as an
‘occult science.’ This was due to our understanding of the sciences at the time: our
intention was to exclude astrology from the body of sciences that are based on
observation and experiment and to consider it a ‘pseudo-science.’ But quite a long time
passed since then, and given the maturity presently reached in history of science studies
we believe that it was not the right choice and we are compensating for it now as we
complete the series.”15

The scientific activities among the Ottomans, including the so-called “pseudo-scientific”

practices of astrology and divination, did not only escape the attention of the Ottoman historians.

The broader and more established field of the history of science, learning, and knowledge in the

past Islamic societies has also generally underestimated the Ottoman scientific enterprises at the

expense of underlining the “Arabic” scientific production during the so-called “classical” era or

the “Golden Age.” Although in the past two decades a number of important works have appeared

that are critical of the infamous “decline paradigm,” the narrative that still prevails ––maybe less

so in the current academic environment than in more popular media–– is the one recounting that

Literature during the Ottoman Empire (in 2004) in two volumes, History of the Literature of
Natural and Applied Sciences during the Ottoman Empire (in 2006) in two volumes, History of
the Literature of Medical Sciences during the Ottoman Empire (in 2008) in four volumes, and
History of Ottoman Astrology Literature (in 2011) in one volume.
15
Osmanlı Astroloji Literatürü Tarihi ve Osmanlı Astronomi Literatürü Tarihi Zeyli/History of
Ottoman Astrology Literature (from now on OASTLT), ed. Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu (İstanbul:
IRCICA, 2011), xxvii.
6
roughly between the ninth and twelfth centuries, the intellectual and scientific activities in the

Islamic world peaked and yielded the most important scientific achievements of the Islamic

civilization, and that this scientific vitality and productivity was gradually replaced, from Ghazālī

(d. 1111) onwards, by religious conservatism and traditionalism.16

Interesting enough, the available scholarship on the history of astrology in the pre-

modern Islamic world does not escape the established Golden Age rhetoric. Over the past few

decades, thanks especially to the meticulous efforts of David Pingree, Richard Lemay, Charles

Burnett, Michio Yano, and Keiji Yamamoto, some of the major texts of Islamic astrological

canon such as the works of Mashāʾllāh (d. 815), Abū Maʿshar (d. 886), al-Qabīṣī (d. 967), and

Kūshyār (d. 1029) have been edited, annotated, and translated into English or Latin.17 Moreover,

David Pingree has shed much light upon the transmission of astrological theories and concepts

from the Indian, Sassanian, and Hellenistic traditions into the early Islamic realm.18 The

controversial status of astrologers in medieval Islamic society, their courtly presence and

services for their clients have also been treated in a few case studies that I will discuss in greater

detail in the third chapter. However, with their implicit focus upon “Arabic” astrological sources

produced in the so-called “classical” period of Islamic history, these valuable contributions either

16
For a succinct evaluation of the problems of the decline paradigm in modern studies on the
history of science in the Islamic context, see: Sonja Brentjes, “The Prison of Categories––
‘Decline’ and its Company,” in Islamic Philosophy, Science, Culture, and Religion: Studies in
Honor of Dimitri Gutas, ed. Felicitas Opwis and David Reisman (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 131-56.
17
See the Bibliography for the compete list of edited-published astrological sources.
18
David Pingree, “Indian Influence on Sassanian and Early Islamic Astronomy and Astrology,”
Journal of Oriental Research [Madras] 34-35 (1964-1965), 118-126; idem., “Māshā’allāh: Some
Sasanian and Syriac Sources,” in Essays on Islamic Philosophy and Science, ed. G.F. Hourani
(Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1975), 5-14; idem., “From Alexandria to
Baghdād to Byzantium. The Transmission of Astrology,” International Journal of the Classical
Tradition 8 (2001), 3-37.
7
intentionally or accidentally reproduce the narrative of the “Golden Age.” Even the encyclopedic

works of Manfred Ullmann and Fuat Sezgin on the major astrological sources in the Islamic past

easily manifest that the production of astrologically significant materials after the twelfth century

in languages other than Arabic is not necessarily deemed worthy of examination.19

Reproducing the “Golden Age” rhetoric is not the only pitfall of current scholarship. The

astrological texts that have been edited and studied so far seem mostly to be textbooks that

impart the basic theoretical knowledge about the universal rules and principles of the nature and

characteristics of the planets, zodiacal signs, and other celestial phenomena. We should not

forget, however, that astrology was an applied science that drew on sophisticated astronomical

and mathematical knowledge, and was put in use for concrete purposes. Therefore these

textbooks, albeit their immense value in regard to their content, present very little on how

astrology was actually practiced for specific occasions. For that purpose one should look at a

wide array of texts ranging from the zījes (astronomical handbook of tables) that provided

necessary mathematical-astronomical information for making astrological calculations, to other

and more context-dependent forms of astrological production like annual almanac-

prognostications (taqwīms) and occasional horoscopes.20 These types of sources are crucial,

because they illustrate how astrology was put into concrete practice in a particular milieu; as

such they are by nature responsive to and representative of their immediate historical, political,

and cultural contexts. Moreover, these texts provide invaluable information for inquiries into the

19
Manfredd Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Brill; Leiden, 1972),
271-358; Fuat Sezgin (ed.), Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, Band 7: Astrologie-
Meteorologie und Verwandtes bis ca. 430 H. (Brill: Leiden, 1979).
20
Relevant information on modern studies about the zījes is given in the first chapter where I
will discuss in greater detail the importance of these texts for astrological calculations.
8
cross-cultural scientific exchanges and developments, as they document which astronomical

sources (zījes) and astrological theories were utilized by different munajjims at different times.

I should note here that in terms of the availability of extant astrological materials from

diverse genres, historians from other subfields of the Islamic studies are not as fortunate as their

Ottomanist counterparts. The amount of taqwīms (almanac-prognostications), occasional

horoscopes, and manuals for astrological practice currently held in major manuscript libraries in

Turkey and elsewhere outnumber any set of extant astrological materials from other parts and

periods of the Islamic past. For example the best bibliographical sources on surviving Ottoman

taqwīms, IRCICA’s Osmanlı Astroloji Literatürü Tarihi and the two volumes of Kandilli

Rasathanesi El Yazmaları Kataloğu, list more than 200 almanac-prognostications composed

during the period 1421-1850.21 This list is far from complete, as many taqwīms have been

certainly lost altogether and/or some additional ones doubtless survive undiscovered within

obscure collections. IRCICA’s same catalogue also locates a handful of nativities produced for

members of the Ottoman house. We should add to these manuscript sources related archival

documents now kept primarily in the Prime Ministry Ottoman archives (Başbakanlık Osmanlı

Arşivleri), and to a lesser extent in the Topkapı Palace Museum Archive (Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi

Arşivi). These archival documents include petitions written by the court munajjims, registers of

expenses listing their salaries, and brief astrological memos delivered by astrologers at the behest

of different parties from the ruling elites.

21
Günay Kut, Kandilli Rasathanesi el yazmaları : Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Kandilli Rasathanesi ve
Deprem Araştırma Enstitüsü astronomi, astroloji, matematik yazmaları kataloğu 1 – Türkçe
Yazmalar (İstanbul: Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Yayınevi, 2007); Ibid., Kandilli Rasathanesi el
yazmaları : Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Kandilli Rasathanesi ve Deprem Araştırma Enstitüsü
astronomi, astroloji, matematik yazmaları kataloğu 2 – Arapça ve Farsça Yazmalar (İstanbul:
Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Yayınevi, 2013); OASTLT.
9
 In terms of the distribution of astrological sources across time, the quantity and variety of

available materials significantly increases from the late seventeenth century onwards but there is

still a considerable amount of surviving texts and documents from the period covered throughout

this dissertation. One may question here why I chose this particular period while the source pool

is obviously much deeper and wider for later centuries.

It is indeed not arbitrary to select 1450s and 1550s as the two ends of the chronological

scope of this project. The period stretching from the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in

1453 to the eventual “classicization” of the imperial bureaucratic organization and the emergence

of a distinctive “Ottoman” culture by the 1550s was the crucial formative stage for the

structuring of the empire in the spheres of political, ideological, cultural, and intellectual life.

This process, however, was not a linear one. On the contrary, it was marked by a “ multiplicity of

competing or contradictory cultural and social ideals and assumptions” that were constantly

shaped and reshaped by the pressing political and religious dynamics of the time.22 Meḥmed the

Conqueror’s (r. 1444-46, 1451-1481) attempts to fashion an imperial identity and culture upon

the conquest of Constantinople, the fierce succession struggle between his sons Cem (d. 1495)

and Bāyezīd II (r. 1481–1512), the alarming ––in the eyes of contemporary Ottoman ruling elites

–– rise of the Safavids as the ultimate political embodiment of the widespread messianic

currents, the sudden territorial expansion during the reign of Selīm I (r. 1512-1520) toward the

traditionally Islamic territories, and the grand religio-political ambitions of Süleymān to establish

22
What Cornell Fleischer has proposed for describing the vibrancy and significance of the first
three decades of Süleymān’s reign can in fact be easily extended into this century-long period
starting from the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. See: Cornell H. Fleischer, “The Lawgiver
as Messiah: The Making of the Imperial Image in the Reign of Suleyman,” in Soliman le
magnifique et son temps, ed. Gilles Veinstein (Paris: La Documentation Française, 1992), 159-
177.
10
universal rule, particularly identifiable during the first half of his reign, all brought novel issues

and problems, leaving their traces upon contemporary history writing, epistolographic

documents, legal texts, hagiographical accounts, literary works, and an array of astrological and

prognostic materials.23

This period also coincided with the growing encroachment, especially in the Eastern

Islamic domains, of messianic discourse into the political, intellectual, and religious life that was

often validated by the principles of occult sciences, particularly the science of the letters.

Concerning the role of this ideological trend in Timurid, Ottoman, Safavid, and Mughal political

and cultural contexts, the last decade has witnessed the publication of several important studies.24

In this growing literature, this period is sometimes even defined as the “Messianic Age” that

23
For the impact upon history writing, see: Kaya Şahin, Empire and Power in the Reign of
Süleyman: Narrating the Sixteenth-Century Ottoman World (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2013); for legal writings, see: Snjezana Buzov, “The Lawgiver and His Lawmakers: The
Role of Legal Discourse in the Change of the Ottoman Imperial Culture.”(Ph.D. Dissertation,
University of Chicago, 2005).
24
One of the pioneering studies is that of Jean Aubin’s “Le mécénat timouride à Chiraz,” Studia
Islamica 8 (1957), 71-88. The rest is mostly from the last decade: Cornell H. Fleischer, “Mahdi
and Millenium: Messianic Dimensions in the Development of Ottoman Imperial Ideology,” in
The Great Ottoman-Turkish Civilization. Vol. 3, Philosophy, Science and Institutions, ed. by
Kemal Çiçek (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye, 2000), 42-54; idem., “Seer to the Sultan: Haydar-i Remmal
and Sultan Süleyman,” in Cultural Horizons. A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman vol. 1
(New York: Syracuse University Press, 2001), 290–300; idem., “Ancient Wisdom and New
Sciences: Prophecies at the Ottoman Court in the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in
Falnama: The Book of Omens ed. by Massumeh Farhad and Serpil Bağcı (Washington:
Smithsonian Institution, 2009), 231-245; İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Forcing the Boundaries in Religion,
Politics and Philosophy-Science in the Fifteenth Century” (Paper presented at the Conference
Before the Revolutions: Religions, Sciences and Politics in the Fifteenth Century, Berlin,
January 13-15, 2005); Evrim Binbaş, “Sharaf al-Dīn ‘ʿAlī Yazdī (ca. 770s-858/ca. 1370s-1454):
Prophecy, Politics, and Historiography in Late Medieval Islamic History.” (Ph.D. Dissertation,
The University of Chicago, 2009); Azfar Moin, The Millennial Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and
Sainthood in Islam (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012); Matthew Melvin-Koushki,
“The Quest for a Universal Science: The Occult Philosophy of Ṣaʿīn al-Dīn Turka Isfahani
(1369-1432) and Intellectual Millenarianism in Early Timurid Iran.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Yale
University, 2012).
11
hosts messiahs and mystics, and “comprehends in its various iterations everything from

metaphysics, cosmogony to numerology, astrology and magic.”25 It is true that Islamic history is

replete with periods of millenarian activity and heightened apocalyptic expectations.26 However,

the fifteenth-and early-sixteenth-century chapters of this history are quite unprecedented,

because this transitional era that follows the devolution of the Abbasid and Chingizid models of

rule and preluding the consolidation of the “territorial” Muslim empires of the Ottomans,

Safavids, and Mughals provided a suitable political and cultural environment for the messianic

movements to gain a stronger foothold.27 Moreover, the turn of the tenth century Hijra by 900

(1494/1495 in Common Era) might have also intensified the expectations about the imminence

of the end of the first Islamic millennium, and thus the end times.

Despite the current promising status of the studies on the impact of messianic claims

couched in occult scientific discourse, modern scholars may rush either to stretch their claims

without necessarily drawing upon substantial empirical evidence, or to put everything in the

same basket without paying required attention to important epistemological nuances between

different (occult) “scientific” practices. Azfar Moin, for instance, says at the beginning of his

study that this was a period in which “future was as important as the past, divination as important

as genealogy, and astrology as valuable as history.”28 Although such an inspiring remark aptly

25
Shahzad Bashir describes this era as such. See: Shahzad Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical
Visions: the Nūrbakhshīya Between Medieval and Modern Islam (Columbia: University of South
Carolina Press, 2003), 31. See also Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest for a Universal
Science,” 5-6.
26
See: David Cook, Studies in Muslim Apocalyptic (Princeton, N.J.: Darwin Press, 2002).
27
For the importance of the fifteenth century in term of polical experimentation and ideological
innovation, see: John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu: Clan, Confederation, Empire, revised and
expanded edition (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 1999), 1-10.
28
Azfar Moin, The Millennial Sovereign, 11.
12
points out the urgency of taking astrological sources seriously, the author does not examine in his

own study the extant Safavid and Mughal astrological sources, and relies almost exclusively

upon contemporary chronicles, literary writings, and visual materials where one can relatively

easily find astral/cosmological references.

I do not intend to undermine here the importance of non-astrological texts to appraise the

popular dissemination and political adaptation of astrological theories and metaphors. Quite the

contrary, these non-technical texts are crucial to measure the extent of the permeation of

astrological theories into more popular variants of the writing culture. For instance, in his Risālat

al-hudā, Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh (d. 1464) deployed the views of Ptolemy and Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī

(d. 1274) to bolster his claim of the Mahdi status.29 The ceremonies at the court of Mughal

emperor Humāyūn (r. 1530-1540; 1555-1556) were organized based on

astrological/cosmological principles.30 Many rulers in the post-Timurid era including some of the

Ottoman sultans were touted, on the basis of astrological principles, as the ṣāḥib-qirān (lord of

29
Shahzad Bashir, “The Risalat al-Huda of Muhammad Nurbaks (d. 869/1464). Critical Edition
with Introduction,” Rivista degli Studi Orientali, 75/1-4 (2001), 87-137. For the early Islamic use
of astronomical knowledge for messianic claims, see David Cook, “Messianism and
Astronomical Events during the First Four Centuries of Islam,” in Mahdisme et Millenarisme en
Islam, ed. by Mercedes Garcia-Arenal (Aix-en-Provence: E’disud, 2001), 29-51. This seems also
true for early modern European religious context. See: Paola Zambelli (ed.), ‘Astrologi
hallucinati’. Stars and the End of the World in Luther’s Time (Berlin; New York: de Gruyter,
1986); Zambelli, “Fine del mondo o inizio della propaganda?” Scienze, credenze, occulte, livelli
di cultura. Convegno Internazionale di Studi (Firenze: Olschki, 1982), 291-368; Robin Bruce
Barnes, Prophecy and Gnosis: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988).
30
Eva Orthmann, “Court Culture and Cosmology in the Mughal Empire: Humayun and the
Foundations of the Din-i İlahi,” in Court Cultures in the Muslim World: Seventh to Nineteenth
Centuries, ed. by Albrecht Fuess and Jan-Peter Hartung (London: Routledge, 2011), 202-220.
13
the auspicious conjunction) and Mahdī of end times.31 The narratives of the dreams of

sovereignty circulating at the time in both oral and written forms were full of astral imagery,

such as Fażlullāḥ Astarābādī’s (d. ca 1394) famous dream of the seven stars or the well-known

dream of ʿOsmān Ghāzī, the eponymous founder of the Ottomans, who saw the full moon rising

from the bosom of his shaykh and inclining towards his own.32

Notwithstanding these valuable non-technical sources into which astrological concepts

and discussions easily penetrated, it is my contention that without exerting an equal effort to

examine the surviving astrological and other prognostic materials, such claims about the so-

called “the science of the millennium,” which, according to Moin, encouraged individuals to

speculate “astrological” (and other “rational”) techniques to predict cosmic changes remain

hyperbolic.33 We should therefore endeavor to prove whether the astrological materials produced

and/or circulated at the time were really informed by, and did further promote, these broader

messianic and millenarian currents.

This was in fact the initial question that had inspired me to explore fifteenth and

sixteenth-century Ottoman astrological materials. I began to explore these texts with a view

31
In addition to Fleischer’s studies cited above, see especially Barbara Flemming, “Sāḥib-ḳırān
und Mahdī: Türkische Endzeiterwartungen im ersten Jahrzehnt der Regierung Süleymāns,” in
Between the Danube and the Caucasus, ed. by György Kara (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó,
1987), 43-62. For the status of sāḥib-qirān and its growing importance in the vocabulary of
sovereignty, see Naindeep Singh Chann, “Lord of the Auspicious Conjunction: Origins of the
Sahib-Qiran,” Iran and the Caucasus 13 (2009), 93-110; Christopher Markiewicz, “The Crisis of
Rule in Late Medieval Islam: A Study of Idrīs Bidlīsī and Governance at the Turn of the
Sixteenth Century.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Chicago, 2015), 311-318.
32
Cf. Shahzad Bashir, Fazlallah Astarabadi and the Hurufis (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005), 11 and
Caroline Finkel, Osman’s Dream: The History of the Ottoman Empire (New York: Basic Books,
2005), 2.
33
Moin, 9. For a similar critique of the work, see Ali Anooshahr, “Review of The Millennial
Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and Sainthood in Islam,” The Medieval History Journal 18/1 (2015),
183-191.
14
toward examining their function vis-à-vis the contemporary millenarian and messianic debates.

Having completed extensive research on surviving astrological materials and documents kept in

several manuscript libraries and archival sites in Turkey and Europe, I reached the decisive

conclusion that the Ottoman astrological sources I examined rarely echo millenarian expectations

and messianic claims. There are, of course, occasional remarks from astral experts, eulogizing

the reigning Ottoman sultans as the messianic savior (Mahdī) of the time and the ṣāḥib-qirān of

the age, but except for very rare cases, these sycophantic remarks are not accompanied by

detailed justifications of the astrological reasoning. What is channeled through these astrological

materials, especially through the annual almanac-prognostications (taqwīm), is rather an

overwhelming sense of order designed by Divine power and orchestrated by the reigning

sovereign.

Despite the fact that available Ottoman astrological materials fall short of revealing

millenarian and messianic debates, these sources are still invaluable for providing colorful

insights into the political, cultural, and intellectual/scientific realities of the time. In fact, the

possibility of weaving together such diverse historiographical coordinates is the most inspiring

and promising aspect of studying these hitherto neglected astrological materials and visiting the

hitherto marginalized lives of these astral experts (munajjims).

Sources and Their Problems

The sources perused throughout this dissertation can be grouped into two main

categories: astrological and non-astrological sources. The astrological corpus includes taqwīms

(annual almanac-prognostications), extant horoscopes in the form of manuscripts or archival

15
memos and reports produced for the occasions of the birth of a sultan, construction of an

imperial complex, or commencement of a military campaign, and other relevant texts through

which astrologically valid information was conveyed. This last group specifically includes

astrological textbooks, the zīj literature, and treatises on astronomical instruments utilized by

munajjims to equip themselves with the necessary skills and knowledge for practicing astrology.

The overwhelming majority of these astrological texts remain in manuscript form and

some of them have not even been properly catalogued. In view of the heavy reliance of this study

on unpublished manuscript sources, I should say that there is an immediate need for scholarly

editions of several works cited throughout this dissertation. My project is in fact only a modest

attempt to provide for future studies a useful inventory of available materials and a number of

working assumptions regarding the possibilities these texts present modern historians.

Among these extant materials, taqwīms stand as the genre par excellence for the

production and presentation of learned astrological knowledge. To a modern reader, a taqwīm

may sound nothing different than a calendar, but one should resist understanding medieval and

early modern taqwīms as such. They are rather almanacs produced on a yearly basis to

systematically combine astronomical, astrological, and calendric information. The detailed

examination and discussion of the textual components of the taqwīms will be provided in the

fourth chapter but it should be noted from the outset that these texts were routinely produced by

astral experts, around the time of the solar year-transfer, that is, the Spring Equinox and the

beginning of the new solar year in early March. The almanac-maker (usually but not necessarily

a munajjim) calculates, first, the degree of the ascendant (ṭāliʿ/horoscopus) at the particular

16
moment Sun completes its yearly rotation and enters the sign Aries.34 Counting on this degree,

he determines other astrological variables and starts interpreting the fortunes of people from

different social categories and of earthly affairs. These detailed predictions were followed by the

laborious tabulation of astronomical, astrological, and calendric information for each solar month

of the upcoming year. He would then place ephemeris tables to demonstrate the daily celestial

positions, to mark the corresponding days in different chronology systems used at the time, and

to write down astrological remarks for the overall fortunes of each month.

Although the earliest available textual example of an Ottoman taqwīm dates back to the

time of Meḥmed I (r. 1413-1421), it should be noted that taqwīm was an older and universal

genre regularly practiced in the Medieval Islamic society. In addition to those texts surviving ––

albeit limited–– from the pre-Ottoman Islamic world, there are numerous references to the

phenomenon from at least tenth century onwards. Yet the surviving Ottoman corpus outweighs

all other sets of extant taqwīms from different Islamic societies, and thus coalesces a substantial

body of material that enables us to systematically examine its structural development and

functioning from the late fifteenth century on.35

The existence of this rich corpus of source material is not completely unknown to modern

scholars. In the 1950s and 60s, Osman Turan and Nihal Atsız published certain sections,

particularly the historical chronology tables of some of the mid-fifteenth century Ottoman

taqwīms. As prominent Turkish scholars of the positivist-nationalist historiography, they were of

the opinion that these taqwīms were full of astrological credulity, thus had no historical value

34
The ascendant (ṭālī) is the point of the ecliptic rising on the eastern horizon at the given
moment. See: David King and Toufic Fahd, “al-Ṭāliʿ,” EI2, Online version.
35
See Appendix C for the complete list.
17
except for the parts devoted to the narration of universal history.36 That was the justification they

used when explaining why they published only the sections on chronology and ignored the

remaining portions, which usually constituted more than 95% of these accounts.

The selective publication of the chronology sections of earlier taqwīms had two negative

consequences in the scholarship. First, by giving the impression that taqwīms were produced

only to provide chronological and calendrical information, these studies allowed for the rich

astrological components of these texts to go unnoticed. Secondly and more importantly, they left

a false and ahistorical impression that these standard chronology tables were incorporated into all

extant taqwīms. However, the systematic investigation of taqwīms from the fifteenth to the

seventeenth centuries clearly reveals that these chronological lists, and several other sub-sections

once frequently used in earlier taqwīms, ceased to exist identifiably from the 1500s onwards.

This change in the structure of the taqwīms, which was also accompanied by other sorts of

variation in the language, size, and even mise-en-page, provides a unique opportunity to

historicize these documents and discuss the wider cultural and ideological issues of the time that

had repercussions upon the changing tastes and dynamics of taqwīm writing.

In addition to tracing the changes in the structural elements of the taqwīms, tracking the

deviations in the contents, expressions, and even the tone of detailed astrological predictions also

helps us historicize these documents. It is true that as a general rule these predictions are couched

in very generic narrative elements with the heavy use of impersonal pronouns, platitudes, and

36
Osman Turan, İstanbul’un Fethinden Önce Yazılmış Tarihî Takvimler (Ankara: TTK
Basımevi, 1954); Nihal Atsız, “Fatih Sultan Mehmed’e Sunulmuş Tarihi Bir Takvim,” İstanbul
Enstitüsü Dergisi 3 (1957), 17–23; idem., Osmanlı Tarihine ait Takvimler (İstanbul: Küçükaydın
Matbaası, 1961); idem., “Hicri 858 Yılına Ait Takvim,” Selçuklu Araştırmaları Dergisi 4 (1975),
223–83.

18
repetitive remarks. Therefore it is difficult, and precarious indeed, to haphazardly attribute each

and every prediction to an actual historical occasion. What I would like to offer as a sound

methodology to deal with the problems caused by repetitive remarks and boilerplate narrative

progression is to treat taqwīms as a cluster of texts and read them in juxtaposition with one

another. Comparisons made between the taqwīms written by a single author across time, or

between the taqwīms written for a single year by different authors can help us identify more

accurately the deviating elements in these predictions. Another comparative method that can

provide us even more precise answers about the real value and public recognition of the

astrological predictions is reading them in parallel with contemporary historical narratives to

detect whether the prognostications expressed in almanacs really influenced contemporary

discourse or even manipulated certain political and imperial decisions. As will be detailed in

Chapter 4, the Ottoman ruling elites took these astrological predictions seriously to the extent

that the remarks of the munajjims on taqwīms could call off a campaign or determine the timing

of an open battle.

Taqwīms are also crucial for illustrating the scientific horizons of astral experts, as they

reveal which specific astronomical tables and/or astrological sources were consulted by the

munajjims for undertaking astrological calculations. Unfortunately, many of the surviving

taqwīms from the period bear no autograph; therefore it is not always possible to determine their

authors. Moreover, relatively better-known munajjims during the time in question left too little

autobiographical information that would have otherwise made it possible to fully reconstruct

their scientific inspirations. Yet, through a systematic examination of references in often-

anonymous taqwīms and other horoscopes as well as such circumstantial sources as book

19
inventories from the period, one can clearly delineate the preferences of Ottoman astral experts

and how they changed over time. This kind of knowledge is extremely valuable from the

perspective of the history of science and social history of knowledge, which I will specifically

visit in chapters 2 and 3 as part of my general discussion on munajjims’ vocational training and

the impact of the post-thirteenth century Persian astral tradition on the formation of the Ottoman

canon.

Last but not least, taqwīms allow for an investigation of how munajjims thought about

their own craft. In the introductory passages preceding the astrological prognostications,

munajjims often delved into a brief discussion on the epistemological limits of astrology. These

authentic remarks will complement my discussion in the first chapter on the true place and

epistemological status of astrological science in the late-medieval and early-modern Islamicate

context.

Aside from almanac-prognostications, there are a few horoscopes from the period in

question that were produced for such occasions as the birth of the sultan, the construction of an

imperial building, or the start of a military campaign. Unfortunately, despite frequent references

in contemporary sources to the prevalence of the practice, very few horoscopes have survived.

This raises the question of whether the horoscopes produced for such specific occasions were

deliberately destroyed upon their presentation in an effort to maintain a certain level of secrecy.

The question is not entirely groundless; traces of such concern for secrecy can in fact be found

among some extant Ottoman archival documents, which survived contra their authors’ explicit

requests for their destruction. For example on one such occasion, Ḥaydar the geomancer

reiterates à la Mission Impossible that the geomantic report he is sending to Süleymān to

20
confidentially inform the sultan of the potential calamitous activities of the Prince Bāyezīd (d.

1561) in cooperation with the Safavid ruler Shāh Tahmāsb (r. 1524-1576) should be destroyed or

at least concealed immediately after reading.37

Yet it is difficult to argue that these privacy concerns hold true for all types of

astrological production, some of which were not immediately confidential and significant. As for

the problem of documentation one should also take into consideration the oral nature of

astrological counseling. There are numerous examples of court munajjims, who were in close

proximity to the rulers and other patrons, conveying their astrological interpretations verbally.

Apart from certain implications in the Ottoman historical narratives as regards to the verbal

character of astrological communications, the European historiography has unequivocally

documented that astrological predictions were often expressed verbally, lest the written

explanations fall in the hands of dangerous rival parties.38

Regarding the discussion on the relative scarcity of extant horoscopes and other

confidential astrological reports from the period in question, it should also be noted that since

early 2010s there has been an ongoing cataloging project at the Topkapı Palace Museum Archive

to identify, classify, and digitize all the available loose documents (evrāḳ). When I was

conducting my research in Istanbul in 2014-2015, only a few volumes of catalogs were mare

ready that contained information on mostly eighteenth century documents. At the time I was

37
TSMA E. 1698: “saʿādetlü sulṭanumuñ mürüvvetinüñ āsārından şöyle ricā iderüm ki rıżā-yı
ḥaḳḳ içün bu garīb-i bī-kes ve bī-ḥāminüñ aḥkām remillerimi bir kimesneye göstermeyüb
müṭālaʿa ḳılduḳda nihān ve maḥv idesiz ki bir kimesne aḥvāle muṭṭaliʿ olmaya.”
38
Monica Azzolini, The Duke and the Stars, 4. Hillary Carey also points to the fact that most of
the horoscopes are written without textual appendix and only as diagrams, hinting that they were
probably expressed on the spot. See Hillary M. Carey, “Astrology at the English Court in the
Later Middle Ages,” in Astrology, Science, and Society: Historical Essays, ed. Patrick Curry
(Woolbridge: Boydell Press, 1987), 41-56.
21
conducting my research in Istanbul, the Topkapı Palace archive was not even open to

researchers, but the directors, who knew my research interests, kindly shared with me a few

interesting documents that they had recently chanced upon during their ongoing cataloging work.

These documents include a couple of petitions written by anonymous munajjims at the time of

Bāyezīd II, which I will occasionally refer to throughout the dissertation. The presence of these

hitherto unknown documents is highly encouraging; it is an indication that the current scarcity of

evidence about secret astrological and/or other prognosticative correspondences can be slightly

rehabilitated in the near future when the information on all the available documents in the Palace

archives is finally established with full precision.

In addition to taqwīms and extant horoscopes, I will also occasionally refer to the major

examples of the post-thirteenth century Persian zīj literature, several treatises on astronomical

instruments, and manuals imparting fundamental astrological teachings, all of which provide

important details about both the real epistemological status of astrology in the period in question

and the social history of the Ottoman munajjims’ training. The zīj literature is particularly useful

and its candidness in revealing the astrological implications of celestial knowledge produced

through the systematic study of the heavens will greatly help to understand the necessary

scientific context in which taqwīms functioned. The zījes that will be particularly mentioned

throughout the dissertation include: i) the Ilkhanid tables (Zīj-i Īlkhānī) produced in the mid-

thirteenth century by Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and his collaborators as part of the brief observational

enterprise at the Maragha observatory; ii) several commentaries and later editions of the Ilkhanid

tables including the works of ʿAlī-Shāh Būkhārī (d. later than 1291), Shams al-Dīn Wābkanawī

(d. 1320), Niẓām al-Dīn Nīsābūrī (d. 1328/9), or Jamshīd al-Kāshī (d. 1429); iii) Ulugh Beg

22
tables (Zīj-i Ulugh Beg or Zīj-i Jadīd-i Sulṭānī) compiled in the mid-fifteenth century as the

result of the systematic observation program at the Samarqand observatory, and iv) relatively

minor attempts in both the Iranian and Ottoman world such as the zīj of Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī (d.

later than 1455) or that of Mevlānā Kūçek (d. later than 1478).

While taqwīms, horoscopes, and other technical texts funneling astrologically valid

knowledge constitute the first group of sources that I define as “astrological materials”, the

second group consists of non-astrological materials, including: i) archival registers of palace

expenses where useful information about the salaries and professional status of court munajjims

can be found; ii) contemporary chronicles, historical narratives, and biographical dictionaries

that provide anecdotal evidence about the social and personal dynamics of astrological practice;

and iii) books on the classification of sciences and select examples of the kalām literature in

which a thorough discussion on the epistemological status of astrological knowledge can be

found.

The Ottoman experience of astrological practice is unique in the sense that unlike other

parts and periods of Islamic history where the existence of munajjims could only be

reconstructed through unreliable anecdotal evidence the courtly presence and service of

munajjims is documented in the Ottoman case on the basis of hard, archival evidence. This

evidence is gleaned primarily from the registers of palace payments and budgets, some of which

were already published thanks to the scholarly efforts of Ömer Lütfi Barkan and Halil

Sahillioğlu. The earliest of such registers of payment that furnished information about a

munajjim dates back to 1478, listing only one munajjim under the rubric of the loosely defined

23
müteferriḳa status.39 From the crucial period of Bāyezīd II’s reign ––crucial in the sense of

cultivating astrological knowledge and institutionalizing the patronage of the munajjims–– we

have a large register of gifts and payments recording the names of all individuals who received

cash and/or other kinds of gift on various occasions. This register is generous enough for our

purposes as it clearly documents the names of court munajjims and other astral experts

presenting the court with the taqwīms. The same register also alludes to the status of their

professional careers––whether listed under the müşāhereḫorān [monthly salaried officials] status

or not––and makes evident the amount they received.40

The use of these archival records is twofold. First, it is possible to create a

prosopographical list of those munajjims tied to the Ottoman court during the period in question.

Unfortunately, these archival records do not allow modern researchers to delve into the personal

lives of the astral experts as they only provide information, if we are lucky, on their names,

status, and salaries and/or gifts received. This information is still invaluable though; because one

can combine this archival evidence with the information gleaned from manuscript sources to

closely track the careers of, at least, certain munajjims. The second and more important use of

39
Ahmed Refik (Altınay), “Fatih Devrine ait Vesikalar” TOEM VIII-XII/49-62 (1335/1919); for
the müteferrika corps see: İsmail H. Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Devletinin Saray Teşkilatı, (Ankara:
Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüksek Kurumu, 1984), 428-431; Tayyib Gökbilgin, “Müteferrika,”
İA ; Erhan Afyoncu, “Müteferrika,” TDVİA.
40
For the müşāhereḫorān see, Linda Darling, “Ottoman Salary Registers as a Source for
Economic and Social History,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin 14/1 (1990), 13-33. The
accounts for the years 909 and 910 are already published. Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “İstanbul
Saraylarına Ait Muhasebe Defterleri,” Belgeler IX/13 (1979), 1-380; Mustafa Açıkgöz, “II.
Bayezid Devri İnamat Defteri (Muharrem-Zilhicce 910/Haziran-Mayıs 1504-1505)” (MA
Thesis, Marmara University, 1995). Based upon this register İsmail Erünsal brought together all
the poets and authors that received gifts upon presenting to the palace their most recenr literary
works. See: İsmail E. Erünsal, “Türk Edebiyatının Arşiv Kaynakları I: II. Bayezid Devrine Ait
bir İnamat Defteri,” İÜEF Tarih Enstitüsü Dergisi 10-11 (1981), 303-347.
24
the archival evidence is that these documents scattered across different periods lucidly portray

how the “office” of the court munajjims constantly underwent changes from the late-fifteenth

through the mid-sixteenth century in terms of the number of personnel and the amount of their

salaries. This provides substantial insights into the dynamics of patronage at the courts of

different Ottoman sultans, a question I will particularly tackle in the third chapter.

Aside from the archival documents, I will occasionally have recourse to contemporary

chronicles, biographical dictionaries, and other narrative sources to reconstruct the personal

dynamics of astrological practice. Quite surprisingly, Ottoman narrative sources from the period

in question provide very little anecdotal information concerning the lives of munajjims. First of

all, there is no such source in the early-modern Ottoman literary culture that one may compare to

the Faraj al-mahmūm of Ibn Ṭāwūs (d. 1266), a thirteenth-century biographical dictionary

written specifically on the lives of munajjims, or the Chahār maqāla of Niẓāmī-i Arūḍī (d. later

than 1156), who dedicates one of his four chapters to anecdotes solely about practicing

munajjims.41 Although one can find frequent references, in the late-fifteenth and sixteenth-

century Ottoman chronicles and historical narratives, to the munajjims’ calculation of

astrologically auspicious moments, these brief remarks do not reveal the identity of these astral

experts or imply any court intrigue they partook. Famous examples of the sixteenth-century

41
Ibn Ṭāwūs, Faraj al-mahmūm fī tārīkh ʿulamāʾ al-nujūm (al-Najaf: al-Maṭbaʿah al-
Ḥaydarīyah, 1948-9). For a partial English translation of the text, see Zeina Matar, “The Faraj al-
Mahmūm of Ibn Ṭāwūs: A Thirteenth Century Work on Astrology and Astrologers.” (Ph.D.
Dissertation, New York University, 1987). For the Chahār Maqāla, see Edward G. Browne,
Revised Translation of the Chahār Maqāla (“Four Discourses”) of Niẓāmī-i ʿArūḍī of
Samarqand, followed by an abridged translation of Mīrzā Muḥammad’s notes to the Persian
Text (London: Cambridge University Press, 1921). In addition to Browne’s translation, I will
also refer to the Persian edition of the text. See: Niẓāmī ʿArūżī, Chahār maqāla, ed. Muḥammad
Qazvīnī (Tihrān: Kitābfurūshī-i Zavvār, 1954).
25
Ottoman biographical dictionaries of scholars or poets such as Ṭaşköprīzāde’s (d. 1561) al-

Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawla al-ʿuthmāniyya, ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi’s (d. 1572)

Meşāʾirü’ş-şuʿarāʾ, or Laṭīfī’s (d. 1582) Tezkiretü’ş-şuʿarā also furnish scant information on the

lives of munajjims or other names involved in astral activity. While the tezkires of poets often

provide more personal details, these collections by nature contain information only about those

individuals that have composed poetry. Thus, except one or two cases, it is difficult to find in

these sources useful information to reconstruct the lives and careers of the court munajjims.

Finally, for the discussion on the epistemological status of astrology in the eyes of

contemporary learned individuals, which I will undertake especially in the first chapter, I will

delve into numerous examples of the taṣnīf al-ʿulūm (classification of the sciences) genre and a

few select kalām texts produced in the late-medieval Turko-Persian intellectual context. The

dominant narrative in the current scholarship resorts to a rather thick definition of astrology and

tends to describe it as an unsophisticated occult craft and/or a folk practice of magic without

necessarily taking into consideration the complex cosmological, astronomical, and mathematical

underpinnings of learned astrological pursuits. There is in fact a rich literature on how

astrologers were attacked and condemned ––mostly by theologians and jurists–– in medieval

Islamic society. Despite the fact that these studies focusing upon the views of Ibn Sīnā (d. 1037),

Ghazālī, Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1328), Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350), or Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406)

have contributed to our understanding of the arguments directed against the practice of astrology

in the Islamicate world, they nevertheless fail to differentiate the vehement attacks toward

astrologers, who were often charged with the alleged belief in astral determinism, from the more

neutral, if not always tolerant, assessment of astrological/cosmological principles. The

26
perspective brought by some of the Ottoman sources including Ṭaşköprīzāde’s encyclopedic

work, Miftāḥ as-saʿāda wa miṣbāḥ as-siyāda, or Müʾeyyedzāde’s (d. 1516) kalām text, al-

Ḥawāshī ʿalā Sharḥ al-Mawāqif challenges this dominant narrative, which facilely assumes that

traditional scholars categorically dismissed astrology as a valid and religiously licit branch of

knowledge.

Theses Proposed in the Dissertation

I should underline at the very outset that this dissertation strives not for writing the

history of astrology in the Ottoman realm, but rather for exploring the astrological knowledge

produced and circulated in the Ottoman realm to scrutinize its broader cultural, intellectual,

political, and social implications. Therefore, although I will have to refer, every now and then, to

the complex methods and techniques appealed by the munajjims for practicing their own craft, I

have no intention of testing the veracity of their planetary calculations and/or astrological

interpretations on the basis of modern astral knowledge. This kind of endeavor would have

certainly been useful from a mere history of science perspective, yet my own academic

formation does not allow me to undertake such a demanding business.

In the light of my preoccupation in the past few years with the Ottoman astrological lore,

I will advance a number of theses, instead of a single grand claim, that touch upon different

historiographical coordinates in Ottoman as well as Islamic studies.

I. The Ottoman astrological materials, which have long been neglected by both

conventional Ottoman historians and historians of scientific enterprises in past Islamic

societies, provide important insights into the intersecting layers of science, politics, and

27
 culture in the late-medieval and early-modern Islamicate and/or Ottoman context. This is

the richest astrological corpus surviving from any part or period of Islamic history.

Unlike astrological textbooks of earlier periods in Islamic history that were produced

primarily to instruct the universally applicable rules of the astrological craft, the extant

Ottoman astrological texts such as the complete set of almanac-prognostications and a

few scattered occasional horoscopes are the applied forms of astrological knowledge into

concrete occasions. Hence they are inherently sensitive to their immediate historical,

political, and cultural realities. The systematic examination of their contents enables one

to closely track the scientific inspirations, cultural orientations, and socio-political

contentions, which were subject to change over time.

II. The epistemological status of astrology in the pre-modern Islamicate context was much

more complex than assumed by modern historians of science. The widely accepted model

in the current historiography of science that asserts a strict separation between ʿilm al-

hayʾa (lit. science of the configuration of the entire universe), ʿilm al-nujūm (lit. science

of the stars), and ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm (lit. science of the judgments of the stars) on the

basis of earlier Arabic sources fails to notice the complex dynamics of the astral

production in the post-thirteenth century Turko-Iranian context. While many astral

experts from the period were definitely aware of the nuances between the astronomical

investigation of the heavens (i.e. hayʿa and nujūm) and astrological interpretations of the

celestial knowledge (i.e. aḥkām), they still recognized the strong dependence of astrology

on the detailed knowledge of mathematical and astronomical state of the heavens.

28
III. The heightened interest in the post-thirteenth century Persianate East in establishing

observatories, conducting systematic observational enterprises, and updating the available

data on the motions of planets was intimately related to the need for more precise

astronomical information to undertake more accurate astrological practice. While the

current state of the field is not mature enough to make bigger claims, it seems plausible to

argue, on the basis of promosing evidence in the zīj literature, that not unlike in the early

modern Europe, the urge to practice a mathematically precise and scientifically valid

astrology was closely linked to the contemporary renaissance of mathematics and

astronomical instrumentation in the eastern Islamic lands.

IV. The late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth century Ottoman context is a perfect laboratory to

trace the impact of the Persian astral tradition upon the formation of the Ottoman astral

corpus and professional cadres under the aegis of the court. The curious stories of astral

experts as well as the scientific manuscripts and instruments, moving from the diyār-ı

ʿAcem into the diyār-ı Rūm, stand as one of the most illuminating chapters of the history

of scholarly mobility and circulation of knowledge in the late-medieval and early modern

Islamicate world.

V. The practice of learned astrology required the courtly patronage. For the cultivation of

astral sciences in the Ottoman context, credits should go to Bāyezīd II, whose

significance in the cultural and political transformation of the Ottoman polity has largely

29
 escaped the attention of modern historians. Bāyezīd II’s genuine learned interests in

personally studying the astral sciences and patronizing an unprecedented number of astral

experts facilitated the formation of the Ottoman astral canon and institutionalization of

the office of the court munajjims, which would function as the prime mechanism of

would-be munajjims’ vocational training and professional service.

VI. Modern scholarship presumes a vague definition of astrology and regards such diverse

practices of celestial magic, talisman making, or mystical/numerological interpretation of

celestial phenomena as its inextricable constituents. While these practices of “magic”

essentially require the knowledge about the qualities and characteristics of the celestial

objects, to equate the learned practice of astrology ––which was rather an applied science

for predictive purposes –– with magic would not always do justice to the actual contents

and discussions in the Ottoman astrological materials explored in this dissertation.

VII. The details from the lives of Ottoman astral experts (munajjims) clearly portray the

learned character of the astrological craft. Although majority of the modern scholarship

imagines munajjims as back-street charlatans or magicians promoting the idea of astral

determinism, the real agents were well trained in the diverse branches of mathematical,

natural, and traditional sciences. Moreover, the great majority of the trained munajjims

was aware of the epistemological problems inherent in the art of astrology and often

expressed in their writings the limits of this science. Some of these experts even

relinquished their craft due to spiritual anxieties, wishing to steer clear of challenging

30
 God’s omniscience and omnipotence.

VIII. Besides the fact that overwhelming majority of the munajjims serving the Ottoman

court was self-critical about the epistemological limits of their craft, several madrasa-

educated scholars and ʿālims had a somewhat lenient attitude towards the practice of

astrology as long as certain fundamental principles of Islamic belief were preserved.

Some of these scholars, like Müʾeyyedzāde (d. 1516), were even keenly interested in

studying and practicing the science itself. The strict objections raised against the practice

of astrology by the earlier Hanbali jurists such as Ibn Taymiyya or Ibn Qayyim al-

Jawziyya did not take hold among the Ottoman scholars. Quite the contrary, these names

were sometimes explicitly criticized for their redundant counter arguments.

IX. Intriguingly, the most severe objections against the practice of astrology came from

eminent Sufis who vilified astrologers on account of their claims and methods, though

they did not necessarily reject the fundamental cosmological principles underlying the

practice of astrology. This brings the immediate need to appreciate the nuances inherent

in the polemical literature, which often heavily criticizes astrologers without necessarily

denouncing some of the scientific principles upon which astrological practice relied.

31
 Chapter One––The Most Mathematical of all Occult, the Most Occult of all
Mathematical Sciences: The Epistemological Status of Astrology in the
Medieval Islamicate Intellectual Context

I. 1. Introduction

It is a truism that astrology is no longer considered legitimate scientific knowledge. When

we think about astrology today, negative images flood the mind, from the clichéd daily

horoscopes published in newspapers or accessed through mobile apps to backstreet charlatans

and psychic shops scattered around metropolitan neighborhoods. With the exception of a few

private academies and certificate courses for the teaching of astrological techniques, the

discipline has long fallen from its esteemed position in medieval and early modern academic

circles.1

We should not overstate, however, the epistemological prestige once attained by

astrology in the ancient, medieval, and early-modern world. Notwithstanding the fact that there

were many scholars and learned individuals who regarded it as a serious and valid science,

astrology never entirely escaped the critique of staunch opponents. A wide array of literate

people in different times and places espoused the invalidity or the limits of the efficacy of this

1
For the formal study of astral sciences, including astrology, in late medieval and early modern
Europe, see Stephen C. McCluskey, Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), esp. 114-131; Michael Shank, “Academic
Consulting in 15th-Century Vienna: The Case of Astrology,” in Texts and Contexts in Ancient
and Medieval Science. Studies on the Occasion of John E. Murdoch’s Seventieth Birthday, ed.
Edith Sylla and Michael Mcvaugh (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 245-270; Ann Moyer, “The
Astronomers’ Game: Astrology and University Culture in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries,”
Early Science and Medicine 4/3 (1999), 228-250; Monica Azzolini, The Duke and the Stars:
Astrology and Politics in Renaissance Milan (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013), esp.
22-64.
32
science, coalescing into a rich polemical literature that functioned as a vibrant arena of debate.2

The medieval and early-modern Islamic intellectual landscape certainly did not want for these

sorts of disputations.3

Despite the fact that the anti-astrology camp seems to have dominated the classical and

post-classical Islamic intellectual realm, featuring a constellation of stellar names from diverse

fields of knowledge, including al-Fārābī (d. 950), Ibn Sīnā (d. 1037), Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1328),

and Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406), the firmament of proponents was studded with luminaries like Fakhr

al-Dīn Rāzī (d. 1209) and the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ (ca. tenth century). From a historian’s point of

view, it is of utmost importance, as Richard Lemay has aptly remarked, to take each case

separately and treat the particular historical and personal contexts for that specific individual’s

acceptance or rejection of astrology.4 Yet it is also useful to assemble together the standard

arguments deployed by different parties in order to establish certain patterns in the

argumentation and easily trace the diverging elements for a more accurate historical analysis.

What is more important, and particularly lacking in the literature on the epistemological

status of astrology in medieval Islamic thought is to explore how the practitioners themselves

2
On the debates regarding the status of astrology in the ancient and early medieval world, see A.
A. Long, “Astrology: Arguments pro and contra,” in Science and Speculation: Studies in
Hellenistic Theory and Practice, ed. Jonathan Barnes et al. (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge
University Press, 1982), 165-193. For a relevant discussion in the late-fifteenth and early-
sixteenth century Italian context, see Remo Catani, “The Polemics on Astrology 1489-1524,”
Culture and Cosmos 3/2 (1999), 16-30.
3
While this question will be examined in detail below, useful summaries of the relevant debate
in the medieval Islamicate intellectual context can be found in Manfred Ullmann, Die Natur- und
Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1972), esp. 271-277; George Saliba, “Astronomy
and Astrology in Medieval Arabic Thought,” Les Doctrines de la Science de l’Antiquité à l’Âge
Classique, ed. Roshdi Rashed et Joël Biard (Leuven: Éditions Peeters, 1999), 131-164
4
Richard Lemay, “Religion vs. Science in Islam. The Medieval Debate Around Astrology,”
Oriente Moderno 19/3 (2000), 557-575.
33
defined and approached their own craft. The relevant discussions in current historiography have

been dominated by an externalist perspective that gives precedence to the views of non-
5
astrologers instead of authentic practitioners. Needless to say, the ways in which munajjims

discussed and practiced their craft are crucial: they provide strong insights into how astrology

was actually defined and perceived as a science at the time by its own executors.

This chapter primarily aims at discussing the contentious character of astrology in the

medieval Islamic intellectual landscape, which resonates well with the relevant discussion in the

fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ottoman milieu. The debate on the real value and true place of

astrology was indeed complicated, and it would not do justice to the wide array of sources at

hand that often conflict with one another if we strictly insist on a single narrative out of many

potential explanations.

The complicated nature of astrology in the medieval Islamic intellectual context stemmed

mainly from its epistemological status, as it was:

i) Considered among the sciences of the ancients (ʿulūm al-awāʾil), which traditional

scholars (ʿulamāʾ) often took with a grain of salt6,

5
For noteworthy exceptions that focus upon how practitioners defended or reflected upon their
own craft, see Peter Adamson, “Abū Maʿšar, al-Kindī and the Philosophical Defense of
Astrology,” Recherches de théologie et philosophie médiévales 69/2 (2002), 245-270; Charles
Burnett, “The Certitude of Astrology: The Scientific Methodologies of al-Qabīṣī and Abū
Maʿshar,” Early Science and Medicine 7/3 (2002), 198-213; Anne Regourd, “L’Epître ayant
pour objet la mise à l’épreuve de ceux qui n’ont d’astrologue que le nom d’al-Qabīṣī (IVe/Xe
s.),” Politica Hermetica 17 (2003), 24-53.
6
On the (controversial) status of ancient/foreign sciences in medieval Islamic thought, see the
classic work of Ignaz Goldziher, “Stellung der alten islamischen Orthodoxie zu den antiken
Wissenschaften,” in Abhandlungen der Königlich Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften
VIII (1916), 3-46. This article was translated by Merlin Swartz as “The attitude of orthodox
Islam toward the ‘ancient sciences’,” in Studies on Islam ed. and tr. Merlin Swartz (New York
and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 185-215.
34
 ii) Dependent upon the unwavering mathematical knowledge of the heavens but

applied to understand the ever-changing physical nature of the sub-lunar world,

iii) Susceptible to interpretation as an activity that would undermine the belief in

God’s omnipotence.

Besides these restraints caused by the entangled epistemological structure of astrology

(which I will explain in further detail below), there were other complications derived from the

checkered and at times conflicting approaches toward the practice. It is true that numerous ʿālims

and devout Muslims denounced astrology on religious grounds but it is also true that there were

many traditional scholars who saw no problem with practicing astrology as long as certain

boundaries with respect to the Islamic dogma of tawḥīd were preserved. Moreover, there were

certain munajjims who were highly skeptical about the premises of astrological science, whereas

several other experts considered astrology the noblest of all disciplines. In view of all these

complications, the discussion on the real epistemological status and validity of astrology is

replete with conflicts and contradictions even within the oeuvre of a single author.

In order to grapple with such complications, my analysis will proceed in the light of three

different, yet interrelated, sets of questions: i) What did the practice of astrology really

correspond to as a science in the eyes of its practitioners and external interpreters? ii) Where was

it situated in the “taxonomy of science” (taṣnīf al-ʿulūm) tradition and to what extent were

Ottoman interpretations different from established conventions? iii) Which particular groups

were more skeptical about the practice and what were their major lines of argument?

35
 I. 2. Astrology and its Branches

The modern semantic and epistemic distinction between astronomy and astrology does

not fully capture the disciplinary boundaries existed in the pre-modern world. This is no surprise

for a student of the history of science in the ancient or medieval world, because the available

literature generally assumes that in both Greek and Latin literature, the strict semantic distinction

between astronomia and astrologia was not fully established until the fourteenth century.7

Rather, these two concepts were often used interchangeably to denote an all-encompassing

category of the “science of the stars.” Even Ptolemy, the leading authority in astral sciences in

the late antique and medieval eras, did not employ a strict terminological distinction, though he

definitely implied a division on the grounds of the subject matter and objectives of two distinct

types of activities: one that investigates the movements of celestial bodies and the planetary

aspects, and the other exploring the changes that emerged in the terrestrial realm as a result of the

vicissitudes in the configuration of heavenly objects.8

This division in terms of the subject matter is best manifested through Ptolemy’s two

separate books, each covering one of the two divisions. His Almagest treats the subjects that we

can simply define as “astronomical”, his Tetrabiblos matters “astrological.” It is also worth

noting that the term Ptolemy used to define the science we now categorize as astrology was

7
S. Pines, “The Semantic Distinction between the terms Astronomy and Astrology according to
al-Biruni,” Isis 55/3 (1964), 343-9. For a similar discussion in Chinese astral literature in early
imperial China, see Daniel Morgan, “Knowing Heaven: Astronomy, the Calendar, and the
Sagecraft of Science in Early Imperial China.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, The University of Chicago,
2014), 23-25.
8
Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos, ed. and tr. by F. E. Robbins (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1940), x-xi.
36
“prognostication through astronomy” (ἀστρονοµίας προγνωστικὸν).9 For Ptolemy, the premises

of the second category of the science of the stars are by nature weak and unpredictable, whereas

the one examining the physical qualities and movements of celestial objects is an unvarying,

self-sufficient science.

In the medieval Islamic intellectual framework, where the adoption and adaptation of pre-

Islamic scientific traditions of the Hellenistic, Sassanian, Indian, and Mesopotamian world were

accompanied by the consolidation of the realities inherent to Islamic society, this semantic

distinction in approaches to celestial knowledge became further obscured. According to George

Saliba, as early as the second century of the Hijra, the weak semantic distinction in the Greek

and Latin tradition was replaced in Arabic scientific lore by a new category,“ilm al-hayʾa” (the

science of the configurations [of the stars]) that would gradually transform into the science of the

structure of the entire Universe.10 For Saliba, this term was coined by the experts of celestial

knowledge in early Islamic society, who tried to detach themselves, and their own intellectual

spheres, from the pursuits of astrologers. Saliba argues that this new semantic category had no

exact equivalent in pre-Islamic civilizations and that it grew out of cultural-religious dynamics

intrinsic to the Islamic civilization, to wit, the tensions between the religiously-minded elites and

the advocates of “foreign sciences” (ʿulūm al-awāʾil).11 For Saliba, the introduction and

subsequent appropriation of ʿilm al-hayʾa ushered in an increasing use of the term “ʿilm [or

9
Ibid., xi.
10
George Saliba, “Islamic Astronomy in Context: Attacks on Astrology and the Rise of the
Hayʾa Tradition,” Bulletin of the Royal Institute of Inter-Faith Studies, 4/1 (2002), 25-46. For a
nuanced discussion on the category of ʿilm al-hayʾa, see F. Jamil Ragep, “Astronomy,” EI3,
Online version.
11
Saliba, “Islamic Astronomy in Context: Attacks on Astrology and the Rise of the Hayʾa
Tradition.”
37
ṣināʿat] aḥkām al-nujūm” (“the science [or the art] of the decrees of the stars”), which was to

label strictly astrological activities. Hence, ʿilm al-nujūm, the once-overarching category of the

science of the stars that corresponds to the astronomia or astrologia of the earlier Greek and

Latin traditions, gradually disappeared.

Notwithstanding the significance of Saliba’s emphasis upon the emergence of a novel

semantic category, his explanatory model has several pitfalls. First of all, the distinction between

ʿilm al-hayʾa and ʿilm/ṣināʿat aḥkām al-nujūm that Saliba clearly detects in the classical Arabic

sources was not strictly drawn in the post-classical Persian astral tradition. As will be

demonstrated below, especially texts on applied celestial knowledge produced in the post-

thirteenth-century Persianate world often promoted the deployment of the category of “the

science of the stars” (ʿilm al-nujūm) as an umbrella term betokening practical celestial pursuits,

including astrology. Furthermore, Saliba’s rigid distinction on the mere grounds of semantic

categories inevitably leads one to fail to notice the fluidity of activities the astral experts actually

undertook. As already evident from Ptolemy’s obvious implication in his introduction to the

Tetrabiblos, practitioners were already aware of the inherent nuances between “astronomical”

(read scientific or computational) and “astrological” (read prognosticative or interpretive) facets

of studying the heavens, even though they did not always use separate terms to refer to these

activities. One thing that is for sure, however, was that the experts were also cognizant of the

heavy interdependence of mathematical/astronomical and astrological knowledge. What Saliba

sees as a crystal-clear distinction between “hayʾa”, “nujūm”, and “aḥkām” was indeed

considered by many astral experts as inextricable and complementary spheres of the unified body

of celestial knowledge. The concept that aḥkām is a natural sequel to nujūm and hayʿa was, as

38
Nallino rightfully asserts, “common to all the Muslim munajjims and is accepted also by some

philosophers.”12 In that regard, munajjims acknowledged and often made explicit that, without

the working knowledge on the forms and physical structures/qualities (i.e. hayʾa) of the celestial

objects, it is impossible to make the necessary calculations as to the motions and positions of the

heavenly bodies, and that without the knowledge gleaned from mathematical operations about

the motions and positions of the stars (aʿmāl-i nujūmī), it is not possible to interpret the

indications of celestial configurations.

We should, however, note that not all astral experts were eager to practice, or at least

write about, different variants and genres of celestial knowledge including astrology. For

example even a cursory look at the oeuvre of the luminaries of the Samarqand mathematical-

astronomical school such as Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī (d. later than 1440) or ʿAlī Qūshjī (d. 1474) clearly

demonstrates that these names did not produce a single text on aḥkām, although the Zīj-i Ulugh

Beg, like many other zījes, has specific sections exclusively upon horoscopic astrology.13 As we

will see further below, some of the Ottoman court munajjims were also distressed for being

compelled to practice aḥkām.

The heavy dependence of aḥkām upon detailed technical and computational knowledge

of hayʾa and nujūm is best exemplified in some of the technical treatises produced in the post-

thirteenth-century Persianate realm. The significance of this particular milieu can hardly be

exaggerated in regards to the cultivation of astral sciences and the production of the authoritative

12
Carlo Alfonso Nallino, “Sun, Moon, and Stars (Mohammedan),” in Encyclopedia of Religion
and Ethics, ed. James Hastings (New York: C. Scribner, 1970), 88-101.
13
See F. Jamil Ragep, “Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī: Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Mūsā ibn Muḥammad ibn Maḥmūd al-
Rūmī,” in BEA, ed. Thomas Hockey et al. (New York: Springer, 2007), 942; İhsan Fazlıoğlu,
“Qūshjī: Abū al-Qāsim ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn ʿAlī ibn Muḥammad Qushči-zāde,” in BEA, ed. Thomas
Hockey et al. (New York: Springer, 2007), 946-948.
39
texts that would decisively shape the scholarly horizons of the munajjims active in the early-

modern Ottoman world. The period that witnessed the Mongol expansion toward Western Iran

and the integration of the eastern and western ends of the Eurasian landscape also saw an

increased level of scientific celestial activities. Although the reasons are not entirely clear why

there was such an enthusiasm at that time for constructing state-of-the-art observatories and for

assembling therein the leading experts of celestial knowledge from diverse regions, increased

contacts with Chinese civilization had a definite positive impact upon the cultivation of

observational celestial knowledge. Aydın Sayılı also argues that Turko-Mongol domination over

Eastern Islamic dominions might have facilitated celestial enterprises, as many of the patron

dynasts and scholars in the region were not thoroughly indoctrinated with more austere Islamic

traditions and customs that usually frowned upon the practice of astrology.14

No matter what the exact factors were that facilitated systematic celestial pursuits in the

post-thirteenth-century Persianate sphere, the two most important observatories in all of Islamic

history were established in the region, namely the Maragha observatory constructed in today’s

Azerbaijan in the mid-thirteenth century with the support of the Ilkhanid rulers (particularly that

of Hülegü and his son Abaqa Khan), and the Samarqand observatory built on the initiative of

Ulugh Beg in the first half of the fifteenth century. Between the construction dates of these two

observatories minor observations were also conducted in the region by numerous individual

experts including ʿAlī-Shāh Būkhārī, Wābkanawī, or Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī, whose scientific

activities will be mentioned further below.

In the post-thirteenth-century Persianate East, heightened interest in systematic

14
Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam and its Place in the General History of the
Observatory (Ankara: TTK, 1960), 235.
40
observational programs (raṣad), many of which had to be interrupted due to political turmoil

and/or lack of consistent financial support, primarily stemmed from a desire to correct the

celestial data (taṣḥīḥ-i jadval) conveyed through astronomical tables (zīj). At the end of each

systematic observation program was produced a new zīj with revised figures. The original Zīj-i

Īlkhānī, for instance, was composed by Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī at the Maragha observatory with the

aim of rectifying the data of previous zījes, but even after Ṭūsī’s death in 1274, experts,

including his son Aṣīl al-Dīn, retained the observations until the turn of the fourteenth century

and prepared newer editions of the text with more accurate data.15 The program of systematic

observation at the Samarqand observatory also aimed to revise the available tables and ultimately

yielded the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg, which, as we will see in more detail in the next chapter, eventually

became the main reference work of Ottoman munajjims from the early sixteenth century

onwards.

Before detailing the significance of the zījes for astrological purposes, it is in order now

to briefly summarize what the learned practice of astrology really involved. Despite modern

prejudices assuming that astrology is and was always an unsystematic and vulgar practice bereft

of mathematical sophistication, scholars and astral experts in the medieval Islamicate world

rarely hesitated to speak of the dependence of astrology upon complex mathematical knowledge

of the heavenly spheres. For example al-Bīrūnī, who was not sympathetic toward the practice of

astrology, still reminds his readers “no one is worthy of the style and title of astrologer

(munajjim) who is not thoroughly conversant with geometry (handasa), arithmetic (ʿadad),

15
Sayılı, 211-218.
41
hayʿa, and aḥkām al-nujūm.”16

The exact scope of learned astrology can best be illustrated by comparing it to more

vulgar and lay versions of astrological practice. While the former essentially requires the tedious

task of calculating celestial positions and variables according to the exact time and location of

the astrological matter in question, the latter does not involve such mathematical sophistication

and astronomical rigor. Instead, lay practitioners of astrology often replaced minute scientific

calculations with either folk knowledge on the cyclical patterns of celestial and meteorological

occurrences or with esoteric and often simple lettrist/numerological explanations ascribed to

heavenly objects. For example one of the most common forms of lay astrology, the malḥama

literature, intends to divine the fortunes of the year in the way the taqwīms of the erudite

munajjims do. In these malḥama texts, general prognostications are expressed in the format of

protases and apodoses: “If X [a certain type of easily observable celestial phenomenon or a

meteorological incident such as a solar eclipse, lunar eclipse, thunder, rainbow, lightning, etc.]

occurs on the first day of the month Y, then it signifies...” But unlike taqwīms in which

munajjims had to carefully calculate in mathematical terms the exact celestial configuration at

the time of the solar revolution, malḥama texts do not exert any such effort.17

16
Bīrūnī, The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology, ed. and tr. Robert
Ramsay Wright (London: Luzac & co., 1934), 1.
17
I should make a distinction here between the texts that belong rather to the genre of
apocalyptic malāḥim and those malḥama texts used for interpreting the signs of celestial and
meteorological phenomenon for divinatory purposes. The first kind of literature dates as far back
as the time of the Prophet Muhammad and is oriented toward debating, on lettrist grounds, the
imminence of the End Times and predicting the fate of dynasties as well as individuals. It is the
second group of texts with which we are concerned here. On the importance of the first group of
texts, see Muhammad Ahmad Masad, “The Medieval Islamic Apocalyptic Tradition: Divination,
Prophecy and the End of Time in the Thirteenth Century.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Washington
University in St. Louis, 2008).
42
 In a similar fashion, a set of texts that I classify as “lay textbooks” intends to give

instructions about casting birth horoscopes on the basis of a newborn’s ascendant/horoscopus

(ṭāliʿ). As we will see in more detail below, the mathematical computation of the degree of the

ascendant is central to any serious astrological endeavor. Once the munajjim establishes its

degree, which corresponds to the first astrological house, he or she can easily calculate the

remaining astrological houses (which is called “equalization of the houses”) and establish other

necessary astrological variables. In the taqwīms—which were in fact nothing but horoscopes cast

on the basis of the celestial map at the exact moment of the revolution of the year—and other

horoscopes, munajjims always start with computing the degree of the ascendant. In the set of

these folk nativity texts, however, the authors suggest simple lettrist and numerological

explanations to designate the degree of the ascendant, without any mathematical or astronomical

basis. In one particular example attributed to a certain Ḫayreddīn Konevī, produced likely in the

late sixteenth or early seventeenth century, the author says the following as regards to the

procedures underlying his astrological practice:

“If you would like to know the ascendant/fortune of a person, to predict his/her path and
length of life, and to learn about his/her well-being or sickness, add the numerical value
of his/her name to the value of the name of his/her mother. Then subtract the sum by
twelve. If the remainder is one, then his/her ascendant is in Aries; if it is two, then it is in

Among the earliest examples of the second genre in Ottoman-Turkish literature, one should
name Yazıcı Selaḥaddīn’s Şemsiyye written in verse in 1408-9, Aḥmed Bīcan’s half-verse, half-
prose Melḥāme completed in 1466, Ebrī Ḫāce’s Melḥame-i Ibn ʿĀdil produced in the last quarter
of the fifteenth century, and the melḥāme/rūznāme text attributed to Shaykh Vefā (d. 1491). See
Mehmet Terzi, “Yazıcı Salih (Selahaddin) Kitabu’ş-şemsiyye (Melhame-i Şemsiye) Dil
Özellikleri, Metin, Söz, Dizin.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Malatya İnönü University, 1994); Faysal
Okan Atasoy, “Melhame-yi Şeyh Vefa: Giriş-Metin-Sözlük.” (M.A. Thesis, Marmara
University, 2001); Şeref Boyraz, Fal Kitabı: Melhemeler [sic] ve Türk Halk Kültürü (İstanbul:
Kitabevi, 2006); Ayşe Aydın, “Ebri Hâce İbn-i Adil (Giriş-İnceleme-Metin-Dizinler).” (Ph.D.
Dissertation, Sakarya Üniversitesi, 2011).
43
 Taurus…”18

In its simplest and broadest sense, the science of astrology, be it the learned version of the

erudite munajjims or the lay one devoid of mathematical refinement, relied upon the basic

Hermetic concept and fundamental Aristotelian principle, “as above, so below.” That is to say,

what happens in the terrestrial world (i.e., ʿālam al-kawn wa-l-fasād, the world of generation and

corruption) is necessarily linked to the celestial world. What I define here as “learned astrology”,

however, was the scientific practice sensitive to the idea that every individual celestial

configuration in a given time at a specific location had a particular influence on the sublunary

world and that that influence could be explained and further predicted through the careful

mathematical and astronomical study of celestial bodies, movements, and positions. For learned

astrology, the examination of the celestial world and the ability to map individual celestial

configurations required a solid training in the mathematical sciences (i.e. al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya

or quadrivium, composed of geometry [handasa], arithmetic [aʿdād], hayʾa, and music [mūsīqī]),

because in the Aristotelian concept of knowledge, which was widely adopted in the medieval

Islamicate intellectual setting, mathematics is the language of the celestial realm.19

18
British Library Add. 5983, 17b: “dilerseñ kīm bir kişinüñ ṭāliʿün bilesün ve ānuñ sergüzeştün
bilesün ve ʿömrün ve ḫastalığun bilesün ve ḳaç yaşından berüsi var bilmek dilesen kendü adun ve
anasu adun ḥisāb idesün. On ikişer on ikişer ṭarḥ idesün, göresün ḳaç ḳalursa, eger bir ḳalursa
Ḥamel’dür ... iki ḳalursa Sevr...”
19
The Aristotelian division of knowledge corresponds to the tripartite division of the entire
universe into the divine, celestial, and terrestrial realms. Accordingly, there is a threefold
division of the speculative sciences (al-ʿulūm al-ḥikamiyya al-naẓariyya) into Metaphysics (al-
ʿulūm al-ilāhiyya), Mathematical Sciences (al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya), and Natural Sciences (al-
ʿulūm al-ṭabīʿiyya). The mathematical sciences deal with the celestial objects, their physical
structures, motions, sizes, etc.; whereas the natural sciences study the “matter” and changes in
the terrestrial realm. For a brief discussion of how the threefold division of the episteme parallels
44
 In other, and mathematically less informed forms of astrology, however, a minimally

sufficient knowledge of the qualities of celestial phenomena is wedded to a crude mystical and

numerological interpretation of the cosmos. One can refer here to Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings as the

prime example of what Titus Burckhardt calls “mystical astrology.”20 The basic idea behind it is

to establish an interpretive framework of correspondences between the seven planets, 12 signs,

28 lunar mansions, and numerous other heavenly bodies, designed by God and operated through

the mediation of spirits, angels, and hidden saints (rijāl al-ghayb). Each zodiacal sign is

attributed to a particular angel, whereas each one of seven planets, all of which were considered

cosmic intermediaries between the immutable world of the archetypes and the earthly center, was

associated with a particular prophet residing there and a particular prophetic epoch/cycle

occurring in the human history.

This should not leave an impression, however, that mystical astrology and learned

astrology were mutually exclusive, and that munajjims trained in the mathematical and

astronomical foundations of astrological practice were entirely aloof to the mystical

interpretations of celestial configurations. Quite to the contrary, munajjims might have often

resorted to discussions on the influence of hidden spirits (rijāl al-ghayb) by associating each day

of the year with one particular spirit. In his introduction to the taqwīm (almanac-prognostication)

of the year 967/1560, for instance, Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī (d. later than 1560), one of the court

munajjims at the time, says by explicitly referring to the shaykh al-muḥaqqiqīn and quṭb al-

ʿārifīn Muḥyī al-dīn al-ʿArabī that each day of the month, the hidden spirits, which are grouped

the different realms of the universe, see İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlı Felsefe-Biliminin Arka Planı:
Semerkand Matematik-Astronomi Okulu,” Divan İlmi Araştırmaları Dergisi 14 (2003), 1-66.
20
Titus Burckhardt, Mystical Astrology according to Ibn ʿArabi, translated from French by
Bulent Rauf (Louisville, KY: Fonsvitae, 2001).
45
into seven categories, move from one direction to another. As Yūsuf munajjim lays out, these

hidden spirits include one quṭb, two imāms, four awṭād, seven budalā, twelve ruqabā, forty

nujabā, and three hundred nuqabā, all of which makes three hundred and sixty-six, to wit, a full

solar year. If one wishes to supplicate their help wherever she or he tends towards, then one

should say the necessary prayer after performing ablutions and offering a two-rakat prayer.21

The more mathematical and technical forms of astrology that try to calculate and interpret

celestial influences of particular moments upon terrestrial events are composed of different

branches and genres of writing. Mawālīd (genethlialogy, or natal astrology), for instance,

specifically deals with interpreting the celestial configuration at the moment of an individual’s

birth to predict the course of his or her life. Closely related to the mawālīd genre, the anniversary

horoscopes of the birth of individuals (taḥāwīl sinī l-mawālīd) or the revolutions of solar years

(taḥvīl-i sāl-i ʿālem) were routinely prepared in order to interpret the fortunes of the upcoming

21
Kandilli Rasathanesi Kütüphanesi Ms. 546, 1b-2a: “[Ş]eyḫü’l-muḥaḳḳiḳīn ve ḳuṭbü’l-ʿārifīn
Şeyḫ Muhyīddīn ʿArabī qaddasallāh sirrahu al-ʿazīz ricālü’l-gayb ve ervāḥ-ı muḳaddesenüñ
seyri beyānında şöyle buyurmuşlardur ki her gün ki aydan geçer gayb erenleri ve ervāḥ-ı
muḳaddese eṭrāf-ı ʿālemüñ bir ṭarafına müteveccih olurlar. Cemīʿ yılda bu ṭarīḳ üzerine seyr
iderler tā ḳıyāmete değin bunlar munḳaṭiʿ olmazlar. Bu ricāl-i gayb ve ervāḥ-ı muḳaddese
didigimüz yedi ṭabaḳadur dirler. Evvelkisine ḳuṭb dirler, ol bir kimesnedür ki mevżiʿ-i naẓarı
ḥaḳdur. İkincisine imāmān dirler, añlar iki şaḫṣ dururlar, birisi ḳuṭbuñ ṣāǧ yanunda olur mevżiʿ-
i naẓarı ʿālem-i melekūta yaʿnī ʿālem-i gayb ve birisi ḳuṭbuñ ṣol yanunda olur mevżiʿ-i naẓarı
ʿālem-i mülkedür yaʿnī ʿālem-i ẓāhir, bu ol birinden aʿlādur. Üçüncüsüne evtād dirler, anlar
dāḫı dört kimesnelerdür ki ʿālemüñ dört köşesini ḥıfẓ iderler, birisi şarḳı ve birisi garbı ve birisi
cenūbı ve birisi şimāli. Dördüncüsüne budalā dirler, anlar yedi kimesnedür. Beşincisine ruḳabā
dirler, anlar dāḫı on iki kimesnedür lā şekk. Altıncısına nucebā dirler, anlar daḫı ḳırḳ
kimesnedür. Yedincisine nuḳabā dirler, anlar dāḫı üç yüz kimesnedür. Bunlaruñ cemīʿisi üç yüz
altmış altı kimesnedür nitaki bir yıl dāḫi üç yüz altmış altı gündür...Pes her kim ki bu virde
müdāvemet ider olsa, eyle gerekdür ki ol kimesne ol cānibe müteveccih ola ki ricāl-ı gayb ve
ervāḥ-ı muḳaddese daḫı ol ṭarafa müteveccihdür dirler. Ol vaḳt duʿā oḳumağa meşgūl olalar,
gerekdür ki ābdest alub bir ḫāli mekāna varub iki rekʿat namāz ḳılub bu virde meşgūl olalar
ḥużūr-ı ḳalble ve duʿānuñ ḳabul olmasına iʿtiḳād ideler, hiç şekk getürmeyeler.”
Interestingly enough, in none of the other eight extant taqwīms that Yūsuf munajjim composed
does such a section on ricālu’l-gayb take place.
46
year for a single individual or society in general. It is this particular branch that formed the

essence of the taqwīm genre, which I will explore in more detail in the fourth chapter. Another

common astrological practice is ikhtiyārāt (“Elections”), which is concerned with the choice of

the auspicious moment for doing a particular activity or avoiding a specific action. The repertoire

of activities ranges from quotidian matters such as when to go to the public bath or cast a

talisman to issues concerning imperial policies like when to embark upon a military campaign or

lay out the construction of a civic building. Furthermore, Masāʾil (“Interrogations” or horary

astrology) is applied to interpret the exact timing and subject matter of a question the client asks

the munajjim. In this particular genre, the celestial configuration of the exact moment when the

client poses the question is crucial for the astrological interpretation. The questions asked by the

querent touch on many quotidian aspects of life including marriage, travel, and household affairs.

Last but not least, historical astrology, which was especially popular under the early Abbasids,

focuses upon planetary conjunctions, particularly of Saturn and Jupiter, to explain the cycles of

change in terrestrial events such as the rise of the prophets, turns of dynasties, or succession of

rulers.22

Although each of these branches and genres of astrological practice might have had

recourse to different techniques, what is central to all of them is the need to determine the exact

celestial configuration at a particular moment in a given locality, be it a moment of birth,

22
This summary on the astrological branches was written based upon the following studies:
Charles Burnett, “Astrology,” EI3, Online version; Carlo Alfonso Nallino, “Sun, Moon, and Stars
(Mohammedan);” David Pingree, “Astrology,” in Dictionary of the History of Ideas v. 1, ed.
Philip P. Wiener (New York, 1973-4), 118-26.
47
revolution of the year, or an auspicious moment to embark upon a specific activity.23 In order to

make an astrological judgment for the relevant time and latitude of the particular location, the

munajjim had to establish the degree of the ascendant/horoscopus (ṭāliʿ), which then was

followed by equalizing the cusps of other astrological houses and locating relevant astrological

variables (dalāil). The determination of the ṭāliʿ was so crucial in astrological predictions that in

vernacular Turkish the word gradually transformed into ṭāliḥ, signifying fortune and luck.24

For these sorts of mathematical and astronomical operations (aʿmāl-i nujūmī), munajjims

may have utilized instruments like astrolabes, but given the unaffordable costs of personally

possessing sizeable and accurate astronomical instruments, for the most part they determined

planetary positions by appealing to the astronomical tables (zīj) already in circulation.25 Despite

the reluctance of modern scholarship to emphasize the role of astrological purposes in zīj

production, these texts were munajjims’ indispensable tool for making the necessary calculations

before conveying astrological interpretation.26 It would not be far-fetched to liken medieval zījes

23
In birth horoscopy, for instance, prorogators like haylāj and kadkhudāh as well as tasyīr were
to be determined; whereas in ikhtiyārāt the relative motions of the moon were given precedence.
24
Meniński clearly points out in his Thesaurus Linguarum Orientalium that, as early as the
seventeenth century, ṭāliḥ, as the transformed version of ṭāliʿ, was documentedly in use in
vernacular Turkish. See his Thesaurus linguarum orientalium Turcicae-Arabicae-Persicae =
Lexicon Turcico-Arabico-Persico (İstanbul: Simurg, 2000): “ṭaliʿ”, vulg. talih. 1) part. Oriens,
prodiens; 2) pl. ṭawāliʿ . Primum diluculum; 3) Horoscopus. 4) Sors, fortuna.
25
For the use of astronomical tools, specifically of astrolabes, in astrological problems see: Josep
Casulleras, “The Instruments and the Exercise of Astrology in the Medieval Arabic Tradition,”
Archives Internationales d’Histoire des Sciences 63, no. 170-171 (2013), 517-540. It is one of
the standard themes in the writings of astral experts that conducting a celestial observation with
reliable instruments is a costly business that required the financial support of a patron ruler. See,
e.g., fn. 33 or 37 below.
26
On the dynamics of zij production, see Edward S. Kennedy, “A Survey of Islamic
Astronomical Tables,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, New Series, 46/2
(1956), 123-177; David A. King, Julio Samsó, Bernard R. Goldstein, “Astronomical Handbooks
and Tables from the Islamic World (750-1900): an Interim Report,” Suhayl: International
48
to modern computer programs with which one could have manually designated planetary

positions. Since the practice of any kind of learned astrology rested upon the careful designation

of the celestial configuration at a particular time for a given location, zījes provided the

munajjims with the necessary data and/or methods to make their own computations.

The most important set of data zījes presented was the tables listing the motions of

planets in sexagesimal numbers. These tables particularly helped munajjims to compute the true

longitude of each planet (taqwīm al-kawākib) in a given moment, necessary for making

subsequent astrological calculations.27 The data covered in the zījes show significant variances

due to the quality and length of the conducted observations. Almost all munajjims genuinely

knew that in order to obtain more accurate results from the observations, at least thirty years of

systematic observation should be undertaken, because Saturn, the outermost planet in traditional

cosmology, takes around thirty years to complete its rotation through the ecliptic.28 Another

factor that determined the accuracy of observations was the soundness of astronomical

instruments available in the site of observation. The contention of the experts was such that the

Journal for the History of the Exact and Natural Sciences in Islamic Civilisation 2 (2001), 9-105;
Benno Van Dalen, Islamic Astronomical Tables: Mathematical analysis and historical
investigation (Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2013).
27
Benno Van Dalen, “An Introduction to the Mathematics of Islamic Astronomy and Astrology”
(Unpublished paper). I am grateful to Benno Van Dalen for sharing his unpublished work with
me. Edward Kennedy also details, on the basis of Jamshīd al-Kāshī’s Zīj-i Khāqānī, the
mathematical procedures involved in astrological operations. See Edward Kennedy, “On the
Contents and Significance of the Khāqānī Zīj by Jamshīd Ghiyāth al-Dīn al-Kāshī,” in Islamic
Mathematics and Astronomy v. 84, ed. Fuat Sezgin (Frankfurt am Main: Institute for the History
of Arabic-Islamic Science at the Johann Wolfgang Goethe University, 1998).
28
Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam, passim. It is mentioned in Ḥasan Beg Rumlu’s Aḥsan
al-tawārikh that Shāh Ismā‘īl decided to build a new observatory upon seeing the remnants of
the Maragha observatory; but as his munajjim told him that it required at least thirty years of
operation to have better observational results, he abandoned his plans to construct the
observatory. See Ibid., 166.
49
bigger the instruments, the more accurate the observations could be.

These rather theoretical remarks are best exemplified in the introductory prose sections of

zījes where the authors explain the reasons and occasions for conducting a systematic

observation and thus composing a new zīj. In the Zīj-i Īlkhānī, for instance, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī

explicitly writes that it is crucial to observe and calculate the positions of celestial objects if one

wants to have foreknowledge about earthly matters such as the security of the country, warfare

and peace among rulers, the health and disease of individuals, the circumstances of agricultural

production and market prices, weather conditions, and the fortunes of newborns. According to

Ṭūsī, astrological judgments about these matters could only be arrived at with a precise

knowledge of celestial positions, and the knowledge of celestial positions could only be

calculated by systematic observation.29 Once the positions of celestial objects in each and every

day were established through laborious observation, this information was recorded in tables. By

utilizing the data and methods covered in these tables are taqwīms produced on a yearly basis,

designating the positions of celestial bodies across the year and deriving related astrological

predictions. Ṭūsī shares his wish that his new zīj would become the main reference work for

29
BML Or. 24, 3b: “Sukhan dar raṣad-i siṭāragān va anki raṣad va zīj va taqvīm cha bāshad:
… bi-dānistan-i raṣad-i mavżiʿ-i sitāragān bar āsumān va payvastan-i īshān ba-yakdigar va judā
shodan va miqdār-i davrī-yi īshān az yakdigar va az zamīn va miqdār-i ravish-i īshān maʿlūm
shavad va az dānistan-i ān ḥukm tuvān kard ki baʿd az īn dar ʿālam cha khāhad būd az amīnī va
parīshānī va ṣulḥ-i pādishāhān bā-yakdigar va ḥarb va gardish-i rūzgār va tandorostī va bīmārī-
i khalq va vabā va farāḥī va tangī-i narkhhā va bārandagī va khushgī va digar ḥalhā va
hamchunīn ḥāl-i har farzandī ki dar vujūd āyad va dirāzī-i ʿomr va kūtāhī va nik-bakhtī va bad-
bakhtī va tandorostī va ranjūrī va tuvāngarī va …ranj u rāḥat ki badū rasad. Īn hama az
mavāżiʿ-i sitāragān tuvān dānist va mavżiʿ-i sitāragān ki har vaqt har yakī kojā bāshand
natuvān dānist tā ravish-i īshān nadānand.”
50
munajjims in preparing their almanac-prognostications (taqwīm) and casting horoscopes.30

Despite Ṭūsī’s expectations about the prospect of his work, contemporary munajjims and

subsequent generations of astral experts did not much favor the original Zīj-i Īlkhānī, due mostly

to the limited timespan of actual observations in its preparation. Many practicing munajjims at

the time complained about the extreme inconsistencies (tafāvut-i fāḥish) frequently emerging

between observed celestial phenomena and ones calculated on the basis of Ṭūsī’s tables. ʿAlī-

Shāh Bukhārī, a noted astral expert from the late thirteenth century Iran, whose astrological

summa, Asmār va ashjār, later became one of the favorite texts of Ottoman munajjims, narrates

in his Zīj-i ʿumda-i Īlkhāniyya that one day a group of people approached him and asked his

sincere opinions about the Zīj-i Īlkhānī. In ʿAlī-Shāh Bukhārī’s narrative, the people are

apparently highly critical of Ṭūsī’s zīj, saying that when they tried to calculate the true longitude

of the Sun (taqvīm-i Shams) to determine the degree of the ascendant, there emerged extreme

discrepancies, to their chagrin, between the calculations made on the basis of Ṭūsī’s zīj and those

on earlier available tables.31

ʿAlī-Shāh Bukhārī, however, seems to have been sympathetic toward Ṭūsī’s Zīj. He

maintains that the reason Ṭūsī intended to undertake a systematic observational enterprise in the

30
Ibid., 3a: “umidvāram ki muvāfiq-i riżā-yi ū bāshad tā ba-davlat-i ū munajjimān baʿd az īn zīj
taqvīmhā va ṭāliʿhā birūn mī āvorand va nām-i īshān tā hazārān sāl dar jihān bāqī bāshad…”
31
Fateme Savadi and Sajjad Nikfahm Khubravan, “Ḥarakat-i vasaṭ-i kavākib dar Zīj-i Īlkhānī va
naqdhā-yi vārid bar ān,” [The Mean Motion of the Planets in the Zīj-i Īlkhānī and its criticisms]
in Ustād-i bashar: Pajūhashhāyi dar zandagī, rūzgār, falsafa va ʿilm-i Khwāja Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī
[The Teacher of the Humankind: Essays on Life, Times, Philosophy and Scientific
Achievements of Khwājah Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī], ed. Hosein Masoumi Hamedani and Mohammad
Javad Anwari (Tehran: Miras-e Maktoob, 1391/2012), 455: “Vaqtī jamāʿatī-yi kūtāh-naẓarān …
goftand banda rā ki iʿtiqād-i to bar īn raṣad-i jadīd charā chunīn muḥkam ast ki dar taqvīm-i
āfitāb tafāvut-i fāhish ast chunān ki ṭāliʿ-i taḥvīl-i sāl-i ʿālam ba-nisbat bā zījhā-yi qadīm ta ba
dah burj mī rasad va az īn gūna tashnīʿ mi gardand.”
51
first place was his realization that there were many inconsistencies between the calculated

celestial positions on the basis of zījes in circulation and those observed in person, particularly

lunar and solar eclipses as well as conjunctions. Ṭūsī then assembled in Maragha an impressive

number of astral experts from adjacent regions and collected a rich body of the state-of-the-art

astronomical instruments, but he did not live long enough to personally complete the observation

program.32 As Alī-Shāh Bukhārī underlines, preparing a zīj is a hefty business that requires the

systematic observation of the stars (raṣad). Raṣad, however, is contingent upon many factors

including the existence of sufficient financial means, physical space, human resources, precise

instrumentation, and plentiful amounts of time to conduct different sets of observation with

patience.33 He concludes his exposition here by saying that every new raṣad is more accurate

than the previous one, due likely to better instrumentation and longer observation. In view of the

deficiencies of Ṭūsī’s tables, another and more accurate raṣad should be implemented so that the

future course of worldly affairs could be predicted after the ascendant of each year is designated

and the celestial positions are determined.34

As Alī-Shāh Bukhārī’s anecdote implies, there were many experts at the time who were

critical of Ṭūsī’s elaboration in the Zīj-i Īlkhānī. Wābkanawī, for instance, details in his Zīj-i

32
Ibid.: “Chūn bi-sālhā tafāvut-i fāḥish dīda būd dar mavāżiʿ-i kavākib, raṣad farmūd kardan va
agharcha ālat va ʿadat-i bisyār dāsht ki az aṭrāf-i mamālik jamʿ karda būdand chandīn navʿ-i
digar basākht va yaqīn ast ki ān cha khāja ra muyassar shoda būd. Hīch ṣāḥib-i raṣadi rā
nashoda bāshad. Ammā rūzgār vafā nakard ki ba-itmām rasānīde.”
33
Ibid: “hīch shakk nīst ki sākhtan-i zīj kārī-yi ʿaẓīm ast va taʿalluq ba-raṣad-i kavākib dārad va
raṣad-i kavākib mavqūf ba-māl va jāh va yārān va ālāt-i ṣaḥīḥ va ruzgār-i dirāz va farāgat va
asl-i albāb-i shakhṣī ki dhihn-i ṣāfī va ṭabʿ-i salīm darad.”
34
Ibid; “Pūshida nīst ki har raṣadī ki karda-and kāmiltar az raṣad-i pīshtar ast...Pas vājib konad
ki raṣad-i ākhir akmal bāshad va ba-kusūfāt va miqdār-i sāʿāt va rūʾyat-i ahilla ṣiḥḥat-i in raṣad
maʿlūm mī shavad va dar umūr-i ʿālam har ḥālī ki az ṭāliʿ-i sāl va avżāʿ-i kavākib mutavaqqaʿ
ast mavjūd mī gardad.”
52
muḥaqqaq-i Īlkhānī the extent of inconsistencies between the observed celestial phenomena and

their respective values calculated with reference to the Ilkhanid tables. In one of his examples,

Wābkanawī says that in the year 684 A.H. (1285 in Common Era) a conjunction between Jupiter

and Saturn occurred in the ninth degree of Aquarius. However, the difference between the actual

observed time of this conjunction and the time previously calculated on the basis of the Zīj-i

Īlkhānī was around fifteen days. As Wābkanawī himself clearly underlines, the conjunction of

the two superior planets is of extreme astrological significance, for it rules worldly phenomena.35

Hence the implication is that the inaccuracies led by impaired celestial data would inevitably

cause unfavorable consequences.

The observation program at the Samarqand observatory in the mid-fifteenth century had

the similar intention of rectifying the celestial data tabulated in the available zījes. As it will be

detailed in the second chapter, the munajjims serving the Ottoman court were aware of the Ulugh

Beg tables as early as the late 1460s, although they seem to have favored, at least until the 1510s,

different editions and commentaries of the Zīj-i Īlkhānī corpus. From especially the second

decade of the sixteenth century on, Ottoman munajjims utilized the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg almost

exclusively for their calculations. However, the Ulugh Beg tables were also not exempt from the

criticism of some astral experts, due to the same reason: discrepancies emerging between

observed and calculated celestial phenomena. In the mid-1480s, for instance, Khiṭābī munajjim, a

35
Ibid: “tafāvuthā-yi fāhish dar taqāvīm-i kavākib paydā āmada tā ba-ghāyatī ki dar qirān-i
ʿulviyayn ki madār-i aḥkām-i ʿālam bar u ast dar do novbat ki qirān kardan chandīn tafāvuthā-yi
fāḥish mushāhada oftād. Masalan chunān ki dar shuhūr-i sana 684 hijrī īn qirān dar nohom
daraja-i Dalv vāqiʿ shod. Az maḥsūb tā marʾī bi-nisbat bā zījī ki mashūrtarīn va muʿtabartarīn
zījhā ast dar īn bilād va mutadāvil dar miyān-i khalq, qarīb-i 15 rūz tafāvut kard.” See also
Mohammad Mozaffari, “Wābkanawī’s Prediction and Calculations of the Annual Solar Eclipse
of 30 January 1283,” Historia Mathematica 40 (2013), 235-261.
53
Persian émigré at the court of Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512), about whom more information will be

provided in the third chapter, made solar observations in Istanbul to test the data provided by

three popular zījes of the time: the Zīj-i Īlkhānī, the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg, and the Zīj-i Jāmiʿ of his

master Rukn al-dīn Āmulī.36 Based upon his calculations, and of course thanks to his intellectual

proximity to his own teacher, he found Rukn al-Āmulī’s work more accurate than the others and

did indeed use it when preparing his own annual almanac-prognostications. In another case, in an

undated short report on the uses of talismans and celestial magic, intriguingly attributed to Ibn

Kemāl (d. 1534), the famous sheikhulislam of the early years of Suleymān’s reign (r. 1520-

1566), the author asks for royal support for undertaking a systematic observational program in

Istanbul, because the available zījes in circulation, including the Ulugh Beg tables, fail to

produce consistent and accurate results.37 There are doubts about the attribution of this treatise to

Ibn Kemāl and the earliest surviving copy of the text with an identifiable colophon dates only to

1596.38 Nonetheless, the treatise was almost certainly written before the 1570s, because at that

36
Mortaza Somi and Mohammad Bagheri, “Risāla-i tashrīḥ al-ālāt fī shaʿn al-imtiḥānāt az
Sayyid Munajjim Ḥusaynī,” Mirāth-i ʿIlmī-yi Islām va Īrān, 2/1 (1392/2013), 181-205.
37
SK Esad Efendi Ms. 3782, 89a: “Bi-ḥasebu’n-nücūm birḳaç maḥal vardur ānı daḫı ʿale’l-
icmāl āsitāne-i keyvān-eyvāna ve ʿatebe-i ṣāḥib-ḳırān-ı yūnāna ʿarż itmek vācibdür. Ol cümleden
birisi budur ki ḥāliyā istiʿmāl itdügimüz zīcler raṣadları ḥasebince biri birine muḫteliflerdür zīrā
muʿteber olan ḥāliyā zīc-i Ulug Bīgdür ki ānūñ dāḫı rūʾyete muvāfıḳ ve ḫārice muṭābıḳ gelmez
baʿżı yerleri vardur. Nitekim istiʿmāl idenleriñ maʿlūmudur. Ve ʿālem ḫālḳı bir zāc-i [zīc?]
cedīde ziyāde muḥtāc olmuşlardur. Bu cihetdendür ki ehl-i nücūmuñ mudaḳḳiḳleri ve aṣḥāb-ı
taḳvīmiñ muḥaḳḳiḳleri daḫı aḥkāmında gāhī ḫaṭā itmek vāḳiʿ olub bilmeyenler ol ḫaṭāyı
mustaḫrice nisbet iderler amma zīcden oldugın kimse bilmez … velḥāṣıl bu aṣl aʿmāl-i ʿaẓīme ve
umūr-ı cesīme muʿāvenet-i ṣāḥib-ḳırān-ı zamān ve ḥimāyet-i ḫāḳān-ı Süleymān-mekān
olmayınca ẓuhūra gelmek mümkün değüldür.”
38
There are six known copies of this short treatise, the earliest of which is located as SK Esad
Efendi Ms. 3782. Other copies include SK Hacı Mahmud Efendi Ms. 5584, SK Reisülküttab Ms.
1199 (two different copies in the same volume), SK Şehid Ali Paşa Ms. 2795, and Cidde Camiat
Abdülaziz Ms. 1378.
54
time an observatory was built in Istanbul on the initiative of the famous munajjim Taqī al-dīn (d.

later than 1585) and with the support of Sultan Murād III (r. 1574-1595) and his chief advisor

Saʿdeddīn (d. 1599).39 It would be intriguing for a number of reasons to have a prominent

“religious” scholar at the caliber of Ibn Kemāl penning such a text on celestial magic, but

regardless of the question of its authorship, the treatise is still an important source showing

unequivocally that the zījes were definitely used for astrological and divinatory purposes, and

that the accuracy of astronomical data covered in these tables was the primary concern of the

munajjims.

Aside from the zījes, several other works written on astronomical instruments or

astrological techniques also clearly demonstrate that learned astrological practice certainly

demanded astronomical and mathematical know-how. Rukn al-dīn Āmuli, a relatively significant

astral expert from Shīrāz from the first half of the fifteenth century, provides us with the most

Given that the autograph copy is not available and none of the extant copies survives from his
lifetime, we have every reason to question the attribution of the authorship of this short treatise
to Ibn Kemāl. However, all the relevant modern studies that try to establish the complete oeuvre
of this prolific ʿālim, who composed more than two hundred works in almost every branch of
knowledge, include this text as an authentic work of Ibn Kemāl. See: Nihal Atsız,
“Kemalpaşaoğlu’nun Eserleri I,” Şarkiyat Mecmuası 6 (1966), 71-112; “Kemalpaşaoğlu’nun
Eserleri II”, Şarkiyat Mecmuası 7 (1972), 83-135; Yekta Saraç, Şeyhülislam Kemal Paşazade.
Hayatı, Şahsiyeti, Eserleri ve Bazı Şiirleri (İstanbul: Risale, 1995); Şamil Öçal, Kışladan
Medreseye: Osmanlı Bilgini Kemalpaşazade’nin Düşünce Dünyası (İstanbul: İz, 2013).
There is also circumstantial evidence that Ibn Kemāl was interested in sister divinatory practices
like bibliomancy and lettrism. For instance, he presented Selīm I a short report in which he
interpreted the numerological significance of a Quranic verse (21: 105) as a good omen and clear
victory of the Ottoman sultan against the Mamluks that would happen after 1514. See: Mustafa
Kılıç, “İbn Kemal’in Mısır fethine dair bir risale-i acibesi,” Diyanet 26/1 (1990), 111-120.
39
Taqī al-Dīn also emphasized the need for revising tables (zīj) when he approached the sultan
and expressed his demand to establish an observatory for conducting a systematic observational
enterprise. See Aydın Sayılı, “Alâuddin Mansur’un İstanbul Rasathanesi Hakkındaki Şiirleri,”
Belleten v. 20, n. 79 (1956), 411-484; Remzi Demir, Taḳiyüddîn’de matematik ve astronomi:
Cerîdedü’d-dürer ve ḫarîdetü’l-fiker üzerine bir inceleme (Ankara: Atatürk Kültür Merkezi
Başkanlığı, 2000).
55
succinct expression of the reliance of astrology upon mathematical and astronomical knowledge.

In his treatise on the uses of the astrolabe (Risāla panjāh bāb), Rukn al-Dīn says that he has

spent most of his life studying philosophical sciences (ʿulūm-i ḥikmī), especially the

mathematical sciences (ʿulūm-i riyāżī) including hayʿa, handasa, and ḥisāb. There is no doubt

for Rukn al-Dīn that the “fruit” and reward of studying these sciences, aside from acknowledging

God’s omnipotence and his cosmic design, is to be able to make (astrological) judgments (ʿilm-i

aḥkām) and accurately measure the time. This, however, relies upon the ability to observe the

stars, calculate the mean motions of planets, and designate the ascendants of the hour. The

astrolabe is, for Rukn al-Dīn, the best instrument to perform these sorts of astronomical

operations, which are necessary for casting horoscopes and practicing electional astrology.40

As Rukn al-Dīn makes it explicit in his text, munajjims had to undertake these complex

astronomical operations before articulating astrological interpretations. The entire taqwīm genre,

which I will delineate in the fourth chapter, provides an example par excellence of how

munajjims pronounced their astrological predictions only after they laid out the necessary

astronomical indicators by making demanding calculations on the basis of the zījes. Aside from

the taqwīms, extant birth horoscopes also serve as a strong example. In the surviving horoscope

of Mīrzā Rustam b. ʿUmar Shaykh prepared in 1419, the munajjim Yaḥyā b. ʿImād—who was

40
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2667, 2a-2b: “ki chūn dar aksar-i avqāt ishtigāl-i in faqīr bi-ʿulūm-i ḥikmi
būda bi-takhṣīs ʿilm-i hayʾa va handasa va ḥisāb ki az uṣūl-i ʿilm-i riyāżi and ... Muqarrar ast ki
samara-i in ʿulūm ba’d az vasīla bi-maʿrifatillāh ʿilm-i aḥkām va maʿrifat-i avqāt ast. Va ān
mavqūf ast bi-maʿrifat-i raṣad-ı sitāragān ve istikhrāj-i taqvīm-i kavākib va ṭavāliʿ-i sāʿat. Va
bihtarīn ālatī ki ḥukamāʾ az jihat-i in ʿamāl vażʿ karda-and usṭurlāb ast ki istikhrāj-i taqvīm-i
kāvākib va ṭavāliʿ va maʿrifat-i avqāt va masāḥat az u maʿlūm mi shavad. Va rasāʾil ki dar
maʿrifat-i an navashta and dar aʿmāl-i masāʾil-i ān riʿāyat-i tartīb nakarda and va istikhrāj-i
taqvīm-i kavākib va bāqī aʿmāl-i nujūmi ki dar ṣūrat-i ṭāliʿ-i vilādat ve ikhtiyārāt badān muḥtāj
mi shavand nayāvorda.”

56
likely the son of the munajjim who prepared the famous Mīrzā Iskandar horoscope—first lays

out in a very detailed fashion the necessary mathematical and astronomical information about the

celestial configuration at the time of Rustam’s recorded birth date. This part constitutes the first

sixty-three folios of the eighty-four-folio manuscript. As his wordings clearly suggest in the

section where he shifts to the astrological interpretation of these celestial indications, a munajjim

can only start the aḥkām after he or she carefully determines the zodiacal degree of the

ascendant, equalizes all the remaining astrological houses, tabulates the true longitudes of seven

planets as well as the fixed stars and astrological lots, establishes the prorogators (e.g., haylāj,

kadkhudā, tasyīrat, intihāʾāt), designates the ascendants of the revolutions, and undertakes all

other sorts of operations upon which relied the science of the judgments of the stars.41 In the eyes

of Yaḥyā munajjim, and in fact many other astral experts from the period, to interpret the decrees

of the stars was in fact the desired end of calculating planetary positions.42

One can easily find among the writings of those munajjims serving the Ottoman court a

similar attitude toward nujūm and aḥkām. In the few extant annotated Ottoman birth horoscopes

descending from the late-fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century, which I will mention

in more detail in the fifth chapter, the munajjims first sketch in a detailed fashion the celestial

map at the time of the reported birth. Once all the relevant signs are established, he or she starts

deriving the astrological decrees. For example, the birth horoscope of Meḥmed II produced by

41
Huntington Library Ms. HM71897, 64b: “Chūn fārigh koshtīm az aʿmāl-i ḥisābī va żavābiṭ-i
nujūmī va qavānīn-i ʿilm-i riyāżī ki ān istikhrāj-i tavārīkh ast va taṣḥīḥ-i daraja-i ṭāliʿ-i humāyūn
va tasviyat al-buyūt va taqāvīm-i kavākib-i sabʿa va sābita va sihām va ʿurūḍ va abʿād-i īshān az
dāʾira-i muʿaddal al-nahār va maṭāliʿ-i mamarr va maṭāliʿ va mughayyab va ʿurūḍ-i āfāq-i
ḥādisa va maṭāliʿ-i muṣaḥḥaḥa va maṭrāh-i shiʿāʿāt va maṭāriḥ-i anvār va taʿyīn-i haylājāt va
ʿaṭāyāʾ-i kadkhudāhāt va tasyīrāt va intihāʾāt va ṭavāliʿ-i taḥvīlāt va firdārāt va sāʾir aʿmāl ki
madār-i aḥkām-i nujūmī bar ān ast.”
42
Ibid: “[A]ḥkām ki samara va natāyīj-i īn dalāʾil ast.”
57
Khiṭābī in the late 1470s clearly employs this structure. Khiṭābī elaborates in the first two

hundred folios of the horoscope the demanding celestial data at the time of Meḥmed II’s reported

birth.43 In a similar vein, in the horoscope Lüṭfullāh munajjim, one of the court munajjms in the

early 1530s prepared for a certain Maḥmūd b. Muḥammed, he explicates and tabulates in sixty-

five full folios the astronomical indications and values of the celestial configuration at the time

of his nativity, which apparently occurred on 12 Muḥarram 895/December 6, 1489.44 The copy

seems to be incomplete, as it does not include the ensuing aḥkām part. It is also probable that

Lüṭfullāh provided the astrological interpretation verbally. No matter what the actual content of

the aḥkām, this surviving horoscope clearly shows us that detailed astronomical calculations

made on the basis of available zījes constitute the fundamentals of learned astrological practice.45

Despite the fundamental agreement of astral experts upon the premise that valid aḥkām

depended strongly upon accurate knowledge of nujūm, many of them also acknowledged the

epistemological nuances between the two. As briefly noted before, not all experts were eager to

draw astrological decrees from the celestial positions they could successfully calculate.

Moreover, the great majority of munajjims were genuinely aware of the limits of the aḥkām as a

practice. In the next section, in addition to presenting the personal opinions of certain munajjims

vis-à-vis the scientific restraints of the ʿilm-i aḥkām (al-nujūm), I will discuss how the nuances

43
TSMK Yeni Yazmalar Ms. 830, 200a: “Faṣl fī al-aḥkām: chūn az taṣḥīḥ-i daraja-i ṭāliʿ va
taʿyīn-i haylāj va kadkhudhāhāt va ʿurūḍ-i āfāq-i kavākib va tasyīr-i avtād fārigh shodīm
khāstīm ki aḥkām-i duvāzdah khāna ra mujmalan bayān konīm. Baʿd az ān aḥkām-i har sāl ra
ʿalā’t-tafṣīl īrād konīm.”
44
Kandilli Observatory Library Ms. 325.
45
One specific chapter of Lüṭfullāh’s horoscope is called “calculating the true longitudes of
seven planets at the time of birth by using the information in the Ulugh Beg tables prepared
according to the observational enterprise in Samarqand.” (dhikr-i istikhrāj-i taqvīm-i kavākib-i
haftgāna az zīj-i sulṭānī bi-raṣad-i Samarqand bar vaqt-i vilādat.”) Ibid., 9a-10b.
58
between aḥkām and nujūm/hayʿa were interpreted and reinterpreted in the highly complex

taxonomy-of-science tradition in medieval Islamic writing.

I. 3. Astrology in the Medieval Islamicate Classification of the Sciences

Reluctance toward the practice of aḥkām finds poignant expression in a pardon letter

written by an anonymous munajjim who seems to have served the Ottoman court around the turn

of the sixteenth century. In this undated letter located in the folder of written communications

from the time of Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512), the anonymous munajjim asks in Persian for the

sultan’s sympathy and forgiveness, because, as he admits, he has recently failed to present him

with annual almanac-prognostications (taqwīm). The munajjim mentions two reasons for his

recent inattentiveness. Firstly, he says, his attention has recently geared more toward medicine

(ṭibb) than nujūm. Secondly and more strikingly, he maintains that since becoming older and

closer to death, dealing with nujūm, especially the aḥkām has been giving him more grief and

uneasiness. In the last part of his letter, the munajjim again proffers his apology and desperately

pleads with the sultan to reemploy him in his service.46

As a vivid testimony to the personal reflections of a practicing munajjim about his own

craft, the letter unequivocally documents that in the eyes of the practitioners, the boundaries

between aḥkām and nujūm were in fact quite evident, and that the controversial nature of

astrological practice on religious grounds was fraught to the extent that practitioners might even

think of abandoning their major source of income. This letter, however, is not the only instance

46
TSMA E. 10159/145: “dar īn ayyām muyassar nashod ki bi-istikhrāj-i taqvīm mashgūl shavad
... az chand jihat yakī az ishtigāl bi-muṭālaʿa-i ṭibbiyya ammā māniʿ-i kullī ān ast ki īn kamīna rā
vaqt-i irtiḥāl nazdīk ast va ishtigāl bi-nujūmiyyāt siyammā bi-aḥkāmash mustalzim-i qasāvat-i
qalb ast … in kamīna rā ʿafv farmāyand va az rujūʿ-i khidmāt ki inshirāḥ-ı ṣadr va tanavvur-i
qalb bi-ān ast īn kamīna rā maḥrūm nagodhārand.”
59
where a practicing munajjim implies his disdain, or at least skepticism, toward astrology. In

many examples of the taqwīm genre one can find similar remarks where munajjims carefully

draw attention to the epistemological limits of aḥkām as a science.

One of the standard arguments frequently repeated, often almost verbatim, in different

taqwīms by various munajjims is the inability of human perception and experience to understand

the infinite amount and kinds of celestial influence upon the sublunary world. For many astral

experts, knowledge of celestial configurations derived through experience (tajriba) and

observation does not suffice to meet the virtually limitless occasions where astrological

predictions may be applied.47 For example, in the taqwīm produced for the year 900/1495, the

anonymous munajjim rhetorically asks which created being in the world is capable to fully

comprehend the numerous celestial influences constantly descending upon the terrestrial realm.

Hence, says the anonymous munajjim, experts in astrology (arbāb-i aḥkām) cannot escape from

making mistakes. Yet, past authorities of this science exposed several points by means of

analogical reasoning (qiyās) and experience (tajriba), and reached the conclusion that the

terrestrial objects are indeed obedient to the forms of the world of the spirits. As Ptolemy already

demonstrated and Abu Maʿshar later commented upon, according to this anonymous munajjim,

the forms in the world of composition are administered by the celestial forms.48

47
Tzvi Langermann has also demonstrated in one of his recent studies that the category of
experience (tajriba) had a significant place in late medieval and early modern epistemological
discussions, particularly in the fields of applied arts and sciences including astrology. See: Tzvi
Langermann, “From My Notebooks. On Tajriba/Nissayon (“Experience”): Texts in Hebrew,,
Judeo-Arabic, and Arabic,” Aleph 14/2 (2014), 147-176.
48
TSMK R. 1711/1, 3a: “har laḥẓa va lamḥa asarhā-i nāmaʿdūd va naẓarhā-i nāmaḥdūd az
ʿālam-i ʿulvī ba-qarargāh-i suflī nāzil mī shavad ki kodām maḥlūq rā quvvat-i idrāk va irāda-i
an jumla tavānad bovad? Pas bar īn muqaddima maʿlūm mī shavad ki arbāb-i aḥkām rā sahvhā-
i bisyār oftad. Ammā ba-īn maʿnā hama bar sabīl-i qiyāsāt va tajriba ustādān-i īn ʿilm hama
60
 One can find the exact same argument, expressed in slightly different fashion, in at least

ten different taqwīms produced between the years 901/1496 and 937/1531.49 In the taqwīm of the

year 907/1502, for instance, the anonymous munajjim says that astrological indications such as

the projections of the rays (maṭāriḥ-i ashiʿa), the terminal signs (intihāʾāt), the progressions

sukhanhā gofta and va bāz namūda and ki ṣuvar-i ajsād rā muṭīʿ and bar ṣuvar-i ʿālam-i arvāḥ
rā chunān ki Baṭlamyūs dar kitāb-i Samara āvorda and va sharḥ-i ān rā ustād Abū’l-Maʾshar
Balkhī … chunīn karda ast ‘al-ṣuwar allatī fī ʿālam al-tarkīb mutīʿ[at]un li ṣ-ṣuwar al-
falakiyya.’”
49
See TSMK B. 313, 1b-2a (taqwīm of 901/1496); TMSK B. 320, 2a (taqwīm of 907/1502);
TSMK B. 321, 1b (taqwīm of 907/1502); TSMK EH. 1712, 1b (taqwīm of 909/1504); TSMK R.
1711, 172a (taqwīm of 915/1510); TSMK EH. 1710, 9b-10a (taqwīm of 919/1513); TSMK R.
1711, 249b-250a (taqwīm of 920/1514); TSMK R. 1711 (taqwīm of 923/1517); TSMK EH.
1695, 1b (taqwīm of 925/1519); TSMK R. 1711, 366b (taqwīm of 937/1531).

Just to exemplify these slight differences in the expressions, here are two passages, one from the
taqwīm of the year 901/1496, and the latter from the taqwīm of the year 919/1513:

TSMK B. 313, 1b-2a: “[A]mmā īn jumla dar fikr-i insān bar sabīl-i taḥqīq va tadqīq mumkin nīst
zīrā har laḥẓa āsārhā-i nā-maʿdūd va har lamḥa naẓarhā-i nā-maḥdūd az ʿālam-i ʿulvī ba-
qarargāh-i suflī nāzil mī shavad. Pas kodām makhlūq rā quvvat-i idrāk va iḥātat-i ʿaql va
taḥayyulāt ast ki chandīn āsār tavānad kashf kardan? Bar īn muqaddima maʿlūm ast ki aṣhāb-i
aḥkām az sahv va khaṭā khālī nabāshad. Va līkin bar sabīl-i qiyās va tajriba ustādān-i īn ʿilm-i
sharīf sukhanhā gofta and va bāz namūda and ki ṣuvar-i ajsād muṭīʿ and bar ṣuvar-i ʿālam-i
arvāḥ. Chunān ki ḥukamāʿ-i rabbānī dar kutub-i khod āvorda and ‘al-suwar allatī fī ʿālam al-
tarkīb mutīʿatun al-ṣuwar al-falakiyya.’ Va ṭarīq-i tarkīb-i ajsād va nuqūsh rā bar vajhi āsān
namūda and va marāḥim-i subḥānī ba-ḥarakāt-i sayyārāt ki sabab-i mudabbir-i ʿālam-i tarkīb
and bi-amrillāh taʿālā. Chunān ki dar kalām-i qadīm bar ān nāṭiq ast: wa-l-mudabbirātu amrān
wa sh-shams wa l-qamar wa n-nujūm musakhkhar ast bi-amrihi.”

TSMK EH. 1710, 9b-10a: “[A]mmā har chand ki īn anvāʿ dar vażʿ-i bashar bar sabīl-i taḥqīq va
tadqīq namī āyad zīrā ki har laḥẓa va lamḥa āsārhā-i nā-maḥdūd va naẓarhā-i nā-maʿdūd az
ʿālam-i ʿulvī ba-qarārgāh-i suflī nāzil mī shavad. Kodām makhlūq rā quvvat-i idrāk va iḥāṭat-i
ʿaql ast ki īn qadr āsār va dalāʾil tavānad dānistan? Pas az in muqaddima maʿlūm shod ki
aṣḥāb-i aḥkām az sahv va khaṭā khālī nabāshad. Va līkin bi-ṭarīq-i khāṣṣa va ghalaba al-ẓann va
al-qiyās va tajriba ustādān-i in ʿilm bāz namūda mī shavad va ḥukamāʾ gofta and ki ṣuvar-i
ajsād muṭīʿ and bar ṣuvar-i arvāḥ. Chunān ki Baṭlamyūs dar kitāb-i Samara āvorda ast ki ‘al-
ṣuwar allatī fī ʿālam al-tarkīb mutīʿatun li ṣ-ṣuwar al-falakiyya.’ Va sharḥ-i īn kalima Khāja
Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī va Abū Maʿshar Balkhī chunīn karda ast va aṣḥāb-i ṭilsimāt gofta and ki bā
har burji va bā har daraja ṣūratī ṭulūʿ konad va taṣavvur-i ʿālam-i tarkīb-i nabātāt va ḥayvānāt
mī khāhad.”
61
(tasyīrāt), astrological lots (sihām), or the weakness and strength of the stars (żaʿaf va quvva-yi

kavākib) are so numerous that it is a tedious task to successfully locate each and every one of

them. Therefore, this science can explain very little about the future course of worldly affairs.

Besides, such an intellectual endeavor is rested purely upon experiential (tajrubī) and speculative

(ẓannī) grounds. He concludes this section by referring to a hadīth, a favorite one indeed among

taqwīm composers: “Whatever Allah willed to be, shall be, and whatever Allah did not will to

be, shall not be.”50

It is clear from these remarks repeated almost verbatim by different munajjims that in the

eyes of many practitioners astrology (aḥkām) was a science based rather upon conjecture and

experience than unwavering mathematical proofs and geometrical demonstrations (burhān-i

handasī). The underlying empiricism, however, is impossible to fully attain, because the effects

in the terrestrial realm of celestial configurations are countless, whereas the empirical data

demonstrating these causalities is by nature episodic and fragmented. Moreover, the limited

mental faculty of human beings is insufficient for understanding the infinite quantities and

varieties of celestial influence upon the inhabited world. Moreover, no individual can assemble

all the necessary experiential knowledge of celestial influences during his short lifespan. Yet,

owing to the earlier observations and accumulated empirical results of previous generations of

learned experts, and further applying analogical reasoning, one can still interpret how the future

course of affairs in the sublunary world will run, though these interpretations are contingent. Due

50
TSMK B. 320, 2a: “bā sāir dalāil va shavāhid va maṭāriḥ-i ashʿia va anvār va intihāʿāt va
tasyīrāt va sihāmāt va mudabbirāt va qavāsim va żaʿaf va quvva-yi kavākib va dalāil ki iḥṣā-yi
ān kamā yanbaghī mutaʿadhdhir va imtizāj kamā ḥaqqahi mutaʿassir. Binā bi-ḥasb-i ghālib-i
ẓann va tajārib īn fann shamma va dharra az umūr-i aḥvāl-i ʿālam bāz namūd mī shavad. Mā
shāʾallāh kāna wa mā lam yashāʾ lam yakun.”
62
mostly to these internal restraints caused by the epistemological ambit of astrology, munajjims

often adopt discreet language in their predictions and emphasize the highly probabilistic

character of their craft by frequently employing such qualifications as “mumkin ast ki”,

“yumkin…”, “yaḥtamilu”, “iḥtimāl-i…”, or “umīd ast ki.”

The epistemological controversies inherent in the practice of aḥkām are also present in

the rich taxonomy-of-science tradition that flourished in the Islamicate culture especially after

the tenth century as a response to the need of defining and classifying the increased amount of

knowledge in circulation.51 By epistemological controversies I do not refer here to the religious

sensitivities of pious Muslims. What is rather at stake here are the tensions deeply rooted in the

science of aḥkām due to the discrepancies related to its subject matter, methods, and objectives.

A great majority of heavenly experts acknowledged that the knowledge necessary for aḥkām was

dependent upon the unchanging and prestigious mathematical knowledge of the celestial spheres.

In fact, as evident from the works of Ptolemy, the authoritative pre-Islamic sources adopted in

the Islamicate realm barely distinguished between mathematical/astronomical and astrological

celestial activities. On the other hand, the same experts were already aware of the limits of the

practice of aḥkām, as it fundamentally dealt with understanding and predicting the affairs that

occur in the ever-changing terrestrial realm. Due to these dual characteristics of the science of

aḥkām, encyclopedists and classifiers of knowledge in medieval Islamicate world struggled to

situate it in a consistent manner.

51
On the development of the “writerly culture” corollary to the introduction and further spread
of paper technology by the second century Hijri, see: Shawkat M. Toorawa, Ibn Abī Ṭāhir Ṭayfūr
and Arabic writerly culture: a ninth-century Bookman in Baghdad (New York: Routledge,
2005). On the rise and dynamics of the taṣnīf al-ʿulūm literature and the Arabic encyclopedism,
see Gerhard Endress (ed.), Organizing Knowledge: Encyclopaedic Activities in the Pre-
Eighteenth Century Islamic World (Leiden: Brill, 2006).
63
 As it was mostly the case in Greek and Latin tradition in the ancient world and the early

Middle Ages, fuzzy borders between astronomy and astrology and the use of the overarching

semantic category of “the science of the stars” are also found in pre-tenth century Arabic

sources. Notwithstanding the nuances between them, Abū Bakr al-Khwārizmī (d. 847) in his

Mafātīḥ al-ʿulūm52, the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ in their epistles (ca. tenth century)53, and al-Fārābī (d.

ca. 950) in his Iḥṣāʾ al-ʿulūm all treat ʿilm al-nujūm as a single category.54 Yet al-Fārabī, despite

his approaching it as a single science, grouped it into two main categories in a way that resonates

well with Ptolemy’s discussion in his Almagest and Tetrabiblos: the first part (aḥkām al-nujūm)

investigates and interprets the indications of celestial objects for predicting future events as well

as for interpreting past and present occurrences, whereas the second part (ʿilm al-nujūm al-

taʿlīmī) studies the measurable features of the heavenly objects including their sizes, motions, or

distances from one another. Al-Fārābī’s implications are quite clear that from a philosophical

point of view only the second category of the science of the stars is valid. However, he never

rejects the fundamental cosmological axiom of celestial causation on the sublunary world. Quite

the contrary, he agrees with the idea that men of knowledge can rely upon experience (tajriba)

and observation to study the physical influence of celestial objects on the terrestrial world.

However, echoing the arguments that would later be proffered by Ottoman munajjims in their

52
Abū Bakr al-Khwārizmī, Mafātīḥ al-ʿulūm (Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, n. d.).
53
It is worth noting that the title of the epistle is not “ʿilm al-nujūm” but rather “asṭrunūmiyā.”
See On Astronomia: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle 3, ed. Jamil
Ragep and Taro Mimura (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). One can also find the rare use
of the word asṭrunūmiyya in Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad b. Maḥmūd Āmulī’s (d. 1352)
encyclopedic Nafāyis al-funūn fī ʿArāyis al-ʿuyūn. In his case Āmulī describes as
“astar(a)nūmā” what the category ofʿilm al-hayʾa usually covers in the classification of sciences
genre. See: Āmulī, Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad b. Maḥmūd, Nafāyis al-funūn fī ʿArāyis al-ʿuyūn,
v. 3, ed. Abū’l-Ḥasan Shaʾrānī (Tehrān: Kitābforūshī-ye Islāmīya, 1377-79/1957-59), 26.
54
Al-Fārābī, Iḥsāʾ al-ʿulūm, (Beirut: Dār wa Maktabat al-Hilāl, 1996).
64
taqwīms, al-Fārābī finds the empirical foundation of astrology ineluctably inadequate.55

Al-Fārābī’s elaboration in his Iḥsāʾ al-ʿulūm, in which he distinguishes the mathematical

investigation of heavenly objects from the astrological study of celestial influences, prefigures

the subsequent semantic and categorical distinction between ʿilm al-hayʾa and ʿilm aḥkām al-

nujūm. The real sea change came, however, with Ibn Sīnā, who brought a relative clarity to the

astronomy-astrology debate after he systematically classified them into different epistemological

units within the Aristotelian concept of knowledge. According to Ibn Sīnā, ʿilm al-hayʾa was an

independent science whose subject matter and objectives were primarily defined by the use of

mathematical demonstrations. For that reason, in his Risāla fī aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya he

groups this science under the rubric of the mathematical sciences (al-ḥikmat al-riyāḍiyya), which

primarily concerned with studying the empirical aspects of celestial phenomena.56 Astrology

(aḥkām al-nujūm), however, was classified as one of the branches of the natural sciences (al-

ḥikmat al-ṭabīʿiyya) next to medicine and divinatory arts such as oneiromancy (ʿilm al-taʿbīr) or

55
Al-Fārābī also treats the question of the efficacy and epistemology of astrology in a separate
treatise called “Risāla fī mā yaṣiḥḥu wa-mā lā yaṣiḥḥu min aḥkām al-nujūm.” Here he states that
the celestial objects influence the sublunary world not by their motions but by their light. Their
effect, however, does not concern coincidental events such as the death of an individual at a
particular moment of a celestial object’s movement. If such events could have been determined
by such celestial configurations, then this would have upend social affairs, because in a world
where everything is inevitable and determinable, then there is no need for individual effort. See
“Bemerkunden des Abū Naṣr über die Richtigen und Falschen astronomischen entscheide,” in
Al-Fārābī’s Philosophische Abhandlungen, ed. Fr. Dieterici (Leiden: Brill, 1892), Arabic
original 104-112; German translation 170-186. See also Therese-Anne Druart “Al-Farabi’s
Causation of the Heavenly Bodies,” in Islamic philosophy and mysticism, ed. Morewedge,
Delmar: 1981, 35-45; Joel Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam: The Cultural
Revival during the Buyid Age, Second Revised Edition (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 160; Damien Jones,
Method, Structure, and Development in al-Fārābī’s Cosmology (Leiden: Brill, 2012), esp. 44-57.
56
Ibn Sīnā, “Risāla fī aqsām al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya,” in Tisʿ rasāʾil fī l-ḥikma wa-l-ṭabīʿiyyāt
(Cairo: Maṭbaʿat Hindīyah, 1908), 105-6, 111.
65
physiognomy (ʿilm al-firāsa).57 In that regard, Ibn Sīnā takes the earlier discussion of al-Fārābī

one step further and essentially decouples the two sciences by deconstructing the sweeping

epistemological unit of the “science of the stars.”

The Avicennan epistemological model deeply influenced the later development of the

taṣnīf al-ʿulūm genre, including the Ottoman examples. Even some leading experts of astral

sciences in the post-classical Islamicate world such as Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī

(d. 1311) alluded to the same hierarchical classification in their own discussions with regard to

the boundaries between hayʿa and aḥkām. Ṭūsī for instance reiterated in his Nasirean Ethics that

ʿilm-i hayʿa is part of the mathematical sciences (ʿulūm-i riyāżī), as it seeks knowledge of the

motions and relative positions of celestial bodies.58 The science that aims at interpreting this

knowledge in order to predict what will happen in the sublunary world, however, falls, according

to Ṭūsī, into the category of the natural sciences, as these sciences are concerned with “matter”

which is subject to change and corruption.

One can also find in Quṭb al-Dīn Shirāzī’s (d. 1311) encyclopedic work Durrat al-tāj the

exact same categorization. Interestingly, Shirāzī uses ʿilm al-hayʿa and ʿilm al-nujūm

interchangeably in his exposition on the mathematical sciences (ʿulūm-i riyāżī). For Shirāzī, the

third branch of the mathematical sciences, which he calls ʿilm-i hayʾa and sometimes ʿilm-i

nujūm, is the knowledge of the relative positions of the celestial objects, their motions, sizes, and

physical features. As Shirāzī clearly underlines, the aḥkām-i nujūm is not within the purview of

this branch. He later briefly mentions it as part of the natural sciences along with medicine,

57
Ibid., 108-111.
58
Naṣīr ad-Dīn Ṭūsī, The Nasirean Ethics, tr. G. M. Wickens (London: George Allen & Unwin
Ltd., 1964), 27.
66
agriculture, physiognomy, dream interpreration, alchemy, and talismans.59

Aside from the Maragha circle, the Avicennan epistemological hierachy was also adopted

in the Mamluk intellectual realm. In his Irshād al-qāṣid ilā asnā al-maqāṣid, the leading

thirteenth-century Mamluk encyclopedist and noted physcian al-Akfānī (d. 1348) closely follows

the Avicennan/Aristotelian classification system by grouping the ʿilm al-hayʿa into the

mathematical sciences and the aḥkām al-nujūm into the natural sciences. According to al-Akfānī,

the major aim in aḥkām is to interpret the influences of celestial configurations upon terrestrial

occurrences (al-istidlāl bi-t-tashakkulāt al-falakiyya ʿalā al-ḥawādith al-sufliyya).60 The

importance of this science stems from its utility to interpret the fortunes of countries, rulers, and

other individuals. By having recourse to this type of knowledge, one can also determine the most

auspicious moment to embark upon an activity. ʿIlm al-hayʿa, on the contrary, is the science of

the celestial and terrestrial objects that studies their physical structures as well as the movements

of celestial orbs and stars, their numbers and positions. Al-Akfānī also acknowledges that ʿilm

al-hayʾa is a noble science with respect to its subject matter and soundness of its proofs.

Moreover, this science helps the experts to measure time, which is important not only for

observing religious rituals and facilitating social transactions but also for practicing medicine,

astrology, magic, and husbandry.61 At the end of his discussion on the benefits of the ʿilm al-

hayʾa, al-Akfānī discusses the extent to which one’s occupying oneself with the “science of the

stars” (ʿilm al-nujūm) could be considered licit. His use of the term “science of the stars” here

59
Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, Durrat al-tāj, ed. Muḥammad Mushkāt (Tehran: Intishārāt-i Ḥikmat,
1369/1990), 73-75.
60
al-Akfānī, Irshād al-qāṣid ilā asnā al-maqāṣid, ed. ʿAbd al-Laṭīf Muḥammad al-ʿAbd (Cairo:
Maktabat al-Anjulū al-Miṣrīyah, 1978), 117.
61
Ibid., 143: “wa bi-n-nisba ilā ḍabṭ al-aḥwāl al-azmina fīhā yataʿalliq bi-l-ʿibādāt wa-l-
muʿāmalāt wa aḥwāl al-ṭibb wa aḥkām al-nujūm wa aʿmāl al-siḥr wa-l-filāḥa.”
67
seems to comprise both hayʿa and aḥkām, for he groups astral activities into five major

categories:

i) Obligatory (wājib): when astral knowledge is put into practice to measure time for the

observation of religious rituals.

ii) Recommended (mandūb): when astral knowledge is sought to study heavenly objects

as the proofs of the existence of the omnipotent God.

iii) Permissible (mubāḥ): when practitioners use astral knowledge for astrological

purposes while acknowledging that celestial bodies are influential only by divine

providence not through their independent power.

iv) Disapproved (makrūh): when astrology is practiced with the belief in the unmediated

power of heavenly bodies that act as independent agents.

v) Forbidden (maḥẓūr): when astrology is practiced with strict belief in astral

determinism maintaining that celestial objects rule terrestrial events through their

independent nature, and they thus qualify for being worshipped. As al-Akfānī makes it

clear, the last category corresponds to blasphemy.62

As is evident from al-Akfānī’s classification, in addition to the epistemological nuances

62
Ibid., 143-144.
68
between aḥkām and hayʿa, the practice of astrology is further classified on the grounds of

religious belief. While the attacks toward astrology on religious grounds will be discussed in

more detail in the next section of this chapter, I should say that al-Akfānī’s position, leaving a

legitimate place for the practice of astrology as long as the belief in the omnipotent God is not

infringed upon, was quite widespread among both the authentic practitioners of astrology and the

external supporters of the practice.

Ṭaşköprīzāde, the most famous Ottoman encyclopedist of the sixteenth century, was a

prime example of such a supporter. Like al-Akfānī and the earlier Avicennan tradition,

Ṭaşköprīzāde also acknowledges the differences between aḥkām and hayʿa by putting the former

into the derivative natural sciences while classifying the latter among the mathematical sciences.

In his introduction to the discussion on the aḥkām al-nujūm, he repeats al-Akfānī verbatim and

says that aḥkām is a science deployed to interpret the influence of celestial objects upon

terrestrial events through studying the positions and relative aspects of the celestial bodies. 63 For

Ṭaşköprīzāde, ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm is different from ʿilm al-nujūm, which he uses

interchangeably with ʿilm al-hayʿa. Accordingly, the former is applicable to the occurrences in

the world of generation and corruption, which are subject to change; whereas the latter rests upon

mathematical demonstrations. By just studying the ʿilm al-hayʾa can one acknowledge the

unquestionable reality of God’s omnipotence and the validity of the following Quran verse:

“Who remembers Allah while standing or sitting or [lying] on their sides and gives thought to the

creation of the heavens and the earth, [saying], ‘Our Lord, You did not create this aimlessly’” (Q

63
Ṭaşköprizāde, Kitāb Miftāḥ as-saʿāda wa miṣbāḥ as-siyāda, v. 1 (Hyderabad: Osmania
Oriental Publications Bureau, 1977), 312: “al-istidlāl bi-t-tashakkulāt al-falakiyya min
awḍāʿihā…ʿalā al-ḥawādith al-wāqiʿa fī ʿālam al-kawn wa-l-fasād.”
69
3:191).64

Interestingly however, among the sub-branches of the ʿilm al-hayʿa/ʿilm al-nujūm,

Ṭaşköprīzāde mentions several practices that have strong astrological implications. One sub-

branch of the ʿilm al-hayʿa, according to Ṭaşköprīzāde’s classification, is the science of the

conjunctions (ʿilm al-qirānāt) that aims to understand the astrological influences of planetary

conjunctions.65 He even refers here to several historical events such as the Noah’s flood,

Alexander’s rule, Chinggis Khan’s rise, or Timur’s emergence, all of which transpired at the

time of the occurrence of a specific conjunction.66 In a similar vein, he says that the science of

the zījes and the taqwīms (ʿilm al-zījāt wa-t-taqāwīm), which studies the movements of the stars

to calculate the true longitudes of the stars, the ascendants, and particular celestial positions, has

two specific aims. The first, central aim is to measure time and direction of the qibla. The other

aim, however, is purely astrological, as this science also studies how to interpret the influences of

these celestial positions upon the world of generation and corruption. He nevertheless comments

upon the weakness of the scientific premises and assumptions underlying the second variant of

64
Ibid., 347.
65
Ibid., 359: “yabḥathu fī hadhā-l-ʿilm ʿan al-aḥkām al-jāriya fī hadhā-l-ʿālam bi-sabab qirān
al-sabʿa kullihā aw baʿḍihā fī daraja wāḥida min burj Muʾayyan.”
66
Ibid., 359-360: “wa aʿlamu anna arbāb al-nujūm zaʿamū anna al-kawākib al-sabaʿa … matā
ijtamaʿū fī burj wāḥid yakūn sababan li-ḥādith ʿaẓīm … fī ʿālam al-kawn wa-l-fasād ka-ḥudūth
ṭūfān ʿaẓīm minhā ṭūfān Nūḥ ʿalayhissalām aw-tabaddul milla ka-baʿtha al-anbiyā aw-dawla ka-
ghalaba Iskandar wa-Chingīz Khān wa-Tīmūr wa-amthālihim.”
One can find a similar ambiguity in Nevʿī Efendi’s (d. 1599) overall attitude towards aḥkām.
Although Nevʿī Efendi seems to denounce the astrological practice of celestial knowledge,
which he defines as phantasmagorical, some of the anecdotes he recounts in the relevant passage
implies that Nevʿī Efendi, who did indeed pen an astrological text, used to associate major
politico-historical events as the rise of Chinggis Khan with astral configurations. See: Nevʿī
Efendi, Netāʾicü’l-fünūn ve meḥasinü’l-mütūn, ed. Gisela Procházka-Eisl and Hülya Çelik (in
collaboration with Adnan Kadrić) (Harvard University, The Sources of Oriental Languages and
Literatures Series, 2015), 141-147.
70
the science of the zījes.67

Ṭaşköprīzāde’s skepticism did not only bear upon the invalidity and deficiencies of the

scientific premises of aḥkām. He was equally critical of the strong anti-astrological camp, though

he puts his criticism in a subtle way. In the specific section where he addresses the ʿilm aḥkām

al-nujūm, Ṭaşköprīzāde says that many ʿālims have vehemently declared this science unlawful,

whereas some others were more permissive and only denounced the belief in the idea that the

stars have influence via their own independent nature. Ṭaşköprīzāde seems to have sided with the

latter position, for he immediately refers here to al-Shāfiʿī, who adopted a more tolerant attitude

towards astrology. As al-Shāfiʿī allegedly said, if the munajjim firmly believes that there is no

effective agent in the universe except God the omnipotent, then there is no harm in dealing with

astrology.68 As a counter example to al-Shāfiʿī, Ṭaşköprīzāde specifically mentions the author of

the Miftāh dār as-saʿāda, who was none other than the famous Mamluk jurist Ibn Qayyim al-

Jawziyya (d. 1350). According to Ṭaşköprīzāde, Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya has blown his attack on

67
Ibid., 353: “wa huwa ʿilm yataʿarraf minhu maqādīr ḥarakāt al-kawākib siyammā al-sabaʿa
al-sayyāra wa taqwīm ḥarakātihā wa ikhrāj al-ṭawāliʿ wa ghayr dhalik …wa manfaʿatuhu:
maʿrifat mawḍiʿ kull wāḥid min al-kawākib siyammā al-sabaʿa bi-n-nisba ilā falakihā wa ilā
falak al-burūj wa intiqālātihā wa rujūʿihā wa istiqāmatihā wa tashrīqihā wa taghrībihā wa
ẓuhūrihā wa khafāʾihā fī kull zamān wa makān li-yataʿarraf bi-maʿrifat hadhi-l-umūr al-ittiṣālāt
bayn al-kawākib min al-muqārana wa-l-muqābala wa-t-tarbīʿ wa-t-tathlīth wa-t-tasdīs wa yaʿrif
kusūf al-shams wa khusūf al-qamar wa mā yajrā hadhā-l-majrā wa-l-gharaḍ al-akhīr min
maʿrifat hadhi-l-umūr maʿrifat amrayn: amma maʿrifat al-sāʾāt wa fuṣūl al-sana wa samt al-
qibla wa awqāt al-ṣalāt wa amma maʿrifat al-aḥkām al-jāriya fī ʿālam al-ʿanāṣir bi-sabab tilka
al-awḍāʿ illā anna al-gharaḍ al-aṣlī lābudd an yakūn al-amr al-awwal idh huwa al-muhimm fī-ṭ-
ṭabʿ wa-l-ʿādat wa-sh-sharʿ wa ammā maʿrifat al-aḥkām fa-maʿa kawnihā madkhūla al-ṣiḥḥa fī-
sh-sharʿ … mabnī ʿilm al-aḥkām ʿalā-d-dalāʾil al-wāhiyya wa-l-barāhīn aḍ-ḍaʿīfa allatī lā
tufīdu shubha faḍlan ʿan ẓann faḍlan ʿan yaqīn.”
68
Ibid., 312-3: “wa aʿlamu anna kathīran min al-ʿulamāʾ ʿalā taḥrīm ʿilm al-nujūm muṭlaqan,
wa baʿḍuhum ʿalā taḥrīm iʿtiqād anna al-kawākib muʿaththira bi-dh-dhāt, wa qad dhukira ʿan
al-Shāfiʿī raḥimahallāh annahu qāla: in kāna al-munajjim yaʿtaqid anna lā muʾaththir illāllāh
lakin ajrā Allāh taʿālā ʿādatahu bi-annihi yaqaʿa kadhā ʿinda kadhā wa-l-muʾaththir huwa Allāh
fa-hadhā ʿindī lā baʾs bihi.”
71
astrology out of proportion.69

I will further detail below the austere stance of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya and his master

Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1328), who seem not to have found much recognition in the fifteenth- and

sixteenth-century Ottoman scholarly context. Before moving to the next section, I should note

that the Avicennan model that categorizes the ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm as a derived natural science

and the ʿilm al-hayʿa as a mathematical science was not the only paradigm adopted for

classifying sciences in the post-classical period. Fakhr al-dīn Rāzī’s juxtaposition of aḥkām as an

inextricable part of the mathematical sciences and his emphasis upon the utility of astrological

practice were also influential upon some of the ʿālims and classifiers of knowledge active in the

Ottoman world.

In his encyclopedic work Jāmi al-ʿulūm, which is also known as Kitāb-i sittīnī as a

reference to the number of sciences covered in the text, Rāzī addresses sixty different sciences

from among all the available rational (ʿaqlī) and traditional (naqlī) knowledge. In this inventory

of sciences Rāzī elaborates major principles (uṣūl) of each science as well as their applications

(furūʿ).70 Although his collection lacks a thorough discussion of the logic of his own

classification, the order and organization of the sciences listed in the work implies that in the

mind of Rāzī aḥkām was intimately related to hayʾa and other mathematical sciences. Unlike the

Avicennan tradition where the ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm is categorized as one of the subdivisions of

the derived natural sciences (ʿilm al-ṭabīʿiyyāt) together with dream interpretation, medicine, or

69
Ibid., 313: “wa fī hadhā-l-bāb aṭnaba ṣāḥib Miftāḥ dār as-saʿāda li-annahu afraṭa fī-ṭ-ṭaʿn.”
70
Fakrh al-Dīn Rāzī, Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm ya Ḥadāyiq al-anwār fī ḥaqāyiq al-asrār maʿrūf bih Kitāb-i
Sittīnī, ed. Muḥammad Ḥusayn Tasbīḥī (Tehran: Kitābkhānah-i Asadī, 1346/1967-8). See also:
Živa Vesel, Les encylopédies persanes: essai de typologie et de classification des sciences (Paris:
Editions Recherche sur les civilisations, 1986), 35-6. Vesel says some versions of the work cover
60 sciences whereas other editions address 40 or 57.
72
alchemy, Rāzī categorically detaches aḥkām from the group of occult practices and puts it

immediately after the mathematical sciences that include, in his exact order, geometry (ʿilm al-

handasa), geodesy (ʿilm al-masāḥa), mechanics (ʿilm jarr al-athqāl), war machines (ʿilm ālāt al-

ḥurūb), Indian arithmetic (ḥisāb al-Hind), mental calculation (al-ḥisāb al-hawāʾī), algebra (al-

jabr wa l-muqābala), arithmetic (ʿilm al-arithmāṭīqī), magic squares (ʿilm aʿdād al-wafq), optics

(ʿilm al-manāẓir), music (ʿilm al-mūsiqī), and ʿilm al-hayʾa.71 In his elaboration on the ʿilm-i

aḥkām-i nujūm, Rāzī does not explain in detail why there is a need for mathematical knowledge

in the practice of aḥkām, and rather goes on to explain the natures of the stars, astrological signs

and houses, and the corresponding points of exaltation (sharaf) and descent (hubūṭ).72 Yet his

deliberate decision to juxtapose it with the mathematical sciences, as opposed to following the

Avicennan convention, is a strong indication of his acknowledgement of the aḥkām’s

mathematical underpinnings.

The impact of Rāzī’s classification upon the scholarly preferences in the Ottoman world

can be detected from the early fifteenth century onwards.73 For instance Muḥammed Şāh Fenārī

(d. 1436), the son of the influential scholar Mollā Fenārī, wrote a detailed encyclopedic work

71
Rāzī, 184-6. Matthew Melvin-Koushki also points out the distinguishing characteristic of
Rāzī’s classification and discusses this particular text as one of the milestones of what he calls
the “mathematicalization of the occult sciences in the High Persianate Tradition.” See Matthew
Melvin-Koushki, “Powers of One: The Mathematicalization of the Occult Sciences in the High
Persianate Tradition.” (Forthcoming in Intellectual History of the Islamicate World). I would like
to thank Dr. Melvin-Koushki for allowing me to use his unpublished paper.
72
Rāzī, 184-6.
73
For the general influence of Rāzīan thought upon the scholarly life in the Ottoman lands in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, see Ömer Türker and Osman Demir, İslam Düşüncesinin
Dönüşüm Çağında Fahreddin er-Râzî (İstanbul: Klasik, 2011).
73
modelled upon Rāzī’s Jāmiʿ al-ʿulūm.74 In contrast to his predecessor and exemplar, however, in

his Anmūzaj al-ʿulūm Muḥammed Şāh Fenārī addresses a total of hundred sciences by adding

several new branches especially in the natural and mathematical sciences. One of his additions

was his chapter on the ʿilm al-ikhtiyārāt that he put immediately after the section on ʿilm al-

nujūm and right before the chapter on ʿilm al-usṭurlāb. Intriguingly, Muḥammed Şāh Fenārī does

not refer separately to ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm but discusses it within his treatment of ʿilm al-nujūm.

When one looks at the contents of the chapter on nujūm, it is clear that he gives pride of place to

astrological issues such as the indications of the zodiacal signs, planets, and their exaltations as

well as descents and other positions.75 It is also worth noting that like Rāzī, Muḥammed Şāh

Fenārī separates astrology from other occult practices by situating it into other mathematical

sciences.

The curious use of ʿilm al-nujūm as a broader category to denote practical celestial

activities including astrology also surfaces in a number of texts and treatises written in Persian in

the late-fifteenth- and early-sixteenth-century Ottoman milieu. One of them is a compendium of

sciences completed and presented to the reigning sultan Bāyezīd II in September 1489 by

Shukrullāh Shirvānī, who was among the Persian émigré scholars/natural philosophers serving

the Ottoman court at the time. In this text, entitled Riyāḍ al-qulūb, Shirvānī discusses eight

disciplines ranging from Sufism and physiognomy to ʿilm al-hayʾa and ʿilm al-nujūm.76 In his

74
The work has yet to be prepared as a critical edition. For a brief discussion on its importance
and contents, see Kemal Faruk Molla, “Mehmed Şah Fenâri’nin Enmûzecu’l-Ulûm Adlı Eserine
Göre Fetih Öncesi Dönemde Osmanlılar’da İlim Anlayışı ve İlim Tasnifi,” Divan: İlmi
Araştırmalar v. 10, no. 18 (2005), 245-273.
75
SK Hüsrev Paşa Ms. 482, 181a-182b.
76
SK Ayasofya Ms. 4024. Other sciences include Logic (mantiq), Arithmetic (ḥisāb), Poetry
(shiʿir), and Riddles (muʿammā).
74
presentation, ʿilm al-hayʿa is a science that studies the elements and structures of celestial as well

as terrestrial bodies. The primary aim of this science is pietistic indeed, as it helps one to reflect

upon and realize the wisdom of God underlying the creation of the universe. He then goes over

fundamental geometrical and astronomical principles, starting from what a point, a line, or matter

is.77 Immediately after this chapter on ʿilm al-hayʿa, Shirvānī starts explaining ʿilm al-nujūm,

which, for him, is the noblest of all knowledge after the religious sciences. What Shirvānī refers

to as ʿilm-i nujūm, however, is none other than astrology in the modern sense, as he clearly says

that this is a science appealed to especially by rulers and sultans out of a desire for

foreknowledge of celestial influences upon worldly affairs.78 He then explicates how to denote

the degrees of zodiacal signs and planets in sexagesimal numbers. This is followed by the

description of the movements of the planets and the influences of planetary aspects. He then

delves into a discussion on how to calculate the horoscope of the solar revolution each year and

draw astrological decrees out of the celestial positions at the designated time. Finally he

elaborates the astrological significance of the lunar motions across the Zodiac and provides

detailed suggestions for electional purposes.79 All in all, Shirvānī’s discussion in his

encyclopedic work perfectly exemplifies how the practice of aḥkām al-nujūm relied upon the

technical and mathematical knowledge of nujūm.

One can easily extend examples demonstrating that in the eyes of many contemporary

77
Ibid., 39b-62a.
78
Ibid., 62b: “baʿd az ʿulūm-i dīnī hīch ʿilm aʿlā az ʿilm-i nujūm nīst…va muḥtāj ilayhi mulūk va
salāṭin-ast chūn bi-vāsiṭa-i taʿsīr-i qirānāt va kusūfat va sāir ḥālāt-i kavākib dar ʿālam-i kavn va
faṣād vaqāyiʿ va zalāzil va ṭūfānāt va muḥārabāt va qaḥṭ va vabā va amsāl-i ān vāqiʿ mī-shavad.
Agar kasī īn ʿilm rā dānad va ān ḥālāt ra dar yābad va riʿāyat namāyad umīd ki az āfāt sālim
mānad.”
79
Ibid., 62b-80b.
75
astral experts and natural philosophers aḥkām of the stars essentially entailed the scientific

knowledge of nujūm and that the broader category of ʿilm al-nujūm naturally paved the way to

astrological preoccupations.80 For example, one of Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī’s students, Khiṭābī

munajjim, who arrived at the Ottoman lands in the late 1470s wrote—as his first piece to present

an Ottoman prince—a philosophical treatise entitled Jāmiʿ al-qismayn.81 As the title implies,

Khiṭābī reviewed in this work the two specific branches of speculative philosophy: ḥikmat-i

80
In his al-Zij al-mujmal, for instance, Mevlānā Kūçek introduces ʿilm al-nujūm as one of the
three most exalted sciences next to the ʿilm al-hayʾa and the revealed sciences (ʿilm al-sharāyiʿ).
For him, astrological tasks are among the constituent bodies of this ʿilm. See TSMK R. 1713, 2b-
11a. In a similar vein, Mīrim Çelebi, about whom more information will be provided in the third
chapter, says in his commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables that the noblest of all mathematical
sciences is ʿilm-i nujūm. By attaining the honor of this knowledge can one understand the nature
of the movements of the stars, their positions, and their stations on each and every one of the
astrological signs, and calculate five daily prayers, azimuth of the qibla, and other directions. See
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2697, 2a: “sharīftarīn navʿi az anvāʾ-i riyāżī ʿilm-i nujūm-ast ki nafs-i insāni
rā az iqtināh-i ān sharaf iṭṭilāʿ bar māhiyat-i ḥarakāt-i kavākib dar ṭūl va ʿarż va kayfiyat-i avżāʿ
ve maqāmāt-i har yak dar burūj va nitaqāt va maʿrifat-i avqāt-i ṣalavāt va samt-i qibla va sāʾir
jihat ḥāṣil mī shavad.” Another contemporary astral expert, Efezāde, says in his commentary of
Ṭūsī’s treatise on the uses of astrolabe (Risāla bīst bāb fī maʿrifat-i usṭurlāb) that the importance
of ʿilm-i nujūm derives from its pietistic, astronomical, and astrological purposes. For him, the
primary operations one can carry out with the astrolabe include calculations of important
parameters such as the true longitudes of the planets (taqvīm-i kavākib) and the ascendants of the
hours (ṭavāliʿ). See SK Ayasofya Ms. 2641, 2b-3a: “hikmāt-i āfarinash-i aflāk va anjum ve
ārāstan-i ṭāq-i haft va hashtom ān-ast ki ... sabab-i niẓām-i ʿālam ve intiẓām-i umūr-i bani Ādam
bāshad va ū rā vājib-ast ki baʿd az maʿrifat-i vājibu’l-vujūd naẓar konad ba-īn kunbad-i kubūd
ki … vaqt-i vujūd va nuḥūs va suʿūd dar ikhtiyār-i amr-i mardūd ve maḥmūd va dar ṣalāḥ-i
aʿmāl va falāḥ-i aḥvāl-i khod avqāt-i sharīfa va sāʿāt-i laṭīfa guzīn konad tā hama kārhā-yi
dunyavī va ukhravī bar mūjab-i ḥikmat-i ʿamalī bāshad va az ʿaṭiyya-i khod bahramand va
savadmand bovad va īn jumla bi-ʿulūm-i riyāżī ḥāṣil-ast ki uṣūl-i ū ʿilm-i hayʾat va handasa va
ḥisāb-ast va muqarrar-ast ki samara-i īn ʿulūm baʿd az vasīla bi-maʿrifatillāh ʿilm bi-samt-i
qıbla va ayyām va maʿrifat-i avqāt va shuhūr va aʿvām-ast va inhā mavqūf-ast bi-maʿrifat-i
raṣad-ı sitāragān va sāʿāt va maṭāliʿ va istikhrāj-i taqvīm-i kavākib va ṭavāliʿ”
81
Ayasofya Ms. 2414M, 19b-20a: “muḥarrir-i in suṭūr va muqarrir-i īn mazbūr…Ḥusām b.
Shams al-dīn al-khaṭīb al-mushtahir bi-Khiṭābī al-Gīlānī...ʿijāla al-vaqt rā dar taʾrīkh-i sana
884 hijriyya dar baldat al-muvaḥḥidīn-i Ṭoḳat…bi-ḥasb-i vasīla-i idrāk-i saʿādat-i taqabbul-i
turāb-i sidda-i rāfiʿa-i pādishāh va pādishāhzāda-i ….sulṭān abū’l-muẓaffar Bāyezīd…taʾlīf
kard.”
76
riyāḍī (mathematical sciences) and ḥikmat-i ṭabīʿi (natural sciences). More precisely, he first

elaborated ʿilm-i nujūm, and like Shukrullāh Shirvānī, delved solely into an astrological

discussion, laying out the qualities and indications of the twelve astrological houses. For him,

ilm-i nujūm, which is more exalted and prestigious than ʿilm-i ṭibb, is useful, divine knowledge

that helps human beings understand the impact of the motions of the celestial objects on the

sublunary world, guard themselves against harm and destruction—as ordered in the Quran—and

learn about divine decrees upon their personal lives.82

One last striking example that seems to have followed Rāzī’s classification and discusses

nujūm, including the aḥkām, as part of the mathematical sciences is the unique catalogue of the

Ottoman palace library prepared in 909/1502-3 by the chief librarian of the time, ʿĀṭūfī (d.

1541). In this voluminous inventory, ʿĀṭūfī, a noted physician and learned natural philosopher,

recorded approximately 7,200 titles in 5,700 volumes, grouping them in different clusters of

disciplines. The inventory starts with copies of Quran, followed by Quranic exegesis (tafsīr) and

recitation (qiraʾat), Hadith, Principles of Religion and Theology (uṣūl al-dīn, kalām),

Jurisprudence (uṣūl al-fiqh, fiqh), Sufism (tasawwuf), Medicine (ṭibb), History and Political

Thought, Poetry, Grammar and related Linguistic Sciences, Occult Practices, Mathematical

Sciences, Philosophy, and other Revealed Books. Interesting for our purposes here, ʿĀṭūfī’s

gallery on the occult sciences, which includes oneiromancy, physiognomy, alchemy, geomancy,

divination, talismans, lettrism, and magic does not have a single reference to an aḥkām text,

82
Ibid., 23b: “fāida [-i ʿilm-i nujūm]: har chand az taqdīr va qaḍā imkān-i ḫurūj nīst amma bi-
muʾaddā ‘wa lā tulqū bi-aydikum ilā’t-tahluka’ va sharr iḥtirāz vājib-ast va bi-qadr-i vasʿ saʿy
lāzim cha faḥvā-yi ‘laysa li’l-insān illā mā saʿy’ rā ishārat hamīn-ast va īn maʿnā bi-ṣūrat
nayāyad illā az idrāk-i natāyij-i ḥarakāt-i ajrām-i samāvī yaʿnī sayr-i ajrām-i mustanīra dar
aqsām-i ajsām-i mustadīra va ān duvāzdah dar duvāzdah-ast ki az ṣuvar-i zāyijāt-i ṭavāliʿ
makhṣūṣ mī-shavad ki īn maʿnā ra iṣṭilāḥ-i ahl-i sharʿ ṣūrat-i taqdīr khānand.”
77
because ʿĀṭūfī deliberately collects those titles on celestial knowledge, including strictly

astrological ones, under the rubric of mathematical sciences, which contains ‘ilm al-nujūm, ‘ilm

al-hay’a, ‘ilm al-ḥisāb, ‘ilm al-handasa, ‘ilm al-mūsīqī, and ʿilm al-shataranj.83

ʿĀṭūfī’s clarity vis-à-vis the complicated status of astrology, which, as we have already

seen so far, constantly oscillates between the natural or occult sciences (al-ʿulūm al-ṭabīʿiyya)

and the mathematical sciences (al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya) finds its most evident expression in his

deliberate decision to situate Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s book on celestial magic, al-Sirr al-maktūm fī

mukhāṭabat al-nujūm, among the titles in the natural/occult sciences while listing the same

author’s work on electional astrology, Ikhtiyārāt al-aḥkām al-ʿalāiyya min al-ʿālam al-

samāwiyya, under the rubric of astral and mathematical sciences. I believe these two works

provide a convenient gateway to move into the next and final section of this chapter, where I will

talk about the attacks addressed toward astrology in view of its epistemological invalidity and

religious impermissibility.84 In this section I will not only mention the major arguments arrayed

against the practice of astrology but also highlight the urgency of the need to distinguish the

83
Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Ms. Török F 59, 313.
84
While there was no question about the authenticity of Rāzī’s authorship as regards to the
Ikhtiyārāt al-aḥkām al-ʿalāiyya, the other work on celestial magic, al-Sirr al-maktūm, was
doubted for a long time as an authentic work of Rāzī. But thanks especially to the studies of Živa
Vesel, it is no longer open to doubt. See: Živa Vesel, “The Persian Translation of Fakhr al-Dīn
Rāzī’s al-Sirr al-Maktūm (‘The Occult Secret’) for Iltutmish,” in Confluence of Cultures: French
Contributions to Indo-Persian Studies, ed. Françoise ‘Nalini’ Delvoye (New Delhi and Tehran:
Manohar, Centre for Human Sciences, and Institut Français de Recherche en Iran, 1995), 14-22;
idem., “Le Sirr al-Maktūm de Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī (m. 606H/1210) face à la Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm,” in
Images et Magie: Picatrix entre Orient et Occident, ed. Jean-Patrice Boudet, Anna Caiozzo, and
Nicolas Weill-Parot (Paris: Honoré Champion Éditeur, 2011), 77-93. Ayman Shihadeh also
confirms that since there are references to the al-Sirr al-maktum in at least three different works
of Rāzī, there is no question that the text belongs to him, though he apparently wrote it at a
relatively early stage of his career. See Ayman Shihadeh, The Teleological Ethics of Fakhr al-
Dīn Rāzī (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 8, fn. 22.
78
weighty charges levelled against munajjims from softer charges attributed to the discipline of

theʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm.

I. 4. Polemics Against Astrology and Astrologers

Aside from categorizing ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm as part of the mathematical sciences –

unlike the more conventional Avicennan tradition– Rāzī is important for having composed

individual treatises on electional astrology and celestial magic, in which he devoted his efforts to

prove the utility and validity of studying celestial objects for astrological purposes. In his

Ikhtiyārāt al-aḥkām al-ʿalāʾiyya min al-ʿālam al-samāwiyya, a popular textbook on electional

astrology dedicated to Kharazmian ruler ʿAlā al-Dīn Tekish (r. 1172-1200), Rāzī discusses in

two main parts (maqālāt) the general theoretical considerations (dar kulliyāt) and detailed

practical applications (dar juzʾiyyāt) of electional astrology. In the first part, he specifically

addresses the arguments raised by the opponents of astrology who consider ikhtiyārāt a futile and

irreligious endeavor. According to these people, ikhtiyārāt bears no utility, because, among many

other reasons, it is not possible to divert a divine decree.85 Moreover, the Prophet Muhammad

averred that whoever believes in the stars falls into unbelief (kufr). Had the belief in the stars

been righteous, the practice of astrology would not have been unbelief.86

Rāzī refuted the first argument by alluding to a discussion on the free will of individuals.

As he maintained, each and every thing God created in this world is the cause of something else.

For instance, eating brings satiation, medicine balances bodily humors, worship secures eternal

85
TSMK Revan 1705, 7a: “Dalīl-i chahārom: dafʿ-i taqdīr-i ilāhī mumkin nīst. Pas ikhtiyār bī-
fāʾida bovad.”
86
Ibid: “Dalīl-i panchom: Muṣṭafā ʿalayhissalām mī farmāyad ki ‘man āmana bi-n-nujūm fa-qad
kafara.’ Agar nujūm ḥaqq būdī kufr nabūdī va chūn ḥaqq nabūd dar vay hīch fāʾida nabāshad.”
79
salvation, and disobedience invokes punishment. We, as human beings, are not capable of

avoiding the divine decree, but to say that we should abandon electing moments is akin to saying

we should stop eating bread, drinking water, or obeying God’s rules. Because according to the

opponents’ argument, if I was born a lucky person by divine decree, then I cannot turn to an ill-

fated individual regardless of my obeying God’s orders or not. Such a statement, however, is far

from being rational and religious, and thus a corrupt (bāṭil) one.87

As for the second argument, Rāzī said that believing in (the existence of) the stars entails

believing in the existence of the Creator. This is not unbelief (kufr); on the contrary it is even a

higher degree of belief in the living, most intelligent, omnipotent, and eternal God.88 For Rāzī,

the study of the heavens varies with respect to the goals and scope of the activity conducted.

Foremost is the contemplative study of the stars as signs of God’s wisdom and limitless power.

Second is its practical use to measure time and direction for religious purposes such as

calculating the time of the five daily prayers, the first day of each month, or the direction of the

qibla. For Rāzī, like Ibn al-Akfānī, these two types of celestial activity are compulsory (vājib).

The loosely-defined third type of celestial enterprise is examination of the amount, sizes, and

rotations of heavenly objects for a mixture of scientific and pietistic purposes. The fourth activity

87
Ibid., 8b-9a: “Hargiz dafʿ-i taqdīr-i ilāhī maqdūr-i bashar nīst va likin īzad taʿālā har chīzī rā
sabab-i chīzī digar nihāda ast. Chunān ki nān khordan rā sabab-i sīri karda ast va dārū khordan
rā sabab-i zāʾil kardan-i khalṭhā karda va ʿibādat kardan rā sabab-i najāt karda va maʿṣiyat rā
sabab-i ʿiqāb karda. Pas az ān ki mā taqdīr-i khodā rā manʿ natavānam kardan lāzim āyad ki bi-
tark-i ikhtiyār bagūyīm bāyad ki bi-tark-i nān vā āb khordan bagūyīm va bi-tark-i ṭāʿat kardan
va farmān bardārī bi-jāy āvordan bagūyīm va gūyim ki agar taqdīr-i khodā taʿālā chunān ast ki
man az nīk-bakhtān bāsham bad-bakht nashovam, agar ṭāʿat konam va agar nakonam. Pas
hamchunān ki īn sukhan az ʿaql va sharʿ dūr ast, suʾāl-i sāʾil hamchunān bāṭil ast.”
88
Ibid., 9a: “[A]gar kasī īmān āvord ba-nujūm az ān jihat ki hastī-i īshān dalīl ast bar hastī-i
afarīdkār-i ḥayy va ʿālim va qādir va qadīm. Īn kufr nabovad balki ʿayn-i īmān bovad balki
ʿālītar daraja-i bovad dar īmān.”
80
is tracking the influences of celestial phenomena upon the terrestrial realm by essentially

acknowledging that these influences occur not by the nature of the stars but solely by the divine

power. This is, for Rāzī, neither unbelief nor an error. The fifth pursuit is arguing that the stars

affect terrestrial events through their own independent nature. According to Rāzī, such an

argument is a mistake per se but does not stand as an example of kufr. Finally, the sixth type

clearly corresponds to unbelief: arguing that the stars are the real generators of the things

(mudabbirāt) in the universe and that astral worship is obligatory upon human beings.89

Therefore for Rāzī, and in fact for other seemingly tolerant figures including al-Shāfiʿī, al-

Akfānī, or aşṬköprīzāde, the study of heavens may lead one either to piety or unbelief depending

on the purposes and scope of the celestial activities one undertakes.90

Rāzī also emphasizes the experiential and conjectural nature of astrological practice in his

works on philosophical theology (al-Maṭālib al-ʿāliyya) and celestial magic (al-Sirr al-maktūm fī

mukhāṭabat al-nujūm). As he puts it forward, no truly erudite munajjim claims to attain absolute

89
Ibid., 9a-10a: “Naẓar dar nujūm bar shash qism ast: Avval ān ast ki dar hastī-i īshān naẓar
konand tā bi-vāsiṭa-i ān āfarīdkār rā va ʿilm va qudrat-i bī-nihāyat-i ū rā badānand. Qism-i
dovvom ān ki dar ḥarakāt-i īshān naẓar konand tā avqāt-i namāz va rūza va rakāt va hajj va
samt-i qibla badānand va naẓar kardan dar sitāragān badīn har do vach vājib ast. Qism-i
sovvom ān ki dar maqādir-i ajrām va abʿād va davrī-yi īshān az ikhtilāf va tafāvut naẓar konand
chunān ki dar kitābhā-yi ʿilm-i hayʾat bayān-i ān karda ast va naẓar dar sitāragān az īn vajh
pasandīda bāshad zīrā ki har kasī ki īn ʿilm bihtar dānad āsār-i ḥikmat-i khodā taʿālā dar
āsumānhā va zamīnhā bihtar dānad. Qism-i chahārom ān ki iʿtiqād dārand ki īn sitāragān rā
hīch asar nīst darīn ʿālam bi-ṭabʿ līkin chunān ki īzad taʿālā az rāh-i ʿādat-i ṭulūʿ-i āfitāb rā
sabab-i rūshani-yi ʿālam karda ast va ghurūb-i ū rā sabab-i tāriki-yi ʿālam gardānida va …
hamchunān ki naẓarhā-yi īn sitāragān rā az rāh-i ʿādat na az rāh-i ṭabīʿiyat asbāb-i saʿādat va
nuḥūsat karda ast va ittifāq ast jumla-i mutakhaṣṣiṣān va mutakallimān rā ki iʿtiqād darīn ʿilm
badīn vajh na-kufr ast va na-żalāl ast. Panchom ān cha ki iʿtiqād dārand ki īn sitāragān bi-ṭabʿ
muʾaththir-and darīn ʿālam va īn iʿtiqād har chand khaṭā ast ammā kufr nīst. Shashom ān cha ki
iʿtiqād dārand ki īn sitāragān mudabbir-i ān ʿālam-and saʿādat va nuḥūsat juzʿ az fayż-i īshān
ḥāṣil nashavad va bar mā ʿibādat-i īshān vājib-ast, īn iʿtiqād kufr-i ṣarī ḥast.”
90
Ibid., 10a: “Pas maʿlūm shod ki īmān bi-nujūm kay īmān bovad va kay kufr bovad.”
81
knowledge about the future, for they all know that their craft could only allow them to propose

plausible conjectures. Ultimately everything lies subject to the will and power of the God, and

the celestial objects operate not as the active efficient causes (fāʾil-i mukhtar) but rather as the

intermediaries between God and sublunary events. Astrology is only forbidden when astral

determinism that ascribes independent power to celestial objects is in question.91

Despite such careful remarks of Rāzī and many other genuine astral experts with respect

to the limits and true nature of astral causality, the risk of undermining the idea of God’s

omnipotence and sharʿī traditions was alarming to the opponents of astrology. This potential

danger pushed many jurists and scholars to frown upon the practice of astrology, notwithstanding

the fact that they never denied the fundamental causality between celestial phenomena and

terrestrial matters. As Lynn Thorndike, one of the pioneer scholars of the history of magic and

astrology, had aptly said long ago, before the gradual acceptance of Isaac Newton’s Principia

Mathematica beginning in the eighteenth century, the universal law of nature was indeed

astrological, as the idea of correlation between terrestrial events and celestial configurations was

widely accepted.92 Even the staunchest opponents of astrology in the medieval and early-modern

context did not question this cosmological assumption.

When we look at the writings of the most ardent opponents of astrology in medieval

Islamicate culture, such as Ibn Sīnā, Ghazālī, Ibn Taymiyya, Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, or Ibn

Khaldūn, it appears clear that none of them in fact denied the unbroken chain of causation

91
Also see Robert G. Morrison, Islam and Science: the Intellectual Career of Nīẓām al-Dīn al-
Nīsābūrī (London: Routledge, 2007), 66; Eva Orthmann, “The Charm of Suspicious
Calculations: Islamic Astrology in the Debates of Controversial Literature,” Beiruter Blätter 10-
11 (2002-3), 110-118.
92
Lynn Thorndike, “The True Place of Astrology in the History of Science,” Isis 46/3 (1955),
273-278.
82
flowing from God through the celestial bodies to the terrestrial realm. Ibn Sīnā, for example,

accepted the general astrological assumption that the events in the sublunary world are

determined by celestial causes. He rejected the hyperbolic claims of munajjims to fully

understand the dynamics underlying this causality and to predict future events, because for Ibn

Sīnā the humans are simply incapable of tracking the innumerable causes.93 In his Iḥyāʾ al-

ʿulūm, Ghazālī also mentioned the link between the occurrence of terrestrial events and the

effects of intermediary causes in the celestial realm. Despite the fact that in the first book of the

Iḥyāʾ he labeled the astrological craft as a useless and blameworthy science, for Ghazālī, only the

ignorant who have “no glimmer of the marvels of God’s creation and the scope of His power”

would reject the causal connection. As he later wrote in the thirty-second book of the Iḥyāʾ, those

people who know God’s actions ought to be aware that the planets are subject to God’s

command: “The conviction that the stars are causes that have effects…by the creation of God is
94
not damaging to religion but it is truth.” In a similar fashion, in one of his fatwas where he

vehemently derided the practice of astrology, Ibn Taymiyya clearly acknowledged that “[the

stars] have an influence, that which is known by the senses and by these other affairs, this is

true.”95 Moreover, Ibn Khaldūn also admitted the theoretical as well as practical possibility of

celestial influence upon terrestrial events, explictly remarking in his discussion on prophecy and

93
Avicenne, Réfutation de l’astrologie. Édition et traduction du texte arabe, introduction, notes
et lexique par Yahya Michot (Beirut-Paris: Albouraq, 2006), 77.
94
Frank Griffel, Al-Ghazālī’s Philosophical Theology (New York: Oxford University Press,
2009), 243-4.
95
Yahya J. Michot, “Ibn Taymiyya on Astrology: Annotated Translation of Three Fatwas,”
Journal of Islamic Studies 11/2 (2000), 158.
83
divination that celestial positions (waḍʿ falakī) play a role in the appearance of prophets.96

What were, then, the major issues at stake that compelled several men of knowledge to

denounce the craft? What kind of arguments did opponents raise for refuting astrological claims?

The arguments to which opponents of astrology appealed make many different claims,

ranging from the social problems potentially caused by the belief in astrology to the

methodological and epistemological issues inherent in the science of astrology. At the centre of

these arguments, however, lays the essential charge of associating the practitioners of the craft

with astral determinism. In these counterarguments, the munajjims are often relegated to the

status of magicians and street diviners, who are accused of endowing celestial objects with

independent creative powers. Simultaneously, the learned practice of astrology is easily stripped

of its mathematical/astronomical garb and presented as a naïve and simplistic species of magic.

In terms of the potential social problems the belief in astrology might engender, the

opponents of astrological practice referred to the detrimental consequences of false expectations

caused by munajjims’ predictions and the damaging of moral and religious values. For example,

Ibn Khaldūn wrote that astrological predictions often pave the way for expectations of a political

crisis in a dynasty. This inevitably encourages the rivals and enemies of the reigning dynasty to

revolt against it. Ibn Khaldūn further added, without providing any specific example, that he had

personally observed many incidents of this sort.97 As regards to moral issues, Ibn Taymiyya

alluded, in one of his fatwas, to the problems caused by women’s frequenting the diviners’ shops

and sitting close to young men, who were present there with the sole intention of approaching

96
Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, v. 1, tr. Franz Rosenthal
(Princeton; New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1958).
97
Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah v. 3, 262-3.
84
those women.98 Apart from these two issues, the opponents were annoyed by the fact that in their

search for divine support, society in general, and the ruling elites in particular, depended more on

astrologers than the ʿulamāʾ. As Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya made it explicit in his Miftāḥ dār al-

saʿāda, munajjims were encroaching “the sphere of human activity wherein should predominate

the authority of the ʿulamāʾ.”99

Aside from these potential social problems, the opponents of astrological practice also

frequently referred to the limits of the scientific premises of astrology. It is quite interesting that

the arguments raised by the opponents with respect to the weak scientific methods of astrology

parallel the critical self-reflections of munajjims about their own craft, which I already discussed

above. The famous opponents of astrology like Ibn Khaldūn or Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya often

emphasized the conjectural (takhmīnī) nature of astrological practice in view of the impossibility

of knowing and observing all the effective celestial causes upon the terrestrial realm. Ibn Qayyim

al-Jawziyya specifically pointed out the zīj literature and rhetorically asked how a munajjim

could know which table to trust when zījes differed significantly in the values they provided

about the positions of the planets.100 For Ibn Khaldūn, due to the difficulty of obtaining thorough

celestial information and additional problems related to the instruction of astrology, such as the

scarcity of erudite masters, one should not waste his/her time learning astrology, which is already

98
Yahya J. Michot, “Ibn Taymiyya on Astrology: Annotated Translation of Three Fatwas,” 188.
Similar argument was also raised in some examples of the Medieval hisba manuals that aimed at
inspecting the market transactions. See: George Saliba, “The Role of the Astrologer in Medieval
Islamic Society,” 61.
99
John Livingston, “Science and the Occult in the Thinking of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya,”
Journal of the American Oriental Society, 112/4 (1992), 601.
100
Ibid., 602.
85
a very complicated subject with numerous branches and subcategories.101

Another sub-theme frequently visited by the opponents of astrology is the claim

regarding the prophetic nature of celestial knowledge. It is not uncommon to see munajjims

attributing their craft to the prophet Idrīs, who was often identified as Hermes Trismegistus

and/or Biblical Enoch.102 The Ottoman astrological materials, especially those composed prior to

the last quarter of the fifteenth century, also often mention Idrīs as the discoverer of the secret

knowledge of the stars.103 The leading opponents of astrology, however, energetically criticized

this argument. Ibn Khaldūn, for example, stated that despite the common views of some weak-

minded people, the knowledge of celestial powers and influences were not revealed.104 Ibn

Taymiyya also treated this issue separately in one of his long fatwas. As he put it forward, there

101
Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah v. 3, 265. Ghazālī also thinks that spending years studying
astrology is wasting one’s lifetime in vain. See: Carlo Nallino, “Astrologia e astronomia presso i
Musulmani,” in Raccolta di scritti editi e inediti, v. 5, Astrologia, astronomia, geografia, ed.
Maria Nallino (Rome: Istituto per l’Oriente, 1944), 33.
102
David Pingree, “The Ṣābians of Ḥarrān and the Classical Tradition,” International Journal of
the Classical Tradition 9/1 (2002), 8-35
103
In the historical chronology sections of the earliest taqwīms, the date the science of the stars
was revealed to Idrīs is particularly specified: “nuzūl-i ʿilm-i nujūm ba-Idris” or “İdris
peygāmbere gökden nücūm iñeli.” The latest taqwīm in which I was able to find a substantial
reference to Idrīs is the Arabic almanac of the year 983 now preserved as BnF Arabe Ms. 2570.
There (20a) Idrīs is defined as the “kāshifu ʿilm al-nujūm wa-l-aḥkām.”
Some of the contemporary astrological textbooks written in plain Turkish also refer to him
whenever the author felt the need to justify the validity of astrology, and thus underline the
prophetic value of this science. For example a late-fifteenth century astral expert named Nücūmī
wrote a simple astrological textbook that he dedicated to Prince Cem around the late 1460s or
early 1470s. In this text entitled Mezzāḳu’l-uşşāḳ fī ʿilmi’l-āfāḳ, in addition to widely adopting
Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s arguments in favor of the astrological practice, the author discusses at length
the significance of Idrīs for the cultivation of astrological knowledge and says that the science of
the stars is a miracle bestowed upon him. See Kandilli Ms. 372, 63b: “Bu ʿilm-i şerīf ḫod
maʿlūmdur ki İdrīs nebī ʿaleyhisselām ḥażretinüñ ʿilm-i muʿcizesidür, ḥaḳ teʿālā … āñā ʿilm-i
nücūmda otuz ṣuḥūf göndermişdür ve baʿż-ı ḥukemā dirler ki otuz ṣuḥūfuñ onı ʿilm-i şerīʿat idi
ve onı ʿilm-i nücūm ve onı gayr-ı ʿulūmda idi.”
104
Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah v. 3, 262-3.
86
is no authentic tradition about the revelation of the science of the stars to Idrīs. Moreover, even if

some part of this science was taken from a Prophet, it now contains more lies and vain elements.

Finally, he refers to the standard two-tiered division of the science of the stars—i.e., the one

depending on computation (ḥisāb) and the other on (astrological) judgments (aḥkām)—and states

that the second belongs to the field of magic. Since it is impossible for any of the Prophets to

have been a magician, then there is no way, according to Ibn Taymiyya, this science was

revealed to the prophet Idrīs.105

As is evident from this brief discussion of the prophetic roots of astrology, while

munajjims might have at times resorted to the strategy of tracing their controversial craft back to

the prophet Idrīs, the opponents of astrology often turned to the key strategy of identifying ʿilm

aḥkām al-nujūm as a sort of applied magic, which they thought asserted astral determinism and

thus undermined the fundamental pillars of Islamic faith. In almost all textual examples where

jurists, theologians, and other Shariah-minded scholars attacked astrology, this deliberate

maneuver comes to the fore, associating ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm with astral determinism and the

munajjim with a magician or diviner. Ibn Taymiyya’s relevant fatwas, for instance, are filled

with remarks where the Hanbali jurist declares those who are keenly interested in astrological

practice as unbelievers. For Ibn Taymiyya, whoever believes that planets and other celestial

objects administer the destiny of individuals, and whoever seeks the aid of celestial power

through invocation, is a corrupt associationist (mushrik).106 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya also spilled

much ink to charge different kinds and levels of astrological activity with astral determinism and

hence unbelief. For Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, munajjims lay claim to God’s omnipotence, and

105
Michot, “Ibn Taymiyya on Astrology: Annotated Translation of Three Fatwas,” 170-175.
106
Ibid., esp. 160-170.
87
therefore deserve such harsh treatments as severing their hands from their arms and tearing their

“lying tongues” from their mouths so that they could no longer “trade on the gullibility of the

umma.”107

It is quite intriguing that despite such severe charges of astral determinism, munajjims

always refrained in their writings from implying any sense of astral determinism. On the

contrary, they often subsumed celestial influences under the will of God and emphasized the fact

that the entire cosmic order was in the full control of the divine power. One can easily see in the

Ottoman astrological corpus of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries that when expressing their

astrological predictions, munajjims inserted at regular intervals such clauses, provisions, and

Quranic verses as “bi-idhnillāh” [with the permission of God], “Allāhu aʿlam” [God is the most

knowing one], “ʿindahu mafātiḥ al-ghayb” [with Him are the keys of the unseen], “lā yaʿlamu

al-ghayb illallāh” [No one knows the unseen except God], “Mā shāʾallāh kāna wa-mā lam

yashāʾ lam yakun” [Whatever Allah willed to be, shall be, and whatever Allah did not will to be,

shall not be]. While one may interpret the insertion of these remarks as a simple trick to escape

the charge of infidelity, what seems more plausible though, on the basis of the previous

discussion with respect to the munajjim’s critical self-reflections, is that for many munajjims

astral determinism was in fact almost never an issue.108 Rather, they genuinely and deliberately

107
Livingston, “Science and the Occult in the Thinking of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya,” 601.
108
One exception may be Abū Maʿshar, the most famous astrologer in all of Islamic history, who
was an ardent proponent of astral determinism, although he also employed in some of his
writings the same alibi of God’s omnipotence. As an indication of his belief in astral
determinism and his tendency to assign anthropomorphic qualities to the heavenly bodies, Abū
Maʿshar defines astrology in his Kitāb al-milal wa-d-duwal as the science of interpreting the
indications of the “celestial” or “rational” personalities” (al-ashkhāṣ al-ʿulwiyya or sometimes
al-ashkhāṣ al-ʿaqliyya), not as the craft of interpreting the influences of the celestial bodies (al-
ajrām al-ʿulwiyya). See Abū Maʿšhar on Historical Astrology: The Book of Religions and
88
made the celestial effects subsidiary to God’s unlimited power.

Although the views quoted here originate almost solely from the austere Hanbali jurists,

and may thus seem not representative of the entire cultural and intellectual spectrum, a closer

examination of other well-known names who were either integral members of or influential upon

the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ottoman scholarly context also reveals similar patterns.

One of these names is Sayyid Sharīf-i Jurjānī (d. 1413), who was profoundly influential

on the development of the Ottoman higher education curricula through the dissemination of his

works in the fields of grammar, jurisprudence, and especially kalām.109 His magnum opus in the

field of kalām entitled Sharḥ al-Mawāqif, a massive commentary on his master ʿAḍūd al-Dīn al-

Ījī’s (d. ca 1355) relatively short tract on theology, became a key text upon which numerous

commentaries and super-commentaries were written by the Ottoman ʿulamāʾ in the fifteenth and

sixteenth centuries.110 In one part of his lengthy commentary, Jurjānī specifically takes the case

of munajjims. For Jurjānī, munajjims constitute a group that denies the omnipotence of God. As

he maintains, munajjims believe that stars rule the terrestrial events by means of their positions in

the Zodiac or the planetary aspects among one another. He refers here to the key concept

“mudabbir” and associates munajjims with the belief that celestial objects act and rule

Dynasties (On the Great Conjunctions), ed. Keiji Yamamoto and Charles Burnett, 2
Vols (Leiden: Brill, 2000).
109
On Sayyid Sharīf-i Jurjānī, see Josef van Ess, “Jorjāni, Zayn al-Dn Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b.
Moḥammad b. ʿAlī al-Ḥosaynī,” EIr, Online edition. On Jurjānī’s impact upon the Ottoman
higher education, see: Shahab Ahmad and Nenad Filipovic, “The Sultan’s Syllabus: A
Curriculum for the Ottoman Imperial Medreses,” Studia Islamica 98-99 (2004), 183-218.
110
M. Sait Özervarlı, “Osmanlı Kelam Geleneğinden Nasıl Yararlanırız?” in Dünden Bugüne
Osmanlı Araştırmaları: Tespitler – Problemler – Teklifler, Sempozyum, ed. Ali Akyıldız et al.
(İstanbul: İSAM, 2007), 197-213.
89
independently.111 While targeting these alleged claims of munajjims, Jurjānī resorts to one of the

most common arguments used in the polemical literature as to the disparate fates of twins.

Accordingly, Jurjānī questions how it could be possible for the twins to have different courses of

life while they are born at the same time, and thus have apparently the same ascendant. Jurjānī

concludes that contrary to what the munajjims strongly hold, a minor change in the configuration

of celestial positions does not have any substantial impact on terrestrial events.112

Curiously enough, Jurjānī’s critical remarks on the practice of munajjims did not go

unchallenged in the early-sixteenth century Ottoman scholarly circles. Müʾeyyedzāde ʿAbd al-

Raḥmān (d. 1516), who was one of the key “scholar-bureaucrats” of the time, wrote a brief

super-commentary on Jurjānī’s text in which he heavily criticized the stance of his intellectual

predecessor vis-à-vis the real scope of the practice of astrology.113

Müʾeyyedzāde’s significance in the sixteenth century Ottoman scholarly establishment

can in fact be hardly exaggerated. He was an integral part of the immediate intellectual circle of

Bāyezīd II from the latter’s governorate years in Amasya on. His influence upon the prince, and

their debauchery and orgies of drug use in Amasya irritated Sultan Meḥmed II, who eventually

111
Seyyid Şerif Curcâni, Şerhu’l-Mevâkıf (Mevakıf Şerhi) v. 3, edited and translated by Ömer
Türker (İstanbul: Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı, 2015), 101-3: “al-firqa al-thāniyya
min al-munkirīn li-shumūl qudratillāh taʿālā al-munajjimūn qālū al-kawākib hiya al-mudabbirāt
amran li-dawarān al-ḥawādith al-sufliyya maʿa mawāḍiʿihā fī al-burūj wa awḍāʿuhā baʿḍihā ilā
baʿd wa ilā al-sufliyyāt.”
112
Ibid., 103: “Wa-al-jawāb anna al-dawarān lā yufīd al-ʿilliyya siyammā idhā taḥaqqaqa al-
takhalluf kamā fī tawāʾmayn aḥadahumā ghāyat al-saʿāda wa-l-ākhar bi’l-ʿaks wa la yumkin an
yuḥāl bi-dhalika ʿalā mā baynahumā min al-tafāwut fī waqt al-wilāda li-anna al-tafāwut bi-
qudrat daraja wāḥida lā yūʾjab taghayyur al-aḥkām ʿindahum.”
113
I borrowed this term “scholar-bureaucrat” from Abdurrahman Atçıl’s study on the formation
of the Ottoman scholarly establishment in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. See:
Abdurrahman Atçıl, “The Formation of the Ottoman Learned Class and Legal Scholarship, 1300-
1600.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, The University of Chicago, 2010).
90
decided to take measures and send his own men to Amasya to execute all the mischievious

people surrounding the young prince. With the help of Bāyezīd, Müʾeyyedzāde first escaped to

Aleppo, and then went to Shiraz where he studied for a few years with the luminary scholar Jalāl

al-Dīn Dawānī (d. 1502). Upon hearing the death of Meḥmed II and the subsequent

enthronement of his benefactor Bāyezīd II, he returned back to the Ottoman lands with an ijāza

he secured from Dawānī.114 After holding a few teaching and administrative positions in Istanbul

and Edirne, he was first promoted to professorship at one of the Saḥn madrasas, which was later

followed by his promotion to chief military judgeships of Anatolia and Rumelia. During his

eight-year tenure as a mudarris at the Saḥn, and his even longer administrative service as the

military judge (qāḍī al-ʿaskar) of Anatolia and then of Rumelia, Müʾeyyedzāde had the

opportunity to teach new generations of scholars and administer appointments in the scholarly

bureaucracy.115 There are a number of extant archival documents from early to mid-sixteenth

century, enlisting plenty of scholars as the mülāzım of Müʾeyyedzāde.116 As such, they manifest

that Müʾeyyedzāde shaped the formation and functioning pf the Ottoman scholarly hierarchy of

114
For the critical edition and contextual reading of the ijāza, see Judith Pfeiffer, “Teaching the
Learned: Jalāl al-Dīn al-Dawānī’s Ijāza to Muʾayyadzāda ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Efendi and the
Circulation of Knowledge between Fārs and the Ottoman Empire at the Turn of the Sixteenth
Century,” in The Heritage of Arabo-Islamic Learning. Studies Presented to Wadad Kadi, ed.
Maurice A. Pomerantz and Aram A. Shahin (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 284-332.
115
On Müʾeyyedzāde’s life and works, in addition to Pfeiffer’s work cited above, also see
Tayyib Gökbilgin, “Müeyyed-zâde,” İA; Cemal Kurnaz, “Osmanlı Tarihinde İz Bırakan
Amasyalı bir Aile: Müeyyedzâdeler,” in I. Amasya Araştırmaları Sempozyumu Bildirileri
(Amasya: T.C. Amasya Valiliği, 2007), 647-666.
116
TSMA E. 5375; TSMA E. 5605; TSMA E. 9555; TSMA E. 9802; TSMA E. 10053. In all
these short registers recording the mudarris appointments in the early sixteenth century, there is
detailed information about the students and mülāzıms of Müʾeyyedzāde that include such names
as Muḥammed Çelebi b. Müftī ʿAlī, Kireççizāde Aḥmed, Mevlānā Süleymān, Maḥmūd Çelebi,
Mevlānā Muḥammed Çelebi, Mevlānā Dāvud or Mevlānā ʿAcem Muḥyiddīn, all of which seem
to have held teaching offices throughout their career either in one of the Saḥn madrasas or other
high-ranking teaching institutions.
91
the time.

Due mostly to his busy administrative schedule, he was not prolific as a writer and his

entire oeuvre consists only of his fatwas along with a few separate theological tracts. In one of

these tracts, al-Ḥawāshī ʿalā Sharḥ al-Mawāqif, which he presented to Bāyezīd II sometime

between 1480s and 1502, Müʾeyyedzāde challenges the arguments proposed by Jurjānī against

the claims of munajjims. Müʾeyyedzāde first starts with reminding that in none of the

astrological texts (kutub al-tanjīm) could one find a single remark stating the celestial bodies are

the single, efficient causes (al-fāʾil) of the terrestrial events. All nujūm books rather say,

according to Müʾeyyedzāde, that just like chilling is the natural sequence of drinking water or

eating scammony (saqmūniyā) helps digesting, the celestial phenomena prepare the necessary

conditions for the subsequent occurrence of the influence. As Müʾeyyedzāde underlines, even the

most pious people do no deny this interdependence of celestial and terrestrial phenomena. In fact

the entire cosmic configuration is yet another sign of God’s wisdom and knowledge, and its

denial makes an individual an unrighteous person.117

Having laid out the general principles about the cosmological underpinnings of the

astrological practice in the introduction to his critique, Müʾeyyedzāde treats particular arguments

of Jurjānī. As regards to the question of the dissimilar fates of twins. Müʾeyyedzāde says that

117
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2283, 8a-8b: “aqūl yanbaghi an yaʿlam awwalan anna laysa fī kutub al-
tanjīm mā yadullu ʿalā kawn al-fāʾil li’l-ḥawādith al-sufliyya al-ajrām al-ʿulwiyya bal qālū bi-
tarattub al-ūlā ʿalā al-thāniya kamā yatarattub al-tabrīd ʿalā shurb al-māʾ wa’l-ishāl ʿalā’l-
saqmūniyā wa sāʾir al-umūr ʿalā asbābihā siwā kāna sharṭan fī al-taʾthīr aw muʿaddan li’l-qābil
aw fāʾilan ḥaqīqiyān aw ʿillat ʿādiyya wa hadhā’l-qadr mimmā lā yunkiruhu fī irtibāṭ baʿḍ al-
sufliyyāt bi-baʿḍihā wa li-hadhā lā inkār fī al-milla al-qawīma li-ʿilm al-ṭibb maʿa ibṭināʾihi ʿalā
tarattub aḥwāl badan al-insān ʿalā al-asbāb al-ṭabīʿiyya fa-lam yunkir bi-irtibāṭ al-sufliyyāt bi’l-
ʿulwiyyāt bal najʿal dhalika min adilla ʿilmihi wa-ḥikmatihi taʿālā wa-jaʿaluhum mukhālifan fī
hadhihi’l-masʿala iftarāʾ ʿalayhim.”

92
what really matters in the astrological interpretation is not the time of birth but rather the time of

conception (misqat al-nutfa). For Müʾeyyedzāde, all the authoritative sources, which he

unfortunately did not specify within the text itself, agree upon this fundamental principle.

Moreover, for Müʾeyyedzāde, Jurjānī’s statement as to the insignificance of the minor

differences in celestial degrees in terms of the overall outcome of events in the terrestrial world

falls far from reality. He exemplifies a hypothetical situation in which one’s ascendant is located

in the last degree of a particular astrological sign, whereas the ascendant of other is in the first

degree of the next sign. In that case, Müʾeyyedzāde argues, all the concomitant variables such as

the owner of the triplicity (muthallatha), terms (ḥadd), decans (wajh), some of the prorogators

including the haylāj and kadkhudāh, the ruling planet of the ascendant (al-mustawlī ʿalā al-ṭāliʿ),

the cardines (awtād), the cusps of the astrological houses, and relevant issues that one should

take into consideration for astrological interpretation will be entirely different.118 Müʾeyyedzāde

even insults Jurjānī in a pedantic manner for his ignorance in this branch of knowledge, as he

says that Jurjānī improperly uses some of the key astrological concepts such as the exaltation and

descension of zodiac signs.119

What we have here is, thus, a valuable example of a learned Ottoman ʿālim conversant in

118
Ibid., 9a-b: “thumma qawl al-shāriḥ al-tafāwut bi-qadr daraja wāḥida lā yūjab taghayyur al-
aḥkām bi-ittifāq fimā baynahim ghayr ṣaḥīḥ ammā awwalan fa-li-annahu ... yakūn ṭāliʿ
aḥadahumā al-daraja al-akhīra min burj wa ṭāliʿ al-ākhar al-daraja al-ūlā mimma yalayhu fī
ḥīn yakhtalifu burj al-ṭāliʿ wa ṣāḥib al-muthallatha wa-al-ḥadd wa-al-wajh wa baʿḍ al-
kadkhudāhāt wa-al-haylājāt wa-al-mustawlī ʿalā ṭāliʿ wa ghayr dhalika wa hakadhā naqūl fī
sāʾir al-awtād wa marākiz al-buyūt al-ukhra fa-ʿalā hadhā yaqaʿu taghayyur fāḥish fī al-aḥkām
maʿa kawn al-tafāwut bi-qadr daraja wāḥida.”
119
Ibid., 10b: “thumma fī qawl al-shāriḥ fī jaʿl baʿḍ al-daraj sharafan wa baʿḍahā wabālan zalāl
fāḥish idh laysa fī ʿurfihim jaʿl baʿḍ al-daraj wabālan qaṭʿan bal al-daraja al-muqābila li-daraja
al-sharaf yusamma daraja hubūṭ lā daraja wabāl wa-al-wabāl innamā yusamma bihi al-burj al-
muqābil li-bayt al-kawkab lā ghayr.”
93
astrological lore to the extent of criticizing some of the stellar names of Islamic philiosophy and

theology on account of their objections against the astrological practice. As we will see in more

detail in the next chapter, Müʾeyyedzāde’s rich library was replete with almost all the canonical

works of Islamic astrological and astronomical tradition. There is definitely a need for further

research to explore the curricular and extra-curricular activities of some of Müʾeyyedzāde’s

students in order to better evaluate the extent of the interest of madrasa-affiliated scholars in

astrological pursuits. Although Müʾeyyedzāde’s prominent status in the late-fifteenth and early-

sixteenth century Ottoman intellectual context enables one to argue that his positive attitude

toward the practice of astrology represents the general attitude of scholars at the time, there were

other figures that were highly sceptical about the assertions of the munajjims.

One of these names is Sinān Paşa (d. 1486), a noted scholar and grand vizier who owed

much of his fame to his prose and verse writings in Turkish.120 Early his career, Sinān Paşa

gained prominence as an erudite mathematician but toward the end of his life he decided to turn

towards the Sufi path. After his initiation to the Sufi way, he wrote in ornamental Turkish three

different works on Sufism and ethics. One of these texts is Maʿārifnāme, a work on ethics in

which Sinān Paşa wove together several issues important for helping an individual to conduct a

pious life in both this world and Hereafter. He devoted one particular section of this work to the

elaboration of the controversial status of munajjims and physicians (işāretu ḥāli’l-müneccim ve’ṭ-

ṭabīb).121 The central argument in this relatively long passage is that in order to be an upright

120
For the life and works of Sinān Paşa, see Fatih Köksal, “Sinan Paşa’nın Nesri ve Nesir
Üslubu,” Doğu Akdeniz Üniversitesi Türk Dili ve Edebiyatı Bölümü Dergisi 1 (1998), 83-97;
Aylin Koç, “Sinan Paşa” TDVİA.
121
Sinan Paşa, Maârif-nâme: Özlü Sözler ve Öğütler Kitabı, ed. Mertol Tulum (Ankara: TTK,
2013), 480-492.
94
Muslim one should not pay attention to the words of munajjims—nor physicians. God is the only

healer and source of wisdom; the supplication should be addressed solely to Him.

For Sinān Paşa, most munajjims are fools to dare claim to know the unseen (ghayb),

because the ability to know the unseen is a divine gift not granted to ordinary people. According

to Sinān Paşa, the majority of munajjims worship celestial powers (ʿabede-i ṭabʿ) and keenly

observe astral bodies (ḥarase-i kevākib-i sebʿa). They fail to understand, however, the influences

caused by the (positions of the) stars. Sometimes munajjims draw a judgment based upon a

particular celestial position, but another configuration immediately renders its effect void.

Sometimes munajjims interpret a particular planetary aspect as an auspicious sign but it

ultimately turns out to be disastrous. For him, those who are straight in manner and sound in

piety do not ever need a zīj or taqwīm. Yet, as he underlines, this does not mean that pious people

deny the existence of celestial phenomena and their influence upon terrestrial events. On the

contrary, they are aware that all the generated things in the universe are dependent on one

another. God the Omnipotent created numerous stars and scattered them in the sky, some of

which are beneficent and some malefic. Some of them are related to living creatures and some to

deceased ones. Some have positive effects on the prosperity of the world, and some others act to

destroy it. Every single celestial object has peculiar characteristics, and the world of generation

and corruption runs on this celestial influence. Even the roaming of an ant on earth is caused by a

particular celestial situation, and the death of a mosquito is affected by the adversity of its

ascendant. Whatever particular happens in this world corresponds to a special configuration in

the celestial orbs. This does not mean, however, that the celestial bodies are the real efficient

causes (esbāb-ı müʾessirāt, ʿilel-i mūcibāt). All the things that occur in this world are due only to

95
His actions.122

Upon recalling the basic cosmological principles and reemphasizing the definitive causal

link between the celestial and terrestrial spheres, Sinān Paşa correlates the science of the

munajjims to some other divinatory practices including omoplatoscopy (ʿilm al-aktāf),

ornithomancy (ʿilm al-ṭīra), or palmomancy (ʿilm al-ikhtilāj).123 For Sinān Paşa, the most

prestigious ones among these divinatory sciences are geomancy and nujūm. None of these

divinatory sciences were invented without purpose. Most of them were originally created by

divine inspiration but they were eventually distorted at the hands of ignorant people. It is difficult

122
Ibid., 480-486 [although the original work was written in verse and the modern edition of it
followed the same pattern, I turn it here into prose for the ease of denotation]: “Ekser müneccim
olanlar gabī olurlar, onlar ḳaçan ʿālim-i gaybī olurlar? O daḫı Allāh’un bir mevhibesidür, kime
gerekse müyesser olmaz … Ehl-i tencīmüñ çoğı ʿabede-i ṭabʿ olur ve ḥarase-i kevākib-i sebʿa
olur. Sevābit ḥālünden o ḳadar ḫaberi olmaz ve onun evżāʿından gelen eseri tamam bilmez. Gāh
olur ki bir vażʿ ile ḥükm ider bir vażʿ-i āḫar onı bozmuş olur, hemīn bu vażʿ ı görür vażʿ -ı āḫar
oña muḫālif olmuş olur. Bażısı teslīsi nefʿ diyü iʿtiḳād ider şerr çıḳar ve bażʿı terbīʿi şerr diyü
ḥükm ider ḫayr çıḳar. …[Ş]unlar ki erbāb-ı dīn-i ḳavīm olurlar, onlar dāʾimā bī-zīc ve taḳvīm
olurlar. Pes bunlaruñ inkārlarunuñ maʿnāsı ve sözlerinüñ feḥvāsı bu değildür kim bunlar
kevākibüñ evżāʿ ve ḥālātına ve o ḥālātuñ süfliyyāta irtibāṭātuna inkār iderler. Nice inkār iderler
ki bu Allāh teʿālānuñ bir ḳudret-i ʿacībe ve ḥikmet-i garībesidür ki cümle ʿālemüñ aḥvāli
birbirine muḫteliṭ ve her birini āḫara murtabıṭ yaratmışdur. Şöyle ki semāda kevākib-i menşūre
yaratmışdur ki kimisi şirrīre ve kimisi ḫayyīredür … Bażısı nücūm-ı sābitedür, her birinüñ
ṭabʿında bir ḫāṣṣa sābitedür … Kimisi ʿālemün ʿimāretin sever ve kimisi ḫarāb olub yıḳılmasın
ister … Fi’l-cümle her birinüñ ḫılḳatında bir ḥikmet vardur muʿammā … Cümlesinüñ
ictimāʿından bir ḥālet-i mutavassıṭa peydā olur şöyle ki ʿālem-i kevn ü fesād şu görünen üzerine
hüveydā olur. Ḥattā bir karıncanuñ yerde ḥareketi semāda bir ḥālet heyʿetinden olur ve bir
baʿūżanuñ bundan vefātı ṭāliʿinde bir ulu nuḥūsetden olur. Her ne cüzʾi ki bundan buluna felekte
bir vażʿ olur ki oña muvāfıḳ olur ve her ne ḥādise ki yerde belire gökte bir ḥālet-i ḥādise olur ki
oña muṭābıḳ olur. Bunun sebebi bu değildür kim nüfūs-ı felekiyye esbāb-ı müʾessirāt ola ve
evżāʿ-ı ʿulviyyāt ʿilel-i mūcibāt ola. Bilki Allāhtan gayrına çāre yoḳtur teʿsīr olmaz, mümkün
değildür mümkünde īcād bulunmaz … Bundan ulu ḳudret mi olur ki yalñuz evżāʿ-i felekiyye
değül her mevcūdda cemīʿ-i mevcūdātuñ tefāṣilinüñ ʿalāmātı bilinür ve her bir zerrede cemīʿ-i
kāinatıñ aḥvālinüñ işārātı añlanur?”
123
For a superb exploration of numerous divinatory sciences appealed to in Islamic history and
culture, see Toufic Fahd, La divination arabe, études religieuses, sociologiques et folkloriques
sur le milieu natif de l’Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1966).
96
now, according to Sinān Paşa, to find an erudite munajjim who can accurately calculate the

celestial configurations and deduce their astrological indications. One cannot, however, partake

in the sphere of occult matters only by technical knowhow. It also requires having mystical

leanings and following an abstinent and pious life. The esoteric sciences (al-ʿulūm al-rūḥāniyya)

are so numerous that no one could ever be the master of all. What the so-called masters of

esoteric sciences say is all false and corrupt. One cannot haphazardly divine occult matters; there

should be no room in such an enterprise for conjectures and speculations. This is the reason why

the Prophet Muhammad warned his people not to believe in and appeal to munajjims. Another

reason for the Prophet’s admonition was that most of the munajjims at the time were disgraceful

soothsayers of the community of Arabs, many of whom were from among the infidels. As Sinān

Paşa highlights, it is not proper to turn to the words of oracles instead of obeying the master of

the revelation. Not all sciences enhance one’s intellectual strength; some of them exacerbate the

ignorance. The implications in his discussion are clear that Sinān Paşa regarded astrology as one

of them.124

124
Sinan Paşa, Maârif-nâme, 486-492: “Meselā bir koyun kemiğine baḳarlar nice türlü ḥükmler
iderler ve her yerde nice ʿacūzeler olur ki arpa salmak ile mugayyebātı bilürler. ʿArab’da bir
ṭāʾife olur imiş ki bir kuşuñ vażʿına baḳarlarmış, onun evẓāʿından hezār aḥkām-ı ṣaḥīḥa
iderlermiş … Daḫı nice bunun gibi ʿulūm vardur ki her birini bir ṭāʾife kendü kesbi içün sanʾat
idinmişdür ve her birini bir ḳavm mugayyebātdan ḫaber virmek içün ālet idinmişdür. Gāyet reml
veya nücūm daḫı onların birisidür ve bu ikisi aralarında ulusıdur. Cümlesinüñ aṣlı vardur ber
ʿabes ḳonulmayub durur, ekserinüñ ibtidāsı bir ilhām-ı rabbānī ile olub durur. Ṣoñra nā-ehillere
düşmüş bozulmuşdur, hemīn aṣlından bir cüzʾice eser ḳalmışdur. Şimdi nice müneccim bulunur
ki evżāʿ-i felekiyyeyi gökçek ẓabṭ ide ve ona tefrīʿ itdüği aḥkāmı bī-ḥabṭ ide … Mugayyebāta
ḥükm eylemek ḳuru ḳavāid ve uṣūl bilmek ile olmaz ve o ʿilimleri ʿamele getürmek mücerred
ebvāb ve fuṣūl bilmek ile olmaz. Onlarda elbetde bir nūrānī ḥālet gerek ve onlarda her dem
perhīz ve riyāẓet gerek … Fī’l-cümle ʿulūm-i rūḥāniyenüñ envāʿı çoḳtur, eğerçi değme yerde
onun tamām biliri yoḳtur. Ekser-i kelimātları ekāzib ve türrehātdur ve ekser-i aḥkāmları ebāṭıl
ve muzaḫrafātdur. ʿUlūm-i gaybīyyede recm bi’l-gayb yaraşmaz ve aḫbār-ı mugayyebātda ẓann
ve taḫmīn yaḳışmaz. Bu cihetden ötürüdür ki ṣāḥib-i şerīʿat ... müneccimlere inanmayun diye
97
 It is quite surprising to see that Sinān Paşa, an erudite mathematician who later turned

into a Sufi, pairing astrology with magic and divination, and charging munajjims with astral

determinism. As I will mention in more detail in the third chapter, Mīrim Çelebi (d. 1525), one

of the key astral experts who provided astrological service to the late-fifteenth- and early-

sixteenth-century Ottoman court, is considered to have studied mathematical sciences with him

just before Sinān Paşa initiated into Sufism. It is highly likely that Sinān Paşa’s critical

phraseology about munajjims was a product of his late introduction to the Sufi path, as we have

ample evidence from the period in question that to scorn for munajjims was a theme frequently

visited by eminent Sufis. The Sufi disdain toward munajjims did not always entail, however, a

discomfort with fundamental astrological presumptions. As evident from Sinān Paşa’s long

discussion paraphrased above, in which he went on to say that even the most insignificant issues

in the sublunary world such as the death of a mosquito are ruled by the commensurate positions

of the celestial bodies, the astral causality between the celestial objects and terrestrial events was

barely questioned.125

Like Sinān Paşa, several prominent Sufis active in the Ottoman world during the period

in question expressed their contempt for munajjims and their truth claims. One of them was the

famous Ḫalvetī shaykh Ībrahīm-i Gülşenī (d. 1534), a curious episode about whom at the court

of the Aqquyunlu sultan Yaʿqūb (r. 1478-1490), before Gülşenī’s move to the Ottoman domain,

involves sultan’s munajjims and Gülşenī’s critique of them. According to the story recounted in

emr itdi ve ḥalḳı onlara mürācaʿat itmeyün diyü zecr itdi. Ve bir sebeb daḫi bu idi ki ekser
müneccimler o zamānda ʿArab içinde kehene-i fecere olurlar idi ve ekser gaybdan ḫaber
verenler o ʿaṣrda zümre-i kefere olurlar idi. Vaḥy dururken erbāb-ı kehānete varmaḳ edeb değil
idi. Ṣāḥib-i risāleti ḳoyub ṣāḥib-i cehālete varmak deʾb değil idi. Her ʿilm şöyle değildür ki
ʿāliminüñ ḳadrini ve celālini arturur, nice fenn olur kim ṣāḥibinüñ cehāletini arturur.”
125
Sinān Paşa, Maârif-nâme, 486.
98
his menāḳıbnāme written by Muḥyī-i Gülşenī (d. 1604), when Sulṭān Yaʿqūb’s second cousin

Bayandur ibn Rustam decided to attack the forces of the sultan, Yaʿqūb’s munajjims, who

received, according to the narrative, hundreds of thousands of aḳçes, apparently interpreted the

astrological signs of the moment as an omen of the approaching defeat of the sultan. When these

court munajjims saw Shaykh Ībrahīm-i Gülşenī accompanying the sultan, they wondered but

asked: “Why did not you just leave when his defeat is obvious according to our astrological

calculations? As the munajjims of the sultan we had no other choice but to accompany him.”126

Gülşenī in his reply told them that what he noticed in the “divine astrolabe” (uursṭlāb-ı ilāhī) was

rather the victory of the sultan and the death of Bayandur. Thereby, according to Gülşenī, the

hadīth of the Prophet, “all astrologers are liars”, would prove true.127 When the munajjims

insisted on their interpretation, Gülşenī challenged them by asking: “If your predictions will turn

out wrong, would you let me have your salaries cut in substance?”128 The munajjims apparently

panicked before Gülşenī’s self-confidence and determination, and pleaded with him not to do so.

Seeing the munajjims stepping back, Gülşenī said: “Had your craft leaned on reliable proofs, you

would not have started doubting your interpretations.”129 Eventually Gülşenī heard that Yaʿqūb

defeated Bayandur, and his predictions proved true.

Needless to say, this little anecdote recounted in a hagiographical work should not be

126
Muhyî-i Gülşenî, Menākıb-ı İbrâhim-i Gülşenî, ed. Mustafa Koç and Eyyüp Tanrıverdi
(İstanbul: Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı, 2014), 121: “Hele biz żarūret ile giderüz,
siz niye iḫtiyār itdüñüz ki sulṭānuñ inhizāmı muḳarrerdür ki biz nücūmda tecribe ve seyr ile
maʿlūm itdük.”
127
Ibid.: “Usṭurlāb-ı ilāhīde böyle müşāhede olur ki Bayındır maḳṭūl olup sulṭān manṣūr ve
muẓaffer gele ki ‘kullu munajjimin kadhdhābun’ ḥadīsi ṣıḥḥāt bula.”
128
Ibid.: “Anlar yine iʿtiḳadları üzere baʿżı kelimāt idicek, şeyḫ dimiş ki ‘Eger sözünüz yalan
olursa ʿulūfenizi ḳatʿ itdüreyim mi?’”
129
Ibid.: “Müneccimler tażarruʿ idüp dimişler ki ‘Meded! Kimseye bunı söyleme ve öyle eyleme!’
diyicek şeyḫ dimiş ki ‘Eger sizüñ ʿamelüñüz ḳatʿī olsa, şimdi tereddüd ve şübhe ṭārī olmazdı.’”
99
taken at face value, as it serves to proving the mental superiority of Ībrahīm-i Gülşenī as a Sufi

master. Yet it still gives colorful insights into both contemporary Sufi attitudes toward the

practice of astrology and the potential rivalries between men of competing fields of expertise.

The story of Ībrahīm-i Gülşenī is not the only case where the authority of shaykhs and darvishes

to foretell the future through more esoteric and intuitive means clashed with the authority of

munajjims who needed recourse to other, more technical, means to interpret the future course of

events. For example, the Bayramī shaykh İbn Īsā Saruhānī (d. 1559-60), who flourished during

the reign of Süleymān the Magnificent, frequently derided munajjims in his relatively popular jifr

book, Rumūzü’l-künūz.130 In this enigmatic work originally composed in 1558 and widely copied

afterwards with many different addenda, Saruhānī prognosticates on the principles of ʿilm al-jifr

about the fate of the Ottoman dynasty until the year 2035 Hijra –– or until 3000 in certain copies.

For Saruhānī, what is incumbent upon the sultans and princes is to spend more time with shaykhs

and gnostics, and to completely disregard the words of munajjims and geomancers. According to

Saruhānī, unlike real men of wisdom, such people are deprived of the divine qualities of karāma

and walāya. Therefore all the things they say are nothing but chimerical thoughts.131

130
For Saruḥānī, see: Cemal Kurnaz and Mustafa Tatçı, “İbn İsa,” TDVİA. One particular copy
of the text available at the BnF was briefly examined by Işık Tamdoğan-Abel in the following
study: “Le future dans le Rumuz-ı Kunuz de Mejdeddin Ibn Isa: Une utopie, une prophétie, un
livre à mystères,” in Melâmis-Bayrâmis: études sur tois mouvements mystiques musulmans, ed.
Nathalie Clayer, Alexandre Popovic, Thierry Zarcone (Istanbul: Isis, 1998), 145-152. Another
copy of the text available at the National Library of Turkey was transcribed in the following
study: Ayhan Özgül, “İlyas b. İsâ-yı Saruhânî’nin ‘Rumûzü’l-Künûz’ adlı eserinin
transkripsiyonu ve değerlendirilmesi.” (MA Thesis, Kırıkkale University, 2004).
131
İsmail Hakkı Konyalı Kütüphanesi Ms. 153, 12b: “Pādişāh ve şehzāde[ye] münāsib olan
budur ki gāhī insān-ı kāmil birle muṣāḥebet ide, ẓāhiriñ ve bāṭınıñ ʿāmilin bilüb kendü daḫı
kāmil insān ola. Ḳavl-i müneccimīne iʿtibār ḳılmaya ve remmāl aḥkāmına mültefit olmaya. Bular
evhām-ı ḥayālātdadur. Keşf-i kerāmāt ve taṣarruf-ı velāyet bulārdan ẓuhūr itmez. Ve bu ʿilmi
100
 The most intriguing case of the rivalry between the Sufi shaykhs and the experts of astral

sciences is an anonymous letter located now in the Archive of the Topkapı Palace Museum.132 In

this undated letter, the anonymous author, who speaks in the idiom of a highly self-confident and

assertive Sufi shaykh using alchemical jargon, writes that as far as he has heard, the Ottoman

Sultan Bāyezīd II had sunk his teeth into learning ʿilm al-hayʿa along with another formidable

branch of natural philosophy (ḥikmat), which he does not explicitly name.133 In his opinion,

however, Bāyezīd did not have sufficient erudition, and his attempt was made solely on the basis

of experience (tecribe). It is the author’s desire to remind the sultan, whom he characterizes as a

zealous servant in the path of Islam, of the transitory nature of life and the insignificance of

worldly possessions.134 He then says that he has decided, in accordance with the portents in his

dream, to send Bāyezīd one of his disciples to inculcate in him his real essence. The training

should continue, the shaykh argues, until Bāyezīd attains the spiritual stage that his disciple has

already reached at the hands of the master. Once Bāyezīd reaches that stage, then he, the author,

will write a talismanic note for the sultan, whereby Bāyezīd could gain real access to the secrets

he has been searching for.135 To justify his preference to send his disciple instead of being

physically in the sultan’s immediate presence, the anonymous shaykh also says that he is afraid

görüb anlaruñ ʿilmine ḳıyās itmeyüb keşf-i rumūz ve künūz esrār-ı ilāhīdür diyü iʿtiḳād idüb
ehlinden dūr olmayalar.”
132
TSMA E. 6172.
133
Ibid., “[...] Mālik-i memleket-i Rūmiyye kim āl-i ʿOsmāniyeden Sulṭān Bāyezīd’dür. Şöyle
istimāʿ olundı ki ṣinaʿat el-heyʾete ve bir ḥikmete ki ḥikmeti muhībdir ṭālmış ammā tecribe
ṭarīḳiyleymiş vuḳūf yoġimiş.”
134
Ibid., “[…] Benüm üzerime lāzım oldu ki añā şefaḳat idüb tenbīh eyleyem … metāʿ-i dünyā
ḳalīldür biz bundan raḥīl üzerineyüz. İstiḫāre itdüm ḫayr şunda gördüm ki şākirdlerimden birini
gönderem. Vara, añā māddesin taʿlīm eyleye.”
135
Ibid. “[şakird] benden gördüği mertebeye dek tedbīr eyleye. Ol mertebeye vāṣıl olıcaḳ bañā
iʿlām eyleye ben bir remz yazam ki kāşif ola ... tā ki ṭārḥ-i iksire ṣāliḥ ola.”
101
of interacting with the sultan, as wise men should refrain from consorting with rulers, for the

ruler may abuse the knowledge imparted because they are not like wise men.136

Besides providing evidence for how relationships between Sufis and sultans were

initiated and negotiated, and alluding to the contemporary recognition of Bāyezīd II’s deep

celestial interests, which I will further discuss in more detail in the third chapter, this letter

unequivocally shows that the mystical and intuitive expertise of individuals with overt Sufi

leanings might have contradicted the technical scientific expertise of the munajjims. The way the

anonymous author uses the concept of experience (tecribe) is particularly worth pondering here.

Although this concept had various connotations in medieval Islamic intellectual context, it is

usually associated among Sufi circles with a special mode of knowing based on intuition.

However, the author of this short report, despite speaking with a certain Sufi tone, belittles it, as

this is, as far as he has heard, how Bāyezīd II has been accustomed to methodically studying the

science of the stars and the other formidable branch of natural philosophy left unspecified. What

the author means by the term thus seems to be related to a kind of knowing based not on intuition

or personal inspiration, but rather on bookish learning, observation, and perhaps even empirical

study.

These several lines of arguments issued by a wide range of opponents, including the

Hanbali jurists of the Mamluk times or the pan-epistemic Sufis in the Ottoman realm have

manifested that the real source of apprehension is found rather in the alleged claims of munajjims

than the epistemological foundations of the astrological science itself. In different examples of

136
Ibid., “[...] pūşīde olmaya ki eger andan ḳorḳmasam Allah rızāsıyçün taʿlīm itmekden ben
kendüm varurdum ammā hekīm olan imtināʿ ider ḥākime musāḥebet eylemekden, ḥākim kendü
gibi ḥekīm olmaz.”
102
the polemical literature, munajjims were often characterized and caricatured as outrageous

quacks and/or magicians, shamelessly asserting the idea of astral determinism and even the star

worshipping. However, as we have already seen in the authentic writings of the munajjims who

served the Ottoman court, the real practitioners of the “learned”/mathematical astrology were

also unsympathetic toward the deterministic fatalism of the stars. For a more accurate assessment

of identities and claims of the munajjims, we should try to answer ––on the basis of hard,

authentic evidence–– what it really meant and entailed in the designated past to be an erudite

munajjim. This question will guide the discussion in the following two chapters.

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 Chapter Two—How to be a Munajjim in the Ottoman Realm, 1450s–1550s:
Vocational Training, Sources of Learning, and Venues of Knowledge

II. 1. Introduction

In an intriguing passage on the “discovery” of the Antilles in his Kitāb-ı Baḥriye, the

famous sixteenth-century Ottoman seafarer and naval captain Pīrī Reis (d. 1554) introduces

Christopher Columbus as “a Genoese munajjim.”1 In this text, which Pīrī Reis started writing in

the 1510s and finished in the late 1520s upon the request of grand vizier Ībrahīm Paşa (d. 1538),

Columbus is described as a munajjim possessing a legendary book that descended from the time

of Alexander and comprised of the secrets of the “science of the sea” (deryā ʿilmi). According to

Pīrī Reis, no patron in Europe had paid attention to Columbus and the book he held. Eventually,

the Spanish ruler decided to invest in him and provided the necessary material support for his

voyage. By means of the information covered in this book was Columbus able, according to Pīrī

Reis, to sail out west into the Atlantic and reach the Antilles.

It is difficult to ascertain whether Pīrī Reis was aware of Columbus’s genuine interests in

astral sciences and occult lore when designating him a munajjim. The vast literature on

Columbus underlines that he was marked in his own time for his deep literacy in these fields of

1
Kitab-ı Bahriye = Book of Navigation, ed. Bülent Arı (Ankara: Republic of Turkey, Prime
Ministry, Undersecretary of Navigation, 2002), 77: “Ceneviz’de bir müneccim var imiş, nām ile
Ḳolon aña dirler imiş. Ānuñ eline girür bir ḫoş kitāb, ḳalmış İskender’den ol da irtiyāb. Cümle
deryā ʿilmini bir bir tamām, cemʿ idüb yazmışlar imiş iy hümām. Ol kitāb gelmiş bu Efrenc iline,
bilmemişler līkin ānuñ ḥāline. Bulur oḳur bu Ḳolon āñı iy yār, varur İspanya begine āñı sunar.
Taḳrīr ider cümle aḥvāli āña, ol daḫı gemi virür ṣoñra buna. Ol kitāb ile ʿamel ider iy yār, varub
Antilyeyi ider āşikār. Daḫı ṣoñra durmaz açar ol ili, şimdi meşhūr eylemişdür ol yolu.”
104
knowledge.2 According to his son’s biography, Columbus studied for a while at the University of

Pavia where he gave himself to the study of astronomy and geometry that he would later put into

the service of his nautical activities and apocalyptic concerns. Aside from the necessary technical

astronomical and mathematical numeracy for cosmography and navigation, he was particularly

moved by the Joachimite eschatological lore. He had strong belief in his own role in fulfilling a

number of prophecies before the coming of the Antichrist and the end of the world. He worked

for a number of years on collecting materials for a volume called the Book of Prophecies that he

intended to prove his destined role in his own vision of history but he never finished it. Given all

the contemporary information about Columbus’s life and his intellectual and professional

pursuits, it is all the more interesting to find an early sixteenth-century Ottoman seafarer and

cartographer defining his Genoese colleague with the epithet munajjim.

No matter what Pīrī Reis had in mind when describing Columbus as a munajjim, it is

worth mentioning this curious fact to start penetrating the late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-

century Ottoman social and cultural context, which this chapter and the following will try to

examine with a view toward discussing the role of munajjims therein. What made an individual

qualify for munajjim status in the Ottoman world in the period? What constituted the intellectual

capital a practicing munajjim needed? In what specific fields of knowledge was a munajjim

supposed to be learned? What are the books and instruments a would-be munajjim was expected

to possess? Where could one acquire the required knowledge? Were there any institutional

means for a would-be munajjim to receive training in the essentials of the science? Would a

2
This part is based particularly on Pauline Mofitt Watts, “Prophecy and Discovery: On the
Spiritual Origins of Christopher Columbus’s “Enterprise of the Indies”,” The American
Historical Review 90/1 (1985), 73-102; Abbas Hamdani, “Columbus and the Recovery of
Jerusalem,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 99/1 (1979), 39-48.
105
madrasa welcome him? What role did courts play in the training and subsequent professional

career of a munajjim? What were the factors in the making and breaking of his career? Were

there any considerable differences between the categories/professions of munajjim or muwaqqit?

Notwithstanding the difficulties resulting from scattered, and in most cases limited,

evidence that one can glean from contemporary sources, I will strive to present the complex

social history of munajjims in the Ottoman world based upon authentic writings of practicing

munajjims, archival documents, and biographical remarks in contemporary narrative sources.

Available sources do not allow us to reconstruct a full biography of any practicing munajjim in

the Ottoman milieu in the concerning period, depicting all the details of his training, professional

networks, and the ups and downs of his career. Hence, in the absence of a single convenient

individual upon whom to focus, I will adopt throughout this and the next chapter an eclectic

approach, using instances from the lives of various practitioners.

The relevant archival documents mostly comprise salary registers that list the names and

wages of palace personnel. These registers often include information on the munajjims. From the

late fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth century, there are a handful of such surviving registers that can

help us track the fluctuating status and pay scale of court munajjims. In that respect, compared to

other studies on the social and cultural history of munajjims in the medieval and early modern

Islamicate world that are based exclusively upon anecdotal evidence, the case of munajjims in

the Ottoman realm presents us with an invaluable opportunity to substantiate the courtly

presence and service of astrologers with hard, archival evidence. There are, however, two

important pitfalls of the available archival sources. First, these registers, by nature, contain

information only about those practitioners affiliated with the dynastic court; thus the munajjims

106
who did not enjoy dynastic patronage or who flourished elsewhere were naturally excluded.

Second, these registers indeed provide very limited information on the lives of munajjims. More

often than not they reveal only the names of those practitioners and the amounts of the

allowances they received. Therefore, the archival evidence alone is insufficient to illuminate the

social and cultural history of Ottoman munajjims, their training, the scope of their professional

service, and possible scholarly rivalries among different experts.

The authentic writings of munajjims—including taqwīms, horoscopes, and treatises of

various kinds—will also be used in this chapter and the next to supplement the data provided by

the archival documents. These astrological sources are crucial for establishing the contours of the

scientific canon utilized by practicing munajjims in the Ottoman capital at the time.

Nevertheless, one should also keep in mind that these sources, especially the taqwīms and

horoscopes, most of which remain anonymous, bear very few personal details that can help us

lay out the mechanisms of munajjims’ training and the entangled dynamics of their professional

service.

For delving into munajjims’ personal lives, contemporary narrative sources, including

chronicles and biographical dictionaries may provide insightful details. Yet in the fifteenth- and

sixteenth-century Ottoman case, historical narratives and biographical sources provide

surprisingly little information. Notwithstanding that Ottoman chronicles and historical narratives

are replete with remarks on the calculation of astrologically auspicious moments computed and

interpreted by munajjims before an imperial activity was undertaken, these rather vague remarks

do not reveal the identities of experts.

In a similar vein, munajjims were not among the favorite subjects of contemporary

107
biographers. As already mentioned in the Introduction,, fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ottoman

writing culture is devoid of sources with full anecdotes on munajjims like Faraj al-mahmūm of

Ibn Ṭāwūs (d. 1266) or the Chahār maqāla of Niẓāmī-i Arūḍī. The only known Ottoman attempt

to compile a special biographical dictionary of famous experts of celestial knowledge from the

Babylonians up to the Europeans was the Ṭabaḳāt-ı müneccimīn of Süleymān Suʿdī Efendi (d.

1896), but since his purpose was undoubtedly different the text provides very little useful

information on munajjims in the Ottoman realm.3 Canonical examples of sixteenth-century

Ottoman biographical dictionaries of scholars and poets such as Ṭaşköprīzāde’s (d. 1561) al-

Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawla al-ʿuthmāniyya, Laṭīfī’s (d. 1582) Tezkiretü’ş-

şuʿarāʾ, or ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi’s (d. 1572) Meşāʾirü’ş-şuʿarāʾ also furnish limited information on the

lives of astral experts. While the tezkires of poets often provide more personal details, these

collections by nature contain biographical information only about those individuals composing

poetry. Thus, it is difficult to find in these sources evidence on the lives and careers of the

munajjims whose names are recorded in the archival registers.

Facing these shortcomings of the available sources from the period, I will combine all the

available evidence drawn from distinct types of sources on different individuals in order to shed

3
Süleyman Sûdî Efendi, Tabakāt-ı Müneccimîn, ed. Salim Aydüz (İstanbul: Fatih Üniversitesi
Yayınları, 2007). For a textual example comparable to Niẓāmī-i Arūḍī’s Chahār maqāla, one
may speak of Kefeli Ḥüseyin’s (d. 1601) Rāznāme, in which Ḥüseyin compiles stories and
anecdotes pertaining to the practice of bibliomancy that he has read, personally witnessed, or
heard from others. One of his anecdotes in the compilation is related to a certain ʿAbdülʿazīz
müneccim, who decided later in his life to abandon astrology after realizing the severity of
Prophet’s saying, “all munajjims are liars.” As ʿAbdülʿazīz renounced the ‘useless’ craft and
promised himself not to take an astrolabe in his hand anymore, he opened the Divān of Hafez
and found the following verse: “Hold the forelock of a moon-faced, don’t tell a story/For good
and evil fortune derives from the impact of Venus and Saturn.” See Kefeli Ḥüseyin, Rāznāme,
transcription and facsimile prepared by İ. Hakkı Aksoyak (Cambridge: Harvard University the
Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, 2004), 147.
108
light upon the fundamental question this and the next chapter tackle: What did becoming a

munajjim in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth century Ottoman world entail? The possible

answers require investigating several ancillary questions, on three of which will I focus in this

chapter and the next: i) What did a munajjim need to know, ii) Where could he learn the things

he needed to know, and iii) Where and how could he put into practice the things he knew?4 In

this chapter I will particularly delve into the books in circulation that were frequently used by

practicing munajjims at the time and discuss the extent of the role of the madrasa and mosque in

the instruction of astrologically valid knowledge. The next chapter will scrutinize the dynamics

of courtly patronage and examine the impact of the office of court munajjims upon the

pedagogical needs and professional careers of practitioners.

Although these questions may signal that these two chapters will be descriptive narratives

instead of historical ones, these points should rather be regarded as themes to be followed to

unveil the particular context of the Ottoman world in the late fifteenth and the first half of the

sixteenth century with an eye toward tracking the special case of munajjims. The significance of

the period derives from the fact that it marks a turning point not only for the appropriation and

subsequent codification in the Ottoman world of the post-thirteenth century astral tradition of the

Persianate East but also for the growing systematization of the patronage of astral expertise

through the institutionalization of the permanent office of court munajjims. While the initial

attempts of Meḥmed II (r. 1444-46 and 1451-81) played a definite role in the process, the lion’s

4
Although I have not come across any reference to a female munajjim in Ottoman sources, there
were known female munajjims in the Islamic realm, the most famous of whom was al-Bībī al-
munajjima, the mother of the thirteenth-century chronicler Ibn Bībī and a working astrologer at
the court of Jalāl al-Dīn Khwārazm-shāh (r. 1220-1231). See Sara Kuehn, The Dragon in
Medieval East Christian and Islamic Art (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 135.
109
share of the credit should go to Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512), whose keen interest in learning and

cultivating different forms of celestial knowledge facilitated the adoption of the necessary

technical know-how and the institutionalization of the patronage of munajjims. The scope and

impact of Bāyezīd II’s patronage will be discussed in detail in the next chapter.

II. 2. State of the Field and the Problems of Terminology

It is a challenging task to accurately translate the term munajjim into English. The

difficulty derives from discrepancies between the connotations of the term in past sources and

modern scholarship. As already implied in Pīrī Reis’s curious use of the word to describe

Columbus, the category of munajjim referred to a profession that is much more inclusive than

that rendered by the modern term “astrologer.” The expertise of munajjims not only consisted of

astrology but might have also entailed mastery over other implications of celestial knowledge,

including cosmography, geography, navigation, time reckoning, and calendar conversion. It is

true that in the medieval Islamic world there were other types of nomenclature reflecting further

specializations in the broader discipline of celestial knowledge such as the category of muwaqqit,

which, especially from the thirteenth century onwards, came to denote the timekeeper at the

grand Friday mosques.5 Moreover, not all individuals conversant in the theoretical iterations of

celestial knowledge were eager to practice astrology. In that regard, modern scholars, especially

those studying the history of scientific tradition in the Islamic world, are often confounded in

5
David King, “On the role of the muezzin and the muwaqqit in Medieval Islamic Society,” in
Tradition, Transmission, Transformation: Proceedings of two conferences on Pre-modern
Science held at the University of Oklahoma, ed. by F. Jamil Ragep and Sally Ragep (Leiden:
Brill, 1996), 285-346; idem., “Mamluk astronomy and the institution of the muwaqqit,” in The
Mamluks in Egyptian politics and society, ed. by Thomas Philipp and Ulrich Haarmann
(Cambridge Unviersity Press, 1998), 153-162.
110
choosing the best title to identify the past experts of celestial knowledge.

What sort of label should we use to describe, for instance, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī or

Wābkanawī (known in his own time as shams al-munajjim), whose scholarly activities were also

informed by astrological purposes as we have already seen in the first chapter? The use of

“astronomer” does not always solve the problem, for it is indeed a loaded term, deliberately

employed in the history-of-science tradition in the Islamic context to carefully detach

astrological constituents from the “rational” scientific enterprises of individuals so described.

The use of “astrologer” also does not do much justice, given the widespread modern pejorative

meanings attached to it, ranging from soothsayer and diviner to quack, calling to mind as it does

fortune tellers with no particular qualifications. Take, for instance, the case of the prominent

historian of science George Saliba, whose invaluable works on different aspects of theoretical

and practical celestial knowledge in pre-modern Islamicate culture have opened new vistas for

research. For Saliba, figures like Muḥyī al-Dīn al-Maghribī (d. 1283) or Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, who

never shied away from following astrological pursuits and who explicitly mentioned the

astrological uses of their scholarship even in their strictly astronomical works like Talkhīṣ-i

Majisti or Zīj-i Īlkhānī, still can not be defined simply as “astrologers,” lest the word “astrologer”

belittle their scientific values and contributions.6 In a similar vein, in the eyes of Saliba and many

others, an erudite medieval practitioner of astrology, who was able to make complex

mathematical calculations on the basis of astronomical tables and use of instruments, does not

qualify as an “astronomer” unless he engaged in the production of texts that may be qualified as

6
See for instance: George Saliba, “An Observational Notebook of a Thirteenth-Century
Astronomer,” Isis 74/3 (1983), 388-401; idem., “Horoscopes and Planetary Theory: Ilkhanid
Patronage of Astronomers,” in Beyond the Legacy of Genghis Khan, ed. by Linda Komaroff
(Leiden: Brill, 2006), 357-368.
111
“astronomical.”

In order to bypass these terminological problems and attempt to convey a sense of the

historical implications of the vocabulary, I will employ the original terms as used in primary

sources without translation. From the outset, the readers are advised that the category of

munajjim as used throughout this dissertation specifically refers to learned experts in

mathematical celestial knowledge who were evidently engaged in astrological activity. While the

term munajjim was also used, as we have already seen in the first chapter, in the polemical

literature of non-astral experts to designate unqualified street astrologers or quacks, I should

reiterate that my use throughout gives precedence to the practice of learned mathematical

astrology.

The social history of munajjms in medieval and early-modern Muslim society has been

explored so far in a handful of studies. The most well-known of these modern examinations,

George Saliba’s oft-cited article “The Role of the Astrologer in Medieval Islamic Society,”

discusses the complex role of astrologer in medieval society by relying upon anecdotal

biographical and literary sources as well as visual materials.7 Reflecting his perspective in

another influential article on the definitive separation of ilm al-hayʾa and ilm aḥkām al-nujūm,

Saliba’s use of the category of munajjim is rather slanted toward a kind of lay practitioner who

performed astrology with little or no knowledge of the “scientific” technicalities of celestial

knowledge.8 Although Saliba acknowledges munajjims’ use of astronomical tables and other

7
George Saliba, “The Role of the Astrologer in Medieval Islamic Society,” Bulletin d’études
orientales 44 (1992), 45-67.
8
See Saliba, “Astronomy and Astrology in medieval Arabic thought,” in Les doctrines de la
science de l’antiquitè à l’âge classique, ed. Roshdi Rashed and Joël Biard (Leuven: Peeters,
112
instruments, his study does not primarily discuss the scientific background of astrological

practice.

Saliba’s survey of the social status and role of astrologers in medieval Islamic society

was later expanded by more focused examinations of munajjims in particular historical contexts.

Miquel Forcada, for instance, takes the case of munajjims in the court of Andalusian Umayyad

ruler ʿAbd al-Raḥman II (r. 822-852) and looks for the potential of prosopographical approach

for studying the social status of astrologers.9 Like Saliba, Forcada relies upon anecdotal

biographical sources and anthologies, but, as he admits, the sources he was able to find present

far less on the lives and careers of munajjims than he expected. In addition to Forcada, the status

of astrologers in the medieval and early-modern Indian courtly context became the subject of

several articles by David Pingree, S. Rajeswara Sarma, Eva Orthmann, and most recently by

Audrius Beinorius.10 Besides biographical and narrative sources, Beinorious for instance refers

to archival evidence such as land grants given to astral experts for correctly predicting eclipses.

1999), 131-164; idem., “Islamic Astronomy in Context: Attacks on Astrology and the Rise of the
Hayʿa Tradition,” Bullettin of the Royal Institute for Inter-Faith Studies 4/1 (2002), 25-46.
9
Miquel Forcada, “Investigating the sources of prosopography: the case of the astrologers of
ʿAbd al-Raḥman II,” Journal of Medieval Prosopography 23 (2002), 73-100.
10
See David Pingree, “Astronomy at the Court of Anūpasiṃha,” in From Astral Omens to
Astrology, From Babylon to Bīkāner (Roma: Istituto Italiano per L’Africa e L’Oriente, 1997),
91-103; S. R. Sarma, “Jyoṭisarāja at the Mughal Court,” in Studies on Indian Culture, Science,
and Literature: Being Prof. K. V. Sarma felicitation volume presented to him on his 81th
birthday, ed. by N. Gangadharan, S.A.S. Sarma and S.S.R Sarma (Chennai: Sree Sarada
Education Society Research Centre, 2000), 363-371; Eva Orthmann, “Circular Motions, Private
Pleasure, and Public Prognostication in the Nativities of the Mughal Emperor Akbar,” in
Horoscopes and Public Spheres. Essays on the History of Astrology, ed. by G. Oestmann, H. D.
Rutkin and K. von Stuckrad (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005), 101-114; idem, “Sonne, Mond
und Sterne: Kosmologie und Astrologie in der Inszenierung von Herrschaft unter Humayun,” in
Die Grenzen der Welt: Arabica et Iranica ad honorem Heinz Gaube, ed. L. Lorn et al.
(Wiesbaden, Reichert, 2008), 297-306; Audrius Beinorius, “On the social and religious status of
an Indian astrologer at the royal court,” Acta Orientalia Vilnensia 9/2 (2008): 39-55.
113
Moreover, both Sarma and Orthmann briefly discuss the office of jyotiṣarāja or joṣirāya, the

Hindu astrologer installed at the Mughal court by Akbar.

The relevant literature is even broader as regards to the courtly patronage of munajjims

and the services they offered. The early Abbasid court has already been spotlighted by modern

scholars for its immense interest in the cultivation of astrological knowledge and patronage of

munajjims. The works of Dimitri Gutas, David Pingree, and more recently Antoine Borrut, use

authentic textual materials composed and/or translated at the time by the practicing experts.11

While Pingree, from the more technical perspective of the history of science, focuses more upon

the dimension of textual transmission,, Gutas and Borrut have interpreted the early Abbasid

support for astrology on political grounds and convincingly demonstrated the deployment of

astrological knowledge against the backdrop of the Abbasid political claims and legitimacy

issues. Local dynasties, like the Hamdanids in Aleppo in the tenth century, also have received

scholarly attention, and a few scholars have remarked upon the services of al-Qabīṣī (d. 967),

one of the noted and prolific munajjims at the court of Sayf al-Dawla (r. 945-967).12 The Rasulid

dynasty in Yemen has also been studied with respect to the interest of several rulers in the

11
Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture. The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in
Baghdad and Early ʿAbbasid Society (2nd-4th/8th-10th centuries) (London: Routledge, 1998);
David Pingree, “Kanaka: An Indian (?) Astrologer at Hārūn al-Rashīd’s Court,” in From Astral
Omens to Astrology, From Babylon to Bīkāner (Roma: Istituto Italiano per L’Africa e L’Oriente,
1997), 51-63; Antoine Borrut, “Court Astrologers and Historical Writing in Early Abbasid
Baghdad: An Appraisal,” in Contexts of Learning in Baghdad from the 8th-10th Centuries, ed. J.
Scheiner and Damien Janos (Princeton: The Darwin Press, 2014), 455-501.
12
Anne Regourd, “L’Epître ayant pour objet la mise à l’épreuve de ceux qui n’ont d’astrologue
que le nom d’al-Qabīṣī (IVe/Xe s.),” Politica Hermetica 17 (2003), 24-53; Charles Burnett, “Al-
Qabisi’s Introduction to Astrology: From Courtly Entertainment to University Textbook,” in
Studies in the History of Culture and Science: a Tribute to Gad Freudenthal, ed. R. Fontaine et
al. (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 43-69.
Al-Qabīsī’s discussion here of what constitutes a true munajjim also points to the need of
knowing the mathematical and technical instricacies of the craft.
114
services and expertise of munajjims.13 One important aspect of the Rasulid period was the

personal investment of some of its rulers in studying different branches and genres of celestial

knowledge. In the Andalusian and North African context, in addition to Forcada’s study cited

above, Julio Samsó’s works have shed light upon the production and uses of different genres of

celestial knowledge in the courtly context.14 Sonja Brentjes has published important survey

studies on the cultivation of mathematical and ancient sciences (al-ʿulūm al-awāʾil) in late-

medieval Islamic courtly culture, though her studies are not particularly informed by the cases of

munajjims.15 Thomas Allsen’s work on the cultural life under the Mongols also touches upon the

cultivation of astral sciences at the court of Ilkhanid rulers and discusses the extent of cross-

cultural scientific exchanges between Iranian and Chinese realms.16 Several Turkish-speaking

scholars have documented the presence of munajjims at the courts of post-Mongol Turko-Persian

dynasties, including the Ilkhanids, Rum Saljuqs, and Aqquyunlus on the basis of mere anecdotal

13
Daniel Martin Varisco, Medieval Agriculture and Islamic Science: the Almanac of a Yemeni
Sultan (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1994); Petra Schmidl, “Magic and Medicine in
a 13th-century Treatise on the Science of the Stars. The Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-nujūm of the
Rasulid Sultan al-Ashraf ʿUmar,” in Herbal Medicine in Yemen. Traditional Knowledge and
Practice and Their Value for Today’s World, ed. Ingrid Hehmeyer and Hanne Schonig (Leiden:
Brill, 2012), 43-68.
14
Julio Samsó, “The Early Development of Astrology in al-Andalus,” Journal for the History of
Arabic Science 3 (1979), 228-43; idem., “Astrology in Morocco towards the end of the
Fourteenth Century and the Beginning of the Fifteenth Century,” in From Māshāʾallāh to
Kepler: Theory and Practice in Medieval and Renaissance Astrology, ed. Charles Burnett and
Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum (Ceredigon, Wales: Sophia Centre Press, 2015), 407-424.
15
In addition to her work cited above, see “Patronage of the mathematical sciences in Islamic
societies: structure and rhetoric, identities, and outcomes,” in The Oxford Handbook of the
History of Mathematics, ed. Eleanor Robson and Jackie Stedall (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2008), 301-28; idem., “Ayyubid Princes and their Scholarly Clients from the Ancient
Sciences,” in Court Cultures in the Muslim World: Seventh to Nineteenth Centuries, ed. Albrecht
Fuess and Jan-Peter Hartung (London: Routledge, 2010), 326-56.
16
Thomas T. Allsen, Culture and Conquest in Mongol Eurasia (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2011), esp. 161-175 and 203-207.
115
evidence gleaned from chronicles and historical narratives.17 Timurids, particularly the court of

Mīrzā Iskandar b. ʿUmar Shaykh (d. 1415), have received a remarkable amount of scholarly

attention, especially by art historians, thanks to his surviving illuminated horoscope, but I should

note here that the genuine celestial and other scientific activities at his court have yet to be

thoroughly examined.18 The court of Sultan Ḥusayn Bayqara has also been briefly discussed in

the context of an astrological compendium, Lavāyiḥ al-Qamar, compiled by Ḥusayn Vāʿiz-i

Kāshifī (d. 1505) at the request of Husayn Bayqara’s grand vizier.19 Sayılı’s seminal work on

observatories in Islamic history tries to depict the role of courtly patronage at the time of the

17
Kazım Paydaş, “Ak-koyunlu Devlet Teşkilatı” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Ankara University, 2003),
174-6; Osman Turan, Türkiye Selçukluları Hakkında Resmi Vesikalar: Metin, Tercüme ve
Araştırmalar (Ankara: TTK, 1958); Tülay Metin, “Selçuklular Zamanında Müneccimliğe Dair
Bazı Tespitler,” International Journal of History Studies 6/3 (2014), 239-252; Mustafa Uyar,
“İlhanlı (İran Moğolları) Ordularının Savaş Öncesinde Yaptığı Stratejik Hazırlıklar ve Savaş
Sırasında Yaptıkları Hileler,” Gazi Eğitim Fakültesi Dergisi 29/4 (2009), 440.
18
See Zeren Akalay, “An Illustrated Astrological Work of the Period of Iskandar Sulṭān,” in
Akten des VII. Internationalen Kongresses iranische Kunst und Archäologie, 7-10 September
1976 (Berlin: Dietrich Verlag, 1976), 418-425; Laurence P. Elwell-Sutton, “A Royal Tīmūrid
Nativity Book,” in Logos Islamikos: Studia Islamica in Honorem Georgii Michaelis Wickens, ed.
Roger M. Savory and Dionisius A. Agius (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies,
c1984), 119-134; Fateme Keshaverz, “The Horoscope of Iskandar Sultan,” Journal of Royal
Asiatic Society 2 (1984), 197-208; Sergei Tourkin, “Iskandar-sultan und sein Geburtsbuch,” in
Orakel. Der Blick in die Zukunft. Ausstellungkatalog Museum Rietberg Zürich, ed. A. Langer
and A. Lutz (Zürich, 1999), 180-189; idem., “Medical Astrology in the Horoscope of Iskandar
Sultan,” in Sciences, Techniques et Instruments dans le Monde Iranien, ed. N. Poujarvady and Z.
Vesel, (Teheran: IFRI, 2004), 105-109; Anna Caiozzo, “The Horoscope of Iskandar Sultān as a
Cosmological Vision in the Islamic World,” in Horoscopes and Public Spheres: Essays on the
History of Astrology, 115-144. For the occultist interests of Mīrzā Iskandar, see Jean Aubin, “Le
mécénat timouride à Chiraz,” Studia Islamica 8 (1957), 71-88; Evrim Binbaş, “Timurid
Experimentation with Eschatological Absolutism: Mīrzā Iskandar, Shāh Niʿmatullāh Walī, and
Sayyid Sharīf Jurjānī in 815/1412,” in Unity in Diversity: Mysticism, Messianism and the
Construction of Religious Authority in Islam, ed. Orkhan Mir-Kasimov (Leiden: Brill, 2014),
277-306, especially 290-293 for the discussion of the Dībācha of Jāmiʿ al-sulṭānī, a book on
astronomy attributed to Mīrzā Iskandar.
19
Sergei Tourkin and Živa Vesel, “The Contribution of Husayn Vaʿiz-i Kashifi to the
Transmission of Astrological Texts,” Iranian Studies 36/4 (2003), 589-599.
116
Ilkhanids, Timurids, and the late-sixteenth century Ottomans, but since his primary concern was

to demonstrate the mathematical and astronomical achievements attained at the observatories, his

discussion on the courtly patronage of munajjims in the post-thirteenth century Turko-Persian

zone is rather limited.20 Salim Aydüz’s work in Turkish on the office of müneccimbaşı in the

Ottoman context still remains the most comprehensive study on the history of court munajjims,

producing a detailed and useful list of names employed as court munajjims throughout the entire

course of Ottoman history.21 However, the vast scope of his study (from the sixteenth to the early

twentieth century) inevitably led to omissions, including some of munajjims active at the late

fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century Ottoman court. Moreover, his insistence on the term

müneccimbaşı is not always historically accurate, especially for the period prior to the mid-

sixteenth century. Last but not least, Aydüz pays no attention to the original writings of

munajjims, nor the books they potentially read, which makes it difficult to accurately reconstruct

through his study the intellectual and scientific trajectories of practicing experts. One may also

consider consulting Avner Ben Zaken’s study on the courtly context of astrological production in

the late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Ottoman context, though the scope of his scholarship

does not particularly cover the issues that are central to this chapter.22 One should include Gülçin

20
Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam and its Place in the General History of the
Observatory (Ankara: TTK, 1960).
21
Salim Aydüz, “Osmanlı Devleti’nde Müneccimbaşılık Müessesesi,” Belleten 70 no. 257
(2006), 167-264 [based upon his MA Thesis, “Osmanlı Devleti’nde Müneccimbaşılık ve
Müneccimbaşılar,” (Istanbul University, 1993)].
22
See Avner Ben-Zaken, “The Heavens of the Sky and the Heavens of the Heart: The Ottoman
Cultural Context for the Introduction of Post-Copernican Astronomy,” British Society for the
History of Science 37/1 (2004), 1-28; idem., Cross-Cultural Scientific Exchanges in the Eastern
Mediterranean, 1560-1660 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010), esp. Chapter 1
on the social and political context in which Taqī al-Dīn functioned. There are, however,
117
Tunalı’s studies on a mid-nineteenth century Ottoman court munajjim, whose surviving notes

greatly help us understand the quotidian concerns of an astral expert.23 Finally, Stephen Blake

has published a derivative account of the services of munajjims in three early modern Muslim

empires, the Safavids, Ottomans, and Mughals.24 While Blake’s study is based almost entirely

upon previous secondary literature with no or very little original contribution, his emphasis upon

the computation of time as the broader field of expertise of munajjims is worth mentioning.

As is evident from this general overview, the literature on the social and cultural history

of munajjims in the medieval and early-modern Islamic context draws exclusively on anecdotal

evidence extracted from contemporary narrative sources. In dearth of surviving textual materials

composed by munajjims themselves and related archival documents, these narrative sources are

sometimes the only means to understand and reconstruct the entangled social environment in

which munajjims functioned. However, modern scholars should not forget the fact that anecdotes

about munajjims were also imbued with a certain didactic tone due mostly to the controversies

and polemics over astrology. They may either tend to ridicule munajjims through narrating their

failures or overstate the significance of their service by underlining their accurate calculations

and correct judgments. Therefore, for a more nuanced and balanced picture of the history of

munajjims in a given historical context, the writings of astral experts in diverse branches of

knowledge—celestial and otherwise—should be taken into consideration. Thereby one may find

numerous problems in Ben-Zaken’s handling of sources, which Sonja Brentjes and Max
Lejbowicz detail in their review in Aestimatio vol. 10 (2013), 1-24.
23
Gülçin Tunalı, “An Ottoman Astrologer at Work: Sadullah el-Ankaravi and the Everyday
Practice of Ilm-i Nücum,” in Les Ottomans et le temps, ed. François Georgeon and Frédéric
Hitzel (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 39-60; idem., “Osmanlı Siyaset Kültürünü Anlamada Kaynak
Olarak İlm-i Nücûm: Sadullah el-Ankaravî,” TALİD 2/1 (2004), 183-195.
24
Stephen Blake, Time in early modern Islam: Calendar, Ceremony, and Chronology in the
Safavid, Mughal, and Ottoman Empires (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013).
118
the opportunity to describe more accurately the intellectual and scientific basis of their practice,

the sources and authoritative texts they utilized, and the personal and social issues involved in

their training and professional service.

II. 3. What did a Munajjim Need to Know?

As mentioned in the above discussion of the secondary literature regarding the history of

munajjims in medieval and early modern Islamicate world, modern scholars put emphasis on the

broader social contexts as well as restraints in which munajjims had to operate. The services

munajjims provided, their clientele, and the cultural and religious objections they confronted get

the lion’s share of attention, whereas the scientific constituents of their practice are seldom

regarded as a valid object of inquiry. This indifference in the secondary literature is categorically

tied to modern widespread assumptions as to the futility of munajjims as a social category and

the insignificance of their field of expertise. As a natural corollary to the general lack of interest

in what the munajjims’ expertise really entailed, there is no serious investigation on how they

practiced their business.

I will start with delineating the required body of knowledge that those munajjims serving

the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth century Ottoman court needed to know. By looking at the

contents of their own writings, foremost among which are almanac-prognostications (taqwīm)

and horoscopes, and extracting scholarly references therefrom, I will first lay the necessary

groundwork and prepare a comprehensive list of authoritative texts heavily quoted by the

119
Ottoman munajjims of the time.25 I believe it is important to establish such a descriptive list from

the very outset to familiarize readers with the titles and brief descriptions of the books that will

occasionally be referred to throughout.

The inventory of texts appealed to by munajjims in the Ottoman world of the late-

fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century includes: i) strictly astrological textbooks

where one might find standard rules and basic astrological principles on the nature and

characteristics of planets, signs of the zodiac, and certain celestial degrees, as well as specific

techniques in different branches of astrological practice; ii) other types of works that are often

defined in the literature as “astronomical” or “mathematical” such as the zīj literature

(astronomical handbooks of tables) or treatises on the use of astronomical instruments, all of

which naturally cover information crucial for astrological practice. As will be discussed in

greater detail below, zījes stood as the number one item in the paraphernalia of a practicing

munajjim, for they provided, like a medieval version of a modern computer software, the

necessary data and parameters for determining in mathematical terms the celestial configuration

in a given time for a specific location, which constituted the crux of astrological practice.

This detailed sketch of the intellectual framework will be followed by a discussion on

practicing munajjims’ social environment, in which they received their training. The major

question that will be tackled is the role of institutional structures such as the madrasa, mosque,

and, most importantly, the court in the production, study, and circulation of astrologically valid

knowledge. While the focus will be upon the gradual establishment of the office of court

munajjims in the Ottoman bureaucratic structure that contributed to the institutionalization of

25
By “Ottoman” munajjims, I refer to those astral experts serving the Ottoman courts, regardless
of their ethno-religious backgrounds.
120
astral instruction from the late fifteenth century onwards, I will try to assess the extent to which

astrological production and consumption penetrated into more traditional institutional settings

like the madrasa and/or mosque. I believe the discussion here on Ottoman munajjims will also be

useful for scholars elsewhere in Islamic studies, grappling with questions about the social and

cultural history of knowledge in the medieval and early-modern periods.

The rich amount of surviving Ottoman astrological materials, particularly the annual

almanac-prognostications (taqwīm) and partially the occasional horoscopes, which I will treat in

greater detail in chapter four and five, enables us to track the scholarly references of

contemporary astral experts. The taqwīm genre in particular, with its numerous extant examples,

helps us chart in a systematic fashion, and even on a yearly basis, the changing scientific

horizons and intellectual trends among practicing Ottoman munajjims. The preparation of these

texts required the astral expert’s making detailed mathematical and astronomical computations of

the celestial positions at the exact moment of the year-transfer, necessary for deriving

astrological judgments. For that purpose, a well-trained munajjim needed to be knowledgeable in

two specific genres: i) a valid zīj to calculate the celestial positions in a given time for a given

locality (i.e., the moment of the year-transfer or birth, or any other occasion for which a

horoscope was to be cast), and ii) a working astrological textbook that describes the dispositions

of planets and signs as well as the indications of celestial positions. Having an astronomical

instrument that would help the practicing munajjim determine the required celestial positions

more swiftly and accurately was optional, for it might have been unaffordable for many a

121
practitioner.26 There is no need here to discuss in greater detail the significance of handasa

(geometry), ḥisāb (arithmetic), and especially the hayʾa texts that constitute the necessary

groundwork for any serious astral endeavor. The erudite practitioners of mathematical astrology,

which correspond to my own definition of munajjim in this dissertation, could easily be assumed

as learned individuals in all branches of the al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya. Yet being an arduous student

of hayʾa texts does not always make one a munajjim, not because those who were conversant in

ʿilm al-hayʾa were unable to make astrological calculations, but because many a time some of

them remained aloof from the interpretive astrological practice. For instance among those ten

groups that Abū Maʿshar criticizes on account of their negative perceptions of astrology, one

particular group was composed of learned people, who studied the heavens (qawm naẓarū fī al-

ʿilm al-kullī, aʿnī fī ʿilm al-aflāk wa-ḥālātihā) but who believed that “the planets have no

indications for the things that come to be in this world.” 27

One of the striking aspects of the surviving Ottoman taqwīms is that the munajjims

usually cite which particular zīj they consulted to make their celestial calculations before casting

and interpreting their annual or occasional horoscopes. A close examination of the zījes explicitly

quoted in the extant fifteenth- and sixteenth-century taqwīms clearly reveals that the three zījes

most preferred in the Ottoman milieu up until the 1570s were produced in the post-thirteenth

26
In expressing the urgency of the patronage of rulers, munajjims often refer to the financial
difficulty of possessing large astronomical instruments without the support of the sovereigns. See
for instance Rukn al-Āmulī’s Panjāh Bāb or the Risāle-i ṭılsımāt attributed to Ibn Kemāl, already
discussed in the first chapter.
On the use of instruments for astrological purposes, in addition to Josep Casulleras’s work cited
above, also see: Josefine Rodrigues Arribas, “Medieval Jews and Medieval Astrolabes: Where,
Why, How, and What for?” in Time, Astronomy, and Calendars in the Jewish Tradition, ed.
Sacha Stern and Charles Burnett (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 221-272.
27
Quoted in George Saliba, “Islamic Astronomy in Context: Attacks on Astrology and the Rise
of the Hayʿa Tradition,” 31.
122
century Persianate East as the fruits of systematic observation programs: the Ilkhanid tables (Zīj-i

Īlkhānī) of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, the Testified Ilkhanid tables (Zīj al-muḥaqqaq al-sulṭānī) of Shams

al-Dīn Muḥammad Wābkanawī, and the Ulugh Beg tables (Zīj-i Jadīd-i Gurgānī or Zīj-i Ulugh

Beg).28

We have a limited number of surviving taqwīms survived from the pre-1490s and those

extant ones rarely cite the name of the zīj utilized. Among approximately ten taqwīms from the

period that have fully or partially come down to us, only two of them have explicit references to

a specific zīj. The taqwīms of the years 1438 and 1468 cite al-Zīj al-Shāmil that Edward

Kennedy defines in his comprehensive list of astronomical tables as an anonymous work, though

the author has greatly adopted the parameters of Abū al-Wafāʾ al-Būzjānī (d. ca. 970) and his

collaborators in the al-Zīj al-Wāḍiḥ.29 From 1489 to 1510 we have around 30 taqwīms, and based

upon the evidence gleaned from these texts, Shams al-Dīn Wābkanawī’s “Testified Ilkhanid

tables” (Zīj al-muḥaqqaq al-sulṭānī) seems to have dominated the contemporary setting, as 16

out of 30 taqwīms from the period were based upon it.30 Nine taqwīms at the time made use of

the Ulugh Beg tables, and only two of them preferred the original Ilkhanid tables. Among the

remaining three taqwīms from the period, two of them do not specify the zīj they used but the

taqwīm produced in the year 1489 by Khiṭābī, about whom more details will be provided in

chapter three, was compiled on the basis of his own master Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī’s Zīj-i Jāmiʿ-i

28
According to Aydın Sayılı, after Ṭūsī’s death in 1274, the astral experts at the Maragha
Observatory, including Aṣīl al-dīn Ḥasan, kept working on the new editions of the Zīj-i Īlkhānī.
Therefore, some of the zījes cited in the Ottoman taqwīms as the Zīj-i muḥaqqaq-i Īlkhānī might
be indeed referring to the different editions of the Ilkhanid tables rather than Wābkanawī’s work.
29
Edward S. Kennedy, “A Survey of Islamic Astronomical Tables,” Transactions of the
American Philosophical Society, New Series, 46/2 (1956), 129.
30
See fn. 26.
123
Saʿīdī.31

From the 1510s until the late-sixteenth century––when the most famed Ottoman astral

expert of all times, Taqī al-dīn prepared novel tables on the basis of a limited observation

program in the newly established Istanbul observatory–– practicing Ottoman munajjims almost

exclusively utilized and cited the Ulugh Beg tables.32 According to the data extracted from

surviving copies of taqwīms, around thirty-seven extant copies descended from the period 1511

and 1588, twenty-three of them were evidently compiled on the basis of the Ulugh Beg tables,

whereas Wābkanawī’s tables were favored only by five. The earliest reference to the data

produced in the brief life of the Istanbul observatory by Taqī al-dīn and his collaborators is in the

taqwīm produced for the year 1573. As the reference to this zīj reads (“Zīc-i cedīd-i muḥaḳḳaḳ-ı

mudaḳḳaḳ-ı Saʿdeddīnī”), the entire project seems to have been referred to at the time by the

name of its primary patron, Saʿdeddīn, the private mentor of sultan Murād III (r. 1574-1595).33

As discussed in greater detail in the first chapter, the available literature on the zījes has

barely discussed the practical astrological purposes to which the tables were put. Although

leading historians of science like Edward Kennedy and David King definitely point in their

31
More information on Khiṭābī is available in chapter 3.
32
For the observation program conducted and the zījes produced by Taqī al-Dīn and his
collaborators in the Istanbul observatory that could operate only for a few years in the 1570s, see
Sayılı, “Alaaddin Mansur’un İstanbul Rasathanesi Hakkındaki Şiirleri,” Belleten 20 (1956), 411-
84; idem., The Observatory in Islam, 289-305; Sevim Tekeli, “Meçhul bir Yazarın İstanbul
Rasathanesinin Âletlerinin Tasvirini Veren Âlât-ı Rasadiye li Zîc-i Şehinşahiye adlı makalesi,”
Araştırma 1 (1963), 71-122; Süheyl Ünver, İstanbul Rasathanesi (Ankara: TTK, 1969); Remzi
Demir; Takiyüddin’de Matematik ve Astronomi: Ceridetü’d-dürer ve haridetü’l-fiker üzerine bir
İnceleme (Ankara: Atatürk Kültür Merkezi Başkanlığı, 2000); Mustafa Kaçar, M. Şinasi Acar ve
Atilla Bir (ed.), XVI. Yüzyıl Astronomu Takiyüddin’in Gözlem Araçları (İstanbul: İş Bankası
Kültür Yayınları, 2011).
33
According to Shahinshāhnāme of Seyyid Loḳmān, urād III’s court historiographer’ Taqī al-
dīn’s request to build an observatory and thus revise available celestial data was brought to the
attention of the sultan by none other than Saʿdeddīn. See Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam, 291.
124
studies to the contents of zījes that are particularly related to astrological practice, they cannot

help but say “there is precious little evidence how these works were used in practice.”34 In this

regard, the surviving Ottoman taqwīms provide that “precious little evidence” on the deployment

of zījes for astrological purposes.

It is, however, difficult for a non-historian of science to fully reconstruct the ways

munajjims deployed zījes when they made necessary celestial calculations for computing the

horoscope of a given time for a given locality. While it is obvious that practicing munajjims had

to consult the tables that tabulate the detailed celestial data and parameters for the mean motions

of planets in sexagesimal numbers, they do not go into the essential details about the

particularities of this operation in their writings.35 The standard phrase they use in the surviving

taqwīms reads that they “computed” (istikhrāj) the planetary positions at the time (of the year-

transfer) according to a certain zīj (bi-mūjab-i zīj-i...). The explicit reference to the zīj is also

repeated in the section where the munajjim calculates the solar and/or lunar eclipse that he

expects to occur in the upcoming year.

In his yet-unpublished study on the mathematics of Islamic astrology, Benno Van Dalen

34
David A. King, Julio Samsó, Bernard R. Goldstein, “Astronomical Handbooks and Tables
from the Islamic World (750-1900): an Interim Report,” Suhayl: International Journal for the
History of the Exact and Natural Sciences in Islamic Civilisation 2 (2001), 9-105.
35
Anthropological studies on the working methods of modern practicing astrologers also reveal
that there are two distinct phases in their operation, one technical and the other interpretive.
While they use certain tools and methods to make necessary calculations, they say that when it
comes to interpreting the chart of the querent, certain metaphysical issues are at stake. As one of
the interviewed astrologers says, “much of what we do for a client has nothing to do with the
specific configuration we are looking at, but rather, with the fact that the chart, and ultimately
God or gods through the patterns of the chart, affirms the right of the person to be what he or she
is.” See Darrelyn Gunzburg, “How do Astrologers Read Charts?” in Astrologies: Plurality and
Diversity, ed. by Nicholas Campion and Liz Greene (Ceredigion: Sophia Centre Press,
University of Wales, 2011), 181-200.
125
outlines the methods by which munajjims in the Islamic past could compute the planetary

positions and data in horoscopes.36 As Van Dalen demonstrates, the computation of the true

longitudes of planets (taqwīm al-kawākib) lies at the center of every astrological activity. In

order to calculate the longitudes of planets at the desired moment, munajjims had to consult the

tables in zījes for the mean motions and equations of each planet. These equations are complex

trigonometric functions and their calculation requires frequent recourses to sine tables,

multiplication, and division. Apart from computing the true longitudes of planets, another crucial

method used for astrological calculations was computing the position of the ascendant (ṭāliʿ, pl.

ṭāwāliʿ) at a given time. According to Van Dalen’s study, munajjims often used the oblique

ascension functions (maṭāliʿ al-burūj) to calculate the ascendant. While many zījes include

maṭāliʿ al-burūj tables, the treatises on some astronomical instruments also provide information

on how to calculate these oblique ascension functions as a step toward computing the ascendant.

After the degree of the ascendant is determined, which also marks the beginning of the First

astrological house (Arabic: bayt, pl. buyūt; Persian: khāna), the Seventh––immediately opposite

one–– is also established as the Descendant. Then are determined the other two “pivots” (waṭad),

the upper Mid-Heaven (the Medium Coeli, or literally the middle of the sky) and the lower Mid-

Heaven (the Imum Coeli), former corresponding to the tenth house and the latter the fourth

house.

Once all the twelve astrological houses are determined, the horoscope becomes ready to

be interpreted astrologically. Each astrological house is associated with certain aspects of life.

36
See Benno Van Dalen, “An Introduction to the Mathematics of Islamic Astronomy and
Astrology” (Unpublished paper). I am grateful to Benno Van Dalen for sharing his unpublished
work with me.
126
The first House is associated with the personality and demeanour of the native (or the individual

for whom a horoscope is cast), the second describes material goods and financial matters, the

third concerns the siblings and short trips, and so on. The houses are not only influenced by the

Signs passing through them, but also by the planets associated with each sign through a complex

system of Lords/Rulers (ṣāḥib), Exaltations (sharaf), Terms (ḥadd), Triplicities (muthallatha), or

Decans (Wajh).37 These parameters can also be determined from astrological tables.

We should note here that not all extant zījes that Kennedy, King, Samsó, and Van Dalen

surveyed were products of detailed and systematic observation programs conducted in

observatories. Therefore they were not identical in terms of their scope, precision, number of

tables and parameters. However, the accuracy of the celestial data and planetary parameters like

the mean motions of planets is intimately related to the quality and scope of the observational

program preceding the preparation of tables. To update and correct imprecise celestial data and

parameters was always the stated reason for the construction of a new observatory that would

ideally house more sizeable instruments and conduct a longer observation program. Precision

was evaluated at the time based upon the greater size of the tools, and a thirty-year observation

program was deemed required for a fuller assessment and computation of the motions of planets.

Practicing munajjims often confronted inconsistencies between the calculated times of certain

phenomenon such as eclipses or conjunctions, and personally observed values. Such

discrepancies prompted new generations of astral experts to run a more accurate observational

program with the financial support of the ruling elites. The history of making and unmaking of

observatories in the post-thirteenth century Turko-Persian politico-cultural context presents a

37
Laurence Elwell-Sutton (ed.), The Horoscope of Asadullāh Mīrzā: A Specimen of Nineteenth-
Century Persian Astrology, tr. and ed. by L. P. Elwell-Sutton (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 57-59.
127
perfect picture of the real functions of observatories vis-à-vis the professional needs of

professional munajjims to improve available planetary data. To better understand and

substantiate the problems underlying the inaccurate celestial data, it is worth quoting fully here

Wābkanawī’s criticism of the Zīj-i Īlkhānī:

“Therefore, the positions of planets calculated on the basis of the zījes which are
fashionable and current among people in this day do not agree with the observed
positions of the planets. Because (in the case of) those great men who constructed those
Tables, despite their perfect knowledge and abundant properties and the order of the king,
their life failed them to attempt to complete (i.e. they died before completing) those
important affairs. For this reason, as the occasion arose, they appealed to (the results of)
the old observations; and in the course of time, those necessary fractions added up to
integers. And (as a result), notable divergences in the positions of the planets have
appeared to such an extent that in the case of the conjunctions of the two superior planets
(i.e. Jupiter and Saturn)—on which the world’s commandments depend, at the two times
when they were in conjunction with each other, some obvious divergences were
observed. For example, in the year 684 H [1285 in Common Era], the conjunction took
place in the ninth degree of Aquarius (9˚). The difference between the calculated (time of
the conjunction) based on the zīj that is the most famous and reliable in these regions as
well as in common use among people (i.e. the Ilkhanid Tables) and the (time when it
was) observed was close to fifteen days. I mean, according to that zīj, the conjunction
should have occurred in the ninth hour of daylight on Wednesday, the twentieth (day) of
(the month) Shawwāl in that year (19 December 1285), but according to observation, it
took place on the night of the fifth day of the month Dhu al-Qaʿda (1 January 1286).
Again, according to the same zīj, in the months of the year 705 H, the conjunction should
have taken place at the end of Libra (29˚), but according to the observation, it occurred
during daylight on Friday, the thirteenth day of the Jumādā al-Ākhir (31 December 1305)
in the second degree of Scorpio (2˚). There was a difference between the calculated
(time) and the observed (time) of about eighteen days, and the degree of conjunction,
juzw-i qirān, fell under another sign. Since then, around that date, they (i.e. Saturn and
Jupiter) formed two other conjunctions, which (the calculations) based on that zīj did not
predict.”38

38
Quoted in Mohammad Mozaffari’s “Wābkanawī’s Prediction and Calculations of the Annual
Solar Eclipse of 30 January 1283,” Historia Mathematica 40 (2013), 239-40.
128
 The munajjims active in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth century Ottoman milieu

seem to have been aware of the problems of the Zīj-i Īlkhānī, as they rather preferred the revised

tables of Wābkanawī before they eventually opted for the Ulugh Beg tables. But even the Ulugh

Beg tables were not free from deficiencies, and throughout the sixteenth century certain

practicing astral experts appealed to the court and attempted to persuade the reigning sultans to

establish an observatory. The talismanic treatise attributed to Ibn Kemāl, mentioned in the first

chapter, clearly reveals that long before Taqī al-dīn approached Murād III (r. 1574-1595) and his

chief adviser Saʿdeddīn in the late sixteenth century, some of the practitioners issued demands

for a systematic observational program in the Ottoman capital to correct the available planetary

data.39

Besides the ability to extract the necessary celestial data out of zījes, munajjims also had

to have a sound knowledge of the nature and inclinations of planets, signs, astrological houses,

and planetary aspects. Although there were several alternative textbooks and summae of

astrological principles circulating at the time, the particular texts and names quoted heavily in the

Ottoman taqwīms and a few surviving horoscopes—whenever there emerges a need to justify a

specific celestial indication—could be grouped as follows:

i) Kitāb al-thamara (known in Latin as Centiloquium): One hundred astrological

aphorisms attributed to Ptolemy but originally composed in Arabic in the early tenth

century by a certain Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad b. Yūsuf (d. ca. 944). Later translated into Persian

by different parties including Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī. It is mostly through the Persian

39
SK Esad Efendi Ms. 3782, 89a. See fn. 37 in Chapter 1.
129
 translation of Ṭūsī that the Ottoman munajjims adopted the text, though a few experts

were able to quote certain aphorisms in the original Arabic.40 As the simplified and easily

practicable version of Ptolemy’s major astrological work Tetrabiblos, Kitāb al-thamara

became a standard textbook for astrological instruction, especially in the fields of birth

horoscopes and interrogations.41

ii) Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl or Mukhtaṣar dar maʿrifat-i taqvīm: a short textbook in

Persian that informs in brief thirty chapters the students and general reading public about

the use of sexagesimal numbers, general characteristics of planets, signs, and the

indications of planetary aspects. The text was one of the widely copied scientific works

of the time, as there is rich manuscript evidence of its circulation in Anatolian and Iranian

lands from late thirteenth century onwards. It was translated into Turkish as early as the

late fourteenth century by Aḥmed-i Dāʿī (d. later than 1421).42 Some of the names from

the Fenārī Circle of the early fifteenth-century, such as ʿAbdulwājid b. Muḥammad (d.

1435), also wrote commentaries.43

40
Richard Lemay, “Origin and Success of the Kitāb Thamara of Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad ibn Yūsuf
ibn Ibrāhīm,” in Proceedings of the First International Symposium for the History of Arabic
Science: April 5-12, 1976, ed. Ahmad Y. al-Hassan et al. (Aleppo: University of Aleppo, 1978),
91-107. For Ṭūsī’s Persian translation of al-Thamara, see Sharḥ-i Samarah-i Baṭlamyūs dar
aḥkām-i nujūm, ed. Khalīl Akhavān Zanjānī (Tehran: Āyīnah-i Mīrās, 1999).
41
In the eyes of noted intellectual and literary figures in the medieval Islam such as al-Tawḥīdī
(d. 1023), Kitāb al-thamara is a kind of book all learned men should “absorb themselves in its
reading.” Quoted in Richard Lemay, “Religion vs Science in Islam. The Medieval Debate around
Astrology,” Oriente Moderno 19/3 (2000), 573.
42
Aḥmed-i Dāʿī, Muhtasar fi ilm el-tencim ve marifet el-takvim (risale-i si fasl), ed. T. N.
Gencan and M. Dizer (Istanbul: Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Kandilli Rasathanesi, 1984).
43
OALT, v. 1 (Istanbul : İslâm Tarih, Sanat ve Kültür Araştırma Merkezi, 1997), 22-24.
130
 iii) Kūshyār ibn Labbān (d. 1029) and his Mujmal al-uṣūl fī aḥkām al-nujūm

(Compendium of Principles in Astrology, also called al-Mudkhal fī ṣināʿat aḥkām al-

nujūm): a detailed textbook, imitating Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos, teaching in four major

chapters (maqāla) the fundamental elements of astrology and methods for practicing its

different branches such as Genethlialogy/horoscopic astrology and Catarchic/electional

astrology.44

iv) Abū Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī and his Kitāb al-tafhīm li-awāʾil ṣināʾat al-tanjīm (Book of

Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology): a compendium of astronomical and

astrological knowledge in both Arabic and Persian renditions, necessary for establishing

the precise technique and terminology for the practice of judicial astrology.45

v) Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī (d. ca. 886): Ottoman munajjims often cite his name in

their taqwīms and horoscopes, but they do not explicitly quote any of his well-known

treatises such as Kitāb al-mudkhal al-kabīr (General Introduction to Astrology), Kitāb al-

milal wa’l-duwal (Book on Religions and Dynasties), or Kitāb al-ulūf (Book of

Thousands). Nor are these titles available in the library catalog of the Ottoman palace or

the inventories of other private collections prepared in sixteenth century.46

44
Kūshyār ibn Labbān’s Introduction to Astrology, ed. Michio Yano (Tokyo: Tokyo University
of Foreign Studies, 1997).
45
al-Bīrūnī, The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology, ed. and tr. Ramsay
Wright (London: Luzac & Co., 1934).
46
For Abū Maʿshar’s biography and works, see David Pingree, “Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī, Jaʿfar
ibn Muḥammad,” in Dictionary of Scientific Biography, v. 1, 32-39. Many of his extant works
have been translated and published as critical editions. See David Pingree, The Thousands of Abu
131
 vi) Abū’l-Maḥāmīd b. Masʿūd al-Ghaznawī (fl. 1170) and his Kifāyat al-taʿlīm fī

ṣināʾat al-tanjīm (Sufficiency of Learning in the Art of Astrology): One of the most

popular textbooks among the Ottoman munajjims which, in the manner of Bīrūnī’s

Tafhīm, brings together in Persian two major bodies (jins) of necessary knowledge: ʿilm-i

hayʾa and ʿilm-i aḥkām. Each body is divided into further chapters and subsections.47

vii) ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn ʿAlī-Shāh b. Muḥammad b. Qāsim al-Khawārazmī al-Bukhārī and his

Kitāb Asmār va Ashjār dar Aḥkām-i Nujūm (also known as Thamarat al-shajarah):

composed of five shajarahs written in Persian, each touching upon a particular aspect of

judicial astrology such as the horoscope of the year transfer (dar aḥkām-i ṭāliʿ-i taḥvīl-i

sāl), horoscope of birth (dar aḥkām-i ṭāliʿhā-yi mavlūd), and special methods for

calculating horoscopes.48

viii) Shahmardān b. Abī’l-Khayr Rāzī (d. later than 1072) and his Rawḍat al-

munajjimīn: an extensive introduction in Persian to astrological rules written in fifteen

Mashar (London: Warburg Institute, 1968); The abbreviation of the Introduction to Astrology
together with the medieval Latin translation of Adelard of Bath, ed. and tr. by Charles Burnett,
Keiji Yamamoto, and Michio Yano (Leiden: Brill. 1994); On Historical Astrology: the Book of
Religions and Dynasties (on the great conjunctions), ed. by Keijo Yamamoto and Charles
Burnett (Leiden: Brill, 2000).
47
Not much is known about the life of Ghaznawī. For the copies of the text see C. A. Storey,
Persian Literature: A Bio-Bibliographical Survey, v. 2, p. 1 (London: Luzac, 1927), 46-47.
Ghaznawī says in the introduction to his manual that the aim of his volume is to make readers
acquainted with the knowledge on the configuration of the celestial spheres and corresponding
astrological indications. British Museum Or. 11630, 1b: “garaż-i kitāb shinākhtan-i hayʾat va
aḥkām ast.”
48
For the copies of the text see C. A. Storey, Persian Literature: A Bio-Bibliographical Survey,
v. 2, p. 1 (London: Luzac, 1927), 62.
132
 maqālas for beginners by a secretary (dabīr).49

As for those titles on more specific branches of astrology like interrogations (masāʾil)

and elections (ikhtiyārāt), one should also mention the Kitāb al-masāʾil of Yaʿqūb b. ʿAlī al-

Qaṣrānī. Unfortunately not much is known about him, although later sources including Fakhr al-

Dīn Rāzī cite him among other astrological authorities from the early Abbasid period, including

Abū Maʿshar, ʿUmar b. al-Farrukhān al-Ṭabarī (d. 815-6), or Sahl b. Bishr (fl. 821-850).50 His

compilation on horary astrology (masāʾil), which aims at treating a wide array of questions of a

querent by interpreting the astrological significance of the time that particular question is posed,

seems to have been quite popular in the early-modern Ottoman realm. Mīrim Çelebi, one of the

most important astral experts in the early sixteenth-century Ottoman world, about whom more

information will be provided next chapter, says in his treatise on horary astrology that curious

readers should consult Qaṣrānī’s compilation for further reading about the topic.51 In addition to

Qaṣrānī, Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s influential work on electional astrology, al-Ikhtiyārāt al-ʿalāʾiyya fī

aḥkām al-samāwiyya, of which Rāzī himself prepared both Arabic and Persian renditions during

49
For the copies of the text see C. A. Storey, Persian Literature: A Bio-Bibliographical Survey,
v. 2, p. 1 (London: Luzac, 1927), 45. See also the facsimile edition: Rawżat al-munajjimīn, ed.
by Jalīl Akhavān Zanjānī (Tehran: Markaz-i Intishār-ı Nusakh-i Khaṭṭī, 1989).
50
The canon used by Rāzī consists of the works of Ptolemy, Vettius Valens (d. ca 175), Abū
Maʿshar (d. 886), Dorothius of Sidon (d. ca 75), ʿUmar b. al-Farrukhān (d. 815-6), al-Sijzī (d. ca
1020), al-Qaṣrānī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Ayyūb al-Ṭabarī (ninth-tenth century A.D.),
Kūshyār (d. 1029), and Sahl ibn Bishr (d. ca 845). See TSMK Revan Ms. 1705, 2a: “Pas
kitābha-yi ustādān chūn Baṭlamyūs va Vālīs va Abū’l-Maʿshar al-Balkhī va Yaʿqūb b. ʿAlī al-
Qaṣrānī va Muḥammad b. Ayyūb al-Ṭabarī va Kūshyār ibn Labbān ba-shahri al-Jīlī va Sahl bin
Bishr jamʿ kardam.”
51
SK Bağdatlı Vehbi Ms. 2005, 47b: “īn qadr dar maʿrifat-i aḥkām kifāyat bāshad va agar kasī
ziyada az īn khāhad ba-mukhtaṣar-i Qaṣrānī ki bi-masāʾil-i Qaṣrānī mashūr ast murājaʿat
namāyad.”
133
his own lifetime, were also often cited by munajjims in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth

century Ottoman realm.

The inventory of authoritative sources relies mostly upon the detailed examination of the

exact references in extant Ottoman taqwīms, horoscopes, and a few surviving textbooks written

by indigenous Ottoman astral experts from the period in question. Unfortunately, in none of the

authentic writings of Ottoman munajjims at the time can one easily find a ready-made

bibliography of useful sources.52 Therefore I had to distill information from surviving

astrological materials of the time and prepare a tentative list of sources frequently cited in

contemporary astrological writings. One may refer here to Ṭaşköprīzāde’s encyclopedic work in

which he lists the useful texts for different branches of astrological practice but since he repeats

almost verbatim the discussion in the encyclopedic work of the Mamluk encyclopedist Ibn al-

Akfānī (d. 1348) instead of representing the exact preferences of his own time and realm, his

inventory does not always overlap with the actual references of munajjims in the Ottoman

milieu.

Another important source for our purposes here is the inventory of the palace library,

which was compiled by the chief librarian ʿĀṭūfī in 1502-3 to list the names of around 5,700

52
In his introduction to the al-Ikhtiyārāt al-ʿalāʾiyya fī aḥkām al-samāwiyya, Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī
quotes a handful of texts that he personally utilized in writing his own work. It is difficult to find
in the authentic writings of Ottoman munajjims anything similar to Rāzī’s bibliographical
enterprise. The canon used by Rāzī consists of the works of Ptolemy, Vettius Valens (d. ca 175),
Abū Maʿshar (d. 886), Dorothius of Sidon (d. ca 75), ʿUmar b. al-Farrukhān (d. 815-6), al-Sijzī
(d. ca 1020), al-Qaṣrānī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Ayyūb al-Ṭabarī (ninth-tenth century A.D.),
Kūshyār (d. 1029), and Sahl ibn Bishr (d. ca 845). See TSMK Revan Ms. 1705, 2a: “Pas
kitābha-yi ustādān chūn Baṭlamyūs va Vālīs va Abū’l-Maʿshar al-Balkhī va Yaʿqūb b. ʿAlī al-
Qaṣrānī va Muḥammad b. Ayyūb al-Ṭabarī va Kūshyār ibn Labbān ba-shahri al-Jīlī va Sahl bin
Bishr jamʿ kardam.”
134
volumes and 7,200 titles in various branches of knowledge housed in the imperial treasury.53

ʿĀṭūfī’s catalogue is replete with treatises and textbooks on astrological principles as well as

astronomical tables and instruments, and the relevant section of the inventory is given in full as

Appendix B to this dissertation. Even a cursory look at the list of items available in the imperial

treasury will demonstrate that the inventory perfectly reflects the trends of the munajjims active

in the Ottoman realm. First of all, the collection of zījes in the palace library neatly represents the

general leanings among practicing munajjims toward the post-Maragha zīj tradition in Persian.

Among the twenty-five copies of zījes and their commentaries listed in ʿĀṭūfī’s inventory—with

the exception of the two copies of al-Bīrūnī’s al-Qānūn al-Masʿūdi, which can indeed be

regarded as a zīj—there are five copies of Zīj-i Īlkhānī along with another five copies of

Nīsābūrī’s Kashf-i ḥaqāʾiq and two copies of Jamshīd al-Kāshī’s Zīj-i khāqānī fī takmīl-i Zīj-i

Īlkhānī, both of which were expositions of the Ilkhanid tables. The catalogu also includes five

copies of the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg together with two copies of ʿAlī Qūshjī’s commentary on the

Ulugh Beg tables and one copy of that of Mīrim Çelebi.

As for manuals and textbooks on astrological rules, Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl seems to have enjoyed

most popularity. There are, by my count, 13 copies of the text along with later commentaries,

including Khiṭābī’s lengthy Muwaḍḍiḥ al-rusūm fī ʿilm al-nujūm, which he presented to Meḥmed

II in December 1479. Next comes the Kitāb al-thamara with seven copies (one cited in the tārīkh

section of the inventory), almost exclusively in Persian. That the available Thamara copies in the

palace library were written in Persian provides yet another strong proof for the ascendancy of the

Persian astral tradition within Ottoman circles. As for the books of Abū Maʿshar, there are at

53
Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Ms. Török F 59.
135
least five titles recorded with explicit reference to his name, but as their titles are too generic

(e.g. Muntakhab Kitāb Abī Maʿshar fī aḥkām al-nujūm), it is difficult to establish which Abū

Maʾshar texts were in question. In addition to Ṭūsī, (Pseudo-) Ptolemy, and Abū Maʿshar, the

library catalogue has at least five copies of the Kitāb al-tafhīm of al-Bīrūnī and the Mujmal al-

uṣūl of Kūshyār. Ghaznawī’s Kifāya is also cited at least for two times.

An important aspect of the collection is that since the imperial library was accessible to

the court munajjims at the time, the holdings at the treasury not only reflect but also likely

shaped the scholarly preferences of practicing munajjims. For instance through the end of

Bāyezīd II’s reign, one of the court munajjims approached the sultan in an undated, anonymous

Persian petition, asking to gain access to some of the items in the treasury (khizāne). The

requested items include a sumptuous astrolabe (usṭurlāb-ı tām), the Ulugh Beg tables (Zīj-i

Ulugh Beg), Kitāb-ı Majisṭī of Naṣīr al-dīn Ṭūsī, and the horoscope of the sultan (ṭāliʿ-i ḥażret-i

ʿālem-penāhī) along with those of his sons, Ḳorḳud and Aḥmed.54 The anonymous munajjim also

reassures the sultan that if the horoscopes are not currently available, he could produce (new)

ones for each as long as he is informed of the exact birth-dates of the sultan and his sons.

Interestingly enough, the extant probate inventories of some of the deceased court

munajjims from much later periods also corroborate that the books deemed important by astral

experts in the late fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century still had greater influence in

the scholarly horizons of practitioners in the following centuries. For example, in the estates of

54
TSMA E. 10159/6: “Kitāb-i zīj-i Uluġ Bīgi va kitāb-i Majisṭī va usṭūrlāb-i tām bā-ṭāliʿ-i
ḥażrat-i ʿālam-panāhī bā-ṭāliʿ-i mavlūd-i sulṭān Qurkhut va ṭāliʿ-i mavlūd-i sulṭan Aḥmad dar
khizāna būda amr farmāyand ki badīn kamīna badahand va agar ṭāliʿhā maʿlūm nabāshad
tārīkh-i vilādathā taslīm namāyand tā baʿd az istikhrāj kayfiyyat-i ṭāliʿ-i har yak rā chunāncha
az dalāil-i nujūmī maʿlūm shavad ba-ʿarż rasānida shavad.”
136
the deceased müneccimbaşı Ḥalīl Efendi (d. 1773) are found at least two copies of the Zīj-i

Ulugh Beg, Abū Maʿshar’s aḥkām treatises, al-Bīrūnī’s Tafhīm, Ghaznawī’s Kifāyat, ʿAlī-Shāh’s

Asmār va Ashjār, Turkish translation of al-Qaṣrānī’s Kitāb al-Masāʾil (“Terceme-i Qaṣrānī”)

along with several horoscopes (ṭāliʿ-i mevlūd) and unspecified works on preparing taqwīms

(Aḥkām-ı kulliya fī al-taqāwīm and İstikhrāj al-taqwīm min al-zīj).55 In a similar vein, the probate

inventory of the deceased ser-müneccim Mūsāzāde Muḥammed ʿUbeydullāh Efendi (d. 1782)

lists among his books at least three copies of the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg, two copies of Mīrim Çelebi’s

commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables, one copy of Nīsābūrī’s commentary on the Ilkhanid tables,

two copies of the commentary on Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos (Sharḥ-i arbaʿa maqālāt), Ghaznawī’s

Kifāyat, at least two copies of Qaṣrānī’s Kitāb al-masāʾil, Alī-Shāh’s Asmār va ashjār,

Kūshyār’s Mujmal al-uṣūl, and several unspecified treatises on birth horoscopy (aḥkām-ı

mevālīd).56 Even in the private collection of the nineteenth century chief munajjim al-Sayyid

Muḥammed Saʿdullāh Efendi (d. 1848) is there one copy of an unspecified commentary on the

Zīj-i Ulugh Beg.57 The books possessed by the late-eighteenth and early nineteenth-century court

munajjims not only included these cited sources but also works on ʿilm al-hayʾa (like Taḥrīr al-

Majisṭī of Ṭūsī or Mecmūʿa-i Chaghmīnī), ʿilm al-raml (including one particular text attributed

to Ṭūsī), ʿilm al-jifr, and other examples of the zīj tradition including the zīj of Ibn al-Shāṭir and

more recent European achievements (terceme-i zīj-i Frengī and sometimes specifically recorded

55
D. BŞM. MHF. 55:34. I would like to thank Hakan Kırkoğlu for informing me of the presence
of such an inventory in the archives.
56
KA 502, 21b.
57
KA 1650, 52b.
137
as Zīj-i Lālant).58 All in all, these probate inventories are useful to portray the extent of the

canonization of astrologically valid knowledge in the early-modern Ottoman intellectual context.

II. 4. The Venues of Training on Astrologically Valid Knowledge

How and where could a would-be munajjim get a good acquaintance with any set of these

texts listed above? In the absence of a running observatory in the Ottoman world in the late

fifteenth and first half of the sixteenth century, were there any institutional means of vocational

training? Could a student learn astrologically valid knowledge in a madrasa? What role did the

offices of muwaqqit and court munajjims play in the transmission of astrologically valid

knowledge down the generations?

The observatories that were sporadically founded in the medieval Islamic domains,

especially in the eastern lands, provided the most important institutional framework for bringing

together experts with varying specializations in the mathematical-astral sciences and spurred the

accumulation of useful texts in a particular location. From the reign of al-Maʾmūn onwards, and

accelerating especially in the post-Mongol era, the eastern Islamic lands witnessed the

58
Jérôme Lalande’s (d. 1807) tables started to be used in the Ottoman realm from the late
eighteenth century onwards, though some of the Ottoman court munajjims were already familiar
with contemporary European astronomy and astrology in the seventeenth century. Müneccimbaşı
Muḥammed b. ʿAlī (d. 1631) says in the introduction to his derivative textbook on astrological
principles that he prepared it on the basis of Arabic, Persian, and European sources. See Kandilli
Rasathanesi Library Ms. 371, 1b: “[B]uyurdılar ki bize aḥkām-ı nücūmda aḥkām-ı ʿāleme
müteʿalliḳ ve aḥkām-ı ṭāliʿe müttefiḳ bir Türkī kitāb terceme olunmasıçün emr-i şerīfleri ṣādır
olmağın bu faḳīr-i pür-taḳṣīr Muḥammed b. ʿAlī reʾis el-müneccimīn daḫi ʿArabī ve Fārsī ve
Frengī kitābların zübdelerin cemʿ ve taḥrīr idub...”
For the curious story of the Turkish translation of Noël Durret’s Novae motuum caelestium
ephemerides Richelianae by Ibrāhīm Efendi al-Zigetvari Tezkireci in the year 1660, see Avner
Ben-Zaken, “The heavens of the sky and the heavens of the heart: the Ottoman cultural context
for the introduction of post-Copernican astronomy,” British Society for the History of Science
37/1 (2004), 1-28.
138
establishment––and subsequent demolition––of a number of observatories. As already discussed

earlier with respect to the production of zījes, the fundamental purpose of constructing a new

observatory and running a fresh observational program was to rectify existing tables

indispensable for astrological practice. Yet due to irregular financial support, tumultuous

political circumstances, and social and religious tensions vis-à-vis the moral licitness of

practicing astrology, many of the established observatories operated only for a limited period of

time.59 One exception is the Maragha observatory, which, after its construction in 1259, was able

to survive until 1316 thanks mostly to its being funded by more stable waqf revenues.60

Observatories provided a convenient space to facilitate private instruction and

apprenticeship between experienced experts and aspiring students of celestial knowledge, some

of whom were connected by family ties.61 Some of these institutions were also accompanied by

madrasas where different matters related to the al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya were evidently instructed.

Thanks to the surviving letters of Jamshīd al-Kāshī and the ijāza given to Fatḥullāh Shirvānī (d.

59
For a brief discussion on possible reasons for the construction and subsequent destruction of
observatories in the Islamic realm, see İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlı Felsefe-Biliminin Arka Planı:
Semerkand Matematik-Astronomi Okulu,” Divan İlmi Araştırmaları Dergisi 14 (2003), esp. 12-
14.
60
For the exceptional status of the Maragha observatory see Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam,
207-223.
61
The most prominent example seems to be the al-Kāshī family, different members of which
served different courts in the Timurid realm. Maḥmūd b. Yaḥyā b. al-Ḥasan al-Kāshī named (al-
mulaqqab bih) ʿImād al-munajjim was the author of the famous horoscope of Mīrzā Iskandar b.
ʿUmar Shaykh prepared in 1411. Another horoscope, hitherto unknown, was apparently
produced on 15 Muḥarram 822/February 11, 1419 for Mīrzā Rustam b. ʿUmar Shaykh. The
munajjim authoring this horoscope is a certain Yaḥyā b. ʿImād b. Yaḥyā al-munajjim al-Kāshī,
who is probably the son of the munajjim that prepared Mirzā Iskandar’s horoscope. See
Huntington Library Ms. HM71897. I am grateful to Evrim Binbaş for informing me about the
text and generously sharing with me the images of the manuscript. The famous astral expert in
the Samarqand observatory, Jamshīd al-Kāshī b. Masʿūd b. Maḥmūd al-Kāshī also seems to be
related to the previous two. Fatema Keshaverz argues that Jamshīd al-Kāshī was the grandson of
ʿImād al-munajjim, the author of Iskandar’s horoscope.
139
1486) by his master Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī, we have substantial evidence to shed light upon the

instruction of theoretical as well as practical celestial knowledge in Samarqand observatory and

the accompanying madrasas. While none of these sources specifically refer to the teaching of a

dedicated astrological textbook in the classroom, Jamshīd al-Kāshī’s letters provide evidence that

the students, among whom, says al-Kāshī, were plenty of munajjims and mustakhrijes (i.e.,

calculators), engaged in the use of the zīj and addressed problems with respect to calculating the

degree of the ascendant (ṭāliʿ):

“Another day, when arriving at the school, His Majesty [Ulugh Beg] had met a student at
the door, holding a book. He [i.e., the King] had asked him what book it was, [The
student,] kissing the book, had presented it [to his Majesty]. Opening the book, [His
Majesty] had chanced on a chapter [entitled] “On the curiosities of the astrolabe,”
[beginning with this problem]: [Let us suppose that] the Sun is, e.g., in 10 degrees of
Aquarius, with a certain altitude, and the ascendant of time is a certain degree [of the
ecliptic]; then [the ascendant of the time when] its [i.e. the Sun’s] altitude [is the
maximum altitude of the ecliptic at that moment] is a quadrant [in advance of the Sun’s
position], i.e., in 10 degrees of Taurus. After one month, the Sun having described one
sign [of the Zodiac], while having the same altitude as on that [previous] day, how could
the ascendant be exactly the same as it was in that day? After having entered [the
classroom, His Majesty] had presented that problem for discussion.”62

As regards to the institutional sites for the study and transmission of astrologically valid

knowledge in the late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century Ottoman milieu in which there was

no observatory, the madrasa and mosque seem reasonable candidates. However, as it will be

demonstrated in detail below, the evidence for the instruction of astrologically valid knowledge

62
Mohammad Bagheri, “A Newly Found Letter of Al-Kāshī on Scientific Life in Samarqand,”
Historia Mathematica 24 (1997), 245. This is one of Kāshī’s two extant letters written, according
to Bagheri, prior to the one published separately by Aydın Sayılı and Edward Kennedy. See
Edward S. Kennedy, “A Letter of Jamshīd al-Kāshī to His Father: Scientific Research and
Personalities at a Fifteenth Century Court,” Orientalia 29 (1960), 191-213; Aydın Sayılı, Uluğ
Bey ve Semerkanddeki İlim Faaliyeti Hakkında Gıyasüddin-i Kaşi’nin Mektubu: Ghiyāth al-Dīn
al-Kāshī’s Letter on Ulugh Beg and the Scientific Activity in Samarqand (Ankara: TTK, 1960).
140
in these locations is so tenuous that it is difficult to propose them as established institutional

structures for the production and instruction of the knowledge necessary for astrological practice.

The question with regards to teaching in madrasas of the so-called “rational” sciences

(al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyya) and/or the “the sciences of the ancients” (ʿulūm al-awāʾil)—besides the

transmitted and/or traditional sciences (al-ʿulūm al-naqliyya)—has indeed attracted the attention

of many modern scholars. This specific question is by nature tied to the broader issue of the

origins and functions of the madrasa in the medieval Islamic social and intellectual world. The

publication in 1981 of George Makdisi’s seminal book, The Rise of Colleges: Institutions of

Learning in Islam and the West, engendered a new wave of scholarly interest in discussing the

true place and functions of the madrasa in medieval Islamic world, although one can easily trace

the vast literature on medieval madrasas much earlier.63 Makdisi’s insistence on the definition of

the madrasa as a “college of law” and his strong focus on its institutional character with a strictly

defined curriculum of traditional Islamic sciences were later criticized on different grounds by an

array of scholars, including Jonathan Berkey, Michael Chamberlain, and Daphne Ephrat.64 While

it is not the primary aim of this section to detail the individual criticisms of these revisionist

63
George Makdisi, The rise of colleges: institutions of learning in Islam and the West
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981). Even Aydın Sayılı’s dissertation that he
defended in 1941 as the first Ph.D. in the new academic discipline of history of science deals
primarily with the question of educational institutions in the medieval Islamic world. See Aydın
Sayılı, “The Institutions of Science and Learning in the Moslem World.” (Ph.D. Dissertation,
Harvard University, 1941). Also see Abdul Latif Tibawi’s study: A. L. Tibawi, “Origin and
Character of al-Madrasah,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 25 (1962),
225-238.
64
Jonathan Berkey, The transmission of knowledge in Medieval Cairo: a social history of
Islamic education (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992); Michael Chamberlain,
Knowledge and social practice in medieval Damascus, 1190-1350 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1994); Daphna Ephrat, A learned society in a period of transition: the Sunni
‘ulama’ of eleventh-century Baghdad (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000).
141
scholars, suffice it to say that Makdisi has often been criticized for his tendency to describe

madrasa as the only means of learning and education in the medieval Islamic world. Later critics

reminded Makdisi, however, that the madrasa was not the only form of education and

knowledge transfer, and in fact, in the medieval Islamic world, personae were much more

important than loci.65 Therefore, according to later generations of scholars, what really mattered

in medieval Islamic learning was not the name of the madrasa whence an individual graduated

but rather those of the professors (mudarris) under whom one studied certain books and topics.

At first glance, the revision of Makdisi’s position may seem welcome with respect to

those studies tackling the question of the place of the so-called “rational” sciences in the learning

regimes of medieval Islamic society. Since education was performed through more personal

mechanisms and the issue at stake was what individual mudarrises would assign, as revisionist

scholars have argued, one could then easily assume that depending on the intellectual proclivities

of individual mudarrises and students, books and subjects on natural-philosophical and

mathematical knowledge might well have been studied in madrasas.

The flip side of the coin, however, is the risk of reinforcing some of the established

scholarly convictions, which assume that genuine interest in non-religious, “rational” sciences in

the medieval Islamic world were only held by certain curious individuals in discrete episodes

without any consistent institutional basis. According to this blueprint, which is also quite

widespread even among the historians of science in the Islamicate context, the instruction of

natural, philosophical, and mathematical sciences in the medieval Islamic world did not enjoy

much scholarly and institutional recognition, and therefore, was almost always restricted to

65
Berkey, The transmission of knowledge in Medieval Cairo, 23.
142
limited circles consisting of a few “enlightened” figures. Consequently, the shift from Makdisi’s

excessive emphasis on the madrasa as the sole institution for the instruction of “religious”

sciences to the revisionist emphasis upon the personal nature of education had no real positive

impact regarding the question of the role of educational institutions in sustaining the “scientific”

education in the medieval Islamic world. Not unlike George Makdisi, the revisionist scholars

also do not have much to offer to the question Abdelhamid Sabra had raised earlier: “How did a

significant scientific tradition maintain itself for such a long time largely outside the only stable

institution of higher learning in medieval Islam?”66

In the last two decades, however, several important works have been published that

discuss the penetration of mathematical and astral sciences into the madrasa setting. In his work

on Niẓām al-Dīn Nīsābūrī (d. 1328-9), the fourteenth-century polymath from the immediate

circle of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s student Quṭb al-Dīn Shirāzī, Robert Morrison clearly demonstrates

that the teaching of mathematical and celestial knowledge including ʿilm al-hayʾa gradually

penetrated into the madrasa curriculum in the Islamic East from the thirteenth century

onwards.67 Likewise, Sonja Brentjes, Sally Ragep, İhsan Fazlıoğlu, and late Cevat İzgi

documented on the basis of manuscript evidence that certain books on ilm al-hayʾa and other

branches of the al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya were definitely taught in certain madrasas especially in the

66
A. I. Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medieval
Islam: A Preliminary Statement,” History of Science 25 (1987), 234. In fact Sabra himself seems
not affirmative about the institutional nature of scientific instruction, as he tends to state that
institutional basis had no real significance and that the accomplishments made by Muslim
scholars had no relation to place. Sabra even argues that religious institutions rather stood as
obstructions to authentic scientific inquiries. See his “Situating Arabic Science: Locality Versus
Essence,” Isis 87/4 (1996), 654-70.
67
Robert G. Morrison, Islam and Science: the Intellectual Career of Nīẓām al-Dīn al-Nīsābūrī
(London: Routledge, 2007).
143
post-thirteenth century world.68 For Ragep, Fazlıoğlu, and İzgi, the greater number of surviving

copies of titles such as Chaghmīnī’s al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī al-hayʿa al-basīṭa or Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī’s

later commentary on Chaghmīnī’s text (Sharḥ al-mulakhkhaṣ fī al-hayʾa), some of which were

even copied by mudarrises across diverse regions and periods is a strong indication that these

books were transmitted through formal madrasa education.69 Besides such quantitative evidence

and manuscript records, various other sources from the period also evince that theoretical

celestial works were studied within the institutional structure of madrasas. In addition to the

letters of Jamshīd al-Kāshī or the ijāza of Fatḥullāh Shirvānī, Ṭaşköprīzāde himself narrates in an

autobiographical passage that while he was a madrasa student in the first half of the sixteenth

century, he studied ʿAlī Qūshjī’s book on ʿilm al-hayʾa (Kitāb al-fatḥiyya) at the feet of Mīrim

Çelebi (d. 1525).70 Ṭaşköprīzāde also details in his encyclopedic work on the taxonomy of

knowledge the books that should be instructed in different branches of mathematical and astral

sciences to meet varying levels of pedagogical needs. As this shows, mathematical and

theoretical celestial knowledge, which was not the major objective of instruction in madrasas at

68
Cevat İzgi, Osmanlı Medreselerinde İlim, vol. 1 (İstanbul: İz, 1997), see especially 189-453;
Sonja Brentjes, “On the Location of the Ancient or ‘Rational’ Sciences in Muslim Education
Landscapes (AH 500-1000),” Bulletin of the Royal Institute for Inter-Faith Studies, 4/1 (2002),
47-71; idem., “Reflections on the Role of the Exact Sciences in Islamic Culture and Education
between the Twelfth and the Fifteenth Centuries,” Études des sciences arabes, ed. by
Mohammad Abattouy (Casablanca: Foundation du Roi Abdul-Aziz al Saoud, 2007), 15-33;
İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlı Felsefe-Biliminin Arka Planı: Semerkand Matematik-Astronomi
Okulu,” Divan İlmi Araştırmaları Dergisi 14 (2003), 1-66; Sally P. Ragep, “Maḥmūd ibn
Muḥammmad ibn ʿUmar al-Jaghmīnī’s al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī al-hayʾa al-basīṭa: An Edition,
Translation, and Study.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Mcgill University, 2014).
69
Cevat İzgi meticulously establishes, on the base of paratextual evidence from extant
manuscripts, the names of mudarrises that copied al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī al-hayʾa al-basīṭa or any of
its later commentaries. See especially 370-392.
70
Ṭaşköprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya, 327. More information on Mīrim Çelebi will be
provided in the third chapter of this dissertation.
144
their very foundation around the tenth century, began to percolate into some of the established

institutions from the thirteenth century onwards.

The recent scholarship on the penetration of mathematical and theoretical astral sciences

into madrasas is crucial in the sense that it can save us from a historiography that gives credence

to an episodic history of science or a great-men narrative in the medieval Islamicate context,

which is to say a kind of historiography “based on chance and accident rather than a more

plausible story of individual effort sustained within an enduring social context.”71 Yet when the

question is about the instruction of a contentious subject like “astrology” in the madrasa setting,

the picture is much more complicated.

It is in fact quite difficult to find strong traces of strictly astrological instruction in the

madrasa setting, given the fact that the craft itself was a highly controversial one even in the

eyes of its past practitioners. As we have already seen in the first chapter, even some practicing

Ottoman munajjims were skeptical about the scientific premises of aḥkām al-nujūm and felt

uneasy at being compelled to undertake astrological tasks. Besides such personal reservations,

the institutional charters and endowment deeds (waqfiyya) administering, or at least reflecting,

the contours of instruction in high-ranking madrasas also provide little to no evidence as to the

instruction of astrologically valid knowledge in Ottoman institutions of higher education. For

example, multiple versions of the waqfiyya of the Fatih mosque complex produced in the course

of late fifteenth and early sixteenth century do not reveal that texts or subjects associated with

71
Sally Ragep, “Maḥmūd ibn Muḥammad ibn ʿUmar al-Jaghmīnī’s al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī al-hayʾa
al-basīṭa: An Edition, Translation, and Study,” 154.
145
astrological pursuits were to be instructed in any of the eight madrasas (Saḥn-ı semān).72

Nevertheless, some of the extant waqfiyyas make explicit references to the competence of

instructors in the elusive category of the “rational sciences” (mebādī ve muḳāddemāt-ı ʿaḳliyyāt)

when they describe the qualifications to be looked for in the Saḥn mudarrises that would teach

there. Yet the insertion of the phrase “useful sciences” (ʿulūm-ı nāfiʿa) implies the exclusion of

astrology, given that astrology was often categorized in the classical taxonomy of sciences

tradition as a worthless endeavor.73 In a similar vein, in the waqfiyya administering the functions

and functionaries of the Süleymaniye complex in the mid-sixteenth century, one can find such

stipulations stating that mudarrises that are learned in both transmitted and rational sciences will

receive sixty silver aḳçes per diem;74 however, the details of the components of the rational

72
Tahsin Öz, “Zwei Stiftungsurkunden des Sultans Mehmed II. Fatih,” Istanbuler Mitteilungen 4
(1935); Vakıflar Umum Müdürlüğü, Fatih Mehmed II Vakfiyeleri (Ankara: Vakıflar Genel
Müdürlüğü, 1938); Osman Nuri Ergin, Fatih İmareti Vakfiyesi (İstanbul, 1945). For the problems
of different editions of the waqfiyya of the Fatih complex, see Kayoko Hayashi, “Fatih
Vakfiyeleri’nin Tanzim Süreci Üzerine,” Belleten v. 72 n. 263 (2008): 73-94; Ahmet Beyatlı
(ed.), Fatih Sultan Mehmed’in 877/1472 tarihli vakfiyesi (Ankara: TTK, 2013), vii-xiii.
73
Fatih Mehmed II Vakfiyeleri (Ankara: Vakıflar Genel Müdürlüğü, 1938), 262-263: “ol
pādişāh-ı lebīb medāris-i ʿāliye veẓāyifini bu minvāl üzere tertīb buyurdılar ki cāmiʿ-i şerīflerine
cenāḥeyn vāḳiʿ olan medāris-i semāniyeden her biri içün ... seccāde-nişīn-i ṣadr-ı ifāde olmağa
istiḥḳāḳı ẓāhir, mebādī ve muḳaddemāt-ı ʿaḳliyyāt ve naḳliyyāta naẓīri nādir, esbāb-ı liyāḳat-
maḳām tedrīsi cāmiʿ, ʿulūm-ı nāfiʿa taḥṣīline ṣarf-ı ʿömr-i ʿazīz eylemiş bir müderris-i bāriʿ
taʿyīn oluna.” See also Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, “Fatih Külliyesi Medreseleri Ne Değildi: Tarih
yazıcılığı bakımından tenkit ve değerlendirme denemesi,” in İstanbul Armağanı, vol. 1: Fetih ve
Fatih (İstanbul: İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi Kültür İşleri Daire Başkanlığı, 1995), 105-36.
In the imagination of some late sixteenth-century Ottoman learned individuals such as Muṣṭafā
‘Ālī, ‘ilm al-hay’a was taught in the Saḥn- semān during the reign of Meḥmed II. See Künhü’l-
Aḫbār, c. 2 Fatih Sultan Mehmed Devri (1451-1481), ed. by M. Hüdai Şentürk (Ankara: TTK,
2003), 152. It is interesting to see Muṣṭafā ‘Ālī stating that people of knowledge received much
more benevolence and recognition during the time of Meḥmed II thanks to the auspicious
influences of the stars at the time (ol devr-i laṭīfüñ nücūmı teʾsīrātından). Ibid., 3.
74
Süleymaniye Vakfiyesi, ed. Kemal Edib Kürkçüoğlu (Ankara: Vakıflar Genel Müdürlüğü,
1962), 32: “medāris-i mezkūre ve mecālis-i maʿmūreniñ her birinde efāżıl-ı ʿulemāʾ-i dīn-perver
ve ekābir-i fużelā-i ḥikmet-güster-i hünerverden miftāḥ-ı künūz-ı ḥaḳāyiḳ, keşşāf-ı rumūz-ı
146
sciences remain unspecified. Specifically in the waqfiyya of the Süleymaniye complex, which

also housed a medical school, the stipulations about the potential mudarris at the medical school

(ʿilm-i ṭıbb içün binā olunan medrese-i ṭayyibe) naturally refer to competence in medical

sciences. No matter how widespread the use of celestial knowledge for medical purposes was at

the time, there is no specific mention of it in the relevant section of the waqfiyya

Another institutional setting where the instruction of astrologically valid knowledge

might have taken place was the mosque, especially those grand imperial mosque complexes that

often employed personnel to perform tasks for computing time (i.e., muwaqqits) in a designated

space (i.e. muwaqqitkhāna). In the surviving waqfiyyas of both the Fatih and Süleymaniye

complexes mentioned above, a post is reserved for a muwaqqit to make the necessary temporal

calculations for daily prayer times, length of days, beginning of months, and related occasions.75

As the phraseology in the Süleymaniye waqfiyya manifests, the muwaqqit needs to be acquainted

with the generals and particulars of the “science of the stars” (sāʿir ʿilm-i nücūma müteʿalliḳ

külliyāt ve cüzʾiyyāt-ı maʿārife vāḳıf ve ʿārif ). In return for his services, he would receive ten

silver aḳçes a day. Neither of these waqfiyyas, however, specifies a designated space for the

muwaqqitkhāna, though subsequent anecdotal and surviving physical evidence from other grand-

mosque complexes clearly reveal that there was often a small building adjoining the complex

deḳāyiḳ, taḳī ve naḳī, zekī ve zekī, ʿālim u ʿāmil ve fāẓıl u kāmil, zü-fünūn… bir müderris ola ki
ifāde-i ʿulūm-ı dīniyye ve īfāża-ı maʿārif-i yaḳīniyye birle ṭalebe-i ʿilm ve müstaʿidleri maḥẓūẓ ve
behremend idüb vech-i maʿhūd üzere eyyām-ı taḥṣīlde dersḫāneye ḥāżır olub tedrīs-i kütüb-i
mütedāvile-i maḳbūle ve müzākere-i fünūn-i maʿḳūle ve menḳūleye iştigālde ihtimām iderlerse
vaẓīfe-i yevmiyyeleri altmış aḳçe ola.”
75
Ibid., 34: ʿamel-i sāʾāt ve mevāḳit-i ṣalavat ve meḳādir-i şeb u rūz ve nuzūl ve ʿurūc-i
seyyārāt-i sebʿa ve menāzil-i burūc ve deḳāyiḳ u dürūc-i mesīr-i Āfitāb ve izdiyād ve intiḳāṣ-ı
māhitāb ve sāʿir ʿilm-i nücūma müteʾalliḳ külliyāt ve cüzʾiyyāt-ı maʿārife vāḳıf ve ʿārif … bir
kimesne muvaḳḳit olub evḳāt-ı ezānı müʾezzinlere taʿyīn idüb tenbīh eyleye … vaẓīfesi on aḳçe
ola.”
147
that was used by timekeepers to keep their instruments and notebooks, and make their necessary

horologic calculations.76 In light of the allusions of later sources, we can claim that these

designated small spaces were also used as meeting places where the muwaqqit could discuss with

his fellows and/or would-be experts the intricacies of the science of the stars.77

In the broader field of the history of science in the Islamicate context, the services of

timekeepers and their instruments have been discussed almost exclusively from a mathematical

and astronomical point of view. In his seminal work on the role of muwaqqits in the Mamluk era,

76
Süheyl Ünver, “Osmanlı Türkleri İlim Tarihinde Muvakkithaneler,” Atatürk Konferansları V
(1971-1972), 217-257; Salim Aydüz, “Osmanlı Astronomi Müesseseleri,” TALİD 2/4 (2004),
411-453; idem., İstanbul Muvakkithaneleri ve Muvakkitleri (İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi
Strateji Geliştirme Daire Başkanlığı Stratejik Planlama Müdürlüğü Projem İstanbul, 2009).
77
Cevat İzgi notes that in many treatises on simple astronomical instruments that were primarily
used for computing prayer times and determining Qibla, the authors often address the aspiring
students (ṭālibler) and novices (mübtedīler). Although such remarks do not include an explicit
reference to the whereabouts of the training, that some of the authors of these were muwaqqits
gives rise to thoughts that the physical space of muwaqqitkhāna might have been used for
instructing students. See İzgi, Osmanlı Medreselerinde İlim vol. 1, 428-450. There are also
manuscript evidence of possession statements or colophons documenting that in addition to the
standard zīj literature, muwaqqits also held works specifically on the aḥkām al-nujūm. A copy of
ʿAlī-Shāh’s Asmār va ashjār, now housed as SK Ayasofya Ms. 2688, was possessed by a certain
Emīn Muḥammed, who apparently worked as a muwaqqit in Edirne (Emīn Muḥammed el-
muvaḳḳit fī belde-i Edirne). In a similar vein, the Turkish translation of Qaṣrānī’s Kitāb al-
masāʿil was completed in the late seventeenth century by Kasımpaşalı ʿOsmān b. Muḥammed (d.
later than 1691), who was the muwaqqit at the time of the Fatih mosque complex. See SK İzmir
Ms. 479, 3a: “bu muḥtaṣarın muḥarriri el-ʿabd el-ḥaḳīr müstemend Osmān b. Muḥammed el-
muvaḳḳit bi-cāmiʿ-i sulṭān Muḥammed ḫān Kasımpaşalı dimekle maʿrūftur.” One copy of Mīrim
Çelebi’s commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables apparently passed into the hands of Süleymān
Dürrī (d. 1860), who was the muwaqqit of the Fatih Mosque complex. See SK Hamidiye Ms.
848, frontispiece: “tamallakahu al-faqīr al-ḥaqīr Süleymān Dürrī, muvaḳḳit-i Fātiḥ.” A copy of
the mecmūʿa incorportating Mīrim Çelebi’s treatises on various astronomical instruments was
owned, and later donated in the year Jumādā I 960/1553 to the Muradiye mosque, by a certain
Emrullāh b. Aḥmed b. Maḥmūd, who was apparently the muwaqqit of the complex at the time.
See TSMK Hazine Ms. 1760, frontispiece: “Emrullāh b. Aḥmed b. Maḥmūd qad waqafa wa
ḥasaba hadihi’l-majmūʿa li-man yastaḥiq muṭālaʿahu waqfan ṣaḥīḥan sharʿiyyan wa ḥasaban
ṣarīḥān marʿiyyan wa sharaṭa ḥāfiẓ al-kutub li-man yakūn muwaqqitan li-jāmiʿ al-jadīd sulṭān
Murād Khān b. Muḥammad Khān fī madīna Edirne al-maḥmiyya...taḥrīran fī al-yawm al-thālith
min Jumādā al-awwal li-sana sittīn wa tisʿa miʾa.”
148
David King underlines that there was no single surviving astrological text from the Mamluk

times, and that muwaqqits in large mosque complexes were not engaged in any form of

astrological practice.78 Sonja Brentjes, however, later demonstrated on the basis of biographical

evidence from the Mamluk era historian al-Sakhawī (d. 1497) that some of the muwaqqits and

muʾadhdhins in the Mamluk world certainly undertook astrological pursuits.79 In fact, the

expertise of computing “time” and “location” enjoyed by astral experts had manifold uses that

range from making calculations for more “sacred” purposes such as five daily prayers and the

direction of qibla to more “profane” objectives like the computation of “auspicious moments”

and “horoscopes” for the desired locations. One obvious difference between the muwaqqit and

munajjim might be that the expertise of a muwaqqit in calculating time for the five daily prayers

would not require a careful observation and computation of the movement of all seven planets

and calculations on the basis of the Sun and Moon would be sufficient. In the case of the

munajjims, however, a full comprehension of the movements of the planets and knowledge of the

fixed stars was required. Yet as manifest in the Süleymaniye waqfiyya as to the desired features

of an erudite muwaqqit, most of the experts had mastery over the knowledge of all seven planets

and other celestial phenomena.

In addition to the anecdotal evidence purported by Sonja Brentjes, surviving Ottoman

materials once again provide the hard evidencet to illuminatre the astrological preoccupations of

several muwaqqits. As is clear thanks to some of the surviving Ottoman taqwīms in the sixteenth

78
King, “On the role of the muezzin and the muwaqqit in Medieval Islamic Society.” See also
his “The Astronomy of the Mamluks,” Isis 74 (1983), 531-555.
79
Sonja Brentjes, “Shams al-Dīn al-Sakhāwī on Muwaqqits, Muʾadhdhins, and the Teachers of
Various Astronomical Disciplines in Mamluk Cities in the Fifteenth Century,” in A Shared
Legacy, Islamic Science East and West, Homage to professor J. M. Millás Vallicrosa, ed. Emilia
Calvo et al. (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2008), 129-50.
149
century, muwaqqits often engaged in the production of annual almanac-prognostications. A

certain Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed from Bursa (d. later than 1553), who from at least

1526 to 1529 held the office of the timekeeper in the Old Mosque in Edirne, kept compiling

taqwīms with detailed astrological predictions, two of which have survived into our own time.80

The other extant taqwīms of Necmeddīn enable us to follow his career. From 1535 up until 1553,

he worked as the muwaqqit of the Fatih Mosque Complex in Istanbul.81 Unfortunately we are

bereft of any evidence that explains the exact occasions of his appointment from one position to

another. Curiously, during roughly his earlier tenure as the muwaqqit of the Old Mosque in

Edirne,Necmeddīn was also listed among the monthly-salaried court munajjims.82

It is quite interesting to see Necmeddīn listed as a court munajjim in the relevant registers

from the late 1520s and early 1530s. Did he hold dual offices at the time, or did the court

temporarily appoint him in between his two tenures as the muwaqqit of imperial mosque

complexes? Drawing solely upon his autographs in surviving almanac-prognostications and

scattered archival information, it is difficult to reach a definitive conclusion as to the exact

trajectory of Necmeddīn’s career. Yet it is certain through his extant almanac-prognostications

that, contra David King’s arguments in the Mamluk context, Ottoman muwaqqits were

documentedly involved in astrological practice. In addition to the case of Necmeddīn b. Seyyid

Muḥammed, another example of the astrological engagement of muwaqqits is Yūsuf b.ʿÖmer el-

Sāʾātī, who composed his oldest surviving almanac-prognostication in 1511 while he was the

80
Arkeoloji Müzesi, 19b: “istakhrajahu wa ḥarrarahu al-faqīreddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed al-
muwaqqit fī jāmiʿ al-ʿatīa bi-maḥrūse-i Edirne.”
81
BnF Turc 183, 14b: “istakhrajahu al-ʿabd al-faqīr Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed al-
muwaqqit bi-jāmiʿ Sulṭan Muḥammed.”
82
KK 1764, 26 (dated March 1527): “ʿādāt-i Necmeddīn munajjim ki dar rūz-ı navrūz taḳvīm
āvord, 1000 [aḳçe].”
150
muwaqqit of the Fatih mosque complex.83 Within the next three years, Yūsuf munajjim was

promoted to the office of the court munajjims, as we see him autographing his almanac

prognostications from 1514 onwards with the signature “al-munajjim fī bāb al-sulṭān.”

Given these two documented cases of muwaqqits providing astrological advice, and the

stipulations of Fatih and Süleymaniye waqfiyyas where an individual conversant in the broader

category of the “science of the stars” is expected to work as a muwaqqit, we have enough reason

to assume that the post of muwaqqit in major imperial complexes also helped practicing astral

experts to secure stable financial means. These posts often offered commensurate, and

sometimes even better, remuneration compared to those provided by the office of court

munajjims. For example, according to the detailed account book of the Ayasofya complex from

the late 1480s, a muwaqqit was qualified to earn thirteen aḳçes a day, an amount slightly more

than the salary of the only munajjim listed in the sole surviving payment register from the time of

Meḥmed II’s reign, who was receiving ten aḳçes per diem in 1478.84 In the late 1540s when the

number of court munajjims gradually dropped from four to two—hinting at the overall decline in

the extent of the courtly patronage of celestial expertise in the course of the sixteenth century—

the amount received by one of those two munajjims was only six silver aḳçes, much less than a

muwaqqit of the Süleymaniye complex at the time would make.85

83
TSMK A. 1960, 28a: “istikhrāj ażʿaf ʿibādillāh wa’ḥwajihum Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-sāʿātī al-
muwaqqit fī’l-jāmiʿ al-jadīd al-sulṭān Muḥammed Khān.”
84
Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Ayasofya Cami’i ve Eyüb Türbesinin 1489-1491 yıllarına ait muhasebe
bilançoları,” İÜ İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası 23/1-2 (1962-3), 349. Cf. Ahmed Refik (Altınay),
“Fatih Devrine ait Vesikalar,” Tarih-i Osmani Encümeni Mecmuası, v. 8-11, no. 49-62
(1335/1919), 1-58.
85
MAD 7118. According to this register covering the years 1548 and 1549, Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer was
receiving twelve aḳçes, whereas ʿAlī, who is known as Riyāżī, was making only six aḳçes a day,
151
 Such circumstantial and thin evidence on the status of muwaqqits and instruction of

rational sciences in the madrasa and/or mosque environment is not a proof to the formal teaching

of strict astrological knowledge in these institutional settings. In fact, had manuals and textbooks

on astrological principles been instructed in the madrasa setting, one would have expected to

find many more surviving copies of these texts. Notwithstanding the fact that there was no

formal instruction of strictly astrological texts in the madrasa setting, astrological practice

itself—as well as the sister category of divinatory sciences—was an integral part of the daily

lives of at least some of those mudarrises, who might have approached these sciences either as a

legitimate field of knowledge and/or as a tool for entertainment and leisure-time activity to

appeal from time to time to cope with the perennial question of predicting the unforeseeable

future. The interest of at least some mudarrises in these practices can easily be corroborated by

an array of surviving evidence gleaned from paratextual notes in manuscripts, inventories of

private book collections, and contemporary biographical and autobiographical accounts.

The circulation of astrologically informed texts among mudarrises in the course of the

late fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century is documented by ownership notices in

manuscripts or inventories of private book collections. For example, the almanac-prognostication

(taqwīm) produced for Meḥmed II for the year 872/1468 seems to have possessed by a certain

Caʿfer b. ʿİvaż, who was the mudarris of the Torumtay madrasa in Amasya around the mid-

sixteenth century. It is not clear how this presentation copy produced for the sultan passed later

into the hands of a petty ʿālim from Anatolia but Caʿfer not only recorded his own name on the

frontispiece as the owner of the copy but also made intriguing calculations as to the exact

a fact that seems to have irritated him. More details on Riyāżī’s life and resentment could be
found in Chapter 3 and 5.
152
number of years remained until the end of the world. According to the contents of these notes he

apparently put them in 959/1551-2, about 87 lunar years after the original composition of the

taqwīm. In the chronology section of the taqwīm is written that 4,570 years have elapsed since

Noah’s flood. Caʿfer mudarris here adds 87 years (28 years till the turn of 900, and additional 59

years up until his own day) and finds a total of 4,656 years that have fully passed. He then writes

that there is a 1,200-year difference between [the birth of] Adam (i.e., the Creation) and the flood

of Noah. He adds it to the previous 4,656 and reaches 5,856. According to the belief of the

world’s having a 7,000-year lifespan, which Caʿfer mudarris seems to have embraced, there

were then 1,144 years left till the end of the world.86 This mid-sixteenth-century scholar from

Amasya presents us a unique case of a mudarris engaging an astrological text with contemporary

debates on the age of the world and the timing of the apocalypse.87

86
Bodleain Arch. Sel. 31, 1a: “müddet-i dünyā yedi biñ yıl imiş, bu taḳdīrce bāḳī 1,144 yıl daḫi
vardır ki yedi biñ yıl tamam ola vallāhu ʿālem.” The sources of the belief establishing the age of
the world as 7000 years seem to be related to the hadith literature, some of which were even
collected by prolific jurists and theologians as al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505). In the astral lore, however, the
world year concept and the chronological calculations from the Flood onwards are not
explainable by any single derivation. On the complexity of the issue and available sources, see
Edward Kennedy, “The World-Year Concept in Islamic Astrology,” in Studies in the Islamic
Exact Sciences, ed. David King and Mary Helen Kennedy (Beirut: American University in
Beirut, 1983), 351-371.
The life span of the world
87
Although debates and expectations about the imminency of the apocalypse was a theme
frequently visited in the fifteenth and sixteenth century Ottoman realm by contemporary literati
and individuals with overt Sufi leanings, astrological texts from the period, with the possible
exception of popular malḥama literature, are surprisingly little informed by the apocalyptic
discourse. For examples of the penetration of apocalyptic discourse into the textual outputs from
the period, see Cornell H. Fleischer, “The Lawgiver as Messiah: The Making of the Imperial
Image in the Reign of Suleyman,” in Soliman le magnifique et son temps, ed. Gilles Veinstein
(Paris: La Documentation Française, 1992), 159-177; idem., “Mahdi and Millennium: Messianic
Dimensions in the Development of Ottoman Imperial Ideology,” in The Great Ottoman-Turkish
Civilization. Vol. 3, Philosophy, Science and Institutions, ed. by Kemal Çiçek, 42-54; Barbara
Flemming, “Sāḥib-ḳırān und Mahdī: Türkische Endzeiterwartungen im ersten Jahrzehnt der
153
 There were several other madrasa-affiliated individuals, who were actively interested in

the composition of astrological texts, particularly of annual almanac-prognostications (taqwīm).

Mīrim Çelebi, for example, about whom more details will be presented in the next chapter, used

to write almanac prognostications while he was a mudarris in the teaching institutions of Bursa

and Edirne. In a similar vein, Qāḍī-i Baghdad (d. later than 1512), who escaped first to Mardin,

then to the Ottoman lands in western Anatolia after Shah Ismāʿil’s progress towards ʿIrāq-i

ʿAjam and his concomitant persecution of Sunni scholars, produced in the year 913/1508 a

decorated almanac-prognostication while he was the mudarris of the Sultaniyye madrasa in

Bursa.88 The production of almanac-prognostications by mudarrises remained a standard

phenomenon well into later centuries. Apparently, a seventeenth-century taqwīm in Arabic from

around the year 1628 with surprisingly candid astrological predictions about sultan Murād IV (r.

1623-1640) was written by the mudarris of the madrasa of Sarghatmish in Cairo.89

The period also witnessed the penetration of astrologically valid books into the private

collections of scholars as well as madrasa libraries. Through a few curious archival registers that

list the titles of surviving items in the private collections of theʿulamāʾ or the madrasa libraries is

possible to more accurately evaluate which astrologically valid books were favored by

contemporary scholars.

The most important of these records is the detailed inventory of books prepared a few

Regierung Süleymāns,” in Between the Danube and the Caucasus, ed. by György Kara
(Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1987), 43-62.
88
Qāḍī-i Baghdād, Taqvīm, British Library Or. 6432/2. Qāḍī-i Baghdād’s name is recorded on
the contemporary register of gifts and payments as the recipient on April 25, 1508 of 1,500 silver
aḳçes for his debut presenting the sultan with his taqwīm (ibtidāʾ-i ʿādet-i Mevlānā Sinān Qāḍī-i
Baghdād … ki taqvīm āvord) Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, 263.
89
The University of Michigan Library Islamic Manuscripts Ms. 794: “hadhā taqwīm Mawlānā
al-sayyid al-majīd ṣāḥib al-faḍl al-zāʾir mudarris al-Sarkhatmishiyya.”
154
years after the death of Müʾeyyedzāde ʿAbd al-Raḥmān that enumerates all the titles retrieved

from his massive 7,000-volume collection.90 As already discussed in greater detail in the first

chapter, Müʾeyyedzāde’s significance rests upon his long teaching and administrative service at

the highest ranks of the ʿilmiyya hierarchy that enabled him to, teach new generations of scholars

and administer appointments in the scholarly bureaucracy. Given his vast impact on the

formation of the next generation of Ottoman ʿālims, it may be quite telling to reconstruct the

intellectual predilections of Müʾeyyedzāde. In addition to his own but limited writings, one of

which was already introduced in the first chapter, the inventory of books that lists the titles of

surviving items from his bibliotheca gives us a special opportunity to delve into the intellectual

world of an influential early sixteenth-century Ottoman scholar.

As a student primarily of Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī (d. 1502), who showed a marked interest in

mathematical-philosophical quests in addition to his intensive study of traditional Islamic

sciences, it is unsurprising to see Müʾeyyedzāde paying special attention to books on different

branches and genres of celestial knowledge, ranging from hayʿa and aḥkām to celestial magic

and other occult practices.91 According to the ijāza given to him on 11 Jumādā I 888/17 June

1483, Dawānī licensed him to transmit books in the fields of both transmitted (naqlī) and rational

(ʿaqlī) sciences. The ijāza identifies four texts that Müʾeyyedzāde studied with Dawānī and two

of these texts are specifically on theoretical astronomy and geometry. The first one is Qāḍīzāda

al-Rūmī’s commentary on Chaghmīnī’s al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī’l-hayʿa that Müʾeyyedzāde read “from

90
TSMA D. 9291/1-2.
91
There is no monograph on Dawānī in English. For monograph-length studies on his life and
works, see Harun Anay, “Celâleddin Devvânî. Hayatı, Eserleri, Ahlâk ve Siyaset Düşüncesi.”
(Ph.D. Dissertation, Istanbul University, 1994); Stephan Pohl, “Theosophie und Theologie im
nachmongolischen Iran: Leben und Werk des Ǧalāladdīn al-Dawwānī (gest. 902/1502).”
Unpublished work, Bochum, 1997.
155
its beginning to its end.” The other one is Ṭūsī’s Taḥrīr Iqlīdīs, an expositional work on

Euclidian geometry.92

The inventory of surviving books from Müʾeyyedzāde’s massive library is quite

representative of almost all the canonical works of Islamic corpus astronomicum and corpus

astrologicum that contemporary munajjims in the Ottoman realm also preferred. As an avid

collector and reader of zījes, Müʾeyyedzāde seems to have collected in his library more than

fifteen volumes of zīj, which include at least two copies of the Ulugh Beg tables, two copies of

the Ilkhanid tables, two copies of unspecified commentaries on the Ilkhanid tables, two copies of

Wābkanawī’s tables, one of which he purchased in the town of Ladik in late 1477,93 one copy of

Jamshīd al-Kāshī’s Zīj-i Khāqānī, one copy of an unspecified commentary on the Ulugh Beg

tables, one copy of al-Zīj al-Shāmil, and one copy of the zīj of Mevlānā Kūçek Yezdānbaḫş,

which was composed and presented in Amasya to Bāyezīd II in the year 1477. Based upon his

personal notes on the single surviving manuscript copy of this last zīj, Müʾeyyedzāde seems to

have possessed it soon after it was composed. He apparently made several astrological

calculations in light of the tables offered by Mevlānā Kūçek. Apart from the zīj tradition of the

Islamic East, Müʾeyyedzāde was also interested in astronomical tables prepared in the western

end of the Mediterranean. Although it is not specified in the inventory, around the year 1502 the

Jewish émigré-scholar Moses Galeano prepared the Arabic translation of Abraham Zacuto’s (d.

92
Judith Pfeiffer, “Teaching the Learned: Jalāl al-Dīn al-Dawānī’s Ijāza to Muʾayyadzāda ʿAbd
al-Raḥmān Efendi and the Circulation of Knowledge between Fārs and the Ottoman Empire at
the Turn of the Sixteenth Century,” in The Heritage of Arabo-Islamic Learning. Studies
Presented to Wadad Kadi, ed. Maurice A. Pomerantz and Aram A. Shahin (Leiden: Brill, 2016),
284-332.
93
Now available at SK Ayasofya Ms. 2694.
156
1515) Almanach Perpetuum and dedicated it to none other than Müʾeyyedzāde.94

In addition to the zīj corpus, Müʾeyyedzāde was almost equally interested in other

branches and genres of celestial knowledge. In terms of more theoretical astronomical works

(i.e., ʿilm al-hayʾa), his library housed copies of the Islamic corpus of the Almagest

commentaries (e.g., Ṭūsī’s Taḥrīr al-Majisṭī, Qāḍīzāda’s Hāshiyā li-Majisṭī, or other unspecified

copies like Kitāb-i Majisṭī), and theoretical astronomical works produced especially in the post-

thirteenth century Persianate East, including Chaghmīnī’s al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī’l-hayʿa al-basīṭa,

Ṭūsī’s Tadhkira fī al-hayʿa, Quṭb al-Dīn Shirāzī’s Tuḥfa al-shāhiyya, and Qāḍīzāda’s

commentary on Chaghmīnī’s work. With respect to treatises on instruments used for celestial

observation and calculation, the inventory contains several copies of astrolabe treatises,

including Ṭūsī’s Risāla-i Bīst Bāb fī dar maʿrifat-i usṭurlāb and another book on observational

methods (Kitāb aʿmāl-i raṣadiyya).

Regarding strictly astrological textbooks, one can find almost all the canonical works in

Müʾeyyedzāde’s voluminous library including (Pseudo-) Ptolemy’s Thamara, Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl,

Kūshyār’s Mujmal, Bīrūnī’s Tafhīm, Shāhmardān-i Rāzī’s Rawḍat al-munajjimīn, ʿAlī-Shāh’s

94
María José Parra Pérez, “Estudio y edición de las traducciones el árabe del Almanach
perpetuum de Abraham Zacuto” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Universitat de Barcelona, 2013). I would
like to thank Julio Samsó for bringing this study to my attention.
On Zacuto and the influence of his Almanach, see José Chabás and Bernard R. Goldstein,
Astronomy in the Iberian Peninsula: Abraham Zacut and the Transition from Manuscript to
Print (Philadephia: American Philosophical Society, 2000). On Galeano and his scientific
activites during his sojourn in the Ottoman capital, see Tzvi Langermann, “From My Notebooks:
A Compendium of Renaissance Science: Taʿalumot Ḥokmah by Moses Galeano,” Aleph 7
(2007), 285-318; idem., “From My Notebooks: Medicine, Mechanics and Magic from Moses ben
Judah Galeano’s Taʿalumot Ḥoḵmah”, Aleph, 9/1 (2009), 353-377; Robert Morrison, “An
Astronomical Treatise by Mūsā Jālīnūs alias Moses Galeano,” Aleph 11/2 (2011), 385-413;
idem., “A Scholarly Intermediary between the Ottoman Empire and Renaissance Europe,” Isis
105 (2014), 32-57.
157
Asmār va ashjār, and unspecified works of Abū Maʿshar. Last but not least, Müʾeyyedzāde’s

collection also contains works on celestial magic and other divinatory practices including the

Shams al-maʿārif of al-Būnī, al-Sirr al-maktūm of Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī, Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm

attributed to al-Qurṭubī (d. 964), and generic titles on talismans (Risāla fī ʿilm al-ṭilsim),

oneiromancy, and lettrism (ʿilm al-jifr).

There is definitely a need for further research to explore the curricular and extra-

curricular activities of Müʾeyyedzāde’s students as well as many other Ottoman ʿālims from the

sixteenth century in order to better evaluate the extent of the interest of traditional madrasa-

educated scholars in celestial matters. The case of Müʾeyyedzāde may seem rather exceptional,

especially given his close proximity to Bāyezīd II whose immense astral interests will be

discussed in further detail in the next chapter. Nevertheless, we still have evidence, albeit

sporadic, that among the mudarrises of the first half of the sixteenth century were there certain

individuals seeming curious about, if not deeply learned, in related fields of knowledge.

The two detailed inventories of the library of the Saḥn madrasas, one produced in the late

fifteenth century containing 1241 volumes, the other compiled on 21 Rebī’ül-Āḫir 968/9 January

1561 enumerating 1770 volumes (with additional donated items), demonstrate that besides

numerous works on sciences that were traditionally taught in madrasas, there were also several

books important for astrological practice present at the time in the madrasa library.95 The book

holdings at the library of the Saḥn madrasas include volumes donated in the course of the late

fifteenth and first half of the sixteenth century by different contributors including several

95
The first of these catalogues is available at BOA. D. HMH. SFTH. 21941-B, and the other at
TSMA D. 9559. Both of these catalogues have been introduced and partially discussed by İsmail
Erünsal in his “Fatih Camii Kütüphanesine Ait En Eski Müstakil Katalog,” Erdem v. 9, n. 26
(1996), 659-665.
158
prominent scholars of the time and Meḥmed II himself. The introductory remarks of the first

defter, which was written during the time of Bāyezīd II, makes it explicit that the register was

prepared, first, to physically inspect the items in the library that had been donated by Meḥmed II,

and second, to add to the already available inventory those books recently donated by various

scholars.96 The second defter, which was compiled in the year 1561 by one of the Saḥn

mudarrises at the time, Mevlānā Ḥācı Ḥasanzāde Efendi, was written with a similar aim of

inspecting the items in the library and registering recent donations in the inventory.97

Each inventory is divided into separate sections based upon the donations of individual

benefactors. In each section, titles are classified according to disciplines, and the information on

each item includes brief notes on the contents and material features of the volume (i.e., the

number of folios, type of paper and script, etc.). The first category is tafsīr (Quranic exegesis)

and it is followed in order by hadith, uṣūl [al-fiqh] (Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence or Legal

Theory), furūʿ [al-fiqh] (Branches of Islamic Jurisprudence or Substantive Law], kalām (Islamic

Scholastic Theology), Arabic language, and logic. The last category is often assigned to the

miscellaneous works (tafṣīl al-kutub al-mutafarriqa), which may list, depending on the

intellectual proclivities of the donator, books on Sufism, history, medicine, mathematics, ʿilm al-

hayʾa and ʿilm al-nujūm.

Although in any private collection of a scholar the number of items that could be

associated with astrologically valid knowledge is unsurprisingly limited in contrast to the books

96
BOA. D. HMH. SFTH. 21941-B, 2a: “Mecmūʿ-ı kütüb-i sulṭāniyye yedi yüz toksan altı ve
sābıḳan mütevelli olan Mevlānā Yegānoğlı virdüği bedeller ḳırḳ bir ʿaded ve sāʾir mevālī-i kirām
vaḳf itdikleri kitāb cümle üç yüz seksen ṭoḳuz ve defter-i ʿatīḳde bulunmayub kitābḫānede mevcūd
olan kitāblar on beş ʿaded, cemʿen: 1241.”
97
TSMA D. 9559, 1a: “Semāniye müderrislerinden Mevlānā Ḥācı Ḥasanzāde Efendi yoḳlayub
yazdığı kitāblar defteridür…”
159
on traditional sciences, the inventories are still important for proving the presence of such works

among the holdings of the mudarrises. For example among the forty-one items granted to the

madrasa by Mevlānā Aḥmed Çelebi b. Yegān (d. first half of the sixteenth century), the greater

majority of items are related to uṣūl al-fiqh and furūʿ al-fiqh but he seems to have possessed a

copy of ʿAbdulwājid b. Muḥammad’s (d. 1435) commentary on Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl.98 Mevlānā

Muḥyīddin from Alanya (d. first half of the sixteenth century) also seems to have had a copy of

Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl, as this was one of his sixty-five donations to the madrasa.99 The most

comprehensive set of books donated by a scholar descends from Ḥalebīzāde (d. later than 1540),

who gave 333 volumes to the Saḥn library. Among these items the ones that deserve particular

mention are as follows:

i) A majmūʿa containing various works on judicial and horoscopic astrology as well as

sections from Rāzī’s book on celestial magic, al-Sirr al-Maktūm, and the sayings of the

ninth-century Jewish astrologer Māshāʾllāh.100

ii) Another majmūʿa consisting of textbooks on the use of astronomical instruments and

application of astrological principles as well as geometry and ʿilm al-hayʾa.101

98
BOA. D. HMH. SFTH. 21941-B, 35b: “Kitāb Sharḥ Sī faṣl li-Mawlānā Wājid, Dımaşḳī
nıṣfından ḳırılmış, ḳırmızı cildlü, yüz ṭoḳuz varaḳ”
99
Ibid., 49a: “Kitāb risāle-i Sī faṣl min ʿilm al-nujūm, Dımaşḳī nıṣfına saru kāğıd, muḳavva
cildlü, yigirmi dört varaḳ”
100
TSMA D. 9559, 75a: “Kitāb majmūʿ fīhi….faṣl fī maʿrifat masīr al-Shams wa’l-Qamar wa’l-
kawākib wa aḥkāmihā wa faṣl fī maʿrifat sinnī al-ʿālam bi-ḥasb ṭawāliʿihā min al-burūj … wa
baʿż fawāʾid min al-sirr al-maktūm li’l-imām Rāzī …wa faṣl min kalām Māshāʾllāh yataʿalliq
bi’n-nujūm wa kitāb dalāʾil al-shuhūr al-Rūmiyya wa’l-ʿArabiyya wa kitāb yataʿalliq bi’n-nujūm
… wa fawāʾid tataʿalliq bi’n-nujūm.
160
 iii) Nīẓām al-Dīn al-Nīsābūrī’s commentary on Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl.102

Such examples as to the literacy of some of the sixteenth-century mudarrises in the field

of astrological knowledge could easily be extended with further archival, manuscript, and literary

evidence. According to the waqfiyya of the books donated by a certain Mawlānā Shaykh Ishāq b.

ʿAbd al-Razzāq, a mid-sixteenth-century scholar in Istanbul, one copy of Kitāb al-Thamara, one

copy of an unspecified commentary on Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl, and two copies of a treatise on the

astrolabe were possessed by him along with many other works on philosophy, medicine, and ʿilm

al-hayʾa.103 Another lesser-known mid-sixteenth-century mudarris that showed a marked interest

in the relevant lore was Żaʿifī (d. later than 1557), who, around the late 1540s, personally

copied ̧––either for his own personal interest or for the use of broader readership––texts on

astronomical instruments, astrological principles, and divinatory practices. Quite intriguingly, on

one of the folios of this mecmūʿa, Żaʿifī recorded a short note on the application of a simple

prognostication technique to calculate whether an individual who asks for the benevolence of an

influential person would attain his desire or not. According to his prognostication, the matter he

has requested from Rüstem Paşa, the grand vizier of the time, would eventually turn out well

after a certain level of suffering and uncertainty.104 Apart from archival and manuscript evidence,

101
Ibid.,, 75b: “Kitāb majmūʿ fīhi kitāb Iqlīdis wa kitāb ḥall shukūk Iqlīdis wa risāla fī ṣuwar al-
kusūf li-ibn al-Haytham … maqāla lahu fī samt al-qibla bi’l-ḥisāb … wa risāla fī’l-usṭurlāb wa
kitāb al-mudkhal fī ʿilm al-nujūm wa risāla fī aḥkām al-nujūm … wa risāla fī’l-usṭurlāb.”
102
Ibid., 77a: “Kitāb sharḥ Sī faṣl fī ʿilm al-nujūm li-Niẓām al-Dīn al-Aʿraj, tamam-ı Dımaşḳī
tamamından kırılmış ... muḳavva cildlü ... taʿlīḳ ḫattla yazılmış, otuz varaḳ”
103
See Ömer Lütfi Barkan, Ekrem Hakkı Ayverdi, İstanbul Vakıfları Tahrir Defteri: 953 (1546)
tarihli (Istanbul: Baha matbaası, 1970), 439-40. See also Faruk Bilici, “Les bibliothèques vakıf-s
à Istanbul au XVIe siècle, prémices de grandes biblithèques publiques,” Revue des mondes
musulmans et de la Méditerranée 87-88 (1999), 39-59.
104
See Kandilli Rasathanesi Library Ms. 123, 3a: “Benüm ḥācetüm fulan ḳātında ḥāṣıl olur mı
olmaz mı? Kendü ismiñ ḥisāb eyle ve ol ḥācet ṭaleb itdügiñ ismin ḥisāb eyle. Daḫı cümle eyle, üç
161
contemporary literary sources also document the preoccupation of some mudarrises with

astrological and other divinatory curiosities. In the Leṭāʾif compilation of Zātī (d. 1546), one of

the most prominent poets of the sixteenth century, there are anecdotes about Saḥn mudarrises,

who frequented Zātī’s geomancy shop located in the Beyazıt neighborhood of Istanbul to have

Zātī cast their lots and read their fortunes.105

Despite all the evidence on the appeal of mudarrises to astrological and other divinatory

practices, the sporadic appearance of the phenomenon does not necessarily help us decisively

argue that astrologically valid knowledge and divinatory sciences were formally instructed in the

madrasas and/or the mosque complex.106 It is thus safe to conclude here that although

ṭarh eyle. Bir ḳalsa ḥāṣıl olmaz, iki ḳalsa ḥāṣıl olur, üç ḳalsa zaḥmetle ḥāṣıl olur. Meselā:
Muḥammediñ Rüstemden ḥāceti revā olur mı? ʿAded-i Rüstem 700, ʿaded-i Muḥammed 92, [iki
ʿadedi cemʿ idüb] üç tarḥ etdiñ 3 bāqī qaldı. Ḥāceti zaḥmetle revā olur diriz.” The hypothethical
Muḥammed and Rüstem in this short note are likely referring to Żaʿifī (whose real name is none
other than Muḥammed) and the grand vizier of the day, Rüstem Paşa. As far as Żaʿifī’s Münşeat
collection is concerned, around exactly this time, he sent Rüstem Paşa two separate letters,
asking for his help to be appointed to the Saḥn madrasas. See TSMK Revan Ms. 822, 192a-193a,
194a-194b.
105
One particular story is related about Muḥammed Shāh Çelebi (d. 1532-3), one of the
mudarrises of the Saḥn at the time who apparently asked Zātī to prepare and interpret for him a
wafq (magic square) table. See Mehmed Çavuşoğlu, “Zati’nin Letayifi I,” İÜEF Türk Dili ve
Edebiyatı Dergisi 18 (1970), 1-51.
106
The details provided by the Kevākib-i Sebaʿa, the most comprehensive study of the teaching
curriculum in the Ottoman madrasas written in the first half of the eighteenth century at the
request of the French ambassador in Istanbul, also establish that no formal class was taught in the
madrasas on astronomical instruments or astrological techniques. The text, however, intriguingly
mentions that madrasa students would like to take the weekly vacation days (Tuesday and
Friday) as an opportunity to study treatises on astrolabes and divinatory practices. It is interesting
to note here that the hands-on study of the science of the astrolabes and quadrants was required
to be performed in the open air; thus students preferred working on these subjects during the
summer. The passage also demonstrates the desire of students to deal with occult practices but
their instructors would not allow them. See Nasuhi Ünal Karaarslan (ed.), 18. Asrın Ortalarına
Kadar Türkiye’de İlim ve İlmiyeye Dair bir Eser: Kevâkib-i Sebʿa Risâlesi (Ankara: TTK, 2015),
77-78: “Ve maʿlūm ola ki ʿulemā ṭullābıñ ṭabāyiʿine melāl gelmeyüb dāʾimā ʿilme müteşevviḳ
olmak içün yevm-i sülesā ve yevm-i cumʿayı ḥāṣılı haftada iki günü taʾṭīl iʿtibār itmişlerdir. Bu
162
astrological and cognate divinatory practices might have been a regular component of urban

social life around the madrasa and the mosque, one cannot speak of formal instruction of these

sciences at the educational institutions of the time. Unlike some contemporary European

universities where there were chairs for astrological instruction, the astrological practice in the

Ottoman (and Islamic) dominion seems to have lacked such an important component.

Where could, then, would-be munajjims and aspirants of astrological practice obtain their

knowledge? As George Saliba outlines in his influential article on the role of munajjims in the

medieval Islamic world, private tutoring was the most common method in the early-modern

Ottoman context for the training in and transmission of astrologically valid knowledge. One-on-

one teaching, however, does not necessarily contradict the institutional character of education.

Instead, private tutoring often took place within the semi-institutional framework of the court. In

the next chapter I will discuss in detail fashion the gradual formation of the office of court

munajjims in the Ottoman palace by the reign of Bāyezīd II and its impact upon the vocational

training and later professional careers of practicing munajjims.

iki günde ṭullāb baʿż-ı levāzımātını rüʾyet ider ve yaz günü ise baʿż-ı mesīre maḥalllere seyre
giderler ve anda daḫı yine pek boş durmayub ḥisāb ve ʿilm-i hendese ve usṭurlāb ve rubʿ ve
mesāḥa ve ʿilm-i ḥisāb-ı hindī ve ḳıptī ve zencī … ve baʿż-ı bu misillü müstaḳilen derse muḥtāc
olmayan ʿilmi müzākere iderler. Ve kış günü ise gicelerde ṣoḥbet idüb baʿż-ı muʿammā ve elgāz
ve muḥāżārāt ve tārīḫ ve edebiyāt ve ʿarūż ve devāvīn müzākere iderler baʿżısı ʿulūm-ı garībeye
daḫı mürācaʿat ister amma müşkil olmağla ḫāceler izin virmezler.”
163
 Chapter Three––Royal Patronage of Astrology, the Office of the Court
Munajjims, and the Special Case of the Reign of Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512)

III. 1. Introduction

Having overviewed the sources munajjims needed for their training, and the limited role

of the madrasa as well as the muwaqqitkhāna in the production and circulation of astrologically

valid knowledge, it is in order now to focus upon the royal court, which was the single most

important institutional form for the patronage of munajjims and transmission of relevant

knowledge in the early modern Ottoman world. We should, however, keep always in mind the

multifarious nature of the court in the medieval and early modern era. The “court” in the

medieval context generally refers to the extended household of a ruler, accompanied by his

family members, entourage, and servants in various capacities; wheareas the early modern court

has often been considered more than a household. It was indeed “an abstract totality”, composed

of individuals “in service to, but not necessarily in immediate attendance upon, a sovereign.”1

Neverthelss, despite the gradual development of the early modern court out of the medieval royal

household, the personal interests and cultural affinities of the ruler often shaped, in both cases,

the contours of the court life. Hence, one should be careful to differentiate between the court

cultures of different rulers even under the single dynasty.

Moreover, in the context of the patronage of arts and sciences in any court culture, one

1
Bruce T. Moran, “Courts and Academics,” in The Cambridge History of Science, vol. 3 Early
Modern Science, ed. Katharine Park and Lorraine Daston (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2008), 251-271. For the discussion on the transformation of the medieval royal household
to the early modern court, see Ronald G. Asch and Adolf Birke (ed.), Princes, Patronage, and
the Nobility: The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age, c. 1450-1650 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1991).
164
should also distinguish between the courtly patronage of individual experts in a particular craft

and the systematic institutional support for their expertise. As Sonja Brentjes aptly remarks in

her examination of the courtly patronage of mathematical sciences in the medieval and early-

modern Islamicate world, one of the key aspects of the patronage culture was that “[r]uler

supported scholars, not disciplines.”2 The royal support for individual experts consequently

fostered the cultivation of that particular expertise but Brentjes’s remarks are important for

drawing attention to the impermanent nature of scientific patronage that was shaped largely by

the intellectual proclivities of individual patron rulers. We should thus keep it in mind that in the

pre-nineteenth century Ottoman context where it is difficult to speak of a deliberate state policy

or a powerful artisanal/entrepreneurial medium for the support of scientific and technological

advancement, individual patronage of rulers was the key mechanism for the astral experts to

pursue their aspirations.3 Yet patronage itself was by nature shaped by the immediate needs and

inclinings of the sovereigns. The preferences of patron rulers, or princes, were subject to change

as their tastes and immediate concerns mutated. Therefore, munajjims, like many other artists

and individuals from diverse fields of expertise, were vulnerable to these fluctuating dynamics of

the complex patronage culture.

The appeal to the expertise of munajjims is indeed one the salient themes of court life

2
Sonja Brentjes, “Courtly Patronage of the Ancient Sciences in Post-Classical Islamic
Societies,” al-Qantara 29 (2008), 410.
3
The influence of wealthy urbanites and learned individuals in the production of scientific
knowledge and material technology still waits to be thoroughly studied in the early modern
Ottoman context. For some initial remarks on the question, see Miri Shefer-Mossensohn, Science
among the Ottomans. The Cultural Creation and Exchange of Knowledge (Austin, TX:
University of Texas Press, 2015), esp. 121-141. See also: Bekir Harun Küçük, “Early
Enlightment in Istanbul.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of California, San Diego, 2012), esp.
104-126.
165
throughout the medieval and early-modern era in the entire Eurasian landmass, and the Muslim

dynasties were also not exempt from this trend notwithstanding the constant objections raised
4
from different social circles against the practice of astrology. As already mentioned in the

previous chapter, the millennium-long history of the courtly interest in the service of munajjims,

from the Abbasids to the Mughals, has been discussed usually in discreet episodes by having

recourse to scattered anecdotal evidence in biographical dictionaries, ādāb works, chronicles and

other historical accounts.

From the perspective of the patron rulers, employing an individual munajjim or a legion

of them had several important facets. First of all, the expertise of munajjims that incorporated

mathematical competence, calendrical knowledge, and astrological know-how with ancillary

familiarity with topographical matters had numerous practical benefits in the making of

necessary temporal and spatial calculations. Though more substantial evidence is required for

laying out the exact scope of services they offered as individuals learned in the broader discipline

of mathematical sciences (al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya), the wide-ranging expertise of munajjims must

have been demanded in an array of fields such as calendar conversion and taxation, land survey

and navigation, temporal assignments for undertaking imperial enterprises, and of course

4
Aside from the studies briefly mentioned in the second chapter on the courtly patronage of
astral experts in the medieval and early-modern Islamicate culture, there is a vast literature in
European and East Asian historiography. The following works I find particularly useful for many
a overlapping issues: Hilary M. Carey, Courting Disaster: Astrology at the English Court and
University in the Later Middle Ages (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992); Anthony Grafton,
Cardano’s Cosmos: The Worlds and Works of a Renaissance Astrologer (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1999); David W. Pankenier, Astrology and Cosmology in Early
China: Conforming Earth to Heaven (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013); Monica
Azzolini, The Duke and the Stars: Astrology and Politics in Renaissance Milan (Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard Universtiy Press, 2013); Darin Hayton, Crown and the Cosmos: Astrology and
the politics of Maximilian I (Pittsburgh, Pa.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2015).
166
prognosticating the future course of actions. In especially regard to the system of time reckoning,

the challenging task of intercalation and establishing harmony among different calendar systems

was vital to regulate the social and economic life. For instance the discrepancy between solar and

lular calendars periodically invoked financial hardships due to the concomitant discordance

between tax revenues and salary payments. While the former was collected according to the solar

calendar, the latter was made based upon lunar months.5 This explains why from especially the

late-sixteenth century on was there a visible concern in the financial branch of the Ottoman

bureaucracy as to intercalating different calendars.6 In addition to the problems derived from the

discrepancy between solar and lunar calendars, determining the first day of each month also

often arose contradictions. In establishing the first day of any lunar month, and thus the

beginning of Ramaḍān for instance, ehl-i şerʾ preferred methods that solely depended upon

observing the position of the moon with naked eyes; whereas ehl-i nücūm had recourse to

5
For the classical study on the financial problems caused by the discrepancy between the solar
and lunar years, see Halil Sahillioğlu, “Années sıvış et crises monétaires dans l’Empire
ottoman,” Annales. Êconomies, Sociétés, Civilisations 24/5 (1969), 1071-1091, also published in
English as “Sıvış year crises in the Ottoman Empire,” in Studies in the Economic History of the
Middle East, ed. A. Cook (London: Oxford Universtiy Press, 1970), 230-252.
6
One contemporary evidence of this concern in the financial bureaucracy is a short treatise
written in Shaʿbān 989/December 1572 by a certain Seyfullāh Çelebi defterī. As evident from his
epithet, he was from the finance department of the bureaucracy. The text he wrote was aimed at
intercalating solar and lunar calendars to reduce the financial problems. See SK Hacı Mahmud
Efendi Ms. 6344, 85b-88b. For another textual example of intercalation composed in the early
eighteenth century, see: Salim Aydüz, “İsmet Mehmed Efendi (ö. 1747) ve Tedahül-i Seneye
Dair Risalesi,” Kutadgubilig 15-16 (2009), 223-264.
The indication of dates in zodiacal/astrological terms in some of the surviving bureaucratic
documents hints that the scribal unit at the court was really utilizing the calendrical knowledge
produced by the court munajjims. One entry from a ruʿus register recorded on 16 Dhū’l-hijja
953/February 7, 1547 specifies the date as the 28th degree of Aquarius. See Nejat Göyünç, “XVI.
Yüzyılda Ruus ve Önemi,” İÜEF Tarih Dergisi XVII/22 (1967), 24: “yigirmi sekiz burc-ı delv,
yedi Şubat,”
167
demanding astronomical and mathematical calculations.7 While this minor discrepancy did not

have consequences as severe as those caused by the problem of harmonizing dates between

different calendar systems, it still had an inevitable impact upon the accuracy (or lackthereof) of

the chronological information of events given in historical narratives and chronicles.8

The practical benefits of employing munajjims by nature included their service of

partaking in the interpretation of, and the advice on, the short and long-term political and

military decisions through astrological reasoning. Besides the appeal to munajjims’

interpretations and predictions about the intended imperial actions, the royal patronage of

munajjims also mattered as an important political instrument and even a powerful medium of

7
There is a vast literature on the scientific calculations of the lunar crescent visibility in different
contexts of the medieval Islamicate culture. For a useful summary of the discussion, see: David
King, “Lunar Crescent Visibility Predictions in Medieval Islamic Ephemerides,” in Quest for
Understanding: Arabic and Islamic Studies in Memory of Malcolm H. Kerr, ed. S.M. Seikaly,
R. Baalbaki, and P. Dodd (Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1991), 233-251.
In the absence of muwaqqits and/or other astral experts in certain provincial areas, it was mainly
the judges and their deputies who were responsible for establishing the first day of the month by
observing and recording, in front of witnesses, the first visibility of the crescent. For a rich
documentation of evidence culled from Ottoman local court records, see Rıfat Özdemir, “Çeşitli
Kültürlerde Zamanı Ölçme Faaliyetleri ve Bu Konuda Osmanlı Mahkemelerinin Uygulamaları
II,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları 144 (2003), 559-590.
The implications of the temporal conflicts between the calculations of the ehl-i şerʿ and ehl-i
nücūm need to be further investigated. The question is still valid in the Islamic World today, as at
the beginning of Ramadan each year debates emerge about the beginning of the holy month and
the ensuing festival. For an initial discussion on the scope and implications of such conflicts see
King, “On the role of the muezzin and the muwaqqit in Medieval Islamic Society.”
8
For cases of such conflicts in chronology, see Nicoara Beldiceanu et Irène Beldiceanu-
Steinherr, “Considérations sur la chronologie des sources ottomanes et ses pièges,” in Studies in
Ottoman History in Honour of V. L. Ménage, ed. Colin Heywood and Colin Imber (Istanbul: Isis,
1994), 15-29; Colin Heywood, “The Shifting chronology of the Chyhyryn campaign (1089/1678)
according to the Ottoman literary sources, and the problem of the Ottoman calendar,” in The
Ottoman Empire. Myhts, Realities and “Black Holes.” Contributions in honour of Colin Imber,
ed. E. Kermeli and Oktay Özel (Istanbul: Isis, 2006), 283-295; Nicolas Vatin, “L’Homme d’État
Ottoman, Maître du Temps: La Crise de 1566,” in Les Ottomans et le temps, ed. by François
Georgeon and Frédéric Hitzel (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 77-98.
168
propaganda.9 This ideological aspect of the patronage of munajjims has, however, dual

implications: on the one hand, munajjims’ interpretation of worldly events on astrological

grounds and their sycophantic remarks for the reigning sovereign with full of heavenly

metaphors, touting him as the supreme one among others certified by celestial portents, endowed

the ruling party with irrefutable divine significance and recognition. On the other hand, the

support given for a specific group of experts helped the sovereign easily disseminate his own

image as a generous patron of knowledge. If the patron was also interested in the science itself,

then it was even possible for him to reach his contemporaries as a learned ruler and even the

idealized philosopher-king.10

The reasons of the royal appeal to celestial expertise, particularly to astrology, are

captured succinctly by Shukrullāh Shirvānī (d. later than 1504-5), who in September 1489

presented Bāyezīd II a compendium of sciences entitled Riyāḍ al-qulūb, in which he discusses

the true meaning and benefit of ʿilm al-nujūm as follows:

“There is no discipline, save the religious sciences, nobler than ʿilm al-nujūm … Rulers
and sultans have need of it because incidents like earthquake, flood, war, famine, plague
and others occur in the sublunary world due to the influence of the conjunctions, eclipses,
and various planetary aspects. If one is knowledgeable in this science and closely tracks
these celestial phenomena, one may hope to be secure from all harm.”11

9
See especially Darin Hayton’s book on the uses of astrology for the purposes of imperial
propaganda during the reign of the Holy Roman emperor Maximilan I (r. 1493-1519).
10
For the role of patronizing sciences, particularly the science of the stars, in the image-making
of sovereigns in the late medieval and early-modern context, see: Robert Westman, “The
Astronomer’s Role in the Sixteenth Century: A Preliminary Study,” History of Science 8 (1980),
105-147, esp. 121-7; Mario Biagioli, Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of
Absolutism (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1993), esp. 1-11.
11
SK Ayasofya Ms. 4024, 62b. “baʿd az ʿulūm-i dīnī hīch ʿilm aʿlā az ʿilm-i nujūm nīst…va
muḥtāj ilayhi mulūk va salāṭin ast chūn bi-vāsiṭa-i taʿsīr-i qirānāt va kusūfat va sāir ḥālāt-i
kavākib dar ʿālam-i kavn va faṣād vaqāyiʿ va zalāzil va ṭūfānāt wa muḥārabāt va qaḥṭ va vabā
va amsāl-i ān vāqiʿ mī shavad. Agar kasī īn ʿilm rā dānad va ān ḥālāt ra dar yābad va riʿāyat
namāyad umīd ki az āfāt sālim mānad.”
169
 I will further substantiate below the practical benefits and symbolic meanings of the

munajjims’ services for the dynastic court when I will introduce the specific case of the reign of

Bāyezīd II and the personal stories of the experts active at the courts of Ottoman sultans. I should

note here that as manifested in the above summary of the existing literature on the presence of

munajjims in the medieval and early-modern court life, the Ottoman case was no exception.

While it is possible to argue, on the basis of anecdotal and epistolographical evidence, that there

were also court munajjims in the earlier and contemporary dynasties such as the Abbasids, Rum

Saljuqs, Ilkhanids, or the Aqquyunlus, the Ottomans provide us a rare opportunity to document

the continuous and regulated service of munajjims through a unique set of archival and

manuscript materials.12 The gradual establishment of the office of court munajjims by the time of

Bāyezīd II as an identifiable unit in the Ottoman bureaucratic structure was an important step in

the institutionalization of the patronage of munajjims that significantly facilitated the vocational

instruction of astrologically useful knowledge in the early-modern Ottoman realm.

It is the primary aim of this chapter to delineate the extent and ramifications of the

unprecedented celestial interests at the court of Bāyezīd II that facilitated the influx of astral

experts and expertise into the Ottoman capital from especially the Iranian world. While the

efforts at his time were not always retained in the same extent by his successors, and the courtly

12
Insha manuals produced in the Saljuq or Timurid times often include specific sections on how
to properly address the munajjims, who are generally listed among other court personnel as
physicians or scribes. See for instance Ḥasan b. ʿAbdi’l-Muʾmin el-Khūyī’s Gunyatu’l-kātib wa
munyatu’ṭ-ṭālib or Kāshifī’s Makhzan al-inshā.ʾ The former was published by Adnan Sadık Erzi:
Selçukîler Devrine Aid İnşa Eserleri. Gunyetu’l-kātib ve munyetu’ṭ-ṭalib. Rusūmu’r-resāʾil ve
nucūmu’l-fażāʾil (Ankara: TTK, 1963). See also: Turan, Türkiye Selçukluları Hakkında Resmi
Vesikalar: Metin, Tercüme ve Araştırmalar. The latter was located at BnF Ancient Fonds Persan
Ms. 73. I would like to thank Colin Mitchell who has kindly let me know about the latter copy
and its relevant contents.
170
enthusiasm for the expertise of munajjims seems to have gradually waned, if not entirely

disappeared, by the second half of the reign of Süleymān ––until it would be temporarily revived

at the time of Murād III (r. 1574-1595)̧̧–– Bāyezīd II’s input left a decisive imprint on the ways

astrology was practiced in the Ottoman world in the following centuries. In parallel with these

discussions, I will also insert the personal stories of a number of practitioners from the period in

question to put more flesh on the bones of what has been described about the complex social

history of the munajjims.

III. 2. The Royal Patronage of Munajjims at the Ottoman Courts and the Reign of

Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512)

The earliest hard evidence of a munajjim at the service of an Ottoman ruler only dates to

the first half of the fifteenth century, yet it does not strain credibility to assume that there were

munajjims functioning ad hoc around the ruling party from its early days on. While there are

taqwīms that came down to us from the time of Meḥmed I (r. 1410-1421), the earliest extant

taqwīm featuring the autograph of a munajjim is from the reign of Murād II (r. 1421-1451).13 In

the year 842/1439, a certain Ībrahīm b. shaykh al-munajjimīn wa-r-rammāl, known also as Ibn

al-Jamāl, presented the sultan with a taqwīm in Persian in which he conveys his astrological

predictions as to the fortunes and mishaps of the upcoming year.14 The wording of his autograph

13
According to Nihal Atsız’s study on the earliest Ottoman taqwīms, the 824/1421 taqwīm is
housed as SK Muhtelit 1227. Unfortunately, there is no such collection today in the Süleymaniye
Library and my research there did not yield any positive result to have access to this copy. Atsız
published in his book the chronology section of the taqwīm without paying any attention to the
astrological and calendric contents of it. See: Nihal Atsız, Osmanlı tarihine ait takvimler
(İstanbul: Küçükaydın Matbaası, 1961), 3-57.
14
BnF Supp. Pers. 367.
171
does not allow us to detect whether he was a designated court munajjim or a freelance expert

presenting the sultan with his text, but the surviving manuscript definitely evinces the proximity

of a certain astrologer-cum-geomancer to a reigning Ottoman ruler.

There are also few available taqwīms from the time of Meḥmed II, yet none of them bears

an autograph that could enable us to identify a name of a munajjim at his court. Some of the

contemporary and near-contemporary literary sources refer to a group of munajjims around

Meḥmed II whom he would consult to designate the auspicious time for important military

expeditions or construction of imperial buildings. One of these contemporary sources is Cardinal

Isidore (d. 1463), the Greek metropolitan of Kiev who, as an eyewitness to the siege of

Constantinople, says in one of his letters to Pope Nicholas V that Meḥmed asked his “Persian”

munajjims (astrologi persiani) to designate the auspicious time for the siege.15 Somewhat similar

stories may be found in the Ottoman sources. Ṭursun Bey (d. 1491?), for instance, briefly

mentions that the munajjims calculated an auspicious moment for the construction of the fortress

in the Bosphorus (i.e., Rumelihisarı) before the siege of Constantinople.16 In a similar vein,

Tācizāde Caʿfer Çelebi (d. 1515) relates that the munajjims calculated the favorable moment to

begin the assault.17 Yet none of these Ottoman sources specifies the ethno-geographic affiliations

15
Quoted in Agostino Pertusi, La caduta di Costantinopoli, vol. 1 (Rome, Fondazione Lorenzo
Valla, 1976), 75: “Ha infatti a sua disposizione astrologi persiani molto scrupolosi, ed è
appoggiandosi ai loro suggerimenti e alle loro decisioni che spera di riuscire at ottenere il
dominio supremo ed assoluto.”
16
Tursun Bey, Tarih-i Ebü’l-Feth, ed. Mertol Tulum (İstanbul: İstanbul Fetih Cemiyeti, 1977),
44: “vaḳta ki ol mevżiʿ-i maṭlūbı ḫıyām-ı devlet ile muḫayyem ve kudūm-ı mübārek ile mükerrem
kıldı, mehere-i mühendisīn ve kümmel-i müneccimīn müşāveresi ile maḥall ü sāʿat iḫtiyār olunub
ḳalʿe bünyādın urdılar.”
17
Tacizade Cafer Çelebi, Mahruse-i Istanbul Fethnamesi (İstanbul: Ahmed İhsan ve Şurekası
Matbaacılık Osmanlı Şirketi, 1331/1915-6), 10: “Her çend ecrām-ı ʿulvī ʿālem-i süflīde müʾessir-
i ḥaḳīḳī değil idüği beyyindir fe-ammā cümle ʿālem ger bālā ve ger zīr çün musaḫḫar-ı emr-i
172
of the munajjims.

Meḥmed II’s favorite son Cem Sultan (d. 1495) also appears to have developed an

interest in the science of the stars in the course of his life. In an astrological work entitled Miftāḥ

al-nujūm, which is composed in Turkish and presented in Bursa in Dhūʿl-qaʾda, 874/May 1470,

the author Yaḥyā b. Ḥusayn Yaḥyā says that he used to deliver each year a taqwīm to the house

of Cem Sultan, who eventually became interested in learning the intricacies of the science of the

stars and requested a book simple enough to teach him the basics of it.18

As part of his broader imperial ambitions and cultural orientations toward utilizing the

intellectual traditions greatly esteemed at his time, “regardless of the linguistic or religious

context of their origin,” Meḥmed II was eager to patronize men of knowledge with varying

expertise, including the masters of celestial knowledge, from different demographic quarters.19

His attempts to attract leading astral experts of his time from the Persianate East were

commented upon by later historians including Idrīs Bidlīsī (d. 1520), who says in his Hasht

Bihisht that the sultan invited ʿAlī Qūshjī and promised him to establish in Istanbul a scholarly

taḳdīrdir; aḥyānen maḥāʾil-i ilāhī ve delāʾil-i saʿādet-i nāmütenāhī olmak … ʿaḳlen cāiz olduğu
sebebden mehere-i ʿulūm-ı nücūm Şāhıñ ḫurūcı içün bir vaḳt-i ḫuceste-fercām ve sāʿat-ı saʿādet-
encām iḫtiyār itmişlerdi. Ol vaḳt-i mübārekde ḥażret-i salṭanat-penāh … Esed burcundan Güneş
ṭulūʿ ider gibi dārü’l-ḫilāfeden ṭaşra geldi.”
18
TSMK Revan Ms. 1704, 4b-5a: “Çün kemterīn bende-i dergāha ḥükm-i hümāyūn
naffadhahallāhu taʿālā dāimā taḳvīm irsāl itmeğe nefāz bulmışdı. Mażmūn-ı şerīfinden şöyle
fehm olındı kim ḥażret-i ʿālī-menḳabet ḫāṭır-ı münīri kim cām-ı cihānnümā andan bir şemme
mutaṣavverdür, bu ʿilm-i şerīfe şurūʿ itmekliğe tergīb olmuş. Benāber ān bu nüsḫanuñ teʾlīfin
vācib ve lāzım görüb ʿarż-ı hümāyūna merfūʿ oldı.”
19
For that regard, Maria Mavroudi aptly says that the cultural orientations at the court of
Meḥmed II were “neither East nor West, not simply because these labels did not exist in the
same way they do now, but especially because he was only doing what princes before and after
him often did.” See: Maria Mavroudi, “Translations from Greek into Arabic at the Court of
Mehmed the Conqueror,” in The Byzantine Court: Source of Power and Culture, ed. Ayla
Ödekan et al. (Istanbul: Koç University Press, 2013), 207.
173
environment where he could keep running his unfinished observation program.20 Meḥmed II’s

genuine interest in recruiting ʿAlī Qūshjī seems to have related to the political prestige and

instrumentality accorded to the courtly patronage of the science of the stars in the late-medieval

and early-modern Turko-Persian cultural zone. Yet the urgent need of the sultan to welcome an

astral expert of the caliber of ʿAlī Qūshjī and the wide authority warranted him to reorganize the

entire Ottoman scholarly hierarchy (ʿilmiyya) are strong indications of the inadequacy of the

systematized celestial pursuits in the Ottoman world in the last quarter of the fifteenth century.21

At the time when ʿAlī Qūshjī and his entourage arrived in Istanbul, systematic scholarly

activity on celestial knowledge was only premature in the Ottoman lands.22 Several treatises of

Ṭūsī such as his introductory textbook on the astrological indications of planets, zodiac signs and

planetary aspects (Sī faṣl), his Zīj-i Īlkhānī, or his memoir on astronomy (al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-

hayʾa) were already in circulation in the lands of Rūm throughout the fourteenth and first half of

the fifteenth century. The Fenārī circle in western Anatolia, including such members as the

stellar scholar Mollā Fenārī (d. 1431) and ʿAbdulwājid b. Muḥammad (d. 1435), was also well

informed about the scientific output of the Maragha tradition.23 Yet anecdotal and archival

20
Idrīs Bitlīsī, Hasht Bihisht, SK Esad Efendi Ms. 2198, 33b-34a, quoted in Tofigh
Heiderzaideh, “Ali Kuşçu’nun Astronomi Eserleri” (Master’s thesis, Istanbul University, 1997),
15.
21
For an overview of ʿAlī Qūshjī’s move to the Ottoman capital and his short tenure there as
well as his administrative service, see: Süheyl Ünver, Ali Kuşçi hayatı ve eserleri (İstanbul:
Kenan Matbaası, 1948); Heiderzaideh, “Ali Kuşçu’nun Astronomi Eserleri,” especially 13-17.
22
For a general overview of the contours of scientific activities in the pre-sixteenth century
Ottoman realm, see: İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlılar (İlim ve Kültür. 1. Düşünce Hayatı ve Bilim.
Kaynaklar),” TDVİA.
23
ʿAbdulwājid b. Muḥammad was born in Khūrasan and came to the lands of Rūm in later
fourteenth century. In addition to his treatise on the uses of astrolabe, he also penned a
commentary on Ṭūsī’s Sī Faṣl. See: OALT, v. 1 (Istanbul : İslâm Tarih, Sanat ve Kültür
Araştırma Merkezi, 1997), 22-24. See also: İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “İthaf’tan Enmûzec’e Fetih’ten önce
174
evidence about scholars over the fifteenth century indicates that Ottoman territory was not the

best place at the time for a would-be astral expert to excel in the science of the stars. For instance

Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī, one of the intellectual founders of the Samarqand observatory, grew up in

Bursa and received his first education within the Fenārī circle, but his master Muḥammed Şāh

Fenārī, the son of renowned Mollā Fenārī, still felt compelled to suggest him to go to Iran and

Central Asia to further his quests in astral lore.24 In a similar vein, a certain ʿAbd al-Raḥmān

munajjim (d. later than 1510), about whom more details will be found below, was recommended

around the 1480s by his primary patron Şehzāde Aḥmed to go to the Iranian lands (diyār-ı

ʿAjam) to advance his knowledge in the discipline.25 Besides hinting at the embryonic level of

systematic astral production in the Ottoman territories throughout the fifteenth century, these

details also suggest that in the eyes of the fifteenth-century scholars born in the Ottoman lands,

the Persianate east was the main point of reference and locus where one could gain a good

command of the science of the stars.

Objections may be raised here with regards to ascribing astrological interests to

Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī or ʿAlī Qūshjī. Such a reservation is not altogether groundless, as the entire

oeuvre of Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī and ʿAlī Qūshjī does not include a single text that one could easily

Osmanlı Ülkesi’nde Matematik Bilimler,” in Uluslararası Molla Fenârî Sempozyumu (4-6

Aralık 2009 Bursa): bildiriler = International Symposium on Molla Fanârî (4-6 December 2009
Bursa): proceedings, ed. Tevfik Yücedoğru et al. (Bursa: Bursa Büyükşehir Belediyesi, 2010),
131-163; Jamil Ragep, “Astronomy in the Fenārī-Circle: The Critical Background for Qādīzāde
al-Rūmī and the Samarqand School,” in Yücedoğru et al., Uluslararası Molla Fenârî
Sempozyumu, 165-176.
24
İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Kadızade-i Rumi,” TDVİA.
25
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Munajjim, Jawhar ḥifẓ al-ṣiḥḥat fī al-ṭibb, SK Ayasofya Ms. 3635, 2b.
175
define as strictly an astrological work.26 Yet, as far as the present level of research on these two

big names is concerned, their works did not entail a categorical rejection of astrological

premises. Moreover, as already mentioned in the first chapter, the end product of the

observations at the Samarqand observatory, the Ulugh Beg tables, which Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī and

ʿAlī Qūshjī contributed significantly as the key collaborators in the observatory, is replete with

information and data addressed to astrological purposes, especially for casting birth and yearly

horoscopes.27 Also interesting is the fact that the activities at the Samarqand observatory were

interpreted by some of his contemporaries, like Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Turka Iṣfahānī (d. 1432), as being

responsible for the “renaissance of “astrology.”28 Last but not least, the anecdotes narrated in

some of the contemporary biographers about the use of divinatory practices in the presence of

Ulugh Beg and ʿAlī Qūshjī, or Qūshjī’s curious attendance in the Otlukbeli campaign as one of

the close courtiers of Meḥmed II hint at the commonality of such preoccupations among

individuals that are strictly defined in modern historiography as enlightening scientists.29

26
In addition to Ünver and Heiderzaideh’s works cited above, see: İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Qūshjī,” in
BEA, ed. Thomas Hockey et al. (New York: Springer, 2007), 946-948; Jamil Ragep, “Freeing
Astronomy from Philosophy: An Aspect of Islamic Influence on Science,” Osiris 16 (2001), 49-
71.
27
Especially the fourt chapter of the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg (“Maqāla-i chahārom dar bāqī aʿmāl-i
nujūmī”) is reserved entirely for the techniques used in horoscopic astrology such as namūdārāt,
firdārāt, or tasyīrāt. In fact the tables given in the second (“Maqāla-i dovvom dar maʿrifat-i
avqāt va ṭāliʿ-i har vaqt”) and the third (“Maqāla-i sivom dar maʿrifat-i ravash-i sitāragān va
mavāżiʿ-i īshān dar ṭūl va ʿarż va tavābiʿ-i ān”) chapters were also set out for astrological
purposes. See Uluğ Beğ’in Astronomi Cetvelleri = Zîc-i Uluğ Bey, 2 volumes, ed. and tr.
Mustafa Kaçar and Atilla Bir (Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı, 2012).
28
Quoted in Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom,” 231; Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest,” 64.
29
ʿAlī Qūshjī’s presence in the Otlukbeli campaign is documented by the colophon of the
autograph copy of his al-Risāla al-fatḥiyya that he finished and presented the day Meḥmed II
defeated the Aqquyunlu Uzun Ḥasan at Otlukbeli. SK Ayasofya Ms. 2733 (quoted in Ünver, 30):
“farigha al-ʿabd al-muʾallif min taḥrīrihi fī awāsiṭ rabīʿ al-awwal sana thamāna wa sabʿaīn wa
thamānamiʾa (RA 878) kataba hadha l-asṭar al-mushawwasha al-faqīr al-ḥaqīr ʿAlī bin
176
 Despite the allusions in contemporary and near-contemporary narrative sources to a

number of (Persian) munajjims at the court of Meḥmed II and his genuine interest in the

cultivation of the science, the archival records from the period rather tell a different story. There

is in fact not much available in terms of archival documents from the time of Meḥmed II, though

a relatively detailed payroll book from the year 883/1478 lists the names of palace personnel,

including munajjims. Contrary to what is depicted by literary sources of the time, there was only

one munajjim, Mevlānā Kūçek Yezdānbaḫş, who received ten aḳçe per diem, which was equal to

the pay range of a messenger or a gatekeeper but significantly lower than that of a falconer or

storyteller.30 Mevlānā Kūçek is listed in the register under the loosely defined mutafarriqa corps,

which also implies that there was not a special designated unit for the munajjims within the

nascent bureaucracy of the time and that the lines between ad hod function and formal office are

still difficult to distinguish.31

Muḥammad al-Qūshjī wa huwa muʾallif hadhi l-nuskha wa kātibuhā yawm al-ẓafar al-sulṭān al-
aʿẓam abū l-fatḥ sulṭān Muḥammad khan khalladallāh mulkahu ʿalā Uzun Ḥasan fī navāhī-i
Tarcān fī maqām-ı Otbīlegī qarīb-i Qubāsivrī.”
In his Asar-ı Bakiye, Salih Zeki (d. 1921), one of the most important mathematicians of the late
Ottoman period and the first modern Turkish scholar showing interest in the history of science in
the Ottoman past, also mentions Qūshjī’s engagement with astrological practice on the basis of a
holograph copy of a mecmūʿa now located at SK Hamidiye Ms. 1446. See: Salih Zeki, Asar-ı
Bakiye vol. 2 (İstanbul: Matbaa-ı Amire, 1329), 198.
One of the relevant anecdotes mentioned in the chronicle of Khāndamir (d. later than 1550) goes
on to say that one day Ulugh Beg, while in the presence of his student ʿAlī Qūshjī, asks a certain
geomancer to foretell what is going to happen in his life. The geomancer was reluctant first to
speak in front of ʿAlī Qūshjī whom he barely knew, but after Ulugh Beg reassured him about
Qūshjī’s trustworthiness, he went on to say that Ulugh Beg would kill one of his two wives and
then divorce the second one.
30
Ahmed Refik (Altınay), “Fatih Devrine ait Vesikalar,” Tarih-i Osmani Encümeni Mecmuası
vol. 8-11 no. 49-62 (1335/1919), 1-58.
31
For the mutafarriqa corps, see İsmail H. Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Devletinin Saray Teşkilatı
(Ankara: Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüksek Kurumu, 1984), 428-431; Tayyib Gökbilgin,
“Müteferrika,” İA.
177
 The real patron of celestial knowledge in the burgeoning Ottoman polity was Bāyezīd II.

In fact the institutionalization of the patronage of munajjims in the growing bureaucratic

structure of the Ottoman polity by the late fifteenth century was intimately related to the keen

interest and personal investment of Bāyezīd II in the cultivation of celestial knowledge. While

Meḥmed II’s learned character and curiosity towards philosophical and mathematical pursuits as

well as the Greek/Byzantine heritage are relatively well-known phenomenon, the cultural and

intellectual orientations of his son Bāyezīd II have largely been ignored in modern

historiography. In fact, the long rule of Bāyezīd and his cultural policies have been

systematically downplayed in the available literature in contrast to the “heroic” reigns of his

father, and those of his immediate successors, his son Selīm I (r. 1512-1520) and grandson

Süleymān (r. 1520-1566).

Bāyezīd’s so-called “pious” personality is often held responsible for isolating the

Ottoman Empire from the cultural and intellectual achievements attained in contemporary

Europe.32 He is usually contrasted to his father Meḥmed II and thus condemned for hampering

the perpetuation of the cultural orientations and political ambitions prevalent at his time.33 As

evidence for Bāyezīd’s culpability in the so-called intellectual and scientific setback at the turn

of the sixteenth century, modern scholars often refer to the story of Leonardo da Vinci whose

32
Sidney Nettleton Fisher, The Foreign Relations of Turkey, 1481-1512 (Urbana, IL: University
of Illinois Press, 1948); Selâhattin Tansel, Sultan II. Bâyezit’in Siyâsî Hayatı (İstanbul: MEB
Devlet Kitapları Müdürlüğü, 1966); V. J. Parry, “The Reigns of Bāyezīd II and Selim I, 1481-
1520,” in A History of the Ottoman Empire to 1730, ed. M. A. Cook (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1976), 54-78; Şerafettin Turan, “Bāyezīd II,” İA; Feridun Emecen,
İmparatorluk Çağının Osmanlı Sultanları (Istanbul, İSAM Yayınları, 2011).
33
For a review and critique of the studies that contrast the reign of Bāyezīd II to his father, see
Cihan Yüksel Muslu, “Ottoman-Mamluk Relations and the Complex Image of Bāyezīd II,” in
Conquête ottoman de l’Égypte (1517): Arrière-plan, impact, échos, ed. Benjamin Lellouch and
Nicholar Michel (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 51-76.
178
plea to Bāyezīd to construct a bridge over the Golden Horn fell on deaf ears.34 Bāyezīd’s selling

of the paintings and disposing of Christian relics kept by his father in the palace is yet another

favorite story.35 He also allegedly turned down Christopher Columbus when the Genoese

navigator approached him as a potential patron before embarking upon his costly expeditions,

but it should be noted that the earliest available reference to such criticism directed against

Bāyezīd for denying Columbus is only from the first half of the nineteenth century.36

Bāyezīd II has also long been criticized for failing to take necessary measures against the

emerging Safavid threat, with which his son Selīm was left to deal during both his governorship

in Trabzon and his sultanate in Istanbul.37 One could note further reasons for the scholarly

disdain for the reign of Bāyezīd II, including his inability to achieve a decisive victory against

the Mamluks, and his elimination of Meḥmed II’s (and modern historiography’s as well) favorite

son Cem Sultan (d. 1495) after a long struggle that soon gained an international character with

the involvement of the Pope and several European powers. All these reasons have coalesced in

contemporary scholarship with an image of Bāyezīd II as the weakest link in the so-called

34
The undated letter sent by Leonardo is now housed at the Archive of the Topkapı Palace
Museum (TSMA E. 6184). According to the letter, Leonardo also proposed to devise for the
sultan a number of other tools, such as a new kind of windmill and a sort of pump to empty out
the water in the vessels. See also: Semavi Eyice, “II. Bāyezīd Devrinde Davet Edilen Batılılar,”
Belgelerle Türk Tarihi Dergisi 19 (1969), 23-30.
35
Julian Raby, “A Sultan of Paradox: Mehmed the Conqueror as a Patron of the Arts,” Oxford
Art Journal, 5 (1982), 3-8.
36
Cevat İzgi, Osmanlı Medreselerinde İlim vol. 2 (İstanbul, İz Yayıncılık, 1997), 240.
37
The available scholarly conviction on Bāyezīd’s idleness vis-à-vis the emerging Safavid power
is based primarily on the Selīmnāme literature, the earliest examples of which emerged as early
as the later years of Selīm’s reign. The purpose of these works is to valorize Selīm and single
him out as the only member of the Ottoman house that took serious the emerging Safavid
problem. However, archival documents from the reign of Bāyezīd II clearly show that he was
also closely following the Safavid problem and taking active measures, although he did not
initiate an open battle. See for instance: Feridun Emecen and İlhan Şahin, II. Bāyezīd dönemine
ait 906/1501 tarihli ahkam defteri (İstanbul: Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları Vakfı, 1994).
179
Ottoman golden age from the mid-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth century.

Despite the conventional representation of Bāyezīd II’s reign as a failure on a range of

fronts, several cultural and literary historians were aware that he was an avid patron of the arts

and belles-lettres.38 He is generally considered the founding patron of Ottoman dynastic history

writing, having eagerly commissioned the first dynastic histories of the Ottoman rule.39 Modeled

in the main on Timurid precedents, the voluminous histories of figures like Idrīs Bitlīsī, who

wrote in Persian, and Ibn Kemāl (d. 940/1534), in embellished Turkish, helped not only carve a

prominent place for the Ottoman house in the universal unfolding of events but also spotlight the

rule and court of Bāyezīd II as supreme among all the previous and contemporary sovereigns.40

In addition to his active involvement as patron of the first dynastic histories of the Ottoman

house, Bāyezīd II also lavishly supported a number of poets, calligraphers, and numerous

artisans whom we can document thanks to the invaluable register of gifts and payments that

38
İsmail E. Erünsal, “Türk Edebiyatının Arşiv Kaynakları I: II. Bāyezīd Devrine Ait bir İnamat
Defteri,” İÜEF Tarih Enstitüsü Dergisi 10-11 (1981), 303-348; Julian Raby and Zeren Tanındı,
Turkish Bookbinding in the 15th Century: The Foundation of an Ottoman Court Style (London:
Azimuth editions on behalf of l'Association Internationale de Bibliophile, 1993); Hilal Kazan,
XVI. Asırda Sarayın Sanatı Himayesi (İstanbul: Ircica, 2010); Zeren Tanındı, “II. Bāyezīd’in
Sanatlı Kitapları,” in Kasayid-i Efsahi der medh-i Sultan Bāyezīd (İstanbul: Sakıp Sabancı
Müzesi, 2012), 7-33.
39
Halil İnalcık, “The Rise of Ottoman Historiography,” in Historians of the Middle East, ed.
Bernard Lewis and P. M. Holt (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), 152-167; V.L. Ménage,
“The Beginnings of Ottoman Historiography,” in Ibid., 168-179; Cornell H. Fleischer,
Bureaucrat and Intellectual in the Ottoman Empire: The Historian Mustafa Ali (1541-1600)
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986), 238-239.
40
İnalcık, “The Rise of Ottoman Historiography;” Sara Nur Yıldız, “Ottoman Historical Writing
in Persian, 1400-1600,” in Persian Historiography, ed. Charles Melville (New York: I.B. Tauris,
2012), 436-502; Vural Genç, “Acem’den Rum’a: İdris-i Bidlisi’nin Hayatı, Tarihçiliği ve Heşt
Behişt’in II. Bāyezīd Kısmı (1481-1512).” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Istanbul University, 2014);
Christopher Markiewicz, “The Crisis of Rule in Late Medieval Islam: A Study of Idrīs Bidlīsī
and Governance at the Turn of the Sixteenth Century.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of
Chicago, 2015).
180
record in great detail the names of all individuals receiving allowances from the sultan from

1503 to 1512.41 One remarkable but lesser known aspect of Bāyezīd II’s patronage and cultural

politics is his benefaction towards the experts of astral knowledge.

While there was only one munajjim listed in the sole surviving register of payments from

the later years of Meḥmed II’s reign, by the time of Bāyezīd II, the number, status, and salaries

of the munajjims dramatically changed. Another payroll book – which must have been drafted

sometime between 1490 and 1500, according to internal evidence – lists six munajjims that

receive in sum 6068 aḳçes monthly, making an average daily salary of a court munajjim 33.7

aḳçes/day.42 Unfortunately the list does not specify the names of these munajjms, yet groups

them as an individual unit (cemāʿat-i müneccimīn) under the rubric of the monthly salaried

palace personnel (müşāhereḫorān).43 The famous register of allowances that thoroughly covers

the last decade of the reign of Bāyezīd II also corroborates the information given in the payroll

book. According to this voluminous register, at least 19 different names are recorded as

munajjims, muwaqqits (time-keepers) or individuals presenting the court at different times with a

41
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71. Various scholars have mined this voluminous
register for different purposes. In addition to the works of Erünsal and Kazan cited above see
Rıfkı Melül Meriç, Türk Nakış Tarihi Araştırmaları (Ankara: Ankata Üniversitesi İlahiyat
Fakültesü, 1953]; idem., “Bāyezīd Camii Mimarı, II. Bāyezīd Devri Mimarları ile Bazı Binalar,
Bāyezīd Camii ile ilgili hususlar, san’atkarlar ve eserleri,” Ankara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi
Türk ve İslam Sanatları Tarihi Enstitüsü Yıllık Araştırmalar Dergisi II (1958), 4-76. The records
for the first two years are also available as transliterated texts. See Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “İstanbul
Saraylarına ait Muhasebe Defterleri,” Belgeler, 9/13 (1979), 1-380; Mustafa Açıkgöz, “II.
Bāyezīd Devri İnamat Defteri (Muharrem-Zilhicce 910/Haziran-Mayıs 1504-1505)” (MA
Thesis, Marmara University, 1996).
42
TSMA D. 9587, available as a transcribed document in Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “H. 933-934
Tarihli Bütçe Cedveli ve Ekleri,” İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası 15 no. 1-4 (1953-1954), 309.
43
For the müşāhereḫorān status, see Linda Darling, “Ottoman Salary Registers as a Source for
Economic and Social History,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin, 14/1 (1990), 13-33.
181
taqwīm.44 Within these 19 names, at least five of them are listed under the monthly salaried

palace personnel (müşāhereḫorān) rubric. Based upon these two registers, then, it is possible to

deduce that there were five or six munajjims permanently employed at the court of Bāyezīd II at

different times of his relatively long reign.

In terms of the number of munajjims who found steady employment at the Ottoman

court, Bāyezīd’s reign supersedes not only those of his predecessor but also his successors’. For

example, in a register from around the year 1514 during the reign of Selīm I, the unit of court

astrologers (cemāʿat-i müneccimīn) is composed of four munajjims.45 Two different pay registers

from the first years of the reign of Süleymān also list four munajjims under the rubric of the unit

of court astrologers (cemāʿat-i müneccimān). These munajjims are Seyyid Ībrahīm b. Seyyid

Müneccim, İsḥaḳ, Salmān-i ʿAjam, and Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, each receiving 15, 14, 13, and

10 aḳçes per diem respectively.46 In another register prepared slightly after these two registers,

all three munajjims are listed with the exception of Salmān-i ʿAjam.47 It is also worth noting here

that all these three munajjims, Seyyid Ībrahīm b. Seyyid Müneccim, İsḥaḳ, and Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer

el-Sāʿatī had started their careers during the reign of Bāyezīd II. Other archival documents from

the later periods of the reign of Süleymān also confirm that the number of court munajjims

remained stable for a while, before it dropped, by the later years of his reign, to two with further

44
See Appendix A for the entire list of munajjims, muwaqqits, and other individuals cited in the
register who presented the court with an annual almanac-prognostication and/or were rewarded
for unspecified reasons.
45
TSMA D. 5475, available as a transcribed document in Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “H. 933-934
Tarihli Bütçe Cedveli ve Ekleri,” 313. Unfortunately their names and salaries are left
unspecified.
46
TSMA D. 9706; TSMA D. 10141.
47
TSMA D. 7843, available as a transcribed document in Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “H. 933-934
Tarihli Bütçe Cedveli ve Ekleri”, 323.
182
decreases in the amount of munajjims’ salaries.48 As we will see in more detail below in the

special case of ʿAlī munajjim (better known as Riyāżī), the apparent decrease in the salaries and

status by the mid-sixteenth century caused distress and uneasiness among some of the

practitioners.

The unprecedented extent of the cultivation of celestial knowledge during Bāyezīd II’s

reign was intimately related to his personal intellectual aspirations. From his years as governor in

Amasya to his relatively long sultanate in Istanbul, Bāyezīd II actively sought expertise in the

science of the stars, surrounded himself with a sizeable group of munajjims and scholars with

deep astral curiosities, commissioned a number of treatises on different branches and genres of

celestial knowledge, and spent his personal spare time on studying different forms and genres of

the science itself. It was during his reign, for instance, that modest celestial observations with

novel instruments were conducted in Istanbul. The Persian émigré munajjim, Khiṭābī-i Lāhijānī,

whose works I will mention in greater detail below, conducted these observations in early 1480s

48
BOA KK 1764 lists 4 munajjims between the years 933/1526-7 and 942/1535-6, but it is not
certain whether these munajjims are members of the office or the register only records the names
of experts presenting the court with a taqwīm. The munajjims listed in this register are
respectively Lüṭfullāh, Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī (noted as Sinān b. ʿÖmer), Musliḥiddīn şākird-i
(student of) Salmān, and Necmeddīn.
BOA MAD 559, a payroll book listing the names and wages of monthly-salaried palace
personnel (mevācib-i müşāhereḫorān), enumerates 2 munajjims for the year 942/1535-6 as part
of the unit of cemāʿat-i müneccimān. These two munajjims are İsḥaḳ and Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-
Sāʿatī, receiving 14 and 10 aḳçes per diem respectively.
BOA KK 1864 reveals for the year 954/1547-8 only the name of Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī as a
court munajjim (ʿan müneccimān-i ḫāṣṣa).
BOA MAD 7118, another payroll book for the monthly salaries of palace personnel, also lists for
the year 955/1548-9 two munajjims as part of the cemāʿat-i müneccimān. These two munajjims
are Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer al-Sāʿatī and Riyāżī ʿAlī, receiving 12 and 6 aḳçes per diem respectively.
183
to test the accuracy of three popular zījes used at the time.49 At least two different, extravagant

astrolabes were cast for the sultan, one produced in the year 910/1504-5 by another Persian

émigré scholar, Shukrullāh Shirvānī, and the second manufactured the following year by an

apparently indigenous expert, al-Aḥmar al-Nujūmī al-Rūmī (d. later than 1505-6).50 The

inventory of the palace library, which was compiled by the chief librarian ʿĀṭūfī, is replete with

treatises and textbooks on astrological principles, astronomical tables and instruments copied and

dedicated to Bāyezīd II. Some of these items were even composed at the personal request of

him.51

The broad celestial interests of Bāyezīd II were so widely acknowledged during his own

lifetime that contemporary émigré scholars and/or statesmen who had access to court circles

often noted the sultan’s penchant for astral sciences in their writings. Andrea Gritti (d. 1538), the

famous Venetian merchant and statesman who spent much of his early life in Istanbul and had

49
Mortaza Somi and Mohammad Bagheri, “Risāla-i tashrīḥ al-ālāt fī shaʿn al-imtiḥānāt az
Sayyid Munajjim Ḥusaynī,” Mirāth-i ʿIlmī-yi Islām va Īrān, 2/1 (1392/2013), 181-205. Although
the authors attribute the text to Sayyid Munajjim, an important early-fifteenth century astral
expert from the Iranian world, this could not be true on the basis of the manuscript evidence of
the works of both Sayyid Munajjim and Khiṭābī of Lāhijān. I will discuss this in more detail
below.
50
David King, “Two Astrolabes for the Ottoman Sultan Bayezit II,” in Essays in honour of
Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, v. 1, ed. Mustafa Kaçar and Zeynep Durukal (Istanbul: Ircica, 2006),
439-459. David King was not able to reach a decisive conclusion on the name of this scholar
from Shirwan due to a paucity of information on Shukrullāh Shirvānī, who is different than
Shukrullāh the physician at Meḥmed II’s court. In addition to the astrolabe, Shukrullāh Shirvānī
also presented Bāyezīd II with a compendium of sciences (Riyāḍ al-qulūb), in which he
discusses the meaning and benefits of ʿilm al-nujūm from exclusively an astrological perspective.
See: SK Ayasofya Ms. 4024, 62b-80b.
51
Mīrim Çelebi explains in the introduction to his commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables that he
composed it upon the request of Bāyezīd II. See: SK Ayasofya Ms. 2697, 3b. In a similar vein,
ʿAbdussalām al-Muhtadī says in his Maʿrifat ḥaqīqat mawḍūʿat al-kawākib that he translated the
work from Hebrew to Arabic upon the sultan’s personal request (bi-talqīn al-sulṭān) See: TSMK
A. 3495, 88a.
184
close ties with the high-ranking members of the Ottoman court, writes in one of his reports to the

Venetian senate that the sultan is considered a very learned person in astrologia and theologia,

and that he studies these disciplines ardently in addition to his taking delight in the arts of

mechanics and alchemy.52 Another contemporary testimony to Bāyezīd’s learned interests comes

from one Ibn al-ʿUlayf (d. 925/1520), a noted poet living in Mecca, who had visited Istanbul and

presented the sultan a panegyric long before he composed in Mecca a chronicle eulogizing the

virtues of the Ottoman dynasty generally and Bāyezīd II specifically. In this chronicle, he details

the scholarly character of Bāyezīd II and identifies the sciences the sultan endeavored to learn.

Ibn al-ʿUlayf states that in addition to various branches of the religious sciences, including hadith

and jurisprudence, Bāyezīd II was also interested in the science of the celestial spheres (ʿilm al-

falak) and distinguished himself in the science of the stars (ʿilm al-nujūm) as well as geomancy

(ʿilm al-raml).53

It was also the case that many a scholar and literatus often opted to compose a work

related to some form and genre of celestial knowledge as an initial attempt to ask for Bāyezīd

II’s patronage. Firdevsī-i Ṭavīl (d. later than 1512), for instance, made his debut in 1487 by

presenting the sultan with his Daʾvetnāme, a work on celestial magic, whereas the Persian

émigré scholar Qāḍī-i Baghdād, as we have already mentioned before, offered as his first gift to

the sultan his almanac-prognostications for the year 913/1508 after taking refugee in the

52
Marino Sanuto, I diarii, vol. 5, ed. Federico Stefani (Venezia: F. Visentini, 1881), 458: “Se
dice delectarse de le arte mechanice…et haverse etiam delectà d’archimia…. Dicono esser ne la
sua leze, in astrologia et theologia, secondo i suo’ auctori arabi et de persian quanto algun altro
musulmano, et studia continuamente.”
53
SK Fatih Ms. 4357, 33b: “wa qāla lī baʿḍ al-fuḍalāʾ al-Rūm ... anna al-sulṭān al-
mushārunilayh ... naẓara fī ʿilm al-falak wa baraʿa fī maʿrifat ʿilm al-nujūm wa-l-raml.”
185
Ottoman lands upon the Safavid expansion toward Baghdad around the year 1507-8.54

The most intriguing of contemporary testimonies to Bāyezīd II’s genuine interest in the

science of the stars, as well as in alchemy, is an anonymous letter sent by a seemingly Sufi

shaykh that I already introduced in the first chapter.55 In this undated letter that casts light upon

the learned interests of the sultan, the anonymous author refers explicitly to Bāyezīd’s endeavors

to learn ilm al-hayʿa along with another formidable branch of natural philosophy (ḥikmat), which

he does not explicit.56 In his opinion, however, Bāyezīd did not have sufficient erudition and his

attempt was made solely on the basis of experience (tajriba). It is the author’s desire to remind

the sultan, whom he characterizes as a zealous servant in the path of Islam, of the transitory

nature of life and the insignificance of worldly possessions.57 He then says that he has decided, in

accordance with the portents in his dream, to send Bāyezīd one of his disciples to inculcate in

him his real essence. The training should continue, the shaykh argues, until Bāyezīd attains the

spiritual stage that his disciple has already reached at the hands of the master. Once Bāyezīd

reaches that stage, then he, the author, will write a talismanic note for the sultan to help him gain

54
Firdevsi-i Tavil ve Da’vetname’si: İnceleme, Transkripsiyon, İndeks, Faksimile ve Mikrofiş,
ed. Fatma Büyükkarcı (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Near Eastern Languages and
Civilizations, 1995); Qāḍī-i Baghdād, Taqvīm, British Library Or. 6432/2. Qāḍī-i Baghdād’s
name is recorded on the contemporary register of gifts and payments as the recipient on April 25,
1508 of 1,500 silver coins for his debut in presenting the sultan with his taqwīm (ibtidāʾ-i ʿādat-i
Mavlānā Sinān Qāḍī-i Baghdād … ki taqvīm āvord) Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71,
263.
55
TSMA E. 6172
56
Ibid.,: “[...] Mālik-i memleket-i Rūmiyye kim āl-i ʿOsmāniyeden Sulṭān Bāyezīd’dir. Şöyle
istimāʿ olundı ki ṣinaʿat el-heyʾete ve bir ḥikmete ki ḥikmeti muhībdir ṭālmış ammā tecrübe
ṭarīḳiyleymiş vuḳūf yoġimiş.”
57
Ibid.,: “[…] Benüm üzerime lāzım oldu ki añā şefaḳat idüb tenbīh eyleyem … metāʿ-i dünyā
ḳalīldir biz bundan raḥīl üzerineyüz. İstiḫāre itdüm ḫayr şunda gördüm ki şākirdlerimden birini
gönderem vara añā māddesin taʿlīm eyleye.”
186
access to secrets.58

This letter clearly shows, inter alia, that Bāyezīd II’s preoccupation with different and

less-approved branches of mathematical-philosophical sciences like the science of the stars and

alchemy was duly noted by his contemporaries. As the phraselogy used by the anonymous

shaykh implies, Bāyezīd II invested his time and energy to scientifically study the secrets of the

heavens, which included not only the bookish learning but also the active observation and maybe

even empirical study.

As to such a culture of observation and experimentalism at the court of Bāyezīd II, a

Jewish émigré scholar close to the intellectual circles around the sultan provides captivating

details. At the turn of the sixteenth century, Moses Galeano, or Mūsā Jālīnūs, a Jewish émigré

physician and natural philosopher, who had devised a spring-wheeled robot and composed an

astronomical book while he was in Istanbul in the proximity of the sultan and Müʾeyyedzāde,

compiled a Hebrew-language compendium of knowledge entitled Taʿalumot Ḥoḫmah (Puzzles

of Wisdom). In this treatise, Galeano examines several errors and fallacies in the fields of

various branches of knowledge including medicine, astronomy, and mechanics, and relates first-

hand episodes about the courtly and scholarly culture around the sultan. Thanks to the

fascinating studies of Tzvi Langermann and Robert Morrison on Galeano and his Taʿalumot, we

know that in the presence of Bāyezīd II and his close companion Müʾeyyedzāde were performed

various types of experimental operations including alchemical ones.59

58
Ibid.,: “[şakird] benden gördüği mertebeye dek tedbīr eyleye. Ol mertebeye vāṣıl olıcaḳ bañā
iʿlām eyleye ben bir remz yazam ki kāşif ola ... tā ki ṭarḥ-i iksire ṣāliḥ ola.”
59
Tzvi Langermann, “From My Notebooks: A Compendium of Renaissance Science: Taʿalumot
Ḥokmah by Moses Galeano;” idem., “From My Notebooks: Medicine, Mechanics and Magic
from Moses ben Judah Galeano’s Taʿalumot Ḥoḵmah;” Robert Morrison, “An Astronomical
187
 As it is manifested through such variegated contemporary evidence, Bāyezīd II was

evidently interested in the cultivation of the celestial knowledge. His enthusiasm, however, was

not only limited to patronizing astral experts or supporting those individuals who presented him a

text or instrument. The anonymous Sufi shaykh, who complained in his petition about Bāyezīd

II’s immersing in the study of the heavens, was not wrong in his implications, as at around the

second half of the 1490s, Bāyezīd II called upon Mīrim Çelebi (d. 1525) to tutor him in the

quadrivium (al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya, i.e., mathematical sciences).

As the paternal great-grandson of Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī and the grandson on the maternal line

of ʿAlī Qūshjī, the two luminaries of the fifteenth-century mathematical-astronomical school of

Samarqand, Mīrim Çelebi was the most important astral expert in the Ottoman lands at the turn

of the sixteenth century.60 Although it is not certain when precisely Mīrim Çelebi was born, it

was likely in the early 1470s after ʿAlī Qūshjī settled in Istanbul. Thanks to his ancestral

prestige, as early as the late 1480s Mīrim Çelebi started to receive allowances as a member of the

zavāʾidḫorān class, peculiar to the sons of the prestigious ʿulamāʾ families.61 Ṭaşköprīzāde, who

himself became a student of Mīrim Çelebi and read at his feet ʿAlī Qūshjī’s treatise on hayʿa, al-

Risāla al-fatḥiyya, briefly mentions Mīrim’s own training, reporting that he became a student of

Treatise by Mūsā Jālīnūs alias Moses Galeano;” idem., “A Scholarly Intermediary between the
Ottoman Empire and Renaissance Europe.”
In one such episode, an alchemist received the attention of the sultan after promising him that he
can turn lead into gold. While the alchemist was conducting his operation, the rabbi Samuel
Abulafia, one of the chief Jewish refugees from Spain at Bāyezīd’s court, asked Galeano to pass
the sultan a note from Abulafia stating that the performance of the alchemist was a fraud. Upon
reading the rabbi’s note Bāyezīd finally perceived his trickery. The alchemist then took his own
life, drinking a lethal poison in the bathhouse. See: Langermann, “From My Notebooks,” 311-
314.
60
İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Mirim Çelebi,” TDVİA.
61
Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “Ayasofya Camii ve Eyüp Türbesinin 1489-1491 yıllarına ait Muhasebe
Bilançoları,” İÜ İktisat Fakültesi Mecmuası 23/1-2 (1962-3), 358.
188
leading mathematicians of the time including Ḫācezāde (d. 894/1489) and Sinān Paşa (d.

891/1486). Mīrim himself reveals in his commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables that he worked

with a certain Ḫāce Aṭāʾullāh (d. later than 1481), who was another Persian émigré scholar

practicing astral sciences in the Ottoman capital in the late fifteenth century.62

Upon completing his madrasa education, probably in the early 1490s, Mīrim started

teaching at several mid-to-high level madrasas in Bursa and Edirne. Around this time he was

called by Bāyezīd II to be his private tutor and instruct him in the al-ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya.63 The

reasons are rather obscure about why Bāyezīd II selected Mīrim Çelebi to be his private tutor in

ʿulūm al-riyāḍiyya while Mīrim was only an emerging scholar at the time, holding less

prestigious teaching offices, but his exceptional family background must have been influential

62
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2697. In this autograph copy of Dustūr al-ʿamal va taṣḥiḥ al-jadval, Mīrim
says (2a) that he was at the service of Mavlānā ʿAṭāʾullāh while his master was working on the
Ulugh Beg tables. Interestingly, this little detail about ʿAṭāʾullāh is not included in other
available copies of Mīrim’s own commentary of the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg: “[V]a ḥażrat-i marḥūmī
Khwāja ʿAṭāʾullāh dar ḥall-i ān sayʿ karda baʿż-i az aʿmāl-i ān rā bā mislihi muvażżaḥ
gardānīda būdand va az ʿajāyib-i ittifāqāt, rūzī īn kamīna dar khidmat-i ān marḥūm būdam va
īshān ʿamalī mī gardand, kamtarīn goftam ki agar īn kitāb rā badīn dustūr sharḥi tamām
navashta shavad dar ghāyat laṭāfat khāhad bovad.”
The copy of the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg used evidently by Mīrim is now housed at the Bodleain library
within a collection of nujūm works. On several folios of the copy does Mīrim have his own
marginalia, frequently adding his adjusted numerical values according to the latitude of Istanbul.
See Oxford Bodleain Marsh 396.
As for this Persian émigré scholar Ḫāce Aṭāʾullāh, who was likely from Kirmān in origin, there
is unfortunately not much information. Ṭaşköprīzāde describes him as an expert in the use of the
zījes and making taqwīms, though he does not provide any extra detail about his background and
affiliations. Ṭaşköprīzāde also says that he has seen Ḫāce Aṭāʾullāh’s works on astrolabe and
quadrant. See: Ṭaşköprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq al-nuʾmāniyya fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawlat al-ʿuthmāniyya,
135. During my research in the manuscript libraries of Istanbul and Europe, I was able to locate a
single treatise on quadrant, written by a certain Ḫāce ʿAṭāʾullāh. See: SK Darülmesnevi Ms. 345.
There is a colophon record on the last folio of the copy, yet the part where the date of
composition reads is unfortunately cut from the bottom of the folio. The remaining part still
allows us to establish the date of its composition as either the year 882 or 883. (1478 or 79).
63
Ṭaşköprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya, 198.
189
for his appointment as the royal tutor for instructing mathematical sciences.

During his long service at the court, Mīrim Çelebi not only instructed the sultan in the

mathematical sciences but also prepared almanac prognostications, composed textbooks on

astronomical instruments, probably gave astrological advice on the spot, and helped train new

generation of munajjims. As the catalogue of a certain Sotheby’s auction documents, Mīrim

Çelebi produced at the time almanac-prognostications, two of which apparently survived our

time, though they are now preserved in private collections unaccessible to researchers: one for

the year 900/1495 and the other for the year 904/1499.64 Although we are currently devoid of

extant Mīrim Çelebi taqwīms, that he composed at the time almanac prognostications is further

corroborated by a minor payment register from early sixteenth-century recording Mīrim Çelebi’s

name as the recipient of 1,000 aḳçes for a taqwīm he presented.65 In the year 904/1499, Bāyezīd

also asked him to write a commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables to clarify its ambiguous points. In

his dedication remarks of the text, which was more an expositional work on the concepts and

parameters mentioned in the original Ulugh Beg tables than a revision of celestial data based

upon fresh observations, Mīrim praises Bāyezīd II, among other ascriptions, as the most perfect

and enlightened of the Caesars of the world (akmal va aʿqal-i qayāṣira-i ʿālam), as powerful as

Alexander, who orders the affairs of the world in accordance with the rule of Farīdūn and the

precepts of Plato (dhulqarnayn-shavkatī ki ba-ḥukm-i farīdūnī va ḥikam-i Aflāṭūnī asbāb-i

64
Information is accessible at http://www.islamicmanuscripts.info/reference/books/Sothebys-
19941019/Sothebys-19941019-109-128.pdf
65
TSMA D. 9600. In the voluminious gift register covering the last decade of the reign of
Bāyezīd II is Mīrim listed for numerous times but interestingly enough, none of these occasions
are related to the presentation of an annual almanac-prognostication.
190
cihāngīrī sākht), and as the Messianic saviour of the end times (Mahdī-yi ākhir-zamān).66 He

repeats similar remarks in the epilogue (khātima) where he identifies Bāyezīd as the pādishāh of

the inhabited world and the prophesied world ruler (ṣāḥib-qirān).67 Similar titulature is used in

his works on astronomical instruments he composed in the first decade of the sixteenth century.

For instance, in his work on the uses of the sine quadrant, Mīrim expresses his gratitude toward

Bāyezīd II who is, as he puts it, the instrument for the prophesied world rule (vāsiṭa-i ʿaqd-i

ṣāḥib-qirānī) and the Messianic saviour in the end times (Mahdī l-raḥma fī ākhir al-zamān).68

Even though Mīrim does not elaborate in his works on the celestial grounds of the titles he

ascribes to Bāyezīd II, his resort to these concepts as a close companion of the ruler and a

prominent expert of astral sciences is quite telling as to the extent of the discussion on the

vocabulary of sovereignty in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century Ottoman realm.69

In view of the entries of the voluminous gift register covering the period 1503-1512,

Mīrim was one of the closest companions of the sultan. Bāyezīd II even sponsored his wedding

in 911/1505 and later gave Mīrim’s wife several items of clothing as a gift in the year

915/1510.70 Idrīs Bidlīsī, another important contemporary figure close to the courtly environment

66
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2697, 2b.
67
Ibid., 263b.
68
TSMK Hazine 1760, 40b.
69
See Christopher Markiewicz’s dissertation that thoroughly discusses the vocabulary of
sovereignty in the post-Timurid realm that found immediate reception in the late-fifteenth and
early-sixteenth century Ottoman political and intellectual context: Christopher Markiewicz, “The
Crisis of Rule in Late Medieval Islam: A Study of Idrīs Bidlīsī and Governance at the Turn of the
Sixteenth Century,” esp. 311-341.
70
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, 159: inʿām ba-Mawlānā Mīrim Çelebi barāy-i kharj-
i ʿurs-i khod fī 26 minhu (i.e., 26 CA 911/24 November 1505); Ibid.,368: ʿādat-i boġhcha-i
zavja-i Mīrim Çelebi fī 10 minhu (i.e. 10 Z 915/19 February 1510).
191
of Bāyezīd II, also acknowledges the great esteem in which sultan held for Mīrim.71 Further

evidence for Mīrim Çelebi’s proximity to Bāyezīd as a close courtier is the fact that during the

pro-Selīm rebellions of the Janissaries in the capital in late 1511, Mīrim was among those high-

ranking individuals who were targeted along with the chief military judge of the time

Müʾeyyedzāde (d. 1516), the chancellor Tācīzāde Caʿfer Çelebi (d. 1515), and the chief

physician Āhī Çelebi (d. 1524), on the grounds that they supported Bāyezīd’s favourite son

Aḥmed against Selīm.72

In addition to the taqwīms, the commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables, and the works on

astronomical instruments, Mīrim Çelebi composed at least two treatises on two specific fields of

astrology, namely elections (ikhtiyārāt) and interrogations (masāʾil). Although the colophons in

the available copies of these works do not help us establish the date of their composition, Mīrim

likely compiled them after the death of Bāyezīd II, as they do not include dedications to the

sultan. In fact, Mīrim’s astrological works are geared more towards practicing munajjims who

needed to advance their skills in the relevant techniques. In his work on interrogations (Taʾsīrāt

dar masāʾil), for instance, Mīrim handles all possible questions a client might ask a practicing

munajjim, ranging from matters related to travelling on board to the fate of purchased slaves. In

so doing, Mīrim shows his vast knowledge of the subject and frequently cites such names as

Vettius Valens (Vālis), Hermes Trismegistus, and Māshāʿallāh, as the major authorities on this

particular branch of astrological practice. Moreover, he encourages his readers to consult

71
Vural Genç, “Acem’den Rum’a: İdris-i Bidlisi’nin Hayatı, Tarihçiliği ve Heşt Behişt’in II.
Bāyezīd Kısmı (1481-1512),” 880: “bi-ṣoḥbat-i majlis-i humāyūn az sāʾir-i ʿulamāʿ mumtāz
ast.”
72
Çağatay Uluçay, “Yavuz Sultan Selim Nasıl Padişah Oldu II,” İÜ Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih
Dergisi 7/10 (1954), 117-142, especially 120-121.
192
authoritative texts in this discipline such as al-Qaṣrānī’s Kitāb al-masāʾil for further reading. He

also mentions astrolabes and quadrants as major tools in the practicing munajjim’s toolkit, and

argues that one of the most important reasons for inaccurate predictions on the part of munajjims

are defects in these instruments that impair their accuracy.73

Mīrim Çelebi is also important for having trained several students in this field of

knowledge some of which would later fill the professional cadre of court munajjims in the

sixteenth century Ottoman establisment. One of these students was ʿAlī, who made his debut in

drafting taqwīms in the year 912/1507.74 Unfortunately, the gift register does not provide any

other details besides his personal name. There is a certain Muṣṭafā b. ʿAlī al-muwaqqit (d.

979/1571) who is also considered a student of Mīrim Çelebi.75 According to Salim Aydüz and

İhsan Fazlıoğlu, Muṣṭafā b. ʿAlī al-muwaqqit held the office of chief munajjim in the second half

of Süleymān’s reign, though archival registers we have available from the period do not cite any

Muṣṭafā as a court munajjim at the time. No matter what his official status was, Muṣṭafā gained

prominence especially through his treatises on geography and instruments of timekeeping. He

also had close ties with the high-ranking statesmen of the time including Ībrahīm Paşa or Ayas

Paşa.76

73
SK Bağdatlı Vehbi Ms. 2005, 10a: “dar maʿrifat-i chīzīhā ki khaṭā dar masāʾil az ān jihat
vāqiʿ mī shavad va ān chahār ast avval khaṭā dar masāʾil bi-sabab-i khaṭā dar ālat ... chūn
usṭurlāb va rubʿ mī bāshad.”
74
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, 211.
75
İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Mustafa b. Ali el-Muvakkit”, TDVİA.
76
Pınar Emiralioğlu’s recent book also briefly discusses Muṣṭafā b. ʿAlī al-muwaqqit’s
geographical treatise entitled İʿlām el-ʿibād fī aʿlām el-bilād. See: Pınar Emiralioğlu,
Geographical Knowledge and Imperial Culture in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Farnham:
Ashgate, 2014), 80-82. For the edition of the text, see Yavuz Unat, “Mustafa İbn Ali el-Muvakkît
ve İ’lâm el-ʿİbâd fî Aʿlâm el-Bilâd (Şehirler Aleminde Mesafelerin Bildirimi) Adlı Risalesi,”
Electronic Journal of Oriental Studies VII/10 (2004), 1-48. Some other treatises of Muṣṭafā b.
193
 Another student of Mīrim, according to some contemporary biographers, was ʿÖzrī

Çelebi, who is recounted to have excelled as an expert in casting birth horoscopes. ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi

(d. 1571) states that ʿÖzrī learned the intricacies of astrological practice at the hands of Mīrim

Çelebi, but lost his life after Sultan Süleymān got enraged because of his displeasing astrological

predictions.77 As ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi narrates, ʿÖzrī composed his first and the only taqwīm while he

was the judge of Varna. He delivered it to the palace during the ongoing siege of Rhodes in

1522. In his taqwīm, which is unfortunately not extant today, ʿÖzrī allegedly predicted that the

island of Rhodes would eventually be conquered but the siege would be prolonged and cause the

loss of many soldiers. Embittered by the predictions in the taqwīm, Süleymān asked his retainers

to bring the author of the taqwīm into his presence. Upon hearing the sultan’s order, ʿÖzrī visited

one of his close friends, Muṣṭafā the geomancer, who, according to ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi, was also the

student of Mīrim Çelebi (ḫācedāşı ve fenn-i nücūmda pādāşı). They together interpreted ʿÖzrī’s

horoscope at the time and reached the conclusion that ʿÖzrī would die during his visit of the

palace. According to ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi’s anecdote, ʿÖzrī died exactly as foretold.78 While there are

ʿAlī al-muwaqqit on astronomical instruments have also been published in Turkey as MA theses.
See: S. Ertan Tağman, “Mustafa İbn Ali el-Muvakkit’in Usturlab Risalesi,” (MA Thesis, Ankara
University, 2007); Arzu Torun, “Muvakkıt Mustafa b. Ali Rûmî’nin Hall-i Daire-i Muaddil’i,”
(MA Thesis, Celal Bayar University, 2011).
77
Aşık Çelebi, Meşa’irü’ş-Şuara vol. 2, ed. Filiz Kılıç (İstanbul: Suna ve İnan Kıraç Vakfı,
2010), 1064.
78
Ibid.: “Mīrüm Çelebi-i merḥūma ḳarābet taḳarrübüyle ʿilm-i nücūma müştegil belki ol fende
bir üstād-ı kāmil imiş…Heyelāc ve mevlūd bilmekde māhir ve bir yıl pādişāha taḳvīm virmege
ḳādir imiş. Varna ḳāḍısı iken Rodos seferinde İstanbul’a varduḳda ber-mūcib-āyin-i ḳavīm-i
ḳadīm pādişāha ṣunar bir taḳvīm içinde ‘ḳalʿa fetḥ olur ammā zamān- i fetḥ inżimām-ı şuhūr ve
aʿvāmı iḳtiżā ider’ dir. Ḳalb-i pādişāhī münkesir olub ṣāḥib-i taḳvīm kimse gelüb ḥāżır olsun,
yazduğı aḥkāma cevābın virsün ve ille cezāsın bulsın buyururlar. Daʿvet olundıḳda kendi ṭāliʿine
reml idüb ḫācedāşı ve fenn-i nücūmda pādāşı olan Remmāl Muṣṭafā’ya varub ʿarż eyledi. Kendi
ve Remmāl Muṣṭafā ittifāḳ idüb ol seferde mevtin taṣrīḥ iderler ve ḫusūf-ı Ḳamer vāḳiʿ olduğı
gice fevt olacağın taḥḳīḳ ve taṣḥīḥ iderler. Fī’l-ḥaḳīḳa ol ʿaṣrda fevti öyle olub ol aḫşām ay
194
certain doubts about the actual truth-value of this anecdote, it unequivocally shows, by

highlighting Mīrim Çelebi as the master of bothʿÖzrī and his friend Muṣṭafā the geomancer, that

in the eyes of later sixteenth century Ottoman learned class, Mīrim Çelebi still remained as the

paramount expert of celestial knowledge.

As it is briefly mentioned before, another student of Mīrim Çelebi was Sultan Bāyezīd II.

It is difficult to determine with greater certainty how long Mīrim Çelebi tutored the sultan and

which books were involved in the study. One indication of the books Bāyezīd II likely studied

with Mīrim Çelebi is a group of surviving manuscripts in which are found special inscriptions

that curiously impute, in addition to the standard oval seal of the sultan, personal ownership of

the book to Bāyezīd II (ṣāḥibuhu al-sulṭān Bāyezīd b. Muḥammad khan, or sometimes min kutub

al-sulṭān Bāyezīd b. Muḥammad khan).

Works in astral lore comprise the overwhelming majority of surviving manuscripts that

bear attestation to Bāyezīd’s own personal ownership. Those books Bāyezīd II personally

possessed and possibly studied, either under the supervision of Mīrim Çelebi or on his own,

include:

i. Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s Sī Faṣl79,

ii. (Ṭūsī’s) Zīj-i Īlkhānī80

iii. (Ṭūsī’s) Ṭaḥrir al-Majisṭī81

iv. (Ṭūsī’s) Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa82,

ṭutıldı, kendi yatsudan ṣoñra intiḳāl idüb ṣabāḥ şühedā-yı Rodos’la medfūn ve genc-i nihān gibi
maḫzūn olur.”
79
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2474.
80
Bursa Türk ve İslam Eserleri Müzesi Ms. 11. I’m grateful to Zeren Tanındı for sharing the
information on this manuscript.
81
TSMK A. 3328.
195
 v. ʿAlī b. Aḥmad Balkhī’s (d. ?) astrological introduction in both the Arabic original

and a Persian rendition (Mukhtaṣar madkhal ilā ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm)83,

vi. The Third Epistle of Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ on the science of the stars84,

vii. An anonymous treatise on the uses of astrolabe (Risāla al-usṭurlāb al-musammā

bi’l-lubāb fī’n-nujūm)85,

viii. An introductory work in verse on astronomical/astrological calculation of time

(Kitāb yawāqit al-mawāqit min qibal al-nujūm)86,

ix. Marrākushī’s (fl. second half of the thirteenth century) summa on astronomical

instrumentation and computation of time (Jāmiʿ al-mabādīʾ wa’l-ghāyāt fī ʿilm al-

mīqāt)87,

x. A collection containing Qusṭā ibn Lūqā al-Baʿlabakkī’s (d. ca. 912-913) treatise

on the use of the celestial globe (Risāla fī’l-ʿamal bi’l-kura al-falakiyya) as well

as (pseudo-) Aristotle’s Risāla al-ghālib wa’l-maghlūb (The Victorious and the

82
TSMK A. 3317. For the critical edition and analysis of the Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa, see:
Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī’s Memoir on Astronomy = al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa, 2 vol., ed. Jamil
Ragep (New York: Springer-Verlag, 1993).
83
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2702.
84
TSMK A. 2128. For the recent critical edition of the risāla of Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ, see: On
Astronomia: An Arabic Critical Edition and English Translation of Epistle 3, ed. Jamil Ragep
and Taro Mimura (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).
85
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2618.
86
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2711.
87
TSMK A. 3343. For the facsimile edition of the text, see: Traité des instruments
astronomiques des Arabes composé au treizième siècle par Abū’l-Ḥasan ʿAlī al-Marrākūshī
(VII-XIII s.) intitulé Jāmiʿ al-mabādiʾ wa-l-ghāyāt, 2 vol., Frankfurt am Main : Institut für
Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften, 1998).

196
 Vanquished), a small treatise on a prognosticative technique employed to predict

the outcome of a battle, which was quite popular among taqwīm writers.88

Bāyezīd’s reading tastes and intellectual aspirations manifested through rich manuscript

evidence, archival documentation, and testimony of his contemporaries seem to have embraced

both the theoretical and practical iterations of the celestial knowledge including as well the

strictly astrological (aḥkām) ones. Apart from the books in his own possession that deal in

principle with astrological principles, a few surviving archival documents also attest to the fact

that Bāyezīd was quite eager to hear the astrological predictions of his munajjims. For example

the undated, anonymous petition delivered to Bāyezīd II, which I introduced in the first chapter

in the context of the discussion on the self-doubts of practicing munajjims, is a clear evidence of

the sultan’s eagerness to heed the astrological advice. The anonymous munajjim asks in Persian

for the sultan’s sympathy and forgiveness because, as he admits, he has recently failed to present

the sultan with a taqwīm.89 He also pleads with the sultan to reemploy him in his service, because

apparently he lost his position due to his recent neglificence in preparing taqwīms.90 As such, the

petition is a clear proof that Bāyezīd II inquired after, and waited impatiently for, the astrological

counseling of his munajjims. Since failing to produce the annual astrological predictions in a

timely manner potentially entailed a munajjim’s loss of position, Bāyezīd II must have given ears

88
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2432.
89
TSMA E. 10159/145: “dar īn ayyām muyassar na shud ki bi-istikhrāj-i taqvīm mashgūl
shavad.”
90
Ibid.: “az chand jihat yakī az ishtigāl bi-muṭālaʿa-i ṭibbiyya ammā māniʿ-i kullī ān ast ki īn
kamīna rā vaqt-i irtiḥāl nazdīk ast va ishtigāl bi-nujūmiyyāt siyammā bi-aḥkāmash mustalzim-i
qasāvat-i qalb ast … in kamīna rā ʿafv farmāyand va az rujūʿ-i khidmāt ki inshirāḥ-ı ṣadr va
tanavvur-i qalb bi-ān ast īn kamīna rā maḥrūm nagodhārand.”
197
to the astrological advice in the taqwīms.

III. 3. The Motives and Ramifications of Bāyezīd II’s Celestial Pursuits

What is the significance of Bāyezīd’s genuine and documented interest in different forms

and genres of celestial knowledge? What could we say about the reasons of his reliance on the

study of the heavens? How did his deliberate attempts to pursue and cultivate celestial

knowledge result in?

Bāyezīd II was definitely not the first, nor the last Muslim ruler, who showed a keen

interest in the production and use of celestial knowledge. As it is discussed in greater detail

above, the patronage of munajjims was one of the standard themes of court life in medieval and

early modern Eurasian context including the Islamicate and Ottoman world. The personal

interest of a ruler in learning the science itself is also not entirely unprecedented in the Islamicate

culture prior to Bāyezīd II. Aside from the examples in the Abbasid or Fatimid dynasties such as

al-Maʿmūn (r. 813-883) or al-Āmir bi-Aḥkāmillāh (r. 1101-1130), Hülegü Khan (r. 1256-1265),

for instance, was singled out for his avid interest in the study of the heavens. Writing in the

fourteenth century, Abū’l-Qāsim Kāshānī (d. ca. 1337) says that Hülegü, who initiated the

construction of an observatory in Maragha, “loved science (ḥikmat) and was infatuated with

astronomy (nujūm) and geometry (handasiyyāt).”91 The Rasulid rulers of Yemen were also quite

involved in studying the heavens. Al-Ashraf ʿUmar (r. 1295-6), for example, wrote at least two

treatises, one on the general principles of astrology (Kitāb al-tabṣira fī ʿilm al-nujūm) and

another on the use of astrolabes.92 The second work was written as an accompanying text to an

91
Quoted in Thomas Allsen’s Culture and Conquest in Mongol Eurasia (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2001), 162.
92
Schmidl, “Magic and Medicine in a 13th-century Treatise on the Science of the Stars.”
198
actual astrolabe which al-Ashraf ʿUmar constructed.93

The most famous of all the rulers in the Islamic history that showed a marked interest in

learning and cultivating celestial knowledge is obviously Ulugh Beg (d. 1449). He gathered

around his court in Samarqand a number of experts in mathematical and astral sciences from

diyār-ı Rūm and Īrān-zamīn such as Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī, Ghiyāth al-dīn Jamshīd al-Kāshī, and ʿAlī

Qūshjī, and utilized their efforts to run the celestial observations in the newly established

Samarqand observatory. Ulugh Beg is documented in contemporary sources not only as a patron

ruler but also as an active member of the scientific enterprises. In the letters of Ghiyāth al-dīn

Jamshīd al-Kāshī to his father or the extant ijāza given to Fatḥullāh Shirvānī (d. 1486) by his

master Qāḍīzāda-i Rūmī, Ulugh Beg is often pinpointed as an active participant of the classes on

mathematical/astronomical matters.94 Shirvānī’s ijāza even eulogizes Ulugh Beg as the

philosopher king (al-sulṭān al-faylasūf) of the time.95

We do not have conclusive evidence as to whether Bāyezīd II ever aspired to cast himself

as a philosopher-king and create a court reminiscent of Hülegü’s or Ulugh Beg’s, welcoming

experts of celestial knowledge from diverse regions. Yet this would not be surprising,

considering the admiration for the Persianate, and specifically the Timurid, legacy in certain

93
He ultimately received an ijāza from his teachers for making astrolabes skillfully. See Ibid.,
44.
94
Mohammad Bagheri, “A Newly Found Letter of al-Kāshī on Scientific Life in Samarqand,”
Historia Mathematica 24 (1997), 241-256; İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlı Felsefe-Biliminin Arka
Planı: Semerkand Matematik-Astronomi Okulu,” Divan İlmi Araştırmaları Dergisi 14 (2003), 1-
66.
95
Fazlıoğlu, “Osmanlı Felsefe-Biliminin Arka Planı: Semerkand Matematik-Astronomi Okulu,”
43.
199
areas of the cultural and intellectual life at the Ottoman court during the period in question.96

Following the footsteps of his father, by promoting the Ottoman capital as a real haven for the

systematic study of the heavens, Bāyezīd II aimed at reinforcing and publicizing the image of his

ruling personality as well as the Ottoman dynasty as the most generous, dominant, and exalted

power of the time. Indeed, Bāyezīd’s sustained efforts to cultivate the science of the stars neatly

complement his endeavors to commission the first dynastic histories of the Ottoman House. As

Halil İnalcık suggested long ago, Bāyezīd’s struggle with his brother Cem Sultan, which soon

turned into an international crisis with the involvement of major European actors, and the

competition in the east for political, ideological, and cultural supremacy against the Mamluks

and various political/religious dispensations of the post-Shāhrukh period required a new

evaluation of recent Ottoman achievements as well as Ottoman origins in line with the claims of

a universal Muslim empire.97 Next to the deployment of history writing and chancellery

production for influencing the public opinion, the expertise of the munajjims in giving political

96
More research is needed to picture more substantially the impact of the Timurid legacy upon
the various aspects of the Ottoman cultural and intellectual life. There are yet important studies
shedding some light on this research question. For a brief discussion of the scientific continuity
between the Samarqand astronomical tradition and the late-fifteenth century Ottoman realm, see
J. Michael Rogers, “Centralisation and Timurid Creativity,” Oriente Moderno 15/2 (1996), 533-
555, esp. 535-6. For other aspects of the intellectual and literary life, see Hanna Sohrewide,
“Dichter und Gelehrten aus dem Ostem im osmanischen Reich,” Der Islam 46 (1970), 263-302;
Eleazar Birnbaum, “The Ottomans and Chagatay Literature,” Central Asiatic Journal 20 (1976),
157-190; Michele Bernardini, “Ottoman ‘Timuridism’: Lāmiʿi Çelebi and his Şehrengiz of
Bursa,” in Irano-Turkic Cultural Contacts in the 11th-17th Centuries, ed. Éva M. Jeremiás
(Piliscsaba: The Avicenna Institute of Middle Eastern Studies, 2003), 1-16. For the artistic nature
of the continuity between Timurid and Ottoman cultures, see Gülru Necipoğlu, “From
International Timurid to Ottoman: A Change of Taste in Sixteenth-Century Ceramic Tiles,”
Muqarnas VII (1990), 136-170; Lale Uluç, “The Common Timurid Heritage of the Three
Capitals of Islamic Arts,” in Istanbul, Isfahan, Delhi. 3 Capitals of Islamic Art: Masterpieces
from the Louvre Collection, exhibition catalogue (Istanbul: Sabancı University Sakıp Sabancı
Museum, 2008), 39-53.
97
İnalcık, “The Rise of Ottoman Historiography”, 164.
200
and military guidance and in “scientifically” validating the otherwise hyberbolic ideological

claims might have mattered during this crucial transitional period of the Ottoman polity from a

relatively minor regional power to a dominant political player.

As part of these claims to legitimacy, the court of Bāyezīd seems to have welcomed, if

not fully adopted, experimentation with the messianic and esoteric discourse that would become

particularly popular in the first two decades of the reign of his grandson, Süleymān.98 The

astrological writings of Ottoman munajjims at the time, however, do not appear to be much

influenced by this discourse, with the exception of the works of Mīrim Çelebi, who at times

praises the sultan as the prophesied world conqueror and Messianic saviour of the end times. The

real source for the articulation of such claims is rather courtly and semi-courtly historical works,

exemplified by those of Idrīs Bidlīsī, Ibn Kemāl, and Firdevsī-i Ṭavīl.

Bidlīsī in his Hasht Bihisht singles out Bāyezīd as the messianic renewer (mujaddid) of

the era, for his “turn” coincides with the turn of the tenth Islamic century.99 He heavily resorts to

astrological references when celebrating Bāyezīd’s rule as the greatest one of his age. In eight

separate discourses Idrīs explains the underlying reasons of Bāyezīd’s distinguished status, and

in particularly the sixth discourse he goes into purely astrological details. For Idrīs, Bāyezīd was

the ideal ruler because in the eyes of the munajjims, Bāyezīd’s horoscope ––compared to the

98
On the role of messianic and apocalyptic discourse in Ottoman ideology during the first half of
the reign of Süleymān, see Cornell H. Fleischer, “The Lawgiver as Messiah: The Making of the
Imperial Image in the Reign of Süleyman,” in Soliman Le Magnifique et son temps, actes du
colloque de Paris. 7-10 Mars 1990, ed. Gilles Veinstein (Paris: La Documentation Française,
1992), 159-77; Ibid., “Shadow of Shadows: Prophecy and Poltics in 1530s Istanbul,”
International Journal of Turkish Studies 13/1-2 (2007), 51-62.
99
See Markiewicz’s discussion in his “The Crisis of Rule in Late Medieval Islam,” 378-9. Also
see Genç, “Acem’den Rum’a: İdris-i Bidlisi’nin Hayatı, Tarihçiliği ve Heşt Behişt’in II. Bayezid
Kısmı (1481-1512)”, 354-355.
201
horoscope of any other king–– is the supreme one in auspiciousness (ṭāliʿ-i humāyūn-i sulṭān bi-

ittifāq-i munajjimān saʿādatmandtarīn ṭāliʿhā-yi shāhān ast).100 Idrīs goes into further detail here

and points out the exact astrological parameters of Bāyezīd’s birth horoscope. According to Idrīs,

Venus rules the ascendant (ṭāliʿ) of the sultan, the planet that signifies the prophethood and

sacred law. Other important indications related to the twelve astrological houses also imply for

the sultan, as Idrīs maintains, nothing shorter than a steady state of health, strong natural

disposition, and perfect rule.101 As Idrīs concludes this section, all of these astrological

indications are the signs of Bāyezīd’s preeminence over other rulers in the world.102

Apart from Idrīs, Ibn Kemāl also quite frequently employs in his chronicle the term

sāḥib-qirān for designating Bāyezīd II, though he does not necessarily discuss the astrological

reasoning of this title.103 Most intriguing in this context is Firdevsī-i Ṭavīl’s Ḳuṭbnāme, which he

composed in 909/1503 as a lengthy history in verse of the recent Ottoman victory in Lesbos

against the Venetians. Although it is clear that Firdevsī was not among the favorite littérateurs of

Bāyezīd, partly due to his lack of necessary elite identity markers (he preferred to write in plain

Turkish), he exerted all his efforts from 893/1488 onwards to catch the attention of the sultan by

exploiting Bāyezīd’s interests and promoting his rule. His Ḳuṭbnāme was written with similar

intent and served to celebrate Bāyezīd’s recent achievements. The real significance of the text

100
SK Nuruosmaniye Ms. 3209, 497b, quoted in Markiewicz, “The Crisis of Rule in Late
Medieval Islam,” 379.
101
Ibid., 497b: “az kamāl-i intiẓām va quvvat-i mizāj bi-iʿtidāl va az imtidād-i ṣiḥḥat-i badan az
bidāyat-i ḥāl māʿlūm mī shavad ki burj va daraja va ṣāḥib-i ṭāliʿ ki bi-taʿayyun Zuhra-i masʿūd
ast ya dar ṭāliʿ ast ya bi-naẓar-i saʿādati-i lāmiʿ va vufūr-i taqvā va ʿiffat-i sulṭānī dalīl-i khosh-
ḥālī-i rabb-i ṭāliʿ ast charā ki kavkab-i nubuvvat va nāmūs-i nabavī Zuhra-i saʿīd ast va sitāra-i
ṣalāḥ va taqvā najm-i masʿūd-i Nāhīd ast…”
102
Ibid.: “va īn jumla dalāʾil istiʿlā va tafavvuq-i shān-i sulṭānĩ bar mulūk-i jihān va sabab-i
rujhān-i u bar khojasta-ṭāliʿān-i īn davrān.”
103
İbn Kemal, Tevarih-i Al-i Osman 8. Defter, ed. Ahmet Uğur, passim.
202
derives from Firdevsī’s heavy use of apocalyptic imagery with detailed references to

contemporary European powers. In the same vein of Idrīs and Ibn Kemāl, Firdevsī attempts to

cast Bāyezīd as the prophesied ruler of the age, the quṭb al-aqṭāb (pole of the poles) of the

time.104 The notion of the “red apple” (ḳızıl elma) that symbolizes the Ottoman millenarian desire

to conquer Rome is also frequently employed in the text.105

Ḳuṭbnāme was not the only textual evidence for the perpetuation of the millenarian “red

apple” discourse at the court of Bāyezīd II. In an anonymous dream report likely written by an

individual from the class of frontier ghāzī-dervishes, the author states that he saw the sultan

Bāyezīd in his dream, sitting next to Seyyid Gāzī, the legendary dervish warrior. Seyyid Gāzī

then apparently turned the author and said: “Behold, I have brought Sultan Bāyezīd ready for

your service. Let him conquer westwards unto the red apple and establish the dominion of

Islam.”106

As these last two examples suggest, the political ambitions and cultural aspirations at the

court of Bāyezīd II were not only shaped by the political, ideological, and cultural rivalry within

the Islamic world but also formed in relation to contemporary European powers. Although the

104
Kutb-nâme, ed. İbrahim Olgun and İsmet Parmaksızoğlu (Ankara: TTK, 1980), 29-30: “Bu
kiṭābıñ bil sebeb-i teʾlīfi ne, diyelüm nedür cihet taṣnīfine. Ḳuṭbu’l-aḳṭābı ḳılam saña beyān, tā
bilesün kimdürür ḳuṭb-ı ʿāyān. İşbu ʿaṣrıñ ḳuṭbı kimdür şerḥ idem, rastını idüb kizb aradan ṭarḥ
idem. Ḳuṭbsuz olmaz zamān añla yaḳın, ḳuṭba inkār itmegil gāyet saḳın … Bu zamānıñ ḳuṭbunu
añla cedīd, şāh sulṭān āl-i ʿOsmān Bāyezīd. Ḳuṭb-ı ʿālem pādişāhdır bī-gümān, vaṣfın işit tā gide
şekk ü gümān … Ḳuṭbu’l-aḳṭāb olmasaydı pādişāh, Lih ḳralı olmayaydı pes tebāh. Ḳuṭbu’l-aḳṭāb
olmasa Şeh Bāyezīd, düşmenān görmez idi ḳahr-ı şedīd. Ḳuṭb-ı Şāh emrinde olmasaydı bād,
ḳavm-i Efrenk olmaz idi tündbād. Ḳuṭb-ı Şāh emrinde olub deryā vü berḳ, ṣuda Efrenk oldı ḥarḳ
u daḫı garḳ. Ḳuṭbu’l-aḳṭāb olmayaydı Şehriyār, dileğince dönmez idi rüzgār…”
105
See especially pp. 75-77.
106
TSMA E. 10818, also quoted in Selahattin Tansel, “Yeni Vesikalar Karşısında Sultan İkinci
Bayezid Hakkında Bazı Mütalaalar”, Belleten 27/106 (1963), 208: “İşte sana Sulṭān Bāyezīdi
ḳoşduḳ. Al ilet gün bāṭısına ḳızıl elmaya değin fetḥ idüb İslām döşeğin döşesün.”
203
majority of scholarship on the reign of Bāyezīd II tends to portray his stance vis-à-vis the

political and cultural dynamics in Europe as anemic and idle, this was simply not the case.

Especially during the first two decades of his reign when the Cem Sultan affair became an

international crisis, Bāyezīd carefully engaged a busy network of spies and informants who

acquainted the sultan not just with the political issues but also likely with the cultural preferences

at major European courts.107 One of these courts was that of Mathias Corvinus (d. 1490) with

whom we know Bāyezīd had established close relations and exchanged numerous letters based

on the principles of “friendship and good neighborhood.”108 Although the content of these

frequent diplomatic correspondences between Bāyezīd and Mathias Corvinus, the ideal

Renaissance monarch of his time, are primarily slanted towards political and commercial issues,

it is likely that these communications also informed the newly enthroned Ottoman sultan about

Corvinus’s court culture, his patronage of astrologers, and the exemplary Biblioteca Corviniana,

which thus might have served to inspire his Ottoman counterpart to undertake similar pursuits.109

Apart from the ideological implications and political instrumentality of the royal

107
Halil İnalcık, “A Case Study in Renaissance Diplomacy: The Agreement between Innocent
VIII and Bāyezīd II on Djem Sultan,” Journal of Turkish Studies 3 (1979), 209-223.
108
Tayyib Gökbilgin, “Korvin Mathias (Mátyás)ın Bayezid II’ye mektupları ve 1503 (909)
Osmanlı-Macar muahedesinin Türkçe Metni/La traduction des letters de Korvin Mathias á
Bayezid II et le texte turc du traité Hungaro-Ottomans de 1503 (909),” Belleten 87 (1958), 369-
390; see also Güneş Işıksel, “Friendship and the Principle of Good Neighborhood between
Bayezid II and Matthias Corvinus,” in Matthias Corvinus und seine Zeit: Europa am Ubergang
vom Mittelalter zur Neuzeit zwischen Wien und Konstantinopel, ed. Christian Gastgeber et al.
(Vienna, Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2011), 33-36.
109
On Corvinus’s patronage of astrologers, see Jean-Patrice Boudet, Darin Hayton, “Mathias
Corvin, János Vitéz et l’Horoscope de Fondation de l’Université de Pozsony en 1467,” in De
Bibliotheca Corviniana. Mathias Corvin, les bibliothèques princières et l’origine de l’État
moderne, Actes du colloque international de Paris, 15-17 novembere 2007 (Budapest, 2009),
205-213; Hayton, “Martin Bylica at the Court of Matthias Corvinus: Astrology and Politics in
Renaissance Hungary,” Centaurus 49 (2007), 185-198.
204
patronage for munajjims, Bāyezīd II might have also deployed the expertise of celestial

knowledge for more tangible and mundane aspects of governance such as land and maritime

navigation. As briefly mentioned above, the technical know how of the experts of the science of

the stars included, besides astrological estimations and predictions, the use of instruments as well

as horological, latitudinal and longitudinal calculations. The current state of the literature on the

military and maritime history of the Ottoman house does not allow us to draw any firm

conclusions about the possibility of interplay between the simultaneous buildup of the navy and

the cultivation of the science of the stars at the court of Bāyezīd II.110 However, as studies on the

development of the Portuguese naval technology in the later fifteenth century have suggested, the

contemporary study of the heavens tallied with the advancement of the nautical sciences.111

Indeed, that the Ottoman sixteenth century produced figures like the admiral Seydī ʿAlī (d.

1562), who prolifically wrote on astronomical instruments and mathematical geography,

indicates that similar research into the mutual relationship between the science of the stars and

the art of navigation in the Ottoman context is a major desideratum.112

110
Bāyezīd II is also credited for his endeavors to reorganize the Ottoman navy and create a
stronger sea force with better technology. See Hans Joachim Kissing, “Betrachtungen über die
Flottenpolitik Sultan Bâjezîds II. (1481-1512), Saeculum 20 (1969), 35-43; Palmira Brummett,
Ottoman Seapower and Levantine Diplomacy in the Age of Discovery (Albany, State University
of New York, 1994), esp. 89-121.
111
Onesimo T. Almeida, “Science during the Portuguese Maritime Discoveries: A Telling Case
of Interaction between Experimenters and Theoreticians”, in Science in the Spanish and
Portuguese Empires, 1500-1800, ed. Daniela Bleichmar et al. (Stanford, Stanford University
Press, 2008), 78-92.
112
As briefly discussed in chapter two, Pīrī Reis’s use of the epithet munajjim for Christopher
Columbus neatly exemplifies the intimate connection between the seemingly two separate fields
of expertise, i.e., the science of the stars and the art of navigation. In fact, Seydī ʿAlī and his
oeuvre wait to be thoroughly studied from the perspective of the intersections among navigation,
astronomical instrumentation, and prognostication. In his Kitābu’l-muḥīt, for instance, Seydī ʿAlī
does not shy away from informing his readers (i.e., mübtedīler [young and inexperienced
205
 No matter what the exact motives of the sultan and his close companions including

primarily of Müʾeyyedẓāde and Mīrim Çelebi were for the documented astromania at his court,

the evident enthusiasm for the study of the heavens at his time paved the way into: i) the

systematization of the “office” of court munajjims that would routinize the recruitment of experts

and facilitiate the transmission of astrologically valid knowledge across subsequent generations

seafarers]) about i) the detrimental affects of the apperarance of certain stars (e.g. Şūkūr yıldızı),
ii) the main characteristics of the planets and the days they rule (e.g., “her sāʿatüñ ṣāḥibi ḳanḳı
kevkebdür maʿlūm idinüb ḳanḳı sāʿatde sefer olunmaḳ cāizdür ve ḳanḳı sāʿatde cāiz degüldür”),
or iii) the direction in which the rijāl al-ghayb would show up in certain days of each month
(e.g., “ḥażret-i Şeyḫ Muḥyīddīn-i ʿArabī … ricālü’l-gayb her ayuñ ḳanḳı günlerinde ne
cānibdedür taʿyīn itmişdür maʿlūm ola.”)
In his Mirʾātü’l-memālik, Seydī ʿAlī also narrates in detail that the Mughal ruler Humāyūn (r.
1530-40; 1555-6) asked him to spend the winter in his palace and teach him how to use zījes and
taqwīms as well as other astronomical instruments. See Mirʿâtü’l-memâlik: inceleme, metin,
indeks, ed. Mehmet Kiremit (Ankara: Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüksek Kurumu, 1999), 109-
110: “‘Bir yıl bāri bunda bizüm ile ol’ diyü ibrām idüb bu kemīne daḫı cevāb virüb ‘Saʿādetlü
pādişāhuñ emr-i şerīfi ile deryāya çıḳub küffār-ı ḫāk-sār ile cenk idüb ve ṭūfān ile diyār-ı Hind’e
düşüb benüm der-i devlete varmam lāzımdur ki küffār-ı ḫāk-sāruñ aḥvāli devletlü pādişāha
maʿlūm olub…’ didükde ‘Pādişāh ḥażretlerine elçi irsāl idüb senüñ ʿözrüñ ʿarż olsun’ diyü
buyurduḳlarında … envāʿ-ı tażarruʿ ve niyāz olınduḳda ruḫṣat ʿināyet olunub ‘Ammā üç ay
birişkāl yaʿnī bārān zamānıdur. Yollar ḳışdur. Gidilmek mümkin degüldür. Ol zamāna dek
tevaḳḳuf eyle ve ʿamel-i küsūf ve ḫusūfı zīce ve taḳvīm-i küllīye mürācaʿat ol demden usṭurlāb
ʿameli ile ṭarīḳin göster ve dāire-i muʿaddil risālesin taʿlīm eyle. Eger üç aydan evvel olursa
daḫı ruḫṣatdur’ diyü ʿahd ü amān idüb bi’ż-żarūrī tevaḳḳuf olınup gitmekden meʿyūs
olub….ammā ne gicemüz gice ve gündüzimüz gündüz, aṣlā rāḥat yüzin görmeyüb āḫir pādişāha
zikr olan risāle min evvelihi ilā āḫirihi taʿlīm olınub ve ʿamel-i küsūf ve ḫusūfı usṭurlāb ʿameli ile
gösterilüb …”
As Seydī ʿAlī’s remarks demonstrate, seafarers often appealed to the technical texts on the uses
of astronomical instruments, calendar conversion, or general astrological principles. One curious
marginal note in a surviving mecmūʿa of astrological and astronomical texts, now housed at the
BnF, conveys the invocation of an anoymous seafarer, who supplicates for God’s help on behalf
of his fellow sea ghazis. See BnF Turc Ms. 186, 7a-7b: “[D]uʿā idelüm...ricālü’l-gayb
himmetleri ve şefāʿatleri üzerümüze ve üzerünüze ḥāẓīr [sic] ve nāẓīr [sic] olmaklığıçün ...
kāfirde esīr olan müselmānlar ḥaḳḳ sübḥānehu ve teʿālā ḥalāṣlīḳ [sic] alıvirmekliğiçün, seferimiz
daḫi mübārek olub gāzīlerümüz ganīme müstagraḳ doyum olmaklığıçün ve ḥaḳḳ sübḥānehu ve
teʿālā ganīmetler virub āsānlık ile vaṭanlarına īsāl idüvirmekliğiçün .... ve ḥaḳḳ sübḥānehu ve
teʿālā gemiciğimizi belā ve ḥaṭādan ṣaḳlıyüvirmekliğiçün ve küffār-ı ḫāksār-ı bed-fiʿāl[i] ḥaḳḳ
sübḥānehu ve teʿālā münhezim idüb ...”
206
of munajjims, and ii) the appropriation and further canonization in the Ottoman world of the

post-thirteenth century Persian astral tradition that would shape the scientific contours of the

practitioners.

As regards to the formation of the office of the court munajjims, we lack substantial

evidence to illuminate the exact historical context of the transition from ad hoc functionaries to

permanent office-holders, but as mentioned before, the earliest archival registers at hand

document that during the early years of the reign of Bāyezīd II, the number of munajjims

receiving regular salaries from the court significantly increased from one to six. Moreover, based

upon the same archival registers, the status of munajjims within the nascent court bureaucracy

also changed. Whereas at the end of Meḥmed II’s reign the only munajjim listed in the paybook

was recorded within the miscellaneous mutafarriqa corpus, from the time of Bāyezīd II onwards

court munajjims started to be listed among other monthy-salaried palace personnel

(müşāhereḫorān) next to the physicians, chancelleries, or artisans (ehl-i ḥiref). Not but not least,

compared to the reigns of his predecessor and successors, Bāyezīd II’s time was the period

during which the amount of salaries court munajjims received were at the highest level.

The courtly interest in the services of munajjims maintained during the time of Selīm (r.

1512-1520). As far as the contemporary archival and manuscript evidence is concerned, Selīm

was not much shorter than his father when affinity toward celestial expertise is in question. At

his princely court in Trabzon, for instance, he had one particular munajjim, who used to receive

800 aḳçes for his annual presentations of almanac-prognostications.113 He also seems to have

retained, upon his enthronment in the capital in 1512, the munajjims active at the court of

113
TSMA 10184. Unfortunately, the document does not reveal his name, thus we are not in a
position to detect whether this particular munajjim accompanied Selīm in his move to Istanbul.
207
Bāyezīd II.114 Contemporary narrative sources also allude to Selīm’s taking the expertise in

celestial matters quite serious. For example Ḥakīm Shāh Muḥammad Qazvīnī (d. later than

1523), who emigrated from the western Iran to the Ottoman lands in the early sixteenth century

and served Selīm I in the capacity of court physician, goes on to say in his Persian translation-

cum-addendum of ʿAlī Shīr Navāʿī’s Majālis al-nafāʾis that Selīm inherited from his father the

interest in the mathematical sciences (ʿilm-i riyāżī).115 Another contemporary source, Keşfī

Meḥmed Çelebi’s (d. 1525) Selīmnāme, vividly illustrates how Selīm was moved by the advice

of the munajjims. According to the eyewitness account of Keşfī Meḥmed Çelebi, Selīm was

eager to initiate a campaign against the island of Rhodes, but after hearing – or maybe reading –

the words of munajjims who reached a consensus in their taqwīms that the beginning and the

middle of the year would be extremely inauspicious, he decided to abandon his campaign plan.116

As for the reign of Süleymān, one would have expected a better documented courtly

interest in astrological matters given the increased use of messianic discourse in the articulation

of his ideological/imperial claims, the frequent circulation in his palace of key texts of

apocalyptic prognostications including ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī’s Miftāḥ al-Jifr al-Jāmiʿ, or

the close proximity of a particular geomancer (remmāl) to the sultan.117 However, as already

114
TSMA D. 9706; TSMA D. 10141.
115
Ḥakīm Shāh Muḥammad Qazvīnī, Tazkirah-i majālis al-nafāʾis, ed. ʿAlī Aṣghar Ḥikmat
(Tehran: Kitābfurūshī-i Manūchihrī, 1363), 360: “fażāʾil-i ʿilmī-i ū an ki dar ʿilm-i riyāżī ki misl-
i salṭanat-i mīrāsī-i ū ast māhir būd.” It is worth noting here the Qazvīnī’s emphasis upon
Selīm’s adoption of the legacy of Bāyezīd II in the cultivation of astral interests.
116
SK Esad Efendi Ms. 2147, 133b: “ve hem ehl-i nücūm-ı müttefiḳün ʿaleyh bu yılıñ evāīli ve
evāsıṭı gāyetde şūm ve nihāyetde mezmūmdur diyü taḳvīmlerinde taḥrīr … ḳıldılar. Ol sebebden
sefer emri teʾḫīr buyuruldı.” More discussion and the paralel reading of the original taqwīm from
the year in question will follow in Chapter 4.
117
On the role of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Bisṭāmī on the formation and articulation of Ottoman
dynastic claims in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century, see: Cornell H. Fleischer,
208
mentioned in the first chapter, despite several overlapping points between the expertise of a

munajjim and other types of diviners such as an adept practitioner of the science of letters (ʿilm

al-ḥurūf) and/or a geomancer, the technical mathematical details of the learned astrological

practice were often disregarded in non-astrological divinatory texts. As Ottavia Niccoli’s work

on the role of prophetic texts in Renaissance Italy has persuasively demonstrated, such

mathematical precision and taxing calculations to determine celestial positions at a particular

time for a specific location might have sounded too complex and less prophetic for many a

contemporaries.118 It is true that these kinds of texts, like the astrological ones, almost always

relied upon the assumed causality between heavenly forces and terrestrial occurrences.

Nevertheless, none of the experts of the science of letters or geomancy were willing or capable

(or sometimes both) to practice the learned forms of mathematical astrology. In fact, as

manifested in remmāl Ḥaydar’s surviving treatises and specific reports where he details the

application of the science of geomancy, the complicated mathematical calculations of horoscopes

or any other celestial position play little to no role.119 In that regard, at the current stage of

modern literature and available sources, we can argue that during the time of Süleymān,

especially in the first half of his reign, the interest in the study of heavens was rather shifted from

the more learned practice of mathematical astrology to the lettrist interpretation of the celestial

“Ancient Wisdom and New Sciences: Prophecies at the Ottoman Court in the Fifteenth and Early
Sixteenth Centuries,” in Falnama: The Book of Omens, ed. by Massumeh Farhad and Serpil
Bağcı (Washington: Smithsonian Institution, 2009), 231-245. On the life and importance of
Haydar the geomancer, see Fleischer, “Seer to the Sultan: Haydar-i Remmal and Sultan
Süleyman,” in Cultural Horizons. A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman vol. 1 (New York:
Syracuse University Press, 2001), 290–300.
118
Ottavia Niccoli, Prophecy and People in Renaissance Italy. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton
University Press, 1990), 194.
119
See for instance SK Laleli Ms. 1532, 45b-108b; TSMK Hazine Ms. 1697; TSMA E. 1698.
209
knowledge, which does not much require the precise observations and/or calculations. One could

even corroborate this shift by tracking the gradual decrease in the number of court munajjims

during the long reign of Süleymān. While the number of monthly-salaried court munajjims was

four in the first few years of Süleymān, it first dropped to three in the early 1530s before it was

ultimately reduced to two in the late 1540s.120

Notwithstanding the gradual decrease in the number of court munajjims put on the palace

payroll and the concomitant decline in the amount of the production of astrologically valid

knowledge, the idea of a permanent “office” of court munajjims helped practicing astral experts

in two major ways. Firstly, it secured a relatively stable financial means, though by the mid-

sixteenth century, it was not very lucrative, much to the chagrin of some contemporary

practitioners. Secondly, and more importantly, it provided a sort of “membership card” through

which affiliated ones enjoyed easier access to the books and instruments available in the palace

treasury. As we have already seen in the second chapter, one of the court munajjims asked

Bāyezīd II to gain access to some of the items in the treasury (khizāne) including the Ulugh Beg

tables, the commentary of Naṣīr al-dīn Ṭūsī on Ptolemy’s Almagest, the horoscope of the sultan

(ṭāliʿ-i ḥażret-i ʿālem-penāhī) and an astrolabe.121Another archival register prepared on 10

Shaʿbān 910/January 16, 1505 lists for example all the items available at the time in the inner

treasury (ḫazīne-i Enderūn). Among these listed items are there numerous quadrants (rubʿ

dāʿire), several celestial globes (heyʿet topu), at least sixteen astrolabes preserved in velvet cases

120
BOA MAD 7118. Ḥaydar-ı remmāl’s reports and writings in the 1550s also reveal that,
compared to the 1520s and early 1530s, the prophetic ambitions and use of prognosticative
methods no longer played an important role at the time. See: Cornell H. Fleischer, “Shadow of
Shadows: Prophect and Politics in 1530s Istanbul,” International Journal of Turkish Studies
13/1-2 (2007), 61.
121
TSMA E. 10159/6.
210
(on altı büyük ve küçük ḳadīfe gılāf içinde suṭurlāb), one European clock (Frengī sāʿat), and

other sorts of astronomical instruments (ālet-i rücūʾ-i kevākib).122 Given the higher costs of

owning such astronomical instruments, the status of court munajjim must have mitigated the

problems of accessibility.

Although it is not possible to speak of a physical space in the palace specifically designated

for the court munajjims, bearing the rank of “court munajjim” and being listed in the bureaucratic

records along with other colleagues might have also promoted the group ethos as much as it

provoked professional rivalries. As exemplified further below, many a times members of the

“office” were tied to one another through family bonds and/or master-apprenticeship relations.

This must have facilitated and even routinized the transmission of the required knowledge to

subsequent generations of court munajjims.

In terms of the recruitment of adept munajjims, especially in the earlier phases of the

functioning of the “office” by the late fifteenth century, the émigré scholars coming from the

Persianate East seem to have had a decisive role. Despite the valuable contributions of Hanna

Sohrweide or Tofigh Heiderzadeh on the Persian émigré scholars and litterateurs in the Ottoman

world in the fifteenth and sixteenth century, we are still far from establishing their identities and

appreciating their role on the cultivation of cultural and intellectual life in the Ottoman realm.123

Who was Mevlānā Kūçek Yezdānbaḫş for instance? Where did he come from? To what extent

122
TSMA 10026.
123
Hanna Sohrewide, “Dichter und Gelehrten aus dem Ostem im osmanischen Reich,” Der Islam
46 (1970), 263-302; Tofigh Heiderzadeh, “Patronage, Networks and Migration: Turco-Persian
Scholarly Exchanges in the 15th, 16th and 17th Centuries,” Archives internationales d’histoire des
sciences v. 55 n. 155 (2005), 419-434. See also Giv Nassiri’s study on the migration of scholars
in tthe Turco-Persian realm prior to the fifteenth century: “Turco-Persian Civilization and the
Role of Scholars’ Travel and Migration in its Elaboration and Continuity.” (Ph.D. Dissertation,
University of California, Berkeley, 2002).
211
was he related to Mawlānā ʿAṭaʾullāh, who apparently came to Istanbul from Kirman around the

same time? Who constituted those two hundred people that allegedly accompanied ʿAlī Qūshjī in

his recounted arrival in early-1470s Istanbul?124 What kind of books and instruments did they

bring? How did they interact with local scholars and young aspirants of celestial knowledge?

In the current state of scholarship, it is difficult to provide substantial answers to each and

every one of these questions. Nonetheless, available manuscript and archival sources suggest that

the late-fifteenth century is a vibrant period in terms of the circulation of scholars and

intellectuals between the lands of Irān and Rūm. It is true that the history of intellectual

exchanges and movement of scholars between these regions could easily be traced back to the

thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Yet, the power struggle in the post-Shāhrukh political context

of the late fifteenth-century Iran particularly encouraged an influx of scholars into Ottoman

domains (as well as the Indian subcontinent) even as the generous patronage policies of Meḥmed

II and Bāyezīd II to establish the Ottoman dynasty as a legitimate power offered the intellectual

émigrés incentives for migration. Before the gradual territorial and confessional consolidation of

the Ottoman and Safavid Empires in the course of the sixteenth century, political instability and

confessional ambiguity facilitated the high circulation of scholars from Central Asia and Iran to

Ottoman lands in Anatolia and the Balkans. As part of this wave, several Persian émigré scholars

that had the expertise in different forms and genres of celestial knowledge ended up in the

Ottoman lands, whereas various would-be munajjims in the Ottoman lands who were looking

forward to advancing their knowledge in astral sciences went to Iran-zamīn. It is in order now to

share the personal stories of some of the active munajjims in the Ottoman realm in the late

124
For the story of two hundred people accompanying ʿAlī Qūshjī during his travel to Istanbul,
see Süheyl Ünver, Ali Kuşçi hayatı ve eserleri, 17.
212
fifteenth and first half of the sixteenth century. The manuscript and archival evidence on these

select names, albeit limited, will help us better substantiate the already raised points as regards to

the social history of munajjims and the appropriation of the Persian astral tradition in the

Ottoman world.

III. 4. Individual Stories of Select Munajjims

Unlike contemporary European context in which different stages of the careers of

astrologers could easily be reconstructed in light of substantial and diversified source base, it is

quite difficult to hear the voices of practicing munajjims in the fifteenth and sixteenth century

Ottoman realm. Not only the contemporary biographical dictionaries of scholars and/or poets

often remain silent about them. In the surviving astrological and other related materials of

Ottoman munajjims themselves, they reveal too little valuable information about their own lives

and careers, their training and scholarly networks, the patrons they served, their success and

failures as well personal resentments.

One exception is the story of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān munajjim, which presents us an invaluable

case to bear witness to the making and breaking of a career of an Ottoman natural philosopher-

cum-astrologer by the turn of the sixteenth century. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān also supplies the only

detailed autobiographical narrative of a practicing munajjim at the time that provides further

glimpses of evidence into different aspects of a munajjim’s life, from his training and initiation

into courtly service to the gradual shift of his scientific preoccupations as a response to the

213
changing priorities of his patron.125

In his medical treatise that he composed in Arabic and presented in February 1502 to

Şehzāde Aḥmed (d. 1513), the living eldest son of Bāyezīd II settled in Amasya, ʿAbd al-

Raḥmān mentions his training in varying branches of natural philosophy and mathematical

sciences, and illustrates his wavering relationship with his major patron, Şehzāde Aḥmed.

According to this short autobiographical narrative that he placed in the introduction of the text,

he started studying the science of the stars (ʿilm al-nujūm) under Mevlānā Kūçek Yezdānbaḫş,

whom we have already seen as the only court munajjim listed in the detailed register of payments

from the later years of Meḥmed II’s reign and as the composer of the Zīj-i mujmal that he

presented to prince Bāyezīd II in Amasya around the year 1477. Unfortunately ʿAbd al-Raḥmān

does not reveal here in which city and under what circumstances this training took place. He

further mentions that having completed his initial training in the science of the stars with the only

recorded court munajjim of the time, he studied medicine for about ten years at the feet of Ḥakīm

İṣsḥaḳ, whom he introduces as the Hippocrates of the day, Socrates of the time, Galen of the age,

and Ibn Sīnā of the era.126

125
The Mücerrebāt of Muṣṭafā Zekī, one of the chief court munajjims in the eighteenth century,
provides us with suprising autobiographical details about his life. Apparently he started his
service in the office first as a petty scribe (erḳām kātibi) putting the abjad numerals into the
taqwīms. Since the date of this text’s composition falls into much later periods than covered in
this dissertation, I did not use it here. See: SK İzmir Ms. 485.
126
SK Ayasofya Ms. 3635, 2a-2b: “qad kāna mushtagilan bi-‘ilm al-nujūm wa ta’allama min
[al-]ustad al-kāmil al-munajjim Yazdānbakhsh al-mushtahir bi-Kūchak wa baʿdahu ḥaṣṣala ‘ilm
al-ṭibb ‘ashra sana wa qaraʿa kutub al-ṭibb min aʿẓam al-ḥukamāʾ wa akmal al-fuḍalāʾ wa
Buqrāṭ al-waqt wa Suqrāṭ al-ʿahd wa Jālinūs al-zamān wa Abū ʿAlī al-dawrān wa-al-ḥakīm al-
fāḍil wa al-ṭabīb al-ḥādhiq al-makhṣūṣ bi-ʿināyat al-khallāq Khwāja Ḥakīm Isḥaq,”
Ṭaşköprīzāde briefly mentions this Ḥakīm Isḥaḳ and says that he was a physician with Christian
origins, who studied with the famed Mollā Luṭfī philosophical sciences (al-ʿulūm al-ḥikamiyya).
He later converted to Islam and abandoned his earlier interests in philosophy and medicine
214
 Later begins his relationship with Şehzāde Aḥmed who took notice of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān

and recommended that he go to the Iranian lands (vilāyat al-ʿAjam) to advance his knowledge in

the science of the stars. Following his patron’s advice, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān went to Iran and studied

under a certain Sayyid Niʿmatullāh Shirāzī, whom he describes as the exemplary model of the

philosophers, the chief of the munajjims (sayyid al-munajjimīn), Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī of the time,

and Ptolemy of the age.127 Upon improving his expertise in this science at the hands of

Niʿmatullāh Shirāzī and getting to grasp its secrets, he returned the princely court of Şehzāde

Aḥmed in Amasya, probably in the late 1490s, and started serving him as a munajjim in the

lower echelons of Aḥmed’s court bureaucracy. However, as he puts it forward, he waited

impatiently for five years to receive a promotion, as he thought he deserved a better position with

generous allowances due to his prominence in the science of the stars. Nonetheless, he realized

that Şehzāde Aḥmed’s attention began to shift at the time from the science of the stars toward

medicine. According to ʿAbd al-Raḥmān, the prince started to treat physicians more generously

no matter how ignorant they were regarding medical issues.128 That is the reason, as ʿAbd al-

(thumma taraka al-ṭibb wa-l-ḥikma wa ishtaghala bi-taṣānīf al-imām al-Ghazālī…” See

Ṭaşköprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq al-Nuʿmāniyya fī ʿUlamāʾ al-Dawlat al-ʿUthmāniyya, 321.
127
Ibid., 2b-3a: “fa-ʿazama imtithālan bi-amr al-ʿāliyya ilā diyār al-ʿAjam ḥattā waṣala li-ajnāb
ustād al-kāmil wa al-fāḍil qidwat al-muḥaqqiqīn wa sayyid al-munajjimīn Khwāja naṣīr al-
zamān wa Baṭlamyūs al-dawrān Sayyid Niʿmatullāh al-Shīrāzī.”
Although I have had recourse to Reza Pourjavady’s important study on the lives of the
philosophers in Shiraz at the turn of the sixteenth century and also looked at Shiraz-based
biographical dictionaries, I have not been able to come across any information on Niʿmatullāh
Shirāzī. See Reza Pourjavady, Philosophy in Early Safavid Iran. Najm al-Dīn Maḥmūd al-
Nayrīzī and His Writings (Leiden: Brill, 2011); Mīr Taqī al-Dīn Kāshānī, Khulāṣat al-Ashʿār va
Zubdat al-Afkār: bakhsh-i Shīrāz va navāhī-i ān (Tihrān: Markaz-i Pizhūhishī-i Mīrās-i Maktūb,
2013).
128
SK Ayasofya Ms. 3635, 3a-4a: “thumma jāʾa ilā janāb ʿatabaihi al-āliyya … wa tawaqqafa
ṣābiran khamsa sinīn wa qad kāna yarjū an yataraqqī bi-sabab ʿilm al-nujūm ilā martabaihi al-
aʿlī … wa lam yatayassar fa-rāya raghbat al-Sulṭān akthar min ʿilm al-nujūm ilā ʿilm al-ṭibb li-
215
Raḥmān says, why he decided to compose a medical treatise on the basis of primarily the Kitāb

al-Qānūn fī al-Ṭibb of Ibn Sīnā’ and the Kitāb al-Mūʾjaz al-Qānūn of Ibn al-Nafīs (d. 1288).

Thereby he could remind the prince of his wide expertise in the natural philosophical sciences

and show him that he deserved a higher status in the courtly hierarchy.

It is highly unlikely that ʿAbd al-Raḥmān found what he was hoping for when he

presented his derivative medical treatise to the prince. No later than a year, he presented the same

treatise to Bāyezīd II by removing the autobiographical remarks and changing the contents of his

dedication.129 Yet he still seems to have continued his astrological production at the princely

court of Aḥmed, as we have available a surviving copy of a Persian taqwīm that he presented to

the prince in March 1510. In the detailed register of gifts and payments covering the last decade

of Bāyezīd II’s reign, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān is also specifically recorded as the munajjim of Şehzāde

Aḥmed. According to the single reference to him in the register, he received 1,500 aḳçes on

August 12, 1509 for an unspecified occasion.130

Did ʿAbd al-Raḥmān ever attempt to become one of the court munajjims of Bāyezīd II? If

not, why did he not strive for attaining a more lucrative and permanent office? If yes, what were

annahu qad kāna yaltafit ilā al-ashkhāṣ allatī yaʿishūn ṭabīban wa lam yaʿrifū shayʾan min ʿilm
al-ṭibb fa-li-dhalika jamʿa al-faqīr jawāhir kulliyāt kitāb al-Qānūn wa’ntakhaba khulāṣat matn
al-Mūʾjaz wa’khtāra zubdat sharḥ al-Mūʾjaz al-musammā bi-al-Sadīdī wa sammā hadha’l-risāla
Jawhar ḥifẓ al-ṣiḥḥa wa ʿilāj al-maraḍ li-muṭālaʿa al-sulṭān al-aʿẓam wa al-khāqān al-
muʿaẓẓam, mālik riqāb al-umam, mawlā mulūk al-Rūm wa al-ʿArab wa al-ʿAjam wa maẓhar al-
luṭf wa al-iḥsān, kāsir al-bughy wa al-ʿudwān, nāshir al-ʿadl wa’l-anʿām, ẓillullāh fī’l-arḍayn,
qahramān al-māʾ wa’ṭ-ṭīyn wa sharaf al-islām wa al-muslimīn wa murabbī-i ṣāḥib-i kamāl-i
fāḍil, rukn al-dawla wa qiwām al-milla wa al-dīn ….al-sulṭān al-aʿdal al-afḥam wa ṣāḥib-qirān
al-aʿẓam al-sulṭān ibn al-sulṭān al-Sulṭān Aḥmed Khān…”
129
TSMK A. 2010. The copy is marked with the idiosyncratic seal of Bāyezīd II and listed in
ʿĀṭūfī’s catalogue.
130
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, 340: “inʿām be-mezkūrīn fī 25 Rebīyü’l-āḫir sene
915: ʿAbd al-raḥmān, müneccim-i sulṭān Aḥmed, 1500 [aḳçe].”
216
the reasons that hampered him from attaining his desire? Was there any set of criteria duly

followed in the recruitment of munajjims for the imperial service? What could we say about the

professional rivalries among practicing munajjims, or between munajjims and other experts at the

court such as physicians or diviners? What are the reasons that helped certain munajjims attain

promotion while caused others fall from grace? Based upon the nature of often-anonymous

astrological sources and a few archival documents from the period, it is not easy to fully

reconstruct the dynamics underlying the initiation of munajjims into courtly service and their

subsequent relations with the patrons as well as rivals. By reading between the lines, however, is

possible to provide partial answers.

Around the time ʿAbd al-Raḥmān was about to leave the lands of Rūm to further

specialize in celestial pursuits in the Iranian lands, an émigré astral expert originally from the

Gilan region in Iran arrived in Amasya and approached prince Bāyezīd, who was at the time the

governor of the region. The full name of this expert is Ḥusām b. Shams al-Dīn al-Lāhijānī al-

Gīlānī but often autographs his works with the name Khiṭābī munajjim al-Ḥusaynī.131 Khiṭābī

has yet to become a subject of an in depth study and the references to his life in the available bio-

bibliographical sources along with few other modern studies are rather discordant. Some of these

studies assert, as his name suggests, that Khiṭābī was the son of Shams al-Dīn al-Lāhījī (d.

131
In the copies of his works that I have examined, he always writes his name without using a
shadda, though he often puts shadda for other words where it is necessary. Hence, his
pseudonym should be Khiṭābī, not Khaṭṭābī as suggested by Osmanlı Astronomi Literatürü
Tarihi/History of Astronomy Literature during the Ottoman Empire. There is yet further
confusion among other studies such as that of Franz Babinger who thinks the author’s name is
Khitāyī. This last proposition could not be true, as Khiṭābī explicitly says in the chronology
section of his extant taqwīm for the year 895 that the calculation of the “munajjimān-ı Khiṭāy” as
to the age of the universe is different from the calculation of the “munajjimān-ı mā” by which he
refers to the munajjims from the Irān-zamīn.
217
1506?), the renowned disciple of Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh and the famous commentator of

Shabistarī’s (d. 1340) Gulshan-i Rāz.132 The appeal to astronomical and astrological principles

within the Nūrbakhshī circles, exemplified particularly in the Risālat al-Hudā of Muḥammad

Nūrbakhsh, may lead us to think that Khiṭābī could really be the son of Shams al-Dīn al-Lāhijī

al-Nūrbakhshī.133 Yet we do not have decisive evidence neither in Shams al-Dīn al-Lāhījī’s own

writings including his collection of poems nor in the studies that briefly mention his life.134 The

major bio-bibliographical source on the history of Ottoman astronomy lists a mid-fifteenth

century copy of Ṭūsī’s commentary on Kitāb al-thamara, as written by Shams al-Dīn al-

Lāhījī.135 Nonetheless this promising piece of evidence does not turn out to be true, as the

colophon of the original manuscript clearly reads that the copy was drafted in the year 854/1450

by someone named Ismaʿīl b. Yūsuf Lāhījī.136 Curiously, the relevant bio-bibliographical source

also gives the full name of Khiṭābī as Dallākzāde al-Khiṭābī al-Lāhijānī al-munajjim al-Gilānī by

referring to Ṭaşköprīzāde, who mentions a certain khaṭīb (preacher) named Mawlānā Ḥusām and

known as Dallākzāde. However, as Ṭaşköprīzāde’s related entry describes the person in question

as an expert in Quranic recication without any reference to his astral pursuits, it is highly

unlikely that Dallākzāde in Ṭaşköprīzāde’s biographical dictionary was the same person as

132
OALT, v.1, ed. Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu (Istanbul: Ircica, 1997), 63-4.
133
In the justification of his claim to be the Mahdī, Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh refers to the
astronomical premises of Ptolemy and Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī. See: Shahzad Bashir, “The Risālat al-
Hudā of Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh (d. 869/1464). Critical Edition with Introduction,” Rivista degli
Studi Orientali 75/1-4 (2001), 87-137.
134
Barāt Zanjānī (ed.), Divān-i ashʿār va rasāʾil-i Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Asīrī Lāhījī, shāriḥ-
i Gulshan-i Rāz (Tehran: Muʿassasah-i Mutalaʿat-i Islāmī-i Dānishgāh-i McGill, 1357/1978);
Shahzad Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions: the Nūrbakhshīya Between Medieval
and Modern Islam (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003).
135
OALT, v.1, 13-14.
136
SK Reisülküttab Ms. 572, 222a.
218
Khiṭābī.137

In a recent study on Khiṭābī’s treatise on a novel astronomical instrument that he

composed in 887/1483 and presented to Sultan Bāyezīd II, the editors argue without any

convincing proof that Khīṭābī is same person as Sayyid Munajjim, a relatively noted figure from

the early Timurid context.138 Sayyid Munajjim of the Timurid realm, whose real name was

Muḥammad al-Ḥusayn, is known as the author of astronomical and astrological works such as

Risāla-i shakl-i mughnī va ẓillī and Latāʾif al-kalām fī aḥkām al-ʿawām.139 As far as the contents

of these two works are concerned, Sayyid Munajjim was active in the Timurid realm as early as

the turn of the fifteenth century. In the latter text that later graduately became a relatively popular

astrological manual, Sayyid Munajjim explicitly mentions his own personal observation of a

comet that appeared in the year 803/1400-1 in the direction of Rūm.140 He also clearly writes his

real name in the autograph copy of Risāla-i shakl-i mughnī va ẓillī as “Muḥammad al-Ḥusayn,

al-madʿuww bi-Sayyid Munajjim.” On the contrary, in the copies written by our Khiṭābī, all of

which date to the last quarter of the fifteenth century, he writes his name either as Ḥusām b.

137
Ṭaşköprīzāde, Al-shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmāniyya fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawlat al-ʿuthmāniyya, 205.
138
Mohammad Bagheri and Mortaza Somi, “Risāla-i tashrīḥ al-ālāt fī shaʿn al-imtiḥānāt az
Sayyid Munajjim Ḥusaynī,” Mīrāth-i ʿilmī-yi Islām va Īrān, 2/1 (1392/2013), 181-205.
139
The former work was presented in 25 Ramaḍān 837/30 April 1434 to Ulugh Beg. See: SK
Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 1362. As for the Latāʾif al-kalām, I have examined a handful of copies in
the manuscript libraries of Istanbul and major European cities, the earliest of which date back to
the late sixteenth century. In the text itself Sayyid Munajjim refers to the year 824/1421 as the
date he calculated the ascendant for the year. In all copies of Latāʾif his name is written as
Muḥammad al-Ḥusayn al-madʿuww bi-Sayyid (al-) Munajjim.s
140
Kandilli Ms. 310, 30b. He retrospectively interprets the comet as the indication of Yildirim
Bāyezīd I’s defeat at the hands of Timur in the Ankara Battle in 1402 and the following turmoil
in the Rūm region for a decade: “ancha banda dīda ast dar sana salāsa va samāna miʾa [803]
hijriyya zūnab ẓāhir shud bi-samt al-raʾs-i Rūm. Amīr Tīmūr dar lashkar badān jānib bord va
Yildirim Bāyezīd bagaraft va nāchīz kard … ve qarīb-i dah sāl dar ān mamlakat nahb u qatl būd
miyān-i umarā va farzandān-i ū tā ʿāqibat bar yaki qarār garaft.”
219
Shams al-Dīn al-Khaṭīb al-mushtahir bi-Khiṭābī al-Lāhījānī or simply as Khiṭābī munajjim al-

Ḥusaynī. Given that the Sayyid Munajjim of the Timurid realm was active in the 1400s and that

he had a name clearly different from that of Khiṭābī munajjim al-Ḥusaynī who served Bāyezīd II

as late as the mid-1490s, it also seems unlikely that the two are the same individual.

Who, then, was Khiṭābī? Unfortunately, he does not give us much information to go on

when writing about his family, teachers, and peers. He only refers in his Risāla tashrīh al-ālāt to

Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī as his master, who we know had composed, based upon his own celestial

pursuits in Samarqand, the Zīc-i Jadīd-i Saʿīdī in addition to his other extant treatise on the uses

of astrolabe (Kitāb panjāh bāb-ı usṭūrlāb) that he dedicated to Abū’l-Qāsim Bābūr Mīrzā (r.

1449-1457).141 Although the zīj of Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī did not obtain popularity among the

munajjims and taqwīm compilers in the Ottoman lands in the late fifteenth and the first half of

the sixteenth century, Khiṭābī praises his master’s work as one of the three most preferred zījes

of the period next to the Ilkhanid and Ulugh Beg tables. He even prefers to use it when he needed

to calculate the planetary positions and determine the astrological houses.142

It is not certain when exactly Khiṭābī came to the Ottoman realm. The contents of his

writings suggest that he first approached Bāyezīd II in the late 1470s while the latter was still the

governor of Amasya. He then seems to have visited the capital and appealed to the reigning

sultan Meḥmed II. One of his earliest works is a treatise on natural philosophy (ʿilm al-ḥikmat)

entitled Jāmiʿ al-qismayn that he hastily composed in the year 884/1479 in Tokat and dedicated

141
For the extant copies of his Panjāh bāb see the bibliography. For a brief discussion of the zīj
of Rukn al-Dīn, see: Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam, 212-216.
142
Bagheri and Somi, 183: “Va alān zījāti ki dar akthar-i mamālik ʿamal karda mī shavad yaki
Zīj-i Īlkhānī ast ... va digar Zīj-i ḥażrat-i Mīrzā-yi Ulugh Begi ... va digar do Zīj-i Saʿīdī va
Karīmī az ān ḥażrat-i ustādī Sayyid Rukn al-milla va’d-dīn Āmulī.”
220
to prince Bāyezīd with the hope of entering his service.143 As the title of the work suggests,

Khiṭābī broadly reviews therein two philosophical disciplines: mathematical sciences (ḥikmat-i

riyāḍī) and natural-physical sciences (ḥikmat-i ṭabiʿī). As briefly mentioned in the first chapter

Khiṭābī first elaborates on the science of the stars (ʿilm-i nujūm) and delves into an exclusively

astrological discussion, laying out the qualities and indications of the twelve astrological houses.

For him, ʿilm-i nujūm, which is higher in status than medicine (ʿilm-i ṭibb), is a useful and divine

knowledge that helps human beings understand the impact of the motions of the celestial objects

upon the sublunary world, guard themselves against harm and destruction – as ordered in the

Qurʾān –, and learn about the divine decree with respect to their personal lives.144 He then

proceeds to medicine and details diseases as well as the required medication for remedying each.

Khiṭābī was apparently in Istanbul by the end of the year 1479. On 11 December 1479, he

completed his long commentary on Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s popular treatise, Risāla-i Sī faṣl, and

dedicated it to the reigning sultan Meḥmed II. Although Khiṭābī says that his main objective in

writing the commentary is to make the concepts and the terminology used in Ṭūsī’s text more

comprehensible to beginners in this science, he later reveals that his real desire is to attract the

143
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2414M, 19b-20a: “muḥarrir-i īn suṭūr va muqarrir-i īn mazbūr ... Ḥusām b.
Shams al-Dīn al-khaṭīb al-mushtahir bi-Khiṭābī al-Gīlānī ... ʿajala al-vaqt ra dar taʾrīkh-i sana
884 hijriyya dar balda al-muvaḥḥidīn Tokat ... bi-ḥasb-i vasīla-i idrak-i saʿādat-i taqabbul-i
turāb-i sidda-i rafīʿa-i pādishāh va pādishāhzādai ... sulṭān Abū l-muẓaffar Bāyezīd ... taʾlīf
kard.”
144
Ibid., 23b: “har chand az taqdīr va qażā imkān-i khurūj nist amma bi-muʾaddāi ‘wa lā tulqū
bi-aydikum ilā t-taḥlika wa sharr’ iḥtirāz vājib ast va bi-qadr-i vasʿ saʿy lāzim cha faḥvāi ‘laysa
li l-inṣān illā mā saʿy’ rā ishārat hamīn ast īn maʿnā bi-ṣūrat nayāyad illā az idrāk-i natāyij-i
ḥarakāt-i ajrām-i samāvī yaʿnī sayr-i ajrām-i mustanīra dar aqsām-i mustadīra va ān duvāzdah
dar duvāzdah ast ki az ṣuvar-i zāyijāt-i ṭavāliʿ maḥsūs mī shavad ki īn maʿnā rā iṣṭilāḥ-i ahl-i
sharʿ ṣurat-i taqdīr khānand.”
221
benevolence of the Ottoman sultan.145 In fact, Ṭūsī’s treatise was already one of the most popular

texts of the genre among would-be munajjims of the time and Turkish translations of the work

appeared as early as the late fourteenth century. In that regard, Khiṭābī’s claim to compose a text

that would be helpful for novices does not represent the truth. That the work is currently

preserved in a single copy and was listed in ʿĀṭufī’s inventory among the books at the palace

library also proves that the text did not enjoy much circulation among the author’s

contemporaries and subsequent generations. Thus there is little doubt that the aim of Khiṭābī’s

long commentary on Ṭūsī’s Risāla-i sī faṣl was rather to secure the support of Meḥmed II by

showing off his deep knowledge in celestial matters. He must have attained his desire as he

immediately composed for Meḥmed II a voluminous birth horoscope, an imperial copy of which

was produced in the year 1480 by the imperial calligrapher and bookbinder, Ghiyāth al-Dīn al-

mujallid al-Iṣfahānī.146

Khiṭābī seems to have secured his place in Bāyezīd II’s entourage after the latter’s

immediate accession upon the death of Meḥmed II in 1481. In January 1483 he presented the

new sultan, whom he described as being, among other things, wise and knowledgeable in

sciences high and low (ʿārif al-maʿārif al-ʿulwiyya wa-l-sufliyya), a copy of his Risāla tashrīḥ

al-ālāt, together with an instrument for celestial observation.147 As Khiṭābī states in his treatise,

145
SK Ayasofya Ms. 2709, 3b: “[T]ā vasīla shavad bar dāʾī-yi mukhliṣ rā bi-taqbīl-i turāb-i
ʿataba-i rafīʿa va talthīm-i rajām-i sidda-i manīʿa ... al-sulṭān b. al-sulṭān al-sulṭān Muḥammad
b. al-sulṭān Murād Khan.”
146
TSMK Yeni Yazmalar 830, 264a. This text will be further discussed in Chapter 5.
147
His remarks in the text hint that he also presents the sultan with an instrument for celestial
observation: “har āyina ālāt-i mavʿūd-rā bi yumn-i davlat-i qāhira-i ḥażrat-i pādishāhī bi-itmām
rasānīda va kayfiyyat-i aʿmāl va vażʿ-i ān rā darīn risāla mashrūḥ [va] masṭūr sākhta shod.”
Khiṭābī’s reference here to al-maʿārif al-ʿulwiyya wa-l-sufliyya seems to be related to the
classification of theoretical philosophy (al-ḥikma al-naẓariyya) into sciences that deal with the
222
the major objective of the work and the accompanying instrument is to test the accuracy of the

three most preferred astronomical tables of the time. According to his calculations, he expects

two conjunctions to happen in that year: the first conjunction between Mars and Jupiter, and the

second between Saturn and Mars. Along with these two conjunctions, he also expects two full

lunar eclipses to occur that year. However, as he says, the calculations based upon the tables of

his master Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī and Ulugh Beg were significantly different than the Ilkhanid

tables.148 Khitābī adds that as part of his research, he completed in Istanbul a solar observation

and identified a solar eclipse that occurred in October 1482.149 While his solar observation in

Istanbul by the early 1480s is important in its own right, his undertaking to ensure the accuracy

of astronomical data is even more significant, since accurate astronomical data was exactly what

practicing munajjims needed for rigorous calculations, and thus more precise astrological

predictions.

Khiṭābī does not divulge in his Risāla tashrīḥ al-ālāt which of these three tables he favors

as a practicing munajjim, but in drafting the taqwīm for the year 894/1489 he relies on his

master’s work. Only one taqwīm survives that was indisputably penned by Khitābī, as it bears his

autograph. A thorough discussion on the political and social significance of the taqwīm genre in

the early modern Ottoman context will be found below in Chapter 4, but suffice it to say here

that through detailed astrological predictions about the fortunes of the upcoming year and

knowledge of celestial (ʿulwī) spheres (i.e., the quadrivium) and those that study the changes in
the elemental sublunary (suflī) world.
148
Somi and Bagheri, 183: “chūn dar sana al-taḥrīr do qirān iqtiḍā mī kard yaki miyān-i
Marrīkh va Mushtarī va digarī qirān-i naḫsayn va do khusūf-i kull mutavālī va dar sāl-i tālī-i īn
sāl qirān-i ʿulviyayn vuqūʿ pazīruft va dar īn qirānāt va khusūfāt az muḥāsaba-i īn zīj-i mazkūr
tā muḥāsaba-i zīc-i īlkhānī ikhtilāf-i bisyār ẓāhir bovad.”
149
Ibid., 196: “chanāncha khusūfī ki vāqiʿ shod dar shab-i yakshanbih-i chahārdahum māh-i
Ramaḍān sana 887 raṣad kardīm bi-ufq-i dār al-salṭana-i Qosṭanṭiniyya.”
223
pointed remarks on titulature, taqwīms were instrumental in shaping, representing, and even

manipulating public opinion. Besides their obvious practical benefits for calendric and

astrological purposes, taqwīms also served as tools for bolstering royal claims and promulgating

these claims among the elite audience attached to the court. The astrological predictions in

taqwīms are always biased in favor of the sultan, typically highlighting––in almost a

propagandizing manner––the strength, perseverance, and well being of the reigning sultan, who

is the single most important element in the functioning of law and order within the universe.

In his extant taqwīm from the year 894/1489, Khiṭābī as well eulogizes Bāyezīd II on the

occasion of the coming of the new year and expresses his good wishes to the sultan, whom he

hails as the “caliph of the All-merciful, shadow of divine affection, strengthener of the world and

religion, succor of Islam and all Muslims, glory of kings and sultans, victorious over his enemies

by help of the Beneficent King.”150 He then enumerates the important astrological variables -

ṭāliʿ and other astrological houses ––and begins laying out his lengthy predictions on the fortunes

of the sultan. According to his predictions, the glory and the majesty of the sultan will remain

untarnished, and his health and temperament balanced. The sultan will show sympathy to his

subjects, bring civil order under his full control, but at times, especially during the winter, he will

be anxious on account of his enemies and opponents.151 Khiṭābī then proceeds to elaborate on the

150
TSMK Bağdat 310, 4a: “Khalīfat al-raḥmānī, ẓill-i ʿavāṭif-i ḥażrat-i subḥānī, muʿizz al-dunyā
va-d-dīn, mughīth al-islām va-l-muslimīn, shujāʿ al-mulūk va-s-salāṭīn, al-manṣūr ʿalā l-aʿdāʾ
bi-nuṣrat al-malik al-mannān.”
151
Ibid.,: “dalālat konad … bar tazāyud-i ʿaẓamat va jihānbānī va tażāʿuf-i ḥashmat va
kāmrānī-i ḥażrat-i ravża-i khaḍrat-i pādishāhī-i islām-panāhī khalladallāh mulkahu wa
sulṭānahu va ḥuṣul-i marām min ḥaythu al-majmūʿ fī tamām al-sana khuṣūṣā dar faṣl-i bahār …
dalīl bovad bar ṣiḥḥat va salāmat-i mizāj-i sharīf va bar sarīr-i salṭanat mutamakkin būda dar
tadābīr-i mulkī saʿy namūda va bā aʿādī va mukhālifān ba-ṭarīq-i rafq va mudārā sulūk vāqiʿ
shodan va andīsha-i umūr-i ʿaẓīma dar żamīr-i munīr āvordan va tavaqquf dar naql va ḥarakat
224
fortunes of people from various sectors, including viziers, dervishes, scholars, and many others.

His aḥkām for the year ends, as usual, with predictions about diseases, meteorological

conditions, crops and prices, and wars and battles. He then draws two tables for the horoscopes

of the upcoming year: one on the basis of the Chinese-Uighur animal calendar and the other on

the basis of his calculations using his master Rukn al-Dīn Āmulī’s astronomical tables. Then

comes the section on the monthly elaboration of the calendrical information and accompanying

astrological judgments. It is worth noting that the predictions he expresses in the monthly

sections of his taqwīm focus more on possible skirmishes and battles between Turks (Atrāq),

Arabs (Aʿrāb) and Kurds (Akrād). It would not be farfetched to relate these remarks to the

repercussions of the then-ongoing Ottoman-Mamluk confrontation.152 Taking all these elements

into consideration, then, Khiṭābī closely follows in his taqwīm the standard scheme and

conventions of the genre.

Based upon the extant manuscript evidence, Khiṭābī seems to be one of the most active

munajjims during the first two decades of Bāyezīd II’s reign, yet there are several other names

who composed taqwīms at the time such as ʿAbdulkerīm b. Mevlānā Sinān, Ḥamza b.

ʿAbdulkerīm, and Nūreddīn b. Ḥamza, all of whom seem to be the members of a single family

va taraḥḥum bi-ḥāl-i raʿāyā va tarbiyat-i ḥażrāt-ı avlād-i kirām … va vuqūʿ-i muṣālaḥāt va

inqiyād az jānib-i aʿādī … va dar faṣl-i ṭabistān … dalīl ast darīn faṣl bar istiqrār bar sarīr-i
mulk va maqām va ishtigāl namūdan bi-żabṭ-i umūr-i mulkī va andīshīdan-i tadābir-i ḥasana va
iḥtimāl-i naql va ḥarakat-i qarīb va khāl az taḥayyurī va taraddud-khāṭirī nabūdan ba-jihat-i
rijʿat-i Zuhra ammā mūjab żarar nashavad va zūd murtafiʿ gardad va … farāgat-i khāṭir az
ṭaraf-i aʿādī va muḥālifān va talaṭṭuf bā ḥażrāt-i khudāvandigārzādahā …dar faṣl-i kharīf …
dalālat konad dar īn faṣl …andīsha-i aʿādī va mukhālifān az żamīr-i mubārak khālī nabūdan va
imkān-i naql va ḥarakat az īn sabab va taraḥḥun va tashaffuq bi-ḥāl-i raʿāya va mavt-i aʿādī va
tavaqquf dar umīdhā vallāhū aʿlam.”
152
On the Ottoman-Mamluk warfare during the first decade of Bāyezīd II’s reign, see: Cihan
Yüksel Muslu, The Ottomans and the Mamluks: the Imperial Diplomacy and Warfare in the
Islamic World (New York: IB Tauris, 2014), esp. Chapter 5.
225
interested in astrological practice.153 Nevertheless, the lack of archival records and/or other

(auto)biographical information from this early period makes it difficult to follow the stages of the

careers of Khiṭābī and any other agent.

Surprising enough, in the comprehensive expense register that carefully records the

names of individuals receiving gifts and allowances from the palace between the years 1502 and

1512, a certain Sayyid Munajjim is listed for at least thirty different occasions as the recipient of

sultanic favor. In fact, as far as the detailed records of this register are concerned, Sayyid

Munajjim seems to have enjoyed a status superior to all the other monthly-salaried court

munajjims and unaffiliated experts presenting the court with almanacs. Unlike many others, he

was not only rewarded whenever he presented a taqwīm; in certain years he received payments

and/or robes of honor on four or five different occasions, most of which are unfortunately not

specified.154 On several occasions (again unspecified) he was even paid 7,000 aḳçes, almost

equal to the pay scale of high-ranking statesmen. The amounts he received when he presented a

taqwīm were also always higher than other experts. While he was given 1,500 aḳçes, the amounts

received by other munajjims ranged between 500 and 1,000. Moreover, he was once presented a

garment on the occasion of the loss of his son, suggesting that he must have had a close

relationship with the sultan, for it was usually Bāyezīd’s closest companions who received gifts

upon such occasions of death or marriage.

Apart from the information gleaned from the gift register, we know next to nothing about

Sayyid Munajjim, which makes this figure all the way more intriguing. Although he was

153
These names also go unnoticed in contemporary historical narratives and/or biographical
sources. There are five extant taqwīms composed by them: TSMK Bağdat Ms. 312, 313, 314,
315, 316.
154
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, passim.
226
apparently an important courtier of the sultan, as indicated by the amounts and occasions of the

gifts he received, none of the biographical sources and/or contemporary narratives mention his

name, with the exception of a waqf record, dated 894/1489, documenting his estates in the Eyüp

neighborhood of Istanbul.155 The lack of contemporary information as to an important courtier of

a sultan suggests that “sayyid (al-) munajjim” was rather the epithet, not the real name of the

person in question. We should recall that the real name of the “Sayyid Munajjm” in the early

fifteenth-century Timurid realm was Muḥammad al-Ḥusayn. In a similar vein, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān

munajjim at the court of prince Aḥmed described his master Niʿmatullāh Shirāzī as the chief of

the munajjims (sayyid al-munajjimīn). Therefore sayyid (al-)munajjim was likely a label

attributed at different times to different munajjims either by themselves, their peers, or the court,

whose prestige and erudition were deemed superior to their contemporaries. There are other

epithets frequently deployed by astral experts in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries such as

shams al-munajjim used by Wābkanawī, or ʿimād al-munajjim used by Maḥmūd b. Yaḥyā b. al-

Ḥasan al-Kāshī, the author of Iskandar’s famous horoscope.

Interestingly, one of the taqwīms composed in plain Turkish in the year 937/1531 and

dedicated to Süleymān was signed by another self-proclaimed al-sayyid al-munajjim from Tokat,

whose actual name was İbn Seyyid Tāc.156 If we recall the register of payments from the late

1520s that lists the son of Sayyid Munajjim as the then chief munajjim, we can safely argue that

by the time this İbn Seyyid Tāc composed his almanac, the “sayyid munajjim” at the court of

155
Ömer Lütfi Barkan, Ekrem Hakkı Ayverdi, İstanbul Vakıfları Tahrir Defteri: 953 (1546)
tarihli, Istanbul: Baha matbaası, 1970, 155.
156
III. Ahmed Ms. 3497, 3a: “istakhrajahu wa katabahu al-faqīr al-muḥtāj ilā shafāʿat
nabiyyinā Muḥammad ṣāḥib al-miʿrāj al-ṣalawāt ʿalayhi …. al-sayyid al-munajjim al-Toqātī al-
shahīr bi-Ibn Sayyīd Tāj.”
227
Bāyezīd II must have already passed away. All things considered, the chief (=sayyid) munajjim

during the last decade of Bāyezīd II’s reign must have been an individual different than those at

the Timurid realm or the time of Süleymān.

Could the Sayyid Munajjim at the court of Bāyezīd II be Khiṭābī himself? There is a

slight possibility that the two were the same, for the waqf record about Sayyid Munajjim that

dates back to 894/1489 establishes at least that the two were active at the same time. But we

should also add that Khiṭābī never refers to the epithet in the surviving copies of his original

texts, therefore we cannot easily assume the two as the same until a new document of evidence

provides a fresh perspective.

Regardless of the real identity of this mysterious Sayyid Munajjim of the Bāyezīd’ court,

the archival records about him document that as part of his service in the capacity of a court

munajjim he contributed to the training of new munajjims. One of his students was his own son,

Sayyid Ībrahīm, who was evidently active at the Ottoman court until the first half of Süleymān’s

reign.157 There is unfortunately no surviving textual product that could be unequivocally

attributed to him, but as the son of a prestigious expert as Sayyid Munajjim, he must have

received the necessary astrological instruction from his father. Another student of Sayyid

Munajjim, manifested through available archival registers, is a certain Receb, who debuted his

career as the compiler of a taqwīm in the year 1512.158 As regards to the following steps of

Receb’s career, there is also no information in contemporary sources, archival and manuscript

alike.

157
TSMA D. 7843, available as a transcribed document in Ömer Lütfi Barkan, “H. 933-934
Tarihli Bütçe Cedveli ve Ekleri”, 323
158
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71, 499: “Receb şākird-i Seyyid Müneccim; 500; cāme-i
mirāhorī ʿan kemhā-i Bursa.”
228
 With respect to the training of new generations of munajjims thanks to the financial and

material opportunities made available by the royal patronage and the office of the court

munajjims, the story of the chain of transmission that ties Mīrim Çelebi from the time of Bāyezīd

II to Riyāżī ʿAlī in the later stages of Süleymān’s reign provides captivating details. As

mentioned in greater detail above,, Mīrim Çelebi was one of the key figures at the time that

helped the production and dissemination of astrologically valid knowledge in the Ottoman

capital. Although his status seems to be slightly different than being a mere court munajjim, as

far the available archival registers are concerned, Mīrim distinguished himself as a prominent

expert of celestial knowledge through his textual products and documented service. He

prolifically wrote treatises on astronomical instruments and astrological principles, which were

significantly copied both at his own time and subsequent periods. In November 1516, for

instance, a certain Lüṭfullāh b. Mübārek copied at least three treatises of Mīrim Çelebi on

different types of quadrants.159 Lüṭfullāh’s name is not mentioned in contemporary archival and

manuscript sources as a student and/or protégé of Mīrim Çelebi. There is one Lüṭfullāh,

however, who became a court munajjim in the first decade of the reign of Süleymān. The earliest

record that contains a reference to him dates back to 1527 but as the wording in this record

suggests (ʿādet-i Lüṭfullāh müneccim), he should have started his tenure before then.160 We also

see his name in an imperial order sent in April 1578 to the judge of Istanbul. In this report, the

judge is asked to procure for Taqī al-Dīn’s newly established observatory in Istanbul the relevant

159
TSMK Hazine Ms. 1760.
160
Kamil Kepeci 1764, 25: “ʿādet-i Lüṭfullāh müneccim ki der rūz-ı Nevrūz taḳvīm dāde – 1000
[aḳçe].”
229
books of the “late Lüṭfullāh.”161

The significance of Lüṭfullāh for our purposes derives from the fact that he was the

master of Riyāżī ʿAlī, who was, as listed in the relevant archival document, one of the two court

munajjims in 1548 and 1549. The story of Riyāżī is important for a number of reasons. First of

all, the case of Riyāżī presents us the most detailed information about the life of a practicing

munajjim from the period. In addition to his being a court munajjim, Riyāżī was also a talented

poet who found recognition among contemporary biographers. ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi, for instance,

introduces Riyāżī as a polymath, who was equally adept in a wide array of disciplines including

the science of talismans and magic squares, geomancy, Ptolemaic astrology, Euclidian geometry,

spherical astronomy, philosophy, celestial magic, logic, theology, and chronology.162 For him

Riyāżī’s expertise in the science of the stars was so extensive that even the famous Egyptian

astronomer Ibn al-Shāṭir (d. ca 1375) was not half as good as Riyāżī (ānuñ bir şaṭrı yoḳdur İbn

Şāṭır); whereas the most important astrologer in the entire Islamic history, Abū Maʿshar was not

even his one hundredth (Ebū Maʿşer değüldür ʿöşr-i ʿāşir). He was so proficient in the science of

the stars that he did not need to spend much time to calculate the motions of the celestial objects

161
İsmet Miroğlu, “İstanbul rasathanesine ait belgeler,” Tarih Enstitüsü Dergisi 3 (1973), 75-82,
at 80, document 2: “İstanbul ḳāḍısına ḥükm ki: Müteveffā Lüṭfullāh’ıñ vaḳfı olan müneccim
kitābları maḥmiye-i mezbūrede Miʿmār Sinān maḥallesiniñ imamı ve müʾezzinlerinde olduğı
iʿlām olunmağın alınub raṣadḫāneye verilmek emredilüb buyurdum ki varduḳda teʾḫīr itmeyüb
müteveffā-yı mezbūruñ nücūma ve ʿilm-i heyʾete ve hendeseye müteʿalliḳ olan kitābları eğer
mezkūruñ ellerindedür ve eğer āḫardadur her kimde ise ẓuhūra getürüb daḫı bi’l-fiʿīl raṣad
ḥizmetinde olan Mevlānā Taḳīyüddīn’e cümlesin teslim itdüresün.” Starting from Adnan Adıvar,
the scholarship keeps assuming that this Lüṭfullāh in question is Mollā Lüṭfī, who was executed
in 1495 on the charge of heresy. As the order clearly reads, however, Lüṭfullāh in question
should be the one who worked as a court munajjim at the time of Süleymān.
162
Aşık Çelebi, Meşairü’ş-Şuara, v. 3, 1396-8: “ṭılsım u nīrencāt ve vefḳ u reml ve zāyicāt-ı
Macestī ve Öqlidisi hendese ve Eşkāl-i teʾsīs-i heyʿet ve ḥikmet ve teneccüm ve daʾvetde ʿaḳl-ı
evvel ve manṭıḳ ve kelāmda ve tevārīḫ-i eyyāmda ḫaṭṭı ber-vech-i ekmel idi.”
230
and understand their corresponding influence.163 Apart from ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi, another late sixteenth

century biographer Kınalızāde Ḥasan (d. 1607) also praises Riyāżī as the Jamshid al-Kāshī of the

time and Aristotle of the age.164

As an Istanbul-born son of a devshirme (İstanbullu ḳuloğlu), Riyāżī received a standard

madrasa education of his time before starting to closely study with Lüṭfullāh munajjim. The

biographical dictionaries do not reveal where this master-apprenticeship relationship between the

two took place or the books they studied together. However, as it is clear from the remarks of his

contemporaries, Riyāżī received a solid training in different forms and genres of celestial

knowledge.

In terms of the texts Riyāżī might have read during his training with Lüṭfullāh munajjim,

his only surviving textual product, the horoscope he composed around the year 1550 for the

construction of the Süleymaniye Complex, provides substantial details. Based upon his explicit

references and citations in the text, Riyāżī must have well studied (Pseudo-) Ptolemy’s Kitāb al-

Thamara, Ghaznawī’s al-Kifāya, and the corpus of Kūshyār. He should have also spent much

time on studying the zīj literature of the Maragha and Samarqand traditions as well as the uses of

astronomical instruments. Mīrim Çelebi’s texts that were copied in the 1510s by Lüṭfullāh might

have even been used during his training. In fact, there is manuscript evidence that clearly

documents Riyāżī’s familiarity with Mīrim’s oeuvre. One of the two surviving manuscripts that I

have been able to locate in which Riyāżī ʿAlī’s name is found as the possessor of the text is none

163
Ibid.: “ḥareket-i fikriyye itmedin sükūn-i ḳutb ve ḥareket-i eflāka müteʿalliḳ aḥvāl-i ḫod aña
meczūmdur.”
164
Kınalızade Hasan, Tezkiretü’ş-Şuara, ed. Aysun Sungurhan-Eyduran (Ankara: 2009), 351.
231
other than Mīrim Çelebi’s commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables.165 The other item that

apparently passed into Riyāżī’s hands is Niẓām al-Dīn Nīsābūrī’s commentary on the Ilkhanid

tables.166

Aside from illustrating the transmission of the post-thirtheenth century Persian astral

tradition into the Ottoman world from the late-fifteenth century onwards and its appropriation by

subsequent generations of indigenous Ottoman experts, the case of Riyāżī also bespeaks the

hardships and anxieties of a practicing munajjim whose career fortunes began to shrink by the

mid-sixteenth century due to the decline in the extent of the courtly patronage of munajjims. The

anecdotes shared by contemporary biographers along with Riyāżī’s own remarks in the

Süleymaniye horoscope reveal an embittered munajjim afflicted by the incidents at his time. As

ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi narrates, Riyāżī apparently composed a talismanic treatise to introduce a novel

technique that would help dispel the plague from Istanbul, one of the vexing problems of the

time, yet his treatise did not receive any favor from contemporary elites. Reasons unclear,

Kınalızāde Ḥasan also mentions that throughout his career Riyāżī did not much enjoy the

sultan’s grace. Ḥasan even quotes his father Kınalızāde ʿAlī, who had once told him that Riyāżī

would have been one of the most prominent and proficient experts of the rational and

mathematical sciences, had he ever found the opportunity to become close to the sultan.167

Later in his career Riyāżī considered returning to the judicial and scholarly hierarchy

(ʿilmiyya), and asked for appointment as a mudarris or a qāḍī. Though ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi does not

165
Now preserved as SK Mehmed Nuri Efendi Ms 151.
166
Now preserved as SK Fatih Ms. 3421. Robert Morrison also mentions this particular copy in
his book on Niẓām al-Dīn Nīsābūrī.
167
Kınalızade Hasan, Tezkiretü’ş-Şuara, 351: “eger muḳārin-i terbiyet ve mülāḳī-i taḳviyet-i
sulṭān-i cihān olaydı ol fende aʿyān-ı zamāndan olacagına reyb u gümān olmaz idi.”
232
present any further detail about Riyāżī’s determination to return to the ʿilmiyya hierarchy,

Kınalızāde Ḥasan says that during his attempt to reenter the ʿulamāʾ bureaucracy, he approached

the shaykhulislam Ebu’s-suʿūd Efendi (d. 1574) as his potential patron and frequented his majlis.

Upon realizing, however, the non-tenured, erratic nature of a career in judgeship and

professorship, he abandoned the ʿilmiyya path and fully allocated his time to composing books.

However, as ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi mentions, most of his writings remained in draft form. As a matter of

fact, apart from the horoscope he prepared in 1550 on the occasion of the construction of the

Süleymaniye complex, the available catalogues of major manuscript libraries in and out of

Turkey do not yield any other surviving textual product of Riyāżī and there is not any modern

scholarly work that ever mentions his name, let alone reconstructs his biography.

In the foundation horoscope for the Süleymaniye complex, which I will dicusss in more

detail next chapter, Riyāżī occasionally inserts his verses, the contents of which represent his

resentment about his life and career. One of these verses reads:

“Riyāżī is distressed due to the evil fortune,

Those ignorant ones attribute his misery to other reasons,
While his fame was as bright as the sun,
Those who are ignorant about the intricacies of (the science of) the stars receive more
favours.”168

Due mostly to this distress and disillusionment regarding his career, he even lately

became unwilling to send taqwīms to the court. Through the end of his entry on Riyāżī, ʿĀşıḳ

Çelebi quotes some of his verses, one of which Riyāżī wrote upon the death of his master

Lüṭfullāh. Here Riyāżī again reveals his anxiety regarding his career and explicits his desire that

168
SK Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 4034, 5b: “Bu Riyāżī ṭāliʿ-i menḥūsdandur bī-ḥużūr/Gayrıya nisbet
ider ẓulemini ānı bilmeyen/Gün gibi meşhūr iken ol, artuḳ alur ḥāṣılı/Bu nücūmda āsmāndan
rīsmānı bilmeyen.”
233
the deceased Lüṭfullāh’s allowances be annexed and added to his own, as there remained in the

court only two munajjims, one of which is no one but himself:

“Today I, the insignificant mote, were asked

By the sun of the sky of knowledge
Lüṭfullāh was the chief munajjim
He just passed away and left his pension
Who remained now at the imperial court?
As a (Jamshid al-) Kāshī-type observer of stars
I said: It is only (Yūsuf) b. ʿÖmer and I
Who survived this world as the ass and the head.”169

Riyāżī was not entirely groundless in his resentment. As the available register of

payments is concerned that dates just a year before this horoscope was penned, Riyāżī was listed

as one of the two court munajjims receiving only six aḳçes a day, whereas his colleague Yūsuf b.

ʿÖmer, whom he mocks by saying “ass”, was making twelve aḳçes. In that regard Rīyāżī’s pay

was extremely low compared not only to his sole coworker but also to other palace staff. For

example the daily allowance of the chief physician of the time, Seyyid ʿAlī Ḳayṣūnī, was eighty

aḳçes. Even the kehhal (opthalmologist) Muḥyiddīn or the scribal apprentices in the imperial

treasury were making more than Riyāżī.170

Besides the internal comparison on the basis of this single archival register from the

period 1548-9, a broader comparison of the pay scale of Riyāżī with those of previous court

munajjims in the late fifteenth and the early sixteenth century also illustrates that by the time

Riyāżī was hired as one of the two court munajjims, the office was no longer a lucrative or

169
Aşık Çelebi, Meşairü’ş-Şuara, v. 3, 1398: “Suʾāl itdi bugün ben 'zerresine/Maʿārif
āsumānınuñ ḳuyāşı/Ki Lüṭfullāh idi evvel müneccim/Maʿādā ʿazm idüb ḳodı maʿāşı/Ya şimdi kim
ḳalubdur bāb-ı şehde/Raṣad-bend-i nücūm-ı ḳaṣr-ı Kāşī/Didüm İbn ʿÖmer’le bendeñüzdüm/İki
ḳalduḳ cihānda göti başı”
170
MAD 7118. The former was making eighteen aḳçes per diem, whereas the scribal apprentices
were earning around ten aḳçes on average.
234
prestigious profession, though their standard services for preparing taqwīms or calculating

auspicious moments to initiate an imperial enterprise were still demanded. Therefore, the case of

Riyāżī provides us a reasonable terminus ante quem to argue that by the mid-sixteenth century,

the royal support for munajjims in the Ottoman court was on the verge of decline, only to be

revived in the last quarter of the sixteenth century.

Before I move to the next chapter I should say that although the discussion throughout

the chapter has barely discussed the munajjims presence in the marketplace or friendly

gatherings (majlis), this should not give the impression that there were no other munajjim active

at the time other than the courtly affiliated ones. Yet the evidence gleaned from literary or

archival sources is so thin that it is almost impossible to write their history. In the biographical

dictionaries of poets, for instance, there are meager references to a few practicing munajjims that

do not necessarily discuss the whereabouts and clients of their service. Evliya Çelebi says that

the total number of munajjms in Istanbul in the seventeenth century was seventy, but his words

should be taken with grain of salt, for he often uses the exact same number in his descriptions of

other professions.171 The available published iḥtisāb registers that list a wide range of shops in

the martkeplace do not present any substantial evidence as regards to the business ventures of

munajjims and any other type of diviners.172 Hence, the analysis here has to be rather restricted to

171
Evliya Çelebi, Seyahatname , vol. 1, ed. Robert Dankoff, Seyit Ali Kahraman, Yücel Dağlı
(İstanbul: Yapı Kredi Yayınları), 292: “evṣāf-ı müneccimān: neferāt 70, pīrleri Ḥażret-i İmām
ʿAlī’dir …. Bu müneccimān ṣınıfı taḫt-ı revānlar üzre usṭurlābların ve ḳıble-nümā ve mīḳātların
ve taḳvīm ü zīc kitābların zeyn idüb müneccimbaşı ʿörf-i iżāfetiyle ve saçaḳlı ʿabāyīsi ile
ḳadıʿasker ile muḥteşemāne at başı berāber ʿubūr iderler.” Other professions that he says are
composed of 70 practitioners include: āb-ı gülābciyān, simitciyān, ʿadesciyān, şekerciyān,
ṭamgaciciyān, pehlivānān, zerkūbyān, pāsbān-i Bezāsten, āteşbāzān, sāzendegān.
172
The ḥisba manuals in the medival Islamic writing that show how the muhtaṣibs (market
inspectors) administer the functioning of the market and upkeep of moral behaviors have
235
those experts visible only in the courtly setting.

references to munajjims. In, for instance, the ḥisba manual of the fourteenth-century Egyptian
qāḍi Ibn al-Ukhuwwa (d. 1329), it is said that astrology should be practiced on main streets, not
inside shops or in byways. Quoted in Yahya Michot, “Ibn Taymiyya on Astrology: Annotated
Translation of Three Fatwas,” 150. I have explored all the iḥtisāb registers compiled in Ahmet
Akgündüz’s study, but could not come across a single reference. See Ahmet Akgündüz, Osmanlı
Devleti’nde Belediye Teşkilatı ve Belediye Kanunları (İstanbul: Osmanlı Araştırmaları Vakfı,
2005).
236
 Chapter Four––Chronicling the Past, Mirroring the Present, Divining the
Future: Taqwīms (Almanac-Prognostications) in the Ottoman context

IV. 1. Introduction

Having surveyed the intellectual and cultural history of the science of the stars and the

social history of its practitioners (munajjims) in the preceding chapters, we now turn to the

Ottoman munajjims’ major textual production, the taqwīm, and situate the corpus of these works

within its proper historical context. A detailed evaluation of the massive body of Ottoman

taqwīms would require a separate dissertation unto itself, and such a study is outside the purview

of this chapter. Rather, a few carefully chosen aspects of the extant fifteenth- and sixteenth-

century Ottoman taqwīms will serve to elucidate the significance of this hitherto neglected

primary-source material for late-medieval and early-modern Ottoman history. It is the aim of this

chapter to redress some of the widespread assumptions about pre-modern taqwīms and to

encourage future studies to be undertaken on further examples from diverse regions and periods,

Ottoman and non-Ottoman alike.

The composition of taqwīms constitutes one of the longest enduring textual practices in

all of Ottoman history. While the earliest surviving example of a taqwīm produced in the

Ottoman realm dates to 1421, it is highly likely that they were produced on a regular basis for the

Ottoman court prior to the fifteenth century, given the existence of older, non-Ottoman taqwīm

texts and earlier references to the genre in medieval Islamic writing. Combining, among many

other things, astronomical computations, calendric information, and astrological

prognostications, the taqwīm survived in manuscript and print culture down to the early twentieth

237
century. We are, thus, speaking of a textual tradition that lasted at least five centuries, leaving

behind a multitude of works.

Despite a plethora of Ottoman taqwīms in various libraries across the globe, the genre

and its astrological constituents have not been adequately examined that.1 Earlier scholarship has

mostly focused upon the non-astrological contents of these texts, such as the chronological lists

or calendar tables. Notwithstanding the general scholarly lack of interest in especially the

astrological components of the taqwīm genre, this chapter argues that a systematic investigation

1
Although the list of works below may seem substantial at first glance, very few of them
actually discuss and use the astrological contents of taqwīms. Bernard Carra de Vaux, “Notice
sur un calendrier turc,” Ajab-nāme. A Volume of Oriental Studies presented to Edward G.
Browne (1922), 106–116; Fatin Gökmen, “Eski Türklerde Heyet ve Takvim,” in İkinci Türk
Tarih Kongresi Tutanakları (İstanbul: Devlet Kitapları, 1937), 833-841; Osman Turan,
İstanbul’un fethinden önce yazılmış tarihî takvimler (Ankara: TTK Basımevi, 1954); Nihal Atsız,
“Fatih Sultan Mehmed’e Sunulmuş Tarihi Bir Takvim,” İstanbul Enstitüsü Dergisi 3 (1957), 17–
23; Ibid., Osmanlı tarihine ait takvimler (İstanbul: Küçükaydın Matbaası, 1961); Ibid., “Hicri
858 Yılına Ait Takvim,” Selçuklu Araştırmaları Dergisi 4 (1975), 223–83; Necati Akgür,
“Müneccimbaşı Takvimlerinde Tarihleme Yöntemleri,” Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları 80 (1992),
99–120; Salim Aydüz, “Osmanlı Devleti’nde Müneccimbaşılık,” Osmanlı Bilimi Araştırmaları 1
(1996), 159–207; Ibid., “Müneccimbaşı Takvimleri ve Tarihi Kaynak Olarak Değerleri,”
Cogito 22 (2000), 132–44; Gülçin Tunalı, “Osmanlı Siyaset Kültürünü Anlamada Kaynak
Olarak İlm-i Nücum: Sadullah El-Ankaravi,” TALİD 3 (2004), 183–94; Ibid., “Sadullah
Efendi’nin İlm-i Nücum Kaynaklarından Tanzimat Ankarası’na Bir Katkı,” Türkiyat
Araştırmaları Dergisi, n.d., 370–92; Ibid., “An Ottoman Astrologer at Work: Sadullah el-
Ankaravi and the Everyday Practice of İlm-i Nücum,” in Les Ottomans et le temps, ed. François
Georgeon and Frédéric Hitzel (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 39-60; Marlene Kurz, Ein osmanischer
Almanach für das Jahr 1239/1240 (1824/25) (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 2007); Cornell H.
Fleischer, “Ancient Wisdom and New Sciences: Prophecies at the Ottoman Court in the Fifteenth
and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in Falnama: the Book of Omens, ed. Massumeh Farhad and
Serpil Bağcı (London: Thames & Hudson, 2010), 231-243; Carlos Grenier, “The Takvim-i
Humayun: An Exploration of the Heritage and Uses of an Ottoman Calendar-Horoscope of
1452” (1st Year Paper, University of Chicago, 2010); Fatih Mehmet Kurşun, “Sultans and
Prophets: The Politics of Calendar Writing in the Ottoman Palace from the mid-15th to the mid-
16th Century” (2nd Year Paper, University of Chicago, 2011); Gerhard Behrens, “An Ottoman
Calendar (takvim) for 1740/41 AD,” Middle East Studies Online Journal 4/2 (2011), 1-90;
Özgür Türesay, “Le temps des almanachs ottomans: usage das calendriers et temps de l’histoire
(1873-1914),” in Les Ottomans et le temps, 129-157.
238
of their astrological and non-astrological constituents provides surprising insights into the

political, cultural, and intellectual history of the early-modern Ottoman world. Inasmuch as

taqwīms were produced and expired annually, a thorough examination of their contents from

year to year helps chart a number of intriguing Ottoman realities, including common courtly

perceptions of and attitudes toward rival polities, changing vocabulary of sovereignty, the

shifting dynamics of the relationships between different social groups, or the scientific models

followed in different periods by contemporary men of knowledge.

Notwithstanding the fact that the contents of taqwīms, especially the annual astrological

prognostications expressed in vague and repetitive terms are often presumed in the available

literature as historically useless materials, their relatively static character allows the modern

historian to identify with relative ease those aspects of these texts that did vary across time.

Gradual changes in style and contents in taqwīms allow us to historicize these texts and correlate

them with contemporary developments in the Ottoman political and cultural sphere. It is, thus, of

great importance to examine taqwīms not on an individual basis but rather as a corpus,

scrutinizing their evolution over an extensive period of time. By doing so, it is also possible to

escape from the trap of haphazardly attributing the references in a random taqwīm to contrived

historical occurrences. Especially in utilizing the annual astrological predictions, which are more

often than not expressed in vague terms, the modern researcher should resist the temptation to

take them at face value and read them as an objective index of certain actual historical incidents.

In light of these methodological concerns, this chapter will first give a literary-historical

background to the development and dissemination of taqwīmesque texts in medieval Islamic

writing culture. While the taqwīm was employed from at least the ninth century onwards as a

239
form of writing in different literary traditions, ranging from astronomy and geography to

medicine and history, the term increasingly came to denote annual astrological prognostications-

cum-calendric information, prepared by experts in the science of the stars before or around the

arrival of each solar year. This discussion will include a description of some of the defining

features of the taqwīm genre. Although taqwīms written by various—and often anonymous—

munajjims in different periods are not entirely identical in terms of their contents and style, the

overall similarity of these texts allows us to define a prototypical example and describe its major

characteristics to introduce the reader into their general structure.

This overview is followed by a close examination of the corpus of the fifteenth- and

sixteenth-century Ottoman taqwīms, in which I relate different aspects of taqwīm writing to

identifiable Ottoman realities at the time. By focusing upon the dynamics of production,

circulation, and consumption of taqwīms, I attempt to accurately situate them within their proper

historical contexts. As part of this overall inquiry, there follow three in-depth analyses. First, the

reverse-chronology sections receive a detailed examination in which some of the misconceptions

established by earlier scholarship regarding the nature of these chronology tables are addressed

and redressed. Next, the astrological contents of taqwīms, particularly the detailed annual

predictions, are explored in a comparative fashion, raising the question whether it is possible to

use these predictions as a window into the political realities and ideological inclinations of their

times. The final analysis treats the reception of taqwīms by the wider interpretive community and

tries to gauge the extent to which annual astrological predictions figured in contemporary public

discourse and shaped the imperial decision-making process.

240
 IV. 2. Taqwīm as a special form of writing, Taqwīm as a specific genre in medieval

and early modern Islamic literary tradition

In the three major languages of Islamic Near East, the term taqwīm connotes a calendar

as we understand it today; in pre-modern times, its meaning was much more complex and

varied.2 Before characterizing the generic features of the taqwīm genre and discussing its

significance for modern historical studies, it should be first underlined, for the sake of clarity

throughout the chapter, that the term taqwīm denotes three distinct yet interrelated types of

compositions: i) surveys of knowledge displayed in tables, charts, and diagrams, popular in

different genres of medieval and early modern Islamic writing, especially in the disciplines of the

astral sciences, medicine, geography, and history; ii) the genre of almanac-prognostications

comprised of annual astrological predictions and calendric information (which constitute the

central theme of this chapter); and iii) calendars in the modern sense of the word.

The origins of the use of tabular forms in medieval Islamic literary culture are not

entirely clear; yet it was largely astral lore, specifically the zīj (astronomical tables) literature,

that initially stimulated authors from sister disciplines to integrate tables, columns, and charts in

their texts.3 The word taqwīm in the zīj literature is originally used as often paired with any or all

2
Taqwīm originally had a more spatial meaning, being derived from the Arabic root qāma, “to
get up; to stand up; to stand erect; to rise.” The Hans Wehr Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic,
ed. J.M. Cowan Third Edition (Ithaca: Spoken Language Services, 1976), 798. A modern
dictionary of Arabic demonstrates its rich accretion of connotations, abstract, metaphoric, and
practical, as: “raising, setting up, erection; appraisal, assessment, estimation, rating valuation;
correction; rectification, amendment, reform, reformation, reorganization, reshaping,
modification, adaptation; rectification, detection (el., radio); land survey, surveying;
determination of geographical longitude and latitude; geography; stocktaking; almanac; calendar;
chronology,” Ibid., 801.
3
Denise Aigle, “L’histoire sous forme graphique, en arabe, persan, et turc ottoman: origins et
fonctions,” Bulletin d’études orientales 58 (2009), 11–49.
241
of the planets (i.e. taqwīm al-kawākib) to denote the tabulated presentation of their true

longitudes.4 Modeling likely upon its use in the astral lore, other genres in different disciplines

began to employ the term. In the introduction to his geographical compendium Taqwīm al-

buldān, for instance, Abū’l-Fidāʾ (d. 1331) explicitly says that he modeled his book upon earlier

examples of zīj.5 The obvious practical advantage of the tabular arrangement of information, for

both the readers and authors themselves, drove its dissemination into diverse genres,

considerably simplifying the task of finding the desired information in a text, like a specific

treatment of a malady in a medical treatise, the mathematical denotation of a celestial position in

an astronomical manual, the longitudes and latitudes of a city in a geographical work, or short

biographical information on rulers in a historical text.6

The scholarship on the use of tabular forms in Islamic manuscripts is unfortunately thin.

Denise Aigle, one of the pioneering scholars working on medieval Islamic texts that employed

graphic presentations, maintains that the preponderance of tabular organization in different

literary genres, particularly in the works related to practical sciences such as medicine,

geography, and history, proliferated from especially the thirteenth century onwards.7 These texts,

regardless of content, usually have the word taqwīm as part of their titles. Among the salient

examples of this trend, one should name the Taqwīm al-abdān fī tadbīr al-insān of Ibn Jazla (d.

4
Benno Van Dalen, “An Introduction to the Mathematics of Islamic Astronomy and Astrology.”
(Unpublished paper).
5
Abū al-Fidāʼ Ismāʻīl ibn ʻAlī, Géographie d’Aboulféda; texte arabe publié d'après les
manuscrits de Paris et de Leyde par M. Reinaud et M. le baron Mac Guckin de Slane (Paris:
Impr. Royale, 1840), 3.
6
Aigle, 16.
7
In addition to the above-cited work, see “The Historical taqwīm in Muslim East,” in The
Mongol Empire between Myth and Reality: Studies in Anthropological History (Leiden: Brill,
2015), 89–104.
242
later than 1100), the Taqwīm al-lisān of Ibn al-Jawzī (d. 1201), the Taqwīm al-adwiya of

Ḥubaysh b. Ibrāhīm al-Tiflisī (d. 1231), the Taqwīm al-buldān of Abū’l-Fidāʾ, and even the

Taqwīm al-tawārīkh of Kātib Çelebi (d. 1657).8 Considering the surprising similarities in the

tables and layout of the folios in these works and our almanac-prognostications, it is safe to

argue that taqwīm as the genre of almanac-prognostications should be evaluated within this

broader Islamic literary tradition of works employing tabular forms of presentation under the title

taqwīm.

What taqwīm has come to denote as the specific genre of almanac-prognostications,

however, is an annual presentation principally combining astronomical, astrological, and

calendric information for the upcoming year. Seemingly ubiquitous throughout late-medieval

and early-modern Islamicate culture, especially in the central and eastern parts of the Islamic

world, these texts were primarily produced by experts in the science of the stars before or around

the time of the year-transfer (taḥvīl-i sāl), that is, the spring equinox and beginning of the new

solar year (Navrūz).9 The production of these texts required the astral expert’s making

mathematical and astronomical computations of the true longitudes of the planets (taqwīm al-

kawākib) necessary to deriving subsequent astrological analyses.10 As taqwīms were annually

produced on the occasion of the turn of the new solar year, the defining moment for astronomical

calculations is the time when the sun enters the sign Aries. After the taqwīm-compiler identifies

8
Efraim Lev, “An Early Fragment of Ibn Jazlah’s Tabulated Manual ‘ Taqwīm Al-Abdān ’ from
the Cairo Genizah (T-S Ar.41.137),” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 24/2 (2014), 189–223.
9
M. Hofelich and D. M. Varisco, “Taḳwīm,” EI2, Online version; Hofelich, “The Making of
Taqvims in Iran,” In La science dans le monde Iranien à l’époque islamique, ed. Ziva Vesel et
al. Tehran: Institut Français de Recherche en Iran, 1998, 49-51.
10
Benno Van Dalen, “An Introduction to the Mathematics of Islamic Astronomy and Astrology”
(Unpublished paper)
243
the ascendant (ṭāliʿ), establishes all the other astrological houses, and determines further celestial

variables at the time of the spring equinox by drawing upon the data and methods provided by

astronomical tables (zīj) in circulation, he or she prepares the horoscope of the coming year and

starts delineating astrological predictions as to its fortunes.11

While zīj was the most important, and evidently affordable tool in the taqwīm-producer’s

paraphernalia, the vocabulary used in extant almanacs and other treatises hints that astral experts

might have also used astronomical instruments for establishing the celestial map of the desired

moment.12 Astronomical calculations, of course, provide the necessary ground upon which

astrological predictions are laid down and calendric tabulations are placed. The general

astrological predictions for the upcoming year (aḥkām-i kulliya or aḥkām-i ṭāliʿ-i sāl-i ʿālam)

start with often-sycophantic remarks on the fortunes of the reigning sovereign to whom taqwīm

is dedicated. The ruler, who is often paralleled to the Sun, is always at the center of the analysis,

just as the Sun is the mainstay of the entire cosmos. This panegyric is followed by a discussion

on the fortunes of other social categories, usually six in number, each theoretically corresponding

to one of the seven planets. For example, the section following the fortunes of the ruler describes

the conditions of viziers and other statesmen (aḥvāl-i vuzarāʾ va arkān-i davlat), the third is on

ʿulamāʿ, shaykhs, and related people (aḥvāl-i ʿulamāʾ va fuqahā va mashāyīkh-i kibār), the

fourth about governors and men of the sword (aḥvāl-i umarā-i kibār va sipahsalārān-i ʿalī-

miqdār), the fifth on the sultan’s women and servants (aḥvāl-i khavātīn va khuddām), the sixth

on people of the divan including scribes, poets, physicians, and astrologers (aḥvāl-i ahl-i dīvān

11
Ascendant is the point of the ecliptic rising on the eastern horizon at the given moment. See:
Mohammad Bagheri, “Kūshyār ibn Labbān’s Glossary of Astronomy,” SCIAMVS 7 (2006), 155.
12
Some stock examples include “naẓar bi-Āfitāb kardīm ki...” or “chūn naẓar kardīm va yaftīm
Bahrām rā dar vatad-i rābi...”
244
va aṭibbāʾ va shuʿarāʾ va munajjimān), and the seventh regarding travellers, messengers, and

commoners (aḥvāl-i misāfirān va rasūlān va ʿavām al-nās). Except for predictions about the

sultan, the vocabulary used for these social categories is always impersonal and non-specific.

The order and composition of these groups varies depending on the individual preference of the

almanac maker. There are many instances in which groups are merged together and the taqwīm-

maker composes this part in fewer than seven separate sections. In any of these cases, however,

it is hard not to detect the sultano-centric political philosophy transmitted through the narration

of astrological predictions.

Annual predictions about different social categories are followed by forecasts of earthly

affairs. These affairs are usually grouped into four categories: wars and battles, meteorological

events, crops and prices, and pestilence and disease. From time to time, almanac makers might

also include, in addition to the predictions on social categories and earthly phenomena, a separate

geographical section in which he or she explains how the fortunes of the upcoming year would

look like for the major cities and countries in each of the Seven Climes of traditional

geography.13

Following these general astrological predictions about the fortunes of the upcoming year,

the almanac-producer usually places two charts on two separate pages. The first of these charts is

a simple horoscope prepared according to the Chinese-Uighur animal cycle calendar.14 This chart

is more often than not accompanied by a short bit of prose, explaining to which animal cycle the

year in question belongs. There might also be a short prognostication of the fate of the year’s

13
For the understanding of the climates, see: André Miquel, “Iḳlīm,” EI2, Online version.
14
For Chinese-Uighur animal cycle calendar see: Osman Turan, On iki hayvanlı Türk takvimi
(İstanbul: Cumhuriyet Matbaası, 1941).
245
newborns, distinguishing as a general rule between those babies born in the first half of the

concerning year and those born in the second half. The second chart (on the following page) is

the detailed horoscope computed by the almanac-maker utilizing the zīj available. This chart is

preceded by a short prose declaration of the expected time and date of the revolution of the solar

year according to the lunar Islamic/Hijrī calendar. The date is then converted to other calendric

systems used at the time. While the list of calendric systems may vary depending on the period

and personal predilections of the taqwīm author, the standard set of calendar systems includes

three solar calendars: the Greek/Rūmī, the Persian/Zoroastrian/Yazdgirdī, and the

Jalālī/Malikshāhī, another solar-based calendar introduced at the time of the Saljuq sultan

Malikshāh (r. 1072-1092).15

After these two charts and their short prose commentaries comes the laborious

presentation of the astronomical, astrological, and calendric information for each month of the

upcoming year. Here the almanac-maker places ephemeris tables to mathematically demonstrate

the positions of the planets in each and every day of the month. Assuming the Sun moves

constantly through the zodiac during the year, over one day the sun’s position increases by one

degree; thus the position of the Sun in the zodiac is equivalent to the date in the schematic

calendar. The tables also designate for each month the days of religious/liturgical and

meteorological significance for different traditions. In addition to such astronomical and

calendric information, the monthly tables also include brief astrological remarks in the form of

predictions (aḥkām) and advice on auspicious days and times (ikhtiyārāt), based on almanac-

15
For the classical study on the calendars used in the Islamicate world, see: Sayyed H.
Taqizadeh, “Various Eras and Calendars used in the Countries of Islam,” BSOAS 9/4 (1938),
903-922; 10/1 (1939), 107-132; 14/3 (1952), 603-611.
246
producer’s interpretation of the individual horoscope of each month (i.e., the ṭāliʿ of the time of

Sun’s entering a new sign during its annual rotation across the ecliptic).16 Finally the last folio of

taqwīms is devoted to predicting eclipses in the upcoming year. If there is an eclipse expected to

occur in the year, then information about its time, location, and duration is recorded. The reason

why information about eclipses is recorded only at the end of taqwīms is, as al-Bīrūnī says, the

unfavorable character of eclipses that were interpreted as bad omens.17

It is highly telling to discuss the ways almanac-makers used the term taqwīm. Unlike the

modern connotations of the word which incline more toward the notion of a calendar, medieval

and early-modern Islamicate astral experts often employed the term in conjunction with either a

specific planet, as in the case of taqwīm al-shams, or planets in general, as in the case of taqwīm

al-kawākib, denoting “survey of [the true longitude of] the planets.” In this, taqwīm likely retains

the original spatial connotations of its root, implicitly promising the calculation and tabulation of

the true positions of the celestial objects across time, whereby one can easily determine the

position of seven planets relative to each other. By contrast, the word tārīkh (“dating,”

“history”18) was favored in the astral lore to denote chronology/calendar systems. In the zīj

literature, and particularly in the two most popular post-thirteenth-century manuals of

astronomical tables (i.e., the Zīj-i Īlkhānī and the Zīj-i Jadīd-i Ulugh Beg), the first chapters (dar

maʿrifat-i tavārīkh) are often dedicated to describing then-widely-used chronology systems and

methods of converting dates.19

16
For ikhtiyārāt see: David Pingree, “Ektīārāt,” in EIr.
17
Bīrūnī, The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology, ed. and tr. Robert
Ramsay Wright (London: Luzac & co., 1934).
18
Wehr, Cowan, op cit., 12.
19
Surprisingly, the Zīj-i Īlkhānī has not been published in a critical edition. My references are
247
 This summary of the structure of taqwīms relies almost exclusively upon the surviving

Ottoman examples that constitute the greater majority of extant available Islamic taqwīms but it

is possible to consider this schema as universally applicable to all available taqwīms

notwithstanding the cosmetic differences among almanacs in terms of their contents and style.

Although the great majority of extant taqwīms produced in different regions and periods of the

pre-modern Islamicate world are found in Ottoman lands, there is rich documentary evidence for

the production and use of this tool in earlier Islamic history and elsewhere. Though modern

scholarly attention to the almanacs is quite limited, those few studies dealing with the genre of

taqwīm demonstrate the likelihood that it originated in the eastern Islamic lands.20

The history of taqwīms in the Islamic world is yet to be written. Although the origins of the

genre are obscure, Michael Hofelich argues that it developed from Hellenistic precursors dating

from the fourth or fifth centuries A.D. In fact, from around 400 B.C. onwards afer the Babylonians

first invented the concept of the Zodiac, different arrangements of ephemerides for the sun,

moon, and planets, and astrological remarks for the days of month emerged.21 In addition to the

possible Babylonian-Hellenistic vein of influence, the impact of Indian and Sasanian astral

knowledge on the formation of Islamic astrology, especially in the courts of the early Abbasid

caliphs should also be taken into consideration.22

from a relatively early copy of the text now housed in Florence, BML Or. 24. For the Zīj-i Ulugh
Beg, see: Uluğ Bey’in Astronomi cetvelleri = Zîc-i Uluğ Bey, ed. Mustafa Kaçar and Atilla Bir
(Ankara: T.C. Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı, 2012).
20
M. Hofelich and D. M. Varisco. “Taḳwīm”; Hofelich, “The Making of Taqvims in Iran.”
21
John Steele, “A Late Babylonian Compendium of Calendrical and Stellar Astrology,” Journal
of Cuneiform Studies 67 (2015), 187–215.
22
The most thorough discussion of the circulation of astrological knowledge in early Islam is
offered by David Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology: from Babylon to Bīkāner (Rome:
Istitutio Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente, 1997). See also Pingree, “Astronomy and Astrology in
248
 Thābit b. Qurra, the prolific polymath active at the Abbasid court in the second half of the

ninth century, made the first known mention of a taqwīm, which he calls daftar al-sana

(“account of the year”).23 Two centuries later, al-Bīrūnī also employed these concepts in his

astrological compendium, Kitāb al-tafhīm li-awāʾil ṣināʿat al-tanjīm. According to al-Bīrūnī,

these ephemeral texts, which he also named as taqwīm or daftar al-sana, were routinely

produced each year around the time of Navrūz. The major objectives of these annual

compositions, according to al-Bīrūnī, were to tabulate the planetary positions and the exact

day/time in which the sun enters different signs of the Zodiac, to provide the calendric

information for different chronology systems, and to communicate astrological

prognostications.24 It also contained, as he described, a brief chronological section at the

beginning, informing the readers of the dates of the prophets and distinguished rulers.

I will discuss in greater detail the significance of al-Bīrūnī’s remarks on the use of

historical chronologies in almanacs when exploring the role of reverse-chronology tables in

Ottoman taqwīms. Suffice it to say, the documented integration of historical material into

taqwīms as early as the late tenth century seems to have been related to the growing popularity of

astrological histories, or historical astrologies, in the early Abbasid intellectual realm from the

ninth century onwards.25

India and Iran,” Isis 54/2 (1963), 229-246; Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The
Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early ʻAbbāsid Society (2nd-4th/8th-10th
Centuries). London: Routledge, 1998, esp. 75-104.
23
Cited in Ḥākimī zīd̲ j̲ , ed. and tr. C.A. Caussin de Perceval, in Le livre de la grande table
Hakémite , in Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque nationale, vii, Paris 1804, 98.
24
Bīrūnī, The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology, 186-191.
25
In addition to Gutas’s work cited above, see Antoine Borrut, “Court Astrologers and Historical
Writing in Early Abbasid Baghdad: An Appraisal,” in Contexts of Learning in Baghdad from the
8th-10th Centuries, ed. J. Scheiner and Damien Janos (Princeton: The Darwin Press, 2014), 455-
249
 The early Abbasid period witnessed the pointed cultivation of astral lore and the

intellectual and scientific legacies of Greeks, Indians and Sasanians’ becoming increasingly

appropriated and “subsequently naturalized.”26 In addition to the aforementioned Thābit b.

Qurra, the courts of the early Abbasid caliphs welcomed a great many astral experts, such as the

Banu Nawbakht family, MāshāʾAllāh b. Atharī (d. ca. 815-6), ʿUmar b. al-Farrukhān al-Ṭabarī

(d. 815-6), and most importantly Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī (d. 886).27 The scholarly efforts of these

names helped accumulate different kinds of astrological texts ranging from individual

horoscopes prepared for the members of the dynastic family to astrological histories aiming to

explain and legitimize the divinely ordained rule of the Abbasid dynasty. It is no surprise that

after initiating their new “cycle” (dawla), Abbasid caliphs cultivated astrology to bolster their

ideological claims. In its simplest term, the genre of astrological histories provided chronological

information about events in the distant and recent past, and associated these incidents with

celestial phenomena, particularly the conjunctions occurred between Saturn and Jupiter.28

501.
26
Gutas, 75-104. See also: A. I. Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of
Greek Science in Medieval Islam,” History of Science 25 (1987), 223–43.
27
For Nawbakhtīs, see Joel L. Kraemer, “Al-Nawbakthī, al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā, Abū Muḥammad,”
2
EI , Online version; Kevin Van Bladel, “The Arabic History of Science of Abū Sahl ibn
Nawbaḫt (fl. ca. 770-809) and its Middle Persian Sources,” in Islamic Philosophy, Science,
Culture, and Religion. Studies in Honor of Dimitri Gutas, ed. Felicitas Opwis and David
Reisman (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 41-62; David Pingree, “Abū Sahl b. Nawbakt,” EIr; Pingree,
“Nowbaktī, Ḥasan,” EIr. For Māshāʾallāh, see David Pingree, “Māshāʾallāh,” in Dictionary of
Scientific Biography, vol. IX, 159-162; Julio Samsó, “Māshāʾ Allāh b. Atharī or b. Sāriya,” EI2,
Online version, and especially Pingree, The Thousands of Abū Maʿshar (London: Warburg
Institute, 1968). For ʿUmar b. al-Farrukhān, see: David Pingree, “ʿUmar ibn al-Farrukhān,” in
Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol. XIII, 538-539. For Abū Maʿshar, see: David Pingree,
“Abū Maʿshar al-Balkhī, Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad,” in Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol. I,
32-39; Charles Burnett, “Abū Maʿshar,” EI3, Online version.
28
David Pingree, “Ḳirān,” EI2, Online version. See especially Charles Burnett and Keiji
Yamamoto, Abū Maʿshar on Historical Astrology. The Book of Religions and Dynasties (on
250
 This conjunctionist astrology became popular in the early Abbasid intellectual context

owing especially to the works and translations of MāshāʾAllāh b. Atharī, who was crucial to

channeling the Indian and Sasanian traditions into the Islamic intellectual realm.29 In it, the

conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter betoken the occurrence of major events such as the emergence

of a new religious dispensation, a turn of a ruling “cycle” from one dynasty to another, or the

replacement of a reigning ruler. There are different types of conjunctions and each type is

associated with a different sublunary transition. For instance the regular conjunctions of Saturn

and Jupiter that recur at intervals of about twenty years in a different sign (al-qirān al-aṣgar,

“the lesser conjunction”) indicate a change of ruler. These conjunctions stay in the same

astrological triplicity [i.e., a group of three signs of the Zodiac belonging to the same element]

for a long time; however, about every 240 years, they move into a new triplicity. This

conjunction (al-qirān al-awsaṭ, “the middle conjunction”) was often interpreted as a marker of a

more serious change such as the emergence of a new dynasty or a nation. Moreover, the

completion of a cycle of shifts through all four triplicities every 960 years (al-qirān al-akbar,

“the greater conjunction”) was thought to indicate even a more sweeping change such as the

advent of a prophet and the establishment of a new religious dispensation.30

The earliest examples of this genre are unfortunately lost; but, on the basis of the surviving

texts from the early ninth century examined by Edward Kennedy and his former colleagues, their

production involved the detailed computation of birth horoscopes as well as the horoscopes of

Great Conjunctions) (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 582-587.

29
Pingree, “Māshāʾ Allāh’s Zoroastrian Historical Astrology,” in Horoscopes and Public
Spheres: Essays on the History of Astrology, ed. Günther Oestmann, Darrel H. Rutkin, Kocku
von Stuckrad (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005), 95-100.
30
For a concise summary of the theory, see Borrut, 468-9.
251
year-transfers of the birthdates (taḥwīl sinnī al-ʿālam), which makes them the intellectual

cousins, if not sisters, of the taqwīm texts.31 Antoine Borrut, who most recently pointed out the

importance of the genre of historical astrology, argues—without mentioning the contemporary

development of the taqwīm genre—that these texts gradually diminished and eventually

disappeared in later Abbasid history after a new theocentric vision of history started to become

the dominant view among the ʿulamāʾ and as astrology was allegedly marginalized in Islamic

society.32 We are not in a position to detect whether these Abbasid astrological histories, which

Antoine Borrut argues gradually lost their significance, were incorporated, in whatever fashion,

into later taqwīm texts. That the extant taqwīms from the Ottoman and non-Ottoman realms with

chronology tables almost always exclude Umayyad history by jumping from the narration of

Karbala to the emergence of Abū Muslim, suggests that earlier Abbasid astrological histories

could indeed have influenced the structure and contents of later taqwīms.

Moving forward from the Abbasids, we find contemporary references to taqwīms produced

in Fatimid Egypt and Syria in the eleventh century.33 Unfortunately the available catalogue

records yield no surviving Fatimid taqwīms. The closest relative to a Fatimid taqwīm could be

the twelfth-century ephemeral almanacs David Pingree and Bernard Goldstein found among the

documents of the Cairo Geniza. These texts are Hebrew-alphabet transliterations of works

originally composed in Arabic.34 Though most of these documents survive only fragmentarily,

31
E.S. Kennedy (and Colleagues and Former Students), “Al-Battānī’s Astrological History of the
Prophet and the Early Caliphate,” Suhayl 9 (2009-2010), 13-148.
32
Borrut, 485-7.
33
Aydın Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam, 167.
34
Goldstein, B. and D. Pingree, “Astrological Almanacs from the Cairo Geniza, Part 1,” Journal
of Near Eastern Studies, 38/3 (1979), 153-175; “Astrological Almanacs from the Cairo Geniza,
Part 2,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 38/4 (1979), 231-256; “Additional Astrological
252
some of their contents, combining astronomical descriptions of the daily position of the Moon

with corresponding astrological analyses, do remind of the taqwīm tradition. The astrological

components of these documents, however, do not include yearly and monthly predictions, and

consist solely of astrological advice (ikhtiyārāt) one should keep in mind before deciding to do

things like bloodletting, entering baths, or arranging marriages.

The Rasulid period in Yemen (1229–1454) provides the second richest collection of extant

taqwīms after the Ottoman corpus. In his detailed analysis of the almanac genre during the

Rasulid dynasty, Daniel Martin Varisco lists eight surviving Rasulid taqwīms, the earliest of

which was compiled around the year 1271.35 Varisco’s study is of the utmost importance, for his

is one of the rare scholarly attempts to recognize the set of almanac texts as an important

historical source per se and contextualize their contents for the social, and particularly

agricultural, life of medieval Yemen.

The preponderance of references in contemporary literary sources and other documents

from Eastern Islamicate lands corroborates the modern scholarly assumption that the taqwīm was

of Eastern Islamic/Persian origin. Niẓāmī-i ʿAruḍī, for example, briefly mentions the taqwīm

genre in his Chahār maqāla. In the introduction to his third discourse on the “lore of the stars

and the excellence of the astronomer in that science,” he briefly summarizes the required

qualities one has to have to become an erudite munajjim. Quoting al-Bīrūnī’s Tafhīm, Niẓāmī

ʿAruḍī says “a man does not merit the title of munajjim until he has attained proficiency in four

sciences: First, Geometry (handasa); secondly, Arithmetic (ḥisāb); thirdly, Cosmography

Almanacs from the Cairo Geniza,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 103/4 (1983), 673-
690.
35
Daniel Martin Varisco, Medieval Agriculture and Islamic Science: The Almanac of a Yemeni
Sultan (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1994).
253
(hayʾa), and fourthly, Judicial Astrology (aḥkām).” For Niẓāmī, the most common applications

of the science of the stars that incorporate all four of these sub-disciplines are astronomical tables

(zījhā) and almanacs (taqāwīm).36 Except for his reference to taqwīms as a practical field of

interest for applying the knowledge of the science of the stars, there is no concrete example in

Niẓāmī’s anecdotes of the actual use of taqwīms that might help clarify how these texts were

produced and consumed at the time. However, we have additional hard evidence from post-

thirteenth-century Persianate East, showing that taqwīm production was already an established

tradition among practicing munajjims.

In his prologue to the Zīj-i Īlkhānī, for example, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī (d. 1274) does not shy

away from explicating to his audience the real purposes of the tables he and his colleagues

prepared at the Maragha Observatory. Unlike modern scholarly treatments of the zīj literature

that usually disregard the astrological intentions underlying the costly systematic programs of

observations, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī writes rather explicitly from the very beginning of the text, it is

crucial to observe and calculate the positions of the celestial objects if one wants to have

foreknowledge about earthly matters such as the security of the country, warfare and peace

among rulers, health and disease of individuals, the situation of agricultural production and

market prices, meteorology, and the fate of newborns.37 Astrological judgments about these

36
Niẓāmī ʿArūżī, Chahār maqāla, ed. Muḥammad Qazvīnī (Tihrān: Kitābfurūshī-i Zavvār,
1954), 87-88.
37
BML Or. 24, 2b: “Sukhan dar raṣad-i siṭāragān va anki raṣad va zīj va taqvīm cha bāshad:
… bi-dānistan-i raṣad-i mavżiʿ-i sitāragān bar āsumān va payvastan-i īshān ba-yakdigar va judā
shodan va miqdār-i davrī-yi īshān az yakdigar va az zamīn va miqdār-i ravish-i īshān maʿlūm
shavad va az dānistan-i ān ḥukm tuvān kard ki baʿd az īn dar ʿālam cha khāhad būd az amīnī va
parīshānī va ṣulḥ-i pādishāhān bā-yakdigar va ḥarb va gardish-i rūzgār va tandorostī va bīmārī-
i khalq va vabā va farāḥī va tangī-i narkhhā va bārandagī va khushgī va digar ḥalhā va
hamchunīn ḥāl-i har farzandī ki dar vujūd āyad va dirāzī-i ʿomr va kūtāhī va nik-bakhtī va bad-
254
issues could only be cast with a precise knowledge of celestial positions, and the knowledge of

celestial positions could only be calculated accurately by systematic observation. Once the

positions of celestial objects in each and every day are established through laborious observation,

this information is recorded in a manual of astronomical tables, i.e., a zīj (Ar. pl. azyaj). Utilizing

the data and methods provided in these tables, taqwīms are produced on a yearly basis,

designating the positions of celestial bodies across the year, which would allow practicing

munajjims to calculate the ascendant and make their astrological predictions. Ṭūsī concludes his

introduction by saying that he hopes his new zīj will become the main reference work for

munajjims in preparing their almanacs and casting horoscopes.38

Aside from Zīj-i Īlkhānī, the real contribution of Naṣīr al-Dīn al- Ṭūsī in the field of

almanac-making was his short treatise, Mukhtasar dar maʿrifat-i taqvīm, better known as Risāla-

i Sī faṣl. This work explains concisely the nature of the planets, the characteristics of the signs of

the Zodiac, and the influences of different planetary positions, and soon became one of the most

sought-after astrological texts in the Central and Eastern Islamic lands. As we have already

mentioned, along with the commentaries of later astral experts such as Khiṭābī (d. later than

1495) or Birjandī (d. 1525), the work was translated into Turkish as early as the fifteenth century

bakhtī va tandorostī va ranjūrī va tuvāngarī va …ranj u rāḥat ki badū rasad. Īn hama az

mavāżiʿ-i sitāragān tuvān dānist va mavżiʿ-i sitāragān ki har vaqt har yakī kojā bāshand
natuvān dānist tā ravish-i īshān nadānand.”
See also: J. A. Boyle, “The Longer Introduction to the ‘Zij-i-Īlkhani’ of Nasir-ad-Din Tusi,”
Journal of Semitic Studies 8/2 (1963), 244-254. For the zīj literature, see: Edward S. Kennedy,
“A Survey of Islamic Astronomical Tables,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society
46/2 (1956), 123-177; David A. King, Julio Samsó, Bernard R. Goldstein, “Astronomical
Handbooks and Tables from the Islamic World (750-1900): An Interim Report,” Suhayl 2
(2001), 9-105.
38
BML Or. 24, 3b.
255
by Aḥmed-i Dāʿī.39

For practicing munajjims, especially the novice and inept ones, almanacs had a function

similar to the zīj, providing readily available tables of celestial positions in a given year.

However, the prestige of a munajjim rested upon the ability to make the necessary astronomical

calculations with ease and precision on his/her own. Because making accurate calculations

without relying upon a zīj was a praiseworthy virtue for a munajjim, unskillful practitioners were

often mocked for their lack of computational skills. For instance in one of his letters to his father,

Jamshīd al-Kāshī (d. 1429) derides a certain Mawlānā ʿImād for his inability to determine the

positions of celestial objects without—not even a zīj but—an almanac.40 It is evident through the

remarks of al-Kāshī that an erudite munajjim was expected to produce taqwīms, not simply

consume them.

Jamshīd al-Kāshi is not the only witness to the production and circulation of almanacs in

the Timurid era. Although no almanac from the Timurid realm is known to survive, various

contemporary scholars refer to the genre in their writings. It would have been surprising indeed

not to find such references to the notion of taqwīm in the Timurid context, as it was in the courts

of Timurid princes, especially the first half of the fifteenth century, that astral pursuits, among

other occult curiosities, gained a new momentum. Mīrzā Iskandar ibn ʿUmar-Shaykh (r. 1409–

14) was evidently the first of these princes who showed a keen interest in the science of the stars

39
For the 15th century Turkish translation see: Aḥmed-i Dāʿī, Muhtasar fi ilm el-tencim ve
marifet el-takvim (risale-i si fasl), ed. T. N. Gencan, M. Dizer. Istanbul: Boğaziçi Üniversitesi
Kandilli Rasathanesi, 1984.
40
Mohammed Bagheri, “A Newly Found Letter of al-Kashi on Scientific Life in Samarqand,”
Historia Mathematica 24 (1997), 241-256.
256
as part of his greater theosophical and political aspirations.41 The real flowering of the science of

the stars, however, took place under the reign of Ulugh Beg (d. 1449). The observatory and the

adjoining madrasas sponsored by Ulugh Beg himself housed over two hundred masters and

students interested in the cultivation of mathematical-astral sciences.42 The Zīj-i Jadīd-i Ulugh

Beg, prepared as part of the systematic observation program undertaken at the Samarqand

observatory, aspired to definitively revise the inaccurate data of earlier tables, especially the Zīj-i

Īlkhānī.

Two of the contemporary voices that help us document the use of taqwīms in the Timurid

world were intimately connected with Ulugh Beg. The first one is Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī (d.

1454), a dynastic historian to the Timurids and an influential occult philosopher, who was

personally invited by Ulugh Beg to join the team of astral experts at the Samarqand

observatory.43 In one of his short treatises, Yazdī treats the taqwīm texts and attempts to outline

their major characteristics. As his wording suggests he associated the taqwīm with cognate occult

activities that aim to rationalize the divine secrets underlying the interconnectedness of celestial

41
Jean Aubin, “Le mécénat timouride à Chiraz,” Studia Islamica 8 (1957): 71-88; Evrim Binbaş,
“Timurid Experimentation with Eschatological Absolutism: Mīrzā Iskandar, Shāh Niʿmatullāh
Walī, and Sayyid Sharīf Jurjānī in 815/1412,” in Unity in Diversity: Mysticism, Messianism and
the Construction of Religious Authority in Islam, ed. Orkhan Mir-Kasimov (Leiden: Brill, 2014),
277-306.
42
The literature on the Samarqand observatory is vast, see particularly: İhsan Fazlıoğlu, “The
Samarqand Mathematical-Astronomical School,” Journal for the History of Arabic Science, 4/1-
2 (2008), 3-68; Hamid-Reza Giahi Yazdi and Pouyan Rezvani, “Chronology of the Events of the
Samarqand ‘Observatory and School’ based on some Old Persian Texts: a Revision,” Suhayl 14
(2015), 145-165.
43
For his life and intellectual stance, see: Evrim Binbaş, “Sharaf al-Dīn ‘Alī Yazdī (ca. 770s-
858/ca. 1370s-1454): Prophecy, Politics, and Historiography in Late Medieval Islamic History.”
(Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago, 2009).
257
and terrestrial realms.44 For Yazdī, annual taqwīms systematically determine the daily celestial

positions and derive accompanying astrological suggestions therefrom. Although he does not

comment upon the origins or historical development of the genre, his remarks on the inclusion of

annual astrological predictions relative to the fortunes of seven different social categories and

five earthly affairs evince the established practice of the almanac tradition in the central and

eastern Islamic lands.45

The second scholar from the Timurid realm who testifies to the use of almanacs is

Muḥammad al-Ḥusayn (d. later than 1434), better known as Sayyid Munajjim.46 As mentioned in

the previous chapter, Sayyid Munajjim presented Ulugh Beg with an astronomical treatise that he

finished composing on Friday, Ramaḍan 20, 837/April 30, 1434.47 He is most famous for his

Laṭāʾif al-kalām fī aḥkām al-aʿwām, a manual for teaching the students of the science of the

stars’ basic astrological principles. Like Ṭūsī’s Maʿrifat-i taqwīm, Sayyid Munajjim’s

astrological textbook soon became popular among contemporary students. Besides his

autobiographical remarks and astrological interpretations of the comet that became visible in the

44
Sharaf al-Dīn ʻAlī Yazdī, Munshaʼat, 80: “Dībācha-i aḥkām-i taqvīm: ...[C]hūn ʿālam bā-
sirrhā az rūḥāniyāt va jismāniyāt, ʿulviyāt va sufliyāt majmūʿ āfarīda khalqī-i vāhīd ast ba-
vaḥdat-i ḥaqīqī - jalla wa ʿallā - va ān rā bā-kamāl-i qudrat-i qāhira bar ṭibq-i ḥikmat-i bāhira
pardākhta va tadabbur-i daqāʾiq-i ān rā mirqāt-i samavāt-i maʿrifat-i asmā va ṣifāt-i khīsh
sākhta, aḥvāl-i ajsām-i suflī rā bā avżāʿ-i ajrām-i ʿulvī navʿ–i irtibāṭī hast.”
45
Ibid., 80-81: “Binābarīn vāqifān bar ān asrār az laṭāif-i afkār vażʿ-i badīʿ ikhtirāʿ farmūda-
and ki dar mukhtaṣar varaqī chand maʿdūd muʿaẓẓamāt-i avżāʿ-i falakī dar tamām-i yak sāl rūz-
ba-rūz taʿyīn-i avqāt-i ān bāz mi tuvān namūd … Va ʿādat-i sābiqān dar intihāj-i ān maslak
barīn jumla jarayān yāfta ki dar avāʾil-i ān avrāq anmūzajī az kulliyāt-i aḥkām-i ān sāl bar
sabīl-i ijmāl bāz namāyand mushtamil bar zikr-i aḥvāl-i haft ṣinf az ṭabaqāt-i mardom va
chagūnagī-yi vuqūʿ-i panch amr az umūr-i kullī-i ʿālam va ḥāl-i aqālīm, nastaghfirullāh al-ʿaẓīm
al-tawwāb al-raḥīm.”
46
Morteza Somi & Mohammad Bagheri, “Risāla-i tashrīkh al-ālāt fī shaʾn al-imtiḥānāt az Sayyid
Munajjim Ḥusaynī Gīlānī,” Mirath-i Ilmi-i Islam va Iran 2/1 (1393/2013), 181-205.
47
SK Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 1362.
258
year 803/1400–1 as the portent of Tīmūr’s victory against Bāyezīd I (r. 1389–1402), the most

interesting aspect of this text for our purposes here is the quasi-taqwīm of the year 824/1421

appended to the end of the treatise.48 In fewer than 12 folios, Sayyid Munajjim calculates the

horoscope of the year and enumerates the accompanying astrological forecasts (aḥkām-i kulliya-i

ṭāliʿ-i sāl-i ʿālam ʿalā tarīq al-ijmāl).49

One last contemporary source on taqwīms in the Timurid realm is Rukn b. Sharaf al-Dīn al-

Āmulī, another venerable astral expert who wandered around Iran and India during the

tumultuous years of the post-Shāhrūkh (d. 1447) period.50 As the author of an individual zīj and

master of several students, some of whom eventually ended up in the Ottoman court and served

the Ottoman sultans, Rukn al-Āmulī’s views on the science of the stars reveal the common

scholarly approach toward the practice of the science of the stars in the late-medieval Turko-

Persian cultural sphere. In the treatise on the astrolabe that he dedicated to Abū’l-Qāsim Bābūr

Mīrzā (r. 1449-1457), Rukn al-Āmulī says that he spent most of his career studying philosophy

(ʿulūm-i ḥikmī), more specifically the mathematical sciences of ʿilm-i hayʾa, geometry

(handasa), and arithmetic (ḥisāb).51 There is no doubt for him that the ultimate goal in studying

these disciplines is to practice the science of judgments (i.e., astrology) and grasp the methods of

time reckoning (samara-i īn ʿulūm…ʿilm-i aḥkām va maʿrifat-i avqāt ast). The proper conduct of

these practices, however, is foundational: first observing the stars, and then calculating the true

longitudes of stars (istikhrāj-i taqvīm-i kavākib) and the horoscope of the hour horoscope

48
Kandilli Rasathanesi Kütüphanesi Ms. 310, 30b.
49
Ibid., 63b-71b.
50
Not much is known about Rukn al-Āmulī. In addition to Sayılı’s Observatory in Islam (p. 214-
5), see: S. Mohammad Mozaffari and Georg Zotti, “The Observational Instrument at the
Maragha Observatory after AD 1300,” Suhayl 12 (2013), esp. 146.
51
Harvard University Library Ms. Persian 33, 2a-3a.
259
(ṭavāliʿ-i sāʿāt). The astrolabe is, according to Rukn al-Āmulī, the best tool in the eyes of the

men of wisdom to compute the horoscope as well as make other necessary time measurements.52

Rukn al-Āmulī’s text does not specifically discuss the genre of almanac-prognostications;

however, given that he mentions the importance of tabulating the celestial positions for a certain

time, his elaboration is perfectly applicable to (and may even derive from) the tradition of

preparing taqwīm-i sāl based upon the celestial configuration at the time of the year-transfer.

As part of our survey of pre-Ottoman taqwīms, we may now finally introduce two

surviving almanacs from fourteenth-century Rum and Anatolia. One of these texts is a Greek

almanac produced in Trebizond by an anonymous author for the course of the year March 12,

1336 to March 12, 1337.53 The basic structure of this text is quite similar to other surviving

examples of taqwīms from later periods of Islamicate history and bears many prototypical

characteristics of the genre outlined by earlier authorities such as al-Bīrūnī. As is customary, this

Greek text starts with determining the celestial map at the time of the spring equinox. After

calculating the ascendant and rendering the horoscope, the author shares his astrological

predictions as to the fortunes of, first, Constantine Loukites, the eminent official in Trebizond,

and then those of various other social groups. Similar to many later taqwīms, these annual

predictions are followed by monthly tables of astronomical and calendric information, the

margins of which are filled with astrological prescriptions for performing and/or avoiding certain

acts. The dates in the tables are given according to the Byzantine and Hijrī calendars.

Considering the vibrant intellectual relations between Pontus Trebizond and western Iran in the

52
Ibid., 3a.
53
Raymond Mercier, An Almanac for Trebizond for the Year 1336 (Louvain-la-Neuve:
Academia-Erasme, 1994).
260
fourteenth century, it is not far-fetched to argue that the methods and data used by the

anonymous Byzantine almanac-maker were modeled upon the contemporary Persian astral

tradition.54 Several contemporary scholars in the Trebizond region were instrumental in the

transmission of Persian astral materials to the Greek world. For example, Gregory Chioniades (d.

1320), a protégé of Constantine Loukites and a key figure in the introduction of new forms of

astral studies into the Byzantine world, conveyed the then-recent astronomical tables of al-Zīj al-

Sanjarī by al-Khāzinī, al-Zīj al-Alāʿī by al-Shirvānī, and the Zīj-i Īlkhānī into the Greek world.

This argument is borne out in fact in this case, as Raymond Mercier asserts on the basis of his

own calculations that this almanac was computed by utilizing either the Zīj-i Īlkhānī or al-Zīj al-

Alāʿī.55

The second extant fourteenth-century taqwīm from the Rūm-Anatolia region is the

illuminated and voluminous almanac prepared in the year 773 A.H. (July 15, 1371–July 2, 1372

A.D.) for the Eretna court by a certain Zayn al-Munajjim b. Süleymān al-Konavī.56 In fact, it is

difficult to define it as a standard taqwīm, as the text lacks astronomical contents, detailed annual

astrological predictions, or ephemerides and calendar tables. It is, rather, a compendium of useful

divinatory knowledge, including tables and charts for different occult practices that range from

dream interpretation and palmoscopy to astral divination and ikhtiyārāt. A detailed historical

chronology, listing major events that have happened from Creation up to the year 769, precedes

all of these tables of divination. Apparently, the paratextual notes scattered in the first few folios

document that the taqwīm was in circulation in the Eretna court for about a decade since its

54
See for instance: David Pingree, The Astronomical Works of Gregory Chioniades
(Amsterdam: J.C. Gieben, 1985).
55
Mercier, 17.
56
SK Nuruosmaniye Ms. 2782.
261
composition, for there are records about events that happened in the year 783.57 Although the

text lacks year-specific astronomical and astrological calculations, the layout of the folios, the

detailed charts for divinatory practices, and most importantly, the presentation of reverse

historical chronology tables make this compendium a close relative of the fifteenth-century

Ottoman taqwīms.

IV. 3. Taqwīm à l’Ottoman

As the development of the genre described above clearly demonstrates, the Ottoman case

is not the first instance in the Islamicate world where taqwīms were composed routinely. Ample

references to the practice from at least the tenth century onwards and a few surviving

manuscripts from outside the Ottoman world make it possible to argue that the taqwīm was a

ubiquitous literary tradition in Islamicate culture during the Middle Ages. Yet, unlike other

periods and cultures of the Islamicate world for which a dearth of evidence prevents definitive

interpretation of the significance of this genre, the early-modern Ottoman era provides a

substantial amount of taqwīm texts that can be carefully followed, almost year-to-year.

The best bibliographical sources for Ottoman taqwīms, Osmanlı Astroloji Literatürü

Tarihi, and the two volumes of Kandilli Rasathanesi El Yazmaları Kataloğu, list by my count

over 150 known almanac-prognostications composed in the period 1421-1800.58 This list is far

57
One of these notes is related to the late-fourteenth century Ottoman principality, showing that
the Ottoman conquests in western Anatolia were followed in the Eretna court: “fatḥ kardan-i
khudāvandigār … Sulṭān Bāyezīd b. Murād Beg b. Orḥān dar vilāyat-i Aydın va Ṣārūḥān sana
771.”
58
Günay Kut, Kandilli Rasathanesi el yazmaları : Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Kandilli Rasathanesi ve
Deprem Araştırma Enstitüsü astronomi, astroloji, matematik yazmaları kataloğu (İstanbul:
Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Yayınevi, 2007); Ibid., Kandilli Rasathanesi el yazmaları : Boğaziçi
262
from complete, as many taqwīms have certainly been lost altogether due to their ephemeral

nature, and some additional ones doubtless survive undiscovered within miscellanies and obscure

collections. I have had access to about 120 such works and have closely studied more than two

third of these.

Although earlier scholarship on the Ottoman taqwīms has argued that they were produced

in multiple copies to be distributed to the wider reading public, there is not much evidence in

support of this case in the surviving manuscripts and contemporary historical sources, at least

prior to the nineteenth century.59 Compared to contemporary Europe where vernacular almanac-

prognostications became early-modern best sellers after the introduction of print technology, the

consumption and circulation of the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ottoman taqwīms were

mostly restricted to the inner circle of the sultan. The European counterparts of taqwīm, that is,

the tacuini in Italy, the practica in Germany, and the almanach in Britain, France, and the Low

Countries had formats, contents, and functions surprisingly similar to those of contemporary

Ottoman taqwīms.60 In fact, as revealed in etymological dictionaries of Latin, the word tacuini

was originally derived from the Arabic taqwīm, making these contemporary texts close

relatives.61 Despite from this intriguing etymological connection, there is alas no study shedding

Üniversitesi Kandilli Rasathanesi ve Deprem Araştırma Enstitüsü astronomi, astroloji,

matematik yazmaları kataloğu (İstanbul: Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Yayınevi, 2013); Osmanlı
Astroloji Literatürü Tarihi ve Osmanlı Astronomi Literatürü Tarihi Zeyli (İstanbul: IRCICA,
2011).
59
Aydüz, “Osmanlı Devleti’nde Müneccimbaşılık.”
60
See: B. S. Capp, English Almanacs, 1500-1800: Astrology and the Popular Press (Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1979); Elide Casali, Le spie del cielo: oroscopi, lunari e almanacchi
nell’Italia moderna (Torino: Einauidi, 2003); Jonathan Green, Printing and Prophecy:
Prognostication and Media Change, 1450-1550 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press,
2012).
61
Online Etymological Dictionary. Accessible at: http://www.etymonline.com/
263
light upon the shared sources and origins of these different varieties of almanac-prognostications.

Yet, the relatively rich European historiography on early modern almanac-prognostications

makes it evident that these texts enjoyed wider public and political recognition in Europe from

the late fifteenth to the early eighteenth century.

It is outside the purview of this study to compare early-modern Ottoman taqwīms to their

contemporary European counterparts. What I will try to do here is to go beyond the earlier

descriptive treatment of the genre and correlate different aspects of taqwīm writing to the

(changing) realities of the early-modern Ottoman world. By especially focusing on the

production, circulation, and consumption of taqwīms, and tracing relevant stories of the agents

involved, I will historicize fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ottoman taqwīms within their

respective social and political contexts.

Regarding the authorship of taqwīms, earlier scholarship has suggested that the task of

compiling and presenting the annual taqwīm was a monopoly enjoyed by the office of

müneccimbaşı.62 As we have already discussed in the previous two chapters, despite the fact that

an office consisting of monthly-salaried court munajjims became formalized during the time of

Bāyezīd II (r. 1481-1512) and the tasks of the munajjims on the palace payroll were more or less

defined, taqwīm production was still considered a viable option for aspirant outsiders seeking to

secure a sultanic benefaction.

It is not easy to reconstruct the personal dynamics underlying the production of taqwīms.

Most of the surviving fifteenth- and sixteenth-century taqwīms do not include the names of their

compilers. Those few almanac-prognostications identifying their authors are also not very

62
Aydüz, “Osmanlı Devleti’nde Müneccimbaşılık.”
264
helpful. Almanac-makers revealed little about themselves in their taqwīms, and were barely

considered worthy of mention in contemporary biographical sources. For example in

Ṭaşköprِِīzāde’s al-Shaqāʾiq al-Nuʿmāniyya only one individual, that is Mawlānā Aṭāullah

ʿAcemī, the master of Mīrim Çelebi, is underlined for his productivity in the making of

taqwīms.63 Likewise, in contemporary historical narratives and chronicles, there exist no specific

mention of a taqwīm maker or a munajjim, despite loose references to the services of unspecified

munajjims in designating auspicious times for undertaking imperial enterprises. The archival

documents, already introduced in the previous chapters, are also not that helpful for illuminating

how the munajjims were undertaking the task of producing and presenting annual taqwīms.

Therefore we do not have sufficient evidence as to the exact mechanics and procedures

underlying the taqwīm business. Who were the agents involved in the writing of a taqwīm and its

presentation to the palace? Were all taqwīms welcomed in the palace or was there any initial

selection process? Did the sultan really read them (or have them read to him)? Who had

permission to read annual taqwīms? Were taqwīms of each year read once and for all, or did their

readers consult them sporadically throughout that specific year? Where were the taqwīms kept?

Why were they—or at least some of them—kept after they expired?

There is no trace in contemporary narrative and archival sources as to a sort of atelier in

the palace in which presentation copies of taqwīms were produced.64 It was mostly incumbent

63
Tashkoprīzāde, al-Shaqāʾiq al-nuʿmānīyah fī ʿulamāʾ al-dawlat al-ʿuthmānīyah, ed. Ahmed
Subhi Furat (İstanbul: Edebiyat Fakültesi Basımevi, 1985), 221-222.
64
There is a substantial literature on the preparation of illustrated manuscripts for the Ottoman
court, yet in none of these studies is mentioned the production of a taqwīm. See for instance:
Emine Fetvacı, Picturing history at the Ottoman Court. (Indiana: Indiana University Press,
2013); Fatma Sinem Eryılmaz, “The shehnamecis of Sultan Süleyman: Arif and Eflatun and their
dynastic Project.” (Ph.D. Dissertation, The University of Chicago, 2010). See also: Filiz
265
upon the individual almanac maker to prepare his taqwīm on the basis of established

conventions. In fact, in terms of its production and reception by readers, the astrological almanac

should be considered slightly different than a regular book. Early modern Ottoman readers of

taqwīms were aware of the ephemeral nature of these texts. For instance in a relatively popular

late-fifteenth century text of folk astronomy and meteorology, the author Ḫāce Ebrī points to the

main difference between a taqwīm and his malḥama text by reminding his readers that taqwīms

are rendered ineffective every new year whereas malḥama texts survive for years to come.65

Kātib Çelebi also implies this in his Taqwīm al-tawārīkh by saying that taqwīms of munajjims

are by nature ephemeral.66 Due mostly to their ephemeral nature, their preservation was not an

immediate concern. For example, from the early years of Bāyezīd II’s reign, there are at least

three separate taqwīms (from the years 894/1489 and 895/1490) that have the seal of the sultan in

their flyleaves, showing that these copies were initially incorporated to the imperial library.

However, the detailed catalogue of the Ottoman Palace Library prepared in 1502–3 by the chief

librarian ʿĀṭūfī, does not cite any of those three sealed taqwīms among regular books in the

library, hinting that taqwīms were considered at the time different than regular books despite the

fact that the they are all in codex form.67

As regards to the time of the production and presentation of these texts, it is not far-

fetched to consider taqwīms in parallel with New Year’s greetings, for taqwīms were prepared

and presented on the occasion of Navrūz. Given the dearth of substantial studies about the

Çağman, “Saray Nakkaşhanesinin Yeri Üzerine Düşünceler,” in Sanat Tarihinde Doğudan

Batıya: Ünsal Yücel Anısına Sempozyum Bildirileri (İstanbul: Sandoz Kültür Yayınları, 1989),
35-46.
65
SK Hafid Efendi Ms. 205/1, 2b: “taḳvīm gibi yılda bir żāyiʿ olmaz.”
66
Katib Çelebi, Takvimü’t-Tevarih, 4b: “taḳvīm-i aṣḥāb-i tencīm gibi mensūḫü’l-ʿamel.”
67
Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Ms. Török F 59.
266
historical anthropology of Navrūz celebrations in different parts of the Islamic past, it is difficult

to argue with certainty that the coming of the new solar year was always flamboyantly celebrated

in different corners of the Islamic world, but on the basis of several pieces of literary evidence

from the Turko-Persian cultural zone, it is still safe to maintain that the coming of the spring (as

well as the new solar year) was usually considered an auspicious instance: a proper time for the

planning and execution of military campaigns, a propitious moment for poets to present the court

with their most recent literary compositions, a welcome opportunity for physicians to offer their

novel medical prescriptions, and of course a timely occasion for munajjims to deliver their

annual taqwīms.68 In the early-modern Ottoman courtly context, these literary offerings had a

certain symbolic and material value within the matrix of complex patrimonial gift culture, and

Navrūz presented a perfect opportunity for aspiring individuals to establish contacts with

imperial elites.69

To exemplify the timing of the presentation of taqwīms to the palace, the famous register

of payments from the last decade of Bāyezīd II’s reign documents that the entry on the taqwīm

submission of Qāḍī-i Baghdād was recorded in early April of 1508.70 Six more individuals

68
For the importance of Navrūz and the celebrations in the Ottoman context, see: Fatih Köse,
Osmanlı Devleti’nde Nevruz (İstanbul: IQ Kültür Sanat, 2007); Yücel Demirer, “Performative
Conceptions of Social Change: The Case of Nevruz Celebrations in Pre-Ottoman and Ottoman
Anatolia,” in Medieval and Early Modern Performance in the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. Arzu
Öztürkmen and Evelyn Birge Vitz (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), 465-480; Filiz Kılıç; “Osmanlı
Devleti’nde ve Klasik Edebiyatımızda Nevruz,” in Türk Dünyasında Nevruz Üçüncü
Uluslararası Bilgi Şöleni, 203-214. For the letters sent to several statesmen by a late-eighteenth
century court munajjim to celebreate the Navrüz, see Müjgan Cunbur, “Bir Osmanlı
Müneccimbaşısının Nevruz Tebrikleri,” in Türk Dünyasında Nevruz İkinci Uluslararası Bilgi
Şöleni, 19-21 Mart 1996 (Ankara: Atatürk Kültür Merkezi, 1996), 121-130.
69
Atatürk Kitaplığı Muallim Cevdet O. 71 is replete with entries on individuals who received
gifts on occasion of the coming of the spring (=Bahāriye).
70
İbid., 127.
267
received cash and robes in exchange for taqwīms they presented to the court that year.

Accordingly, Mawlānā Sayyid Munajjim and his son Sayyid Īsmāʿīl received 1,500 and 1,000

aḳçes respectively on March 19, 1508. Two days later, on March 21, 1508, Salmān-i ʿAjam and

Erdeşīr, both among the müşāhereḫorān class, received 500 aḳçes each for their taqwīms. Finally

on April 2, Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, who was recorded as Sinān b. Munajjim, and a certain ʿAlī,

who is specifically identified in the relevant entry as the student of Mīrim Çelebi, received 500

aḳçes.71 In view of this list, it is self-evident that Bāyezīd II must have accorded great esteem to

Qāḍī-i Baghdād, as the amount of the cash gift the newly arrived scholar received equals the

largest bequest to any of the presumably more established astral experts.

One thing that is not clear from the archival records is whether each of these experts

mentioned presented an individual taqwīm or not. Did Mawlānā Munajjim and his son receive

benefits for presenting two individual taqwīms or a single one that they produced collectively?

Likewise, does the stock phrase in some of the later sixteenth century documents, “the custom of

the munajjims who presented a taqwīm” (ʿādat-i munajjimīn ki taqvīm avordand), meaning the

routine almanac presentations of the munajjims, refer to a single taqwīm produced through the

collective effort of the court munajjims or a number of different taqwīms compiled individually

by each of them?

Considering the fact that we have copies of taqwīms compiled by different individuals for

a single year, it is highly likely that, at least for a certain period of time during which courtly

interest in astral computations and astrological predictions was on the rise, the court was

71
Ibid., 126-127.
268
annually presented with a number of different almanacs.72 Not all of these diverse almanacs have

reached our time, but for certain years three or more taqwīms have survived. For instance for the

year 932/1526, we have four different almanacs apparently compiled by different taqwīm

makers. While two of these taqwīms are anonymous, the remaining ones were compiled by

Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed and Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī respectively.73 Similarly, three

distinct almanacs survive from the year 909/1504.74 Two of these taqwīms are anonymous,

whereas the compiler of the third one was Salmān from Iranian lands, whose name is recorded in

the massive register at least nine times as one of the monthly-salaried court munajjims at the

time.

Comparing taqwīms compiled by different authors for a single year can provide

intriguing insights into the intellectual, cultural, and even political history of the era. Such

comparisons also help us identify more accurately the shared conceptions and/or diverging

elements among diverse almanac-makers.

The two surviving almanacs from the year 919/1513, for instance, based their

computations of celestial positions upon different astronomical tables. In his taqwīm, Yūsuf b.

ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī utilizes the Zīj-i Ulugh Beg, whereas the anonymous author of the other

surviving almanac uses the Zīj-i Muḥaqqaq of Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Wabkanawī, which

was completed over an observational program of more than forty years in Maragha and Tabriz

72
See Appendix C for the full list of taqwīms examined for the chapter. Aydın Sayılı also states
on the basis of al-Maqrīzī’s historical account that during the Fatimid times, different munajjims
were producing and presenting distinct taqwīms. See: Sayılı, The Observatory in Islam, 151.
73
These are Arkeoloji Müzesi Ms. 1607/1-2, BnF Turc 183, and TSMK Revan 1711/14.
74
These are respectively TSMK Bağdat Ms. 321, TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/13, and TSMK
Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1712.
269
where Ghāzān Khan (r. 1295-1304) founded an observatory.75 Apparently, the computations

made by the anonymous almanac are slightly different than those of Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī,

which might have led to divergent astrological interpretations. For Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, the

revolution of the solar year would take place 10 hours and 15 minutes into Friday night, 3

Muḥarrem 919/11 March 1513; whereas the anonymous author sets the moment as 1 hour, 19

minutes and 14 seconds into the same night.76 Consequently the horoscopes they calculated for

the year-transfer are different from each other. According to the computations of Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer

el-Sāʿatī, the ascendant would be in Pisces, whereas the anonymous compiler finds it in

Aquarius.

When astrological interpretations are taken into consideration it is relatively difficult to

determine whether or not the variations in the scope of astrological forecasts among different

almanacs are really caused by slight variances in computations of astronomical data. Especially

from the late fifteenth century onwards, as the impact of the Samarqand mathematical-

astronomical school became more influential among Ottoman practitioners of astral knowledge,

Ottoman taqwīm makers allocated an even larger space to the elaboration of celestial parameters

as the necessary “scientific” ground for casting their specific astrological predictions.

Nonetheless, as discussed in greater detail in the first chapter, many of these astral experts were

also aware of the epistemological limits of the science. For them, the celestial parameters and

influences are infinite, yet the human mind and lifespan are inadequate to the task of discerning

75
For Wābkanawī see: Mohammad Mozaffari, “Wabkanawī’s prediction and calculations of the
annual solar eclipse of 30 January 1283,” Historia Mathematica 40 (2013), 235-261; Jamil
Ragep, “New Light on Shams: The Islamic Side of Σὰµψ Πουχάρης,” in Politics, Patronage and
the Transmission of Knowledge in 13th - 15th Century Tabriz, ed. Judith Pfeiffer (Leiden: Brill,
2013), 166-180.
76
Cf. TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1710, 10b and TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/10, 228b.
270
all of them. Therefore, the best one could do is to adopt a conjectural interpretive approach based

upon experience.77

Their interpretive freedom, however, was always restricted by the conventions of

astrological principles. That is to say, since astrology was a conservative craft and the qualities

ascribed to celestial objects, astrological houses, and stellar positions were largely delimited by

previous authorities; there was little room for creativity for the practicing munajjim in

interpreting a particular celestial situation.78 For example, the practicing munajjim did not have

the freedom to arbitrarily interpret a hypothetical celestial configuration ruled by the planet Mars

with themes and vocabulary ascribed to another planet. Moreover, almanac-makers almost

always followed a boilerplate narrative progression in their astrological predictions. All of these

features make it difficult for the modern historian to separate the “historical” wheat from the

“astrological” chaff.

Nevertheless, the limited vocabulary and restricted creativity in astrological predictions

provide the modern historian with the ability to detect with relative ease anomalous usages and

unusual references. The comparative analysis of astrological predictions in the two surviving

almanacs of the year 919/1513, for instance, reveals that the anonymous author’s remarks are

slightly richer in terms of less-commonly used references. For the ease of discussion, I will focus

77
One of the stock phrases cited by many taqwīm writers reads as follows: “har chand idrāk az
kulliyāt-i īn fann qāṣir va az juzʾiyyātash mutaʿaddid ast ammā bar sabīl-i ghalaba-i ẓann va
tajārib-i ahl-i fann kalima-i chand navashta mī shavad.”
78
The best example is a draft of a later sixteenth-century taqwim that I was able to locate in
the Bibliotheca Medicea-Laurenziana in Florence. In this draft, the anonymous munajjim
apparently put all the formulaic remarks about the fortunes of different social categories
with leaving several blanks that were to be filled later with specific dates and/or names of
categories. See: BLM Or.
On the conservative nature of astrological craft, also see: Hilary Carey, Courting Disaster:
Astrology at the English Court and University in later Middle Ages (London: Macmillan, 1982).
271
on the respective predictions in these two almanacs regarding the conditions of wars and battles.

Both almanac writers describe, before elaborating their predictions, the detailed

combination of astronomical and celestial parameters upon which they built their interpretations.

However, the combinations selected by these two compilers are not identical. For instance, the

anonymous compiler uses in at least two cases the relative positions of Mercury, whereas in

Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer’s presentation of astral parameters Mercury plays no role. Despite divergences

in the cited parameters, the corresponding astrological interpretations of each compiler still

sound quite similar. For Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer, the parameters he found important portend the

emergence of disputes, struggles, battles, and slaughter. Instigators will be busy with causing

sedition, and sinful people and roughnecks will triumph over noble individuals. According to

Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer, majority of these signs will appear in the eastern lands, in Iraq, Alexandria,

Egypt, Hijaz, Damascus, Turkistan (bilād-i Turk), Yemen, Nihavand, Tabriz, the environs of

Gilan, Fars, Azerbaijan, Tabaristan, some of the cities in Rūm, and in the lands of infidels.79 Like

Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer, the anonymous compiler raises the possibility that many massacres and

seditious acts will occur in the upcoming year as the instigators prevail. The locations in which

the anonymous compiler expects these omens to emerge are the Mediterranean islands, Istanbul,

Alexandria, Ghazni, the environs of Tarsus, Diyarbakir and Kurdistan, Hamadan, Isfahan, Ray,

79
TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1710, 13a [those locations common with the other taqwīm of the
same year are highlighted]: “dar īn sāl nizāʿ va mujādala va muḥāraba va muqātala bisyār
bovad va mufattinān va ahl-i sharr dar nahj-i fitna va fasād va iḥdās-i sharr gūshash konand va
dar aṭrāf va javānib ahl-i sharr va fitna dar taḥrīk-i sharr va fitna majidd va sāʿī bovand va bi-
muḥāraba va muqātala qiyām namāyand va dozdīhā va zadan-i rāyhā va kasrat-i luṣūṣ va
galaba-i ashrār va runūd va avbāsh va rasīdan-i muẓirrat az īshān ba-mardom-i jalīlu’l-qadr.
Aksar dar vilāyat-i mamālik-i Mashriq va ʿIrāq va Iskandariyya va Miṣr va bilād-i Ḥijāz va
Shām va bilād-i Turk va dasht-i ʿArab va Yaman va Nihāvand va Tabrīz va aṭrāf-i Gīlān va
Fārs va Āzarbāyjān va Ṭabaristān va dar baʿẓ-i vilāyat-i Rūm va bilād-i kafara bisyār bāshad.”
272
Herat, Ferghana, Sistan, Damascus, the Persian Iraq, the Hejaz, Yemen, Azerbaijan, and finally

Ardabil.80

At first glance, these geographical references appear to be definitive signifiers, alluding

to the political and religious denominations of the region. No matter how tempting it may be to

take these references as an objective inventory of the immediate historical and political context,

by scrutinizing a considerable corpus of taqwīms one realizes that the exact same references are

used over and over by different almanac-makers. Such vague and repetitive wording serves well

the dual purposes of munajjims, who on the one hand carefully refrain, as part of their

professional concerns, from referring to exact locations, yet at the same time wittily mobilize

readers’ opinion, expectations, and anxieties toward certain fixed interpretations.

I will delve more into the problem of dealing with the vague and repetitive language of

taqwīms later in the chapter, but for the time being I would like to focus upon the Ardabil

reference of the anonymous compiler, as a rare instance of the category in the entire corpus of

Ottoman taqwīms from the mid-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth century, it deserves a special

consideration. Unlike Ardabil, the categories of Tabriz and Azerbaijan, which modern scholars

might also tend to associate with the Safavids, were already among the common stock of

references in earlier taqwīms. In the almanac prepared the year 895/1490, for instance, the

anonymous compiler discusses in a separate section the fortunes of the inhabitants of Tabriz

80
TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/10, 231a [those locations common with the other taqwīm of the same
year are highlighted]: “bisyārī khūnrīkhtan va koshtan dar īn sāl va ẓuhūr-i aʿdā va ḥarakat-i
lashkarhā va ghalaba kardan-i dozdān va mufsidān va ahl-i sharr va fasād va būdan-i dozdīhā
va khiyānathā va qitālhā va nahb va gārat va tākht va sūkht dar baʿẓ-i jāyhā va dar īn sāl aksar-
i īn tāʾsīrāt dar jazāʾīr-i baḥr-i Rūm va Qusṭanṭiniyya va Iskandariyya va Gazna va navāḥī-i
Ṭarsūs va Āmad va ʿAmmān va Akrād va ahl-i jibāl va Hamadān va Iṣfahān va Ray va Harāt va
Ḥalvān va Fargāna va Sijistān va Shām va ʿIrāq-i ʿAjam va Ḥijāz va Yaman va Āzarbāyjān va
Ardabīl ba-ẓuhūr āyad.
273
without any inflammatory remarks.81 The other locations to which this anonymous compiler

dedicates individual sections as part of his annual predictions are Istanbul, Egypt, Herat,

Samarqand, Shiraz, the Indian subcontinent (Hind), Mecca, Medina, and so on and so forth.82

Thus, what we see in the taqwīm of 895/1490 is rather a repetition of canonical geographical

categories instead of a deliberate invocation. In the case of Ardabil in the two 1513 taqwīms,

however, it is hard not to associate it with contemporary Ottoman perceptions of the Safavid

problem, as it otherwise occurs so seldom in munajjims’ compositions. Quite intriguingly, apart

from the anonymous compiler of the taqwīm 919/1513, Qāḍī-i Baghdād, who fled before Safavid

expansion and took refuge in Ottoman lands, extensively used the category in his taqwīm of the

year 913/1508.83

Tracing the use of aberrant categories throughout the extant taqwīms not only divulges

the immediate personal and communal concerns and anxieties of their expected audiences but

also hints at the currencies of ideological discourses of their times. In one of the three extant

taqwīms of the year 909/1504, Salmān-i ʿAjam surprisingly goes into specifics by saying that

during the current water triplicity a khārijī and muddaʿī would rise and attain the throne as well

as the crown (tāj va tākht) in Iraq, and would impose new customs and laws (rusūm va āyīn-i nav

81
TSMK Kandilli Ms. 365, 14a-14b: “Ḥāl-i [bold in the original text] Tabrīz va ṭavābiʿ-i ān: dar
nīṣf-i avval-i sāl aḥvāl-i ahl-i īn bilād māʾil ba-nīkī bovad va mulūk va salāṭīn-i īn diyār rā naql
va ḥarakat va safar dar bīsh āyad va sakht-dil va pur-kīn bovand va raʿāyā va ʿavāmu’n-nās va
akābir qavī-ḥāl va khūsh-rūzgār bovand va dar muntaṣif-i ākhir-i sāl aḥvāl-i īn vilāyat māʾil ba-
ẓaʿaf gozarad mulūk va selāṭīn-i īn buqaʿ mutaraddidu’l-ḥāl va mutaḥayyiru’l-afkār bovand va
raʿāyā va ʿavāmu’n-nās va akābir nuḥūsathā va taʾkhīrhā dar umūr-i khīsh mushāhada konand
va ẓulm va sitam mulāḥaẓa konand.”
82
TSMK Kandilli Ms. 365, 14a-16a.
83
British Library Ms. Or. 6432, 35a, 51b.
274
nahand).84 In a similar vein, the anonymous taqwīm of 911/1506, which was apparently

presented to prince Selīm, interprets the expected solar eclipse of the year as the misfortune of a

ruler from the Fourth Clime, more specifically, of the Pā(di)shāh-i Tabrīz.85 Unlike earlier

references to Tabriz as a general geographic category, this novel “padishah of Tabriz” label

continued to be used in subsequent taqwīms from the reigns of Selīm I and Süleymān I.86 Besides

such quasi-specific remarks reflecting Ottoman preoccupations with the Safavid problem, one

can also find anomalous items in the category pertaining to the “infidels.” The most obvious

example crops up in the taqwīm of the year 925/1519 in which a certain Ḫāce Kemāl makes

explicit remarks on the Rīm-pāp (the Pope of Rome), invoking the need for a campaign in the

west (batu) and specifically toward the island of Rhodes, which comes to the fore for the first

time in the entire corpus of Ottoman taqwīms.87

The analysis of anomalies is easily extended to titulature and the vocabulary of

sovereignty. As extant Ottoman taqwīms were dedicated to the reigning sultans, and in a few

cases to princes aspiring to the throne, they are extremely rich in expressing notions of

sovereignty ascribed at different times to Ottoman rulers. By examining the terms by which the

almanac-makers addressed their patrons, it is possible to get a sense of ideological orientations

and experimentations undertaken at the court. It is true that these dedicatory passages stand as

84
TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1712, 2b: “khārijī va muddaʿī dar īn qirān dar mamlakat-i ʿIrāq
ba-tāj va takht rasad va rusūm va āyīn-i nav nahand ve dar īn qirān quvvat-i ṭāliʿ-i kasānī
bāshad ki ṭāliʿ-i īshān muvāfiq bāshad bā ṭāliʿ-i sāl-i qirān ya vatadi bāshad az ṭāliʿ-i sāl-i
qirān.”
85
TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/5, 111a: “chūn dar faṣl-i tābistān kusūfi vāqiʿ mī shavad dar burj-i
Asad dalīl ast bar ẓaʿf va nikbat-i mulūk ḫāṣṣa pādishāhān-i mashriq va iqlīm-i rābiʿ va āfat-i
pāshāh-i Tabrīz vallāhu āʿlam.”
86 In much later sixteenth century taqwīms, one can even find direct references to, for

instance, Shāh Tahmāsb.

87
TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1695.
275
just another example of the politics of patronage in pre-modern court life, where every artist and

author was expected to show his/her gratitude to the patron on bombastic terms with the hope of

strengthening their relationship. However, as taqwīms’ sphere of influence was not solely

restricted to the sultan, and their (astrological) contents evidently circulated, mostly by word of

mouth, among contemporary court elites, the honorifics used therein for the reigning sultan

became especially important and endowed taqwīms with a certain propaganda value.88 Moreover,

unlike other textual products that are composed quite sporadically, the annual character of

taqwīms makes it possible to chart the contents of titulature, and changes therein, on a yearly

basis.

The close examination of the titulature sections in different taqwīms reveals that mid-

fifteenth century almanacs are richer in terms of references to celestial and eschatological

themes. Especially in the case of the title ṣāḥib-qirān (“The Master of Conjunction”), mid-

fifteenth century taqwīms provide the only elaborate astrological discussions of this status, which

became commonly accorded to Ottoman sultans. The title itself is derived from the cosmic

significance of the Great Conjuction of Saturn and Jupiter, and was systematically used in the

88
In the European context, before the popularization of print technology, the almanac makers
used to read annual astrological predictions publicly to the university community before New
Year’s Day. See: Steven Vanden Broecke, The Limits of Influence: Pico, Louvain, and the Crisis
of Renaissance Astrology (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 30-1. There is no direct evidence for a similar
practice in the contemporary Ottoman world, yet the rise of burlesque almanac genre among the
late-fifteenth and early sixteenth century Ottoman literati, who largely imitated the language of
taqwīms to mock certain group of people in the society, is a significant evidence as to the
dissemination and circulation of astrological predictions outside the palace circles. For the
examples of contemporary burlesque almanac genre, see Mehmed Çavuşoğlu, “Zati’nin Letayif’i
II,” Türk Dili ve Edebiyatı Dergisi 22 (1977), 143-161. One of the earliest examples of this
genre, which became more popular from the seventeenth century onwards, is a certain Vaḥyī’s
narrative composed apparently in 1496 for Selīm I. See: British Library Or. 3289. For the
seventeenth-century examples, see: Köprülüzade Mehmed Fuad, Kayıkçı Kul Mustafa ve Genç
Osman Hikayesi (Istanbul: Evkaf Matbaası, 1930).
276
post-Mongol era to signal a ruler’s aspirations and predestination to world conquest, in the mold

of Alexander the Great and Chinggis Khan.89 Although the term predates Tīmūr and was in

frequent use during Seljūq times, it is mostly after Tīmūr’s adaptation of the title that the term

became a major component of subsequent political discourse in the Turko-Persian world. It is not

entirely clear when exactly the Ottoman ruling elites decided to integrate this notion into their

ideological baggage, but mid-fifteenth century taqwīms clearly show that the term was given

ample use within the vocabulary of sovereignty.90

The anonymous author of the taqwīm of the year 849/1446 extensively uses the title

ṣāḥib-qirān as the defining attribute of Murād II (r. 1421-1444; 1446-1451). In the preceding

chronology, the compiler describes the Sultan as, among other things, the ṣāḥib-qirān of all

contemporary tācdārs (“crown-bearers”) and begs.91 In the section where he starts expressing

annual astrological predictions, the anonymous author delves into an even more thorough

discussion of Murād’s status as ṣāḥib-qirān. He urges his readers to know that (şöyle bilesiz ki)

Murād II came to the world as the ṣāḥib-qirān of the age (ʿāleme ṣāḥib-kırān düşmüşdür) and the

sound of his sword would buzz all over the globe. The celestial proof of his status is that,

89
For the use of the term, see: Naindeep Singh Chann, “Lord of the Auspicious Conjunction:
Origins of the Ṣāḥib-Qirān,” Iran and the Caucasus 13 (2009), 93-110.
90
In the course of the sixteenth century, the term began to be heavily used in non-courtly,
popular historical and literary production as well. For the use of the term in a masnawī written
for Selīm I, see Derviş Işık Şemsi, Deh Murg-i Şemsi, ed. Mahmut Kaplan (Manisa: Celal Bayar
Üniversitesi, 2003). For the extensive deployment of the term in a versed chronicle written by
Mevlānā ʿĪsā for Süleymān, see Barbara Flemming, “Ṣāḥib-Ḳırān und Mahdī: Türkische
Endzeiterwartungen im ersten Jahrzehnt der Regierung Süleymān,” in Between the Danube and
the Caucasus, ed. György Kara (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1987), 43-62.
91
Oxford Bodleain Library Hunt. Donation 46, 3a: “Sulṭān Murād ḫān bin Muḥammed ḫān
pādişāh olalıdan berü…ki cemīʿ-i Osmān oğullarınıñ faḫri ve selçuḳıdır ve pādişāhlarıñ güzīdesi
ve yegānesidir ve ʿālem ḳavminiñ ḥayrlısı ve zamāne begleriniñ ve tācdārlarınıñ ṣāḥib-
ḳırānıdur.”
277
according to the horoscope of his accession to the throne, the ascendant was the 28th degree of

the sign Virgo. The ruling planet of this sign is Mercury and, at the time of his (second)

accession to the throne, Mercury was extremely auspicious. The anonymous munajjim does not

explain it here explicitly, but as assigning the malefic planet Mars as the ruling planet of the

ascendant of Meḥmed II’s (first) accession to the throne in the year 1444, he explicitly contrasts

the fortunes of Murād’s second rule to Meḥmed’s brief first rule. All in all, the celestial

indicators are clear proof for Murād II’s being the ṣāḥib-qirān of the age.92

The use of ṣāḥib-qirān never fully disappeared in the titulature sections of later taqwīms,

yet it also never enjoyed as much prominence as in the taqwīm of the year 849/1446—no matter

how contrived the astrological reasoning was. In addition to the term ṣāḥib-qirān, new notions

92
Ibid., 16b [the parts in bold are written with red ink in the original text. The underlined parts
are for emphasis]: “ve ʿale’t-taḫṣīṣ ḫuṣūṣiyet birle bizüm padişahımuz Sūlṭān Murād ḫān
üzerine olsun … ki dāʾimā raʿiyyet(i) ḫoş dutar ve nevāḫt ider ve şefḳat ve merḥamet
naẓarlarıyla naẓar ider ve dād virür ve ʿadl gösterür ve cemīʿ yaradılmış ḫalḳa ḫayr ṣanur ve
iḥsānlar ḳılur ve cümle ʿālem ḫalḳı ʿadli ve āmānı sāyesinde āsūde ve emīn ve rāḥat geçerler
gice ve gündüz leyl ve nehār devlet ve ʿömri izdiyādına çoḳ çoḳ duʿālar iderler. Ḥaḳ teʿālā
müstecāb ide inşāʿallāh teʿālā ve ḥaḳ teʿālā ʿömrüne çoḳ çoḳ yıllar berekātlar virsün āḫir ve
ʿāḳıbet ḫayr olsun saʿādetle ve devletle manṣūr ve muẓaffer müʾeyyed ve müʾebbed dünya
ṭūrduḳça ṭūrsun ve devletle ezelī ve ebedī ve sermedī çoḳ çoḳ yaşasun zīrā kim cemīʿ yaradılmış
ḫalḳ ḥaẓret-i ʿaliyyelerinden şākir ve zākir ve rāẓıdur ḥaḳ teʿālā ḥaẓret-i ʿaliyyelerinden rāẓı
olsun āḫiri ve ʿāḳıbeti ḫayr olsun īmān ve islām ve Ḳurān-ı ʿaẓīm yoldaş olsun ve cemīʿ
yaradılmş ḫalḳuñ duʿāsı gice ve gündüz leyl ve nehār bunuñ üzerinedür maḳbūl ve müstecāb
olā…ve dāḫı şöyle bilesiz kim pādişāh-ı ʿālem ve ḫüdāvend-i benī Ādem ve aʿdel ve müşfiḳ ve
ekrem Sulṭān Murād ḫan ḥaẓretleri ʿāleme ṣāḥib-ḳırān düşmüşdür gerekdir kim eṭrāf ve eknāf-ı
ʿālemde ṣiyt ve āvāzesi ve ḳılıcı şarḳen ve garben ve baʿden ve qurben ve taḥten ve fevḳen ve
berren ve baḥren çiñreye ve devlet-gūr [devlet-gīr]? ola ve himmet(i) ʿālī ve ḳadri yüce olub
pādişāhumuz Sulṭān Murād ḫān pādişāhzādesiyle Sulṭān Muḥammed ḫān birle çoḳ çoḳ
yaşasunlar ... Şöyle bilesiz kim Sulṭān Muḥammed ḫān ṭāliʿi cülūs idüb taḫta oturduğu vaḳtde
ʿAḳreb burcuydı ve yıldızı Merrīḫdur ve ama pādişāhumuz Sulṭān Murād ḫānıñ ṭālīʿi cülūs ve
duḫūl bildi kim Brūsā şehrine girüb salṭanat taḫtına geçüb serīr-i memleketde ḳarār itdigi vaḳtde
Sünbüle burcunuñ 28 derecesiydi ve 24 daḳīḳasıyla Sünbüle burcunuñ ve Cevzā ve salṭanat
burcunuñ ıssı ʿUṭāriddir ve ʿUṭārid ol vaḳt be-gāyet ḳuvvetliydi ve Zühre pādişāh ṭāliʿidür…ve
şöyle bilesiz bu sebebdendir kim pādişāhumuz ḥaẓretleri ‘aẓẓama’llāh iqdārahum wa’aʿla’llāh
shānahum’ ʿālemde ṣāḥib-ḳırān olduğuna wallāhu aʿlam.”
278
were gradually integrated at different times. The taqwīm of the year 858/1454, for instance,

employs for the first time the term Mehdīyyü’z-zamān (the expected Messiah of the age) –

among many other titles – for the new conqueror of Constantinople, Meḥmed II.93 In his taqwīm

for the year 902/1497, ʿAbd al-Karīm b. Mawlānā Sinān unusually adopts the term sālār-i

memālik-i Irān (the vicegerent of the lands of Iran) for Bāyezīd II.94 A few years later, Salmān-i

ʿAjam described Bāyezīd II as the quṭb-i aflāk-i ḥaqīqat (the pole of the spheres of truth).95

Salmān’s association of qutb status with Bāyezīd II seems to be the earliest expression of this

notion, which eventually became one of the defining attributes of the sultan, widely used by

contemporary literati.96 All of these titles and notions of sovereignty might, of course, be

interpreted as stylistic preferences of their authors, unworthy of much attention. However, given

contemporary elites’ apparent attention to the contents of taqwīms, the underlying propaganda

value and ideological currency of sultanic titles passing in these texts should be not disregarded

at all. As munajjims cultivated their authority as experts in celestial and therefore divine

knowledge, the celestial significance they ascribed to the reigning sultans might have carried

considerable significance among the targeted audience, the elites atop the Ottoman state and

culture.

IV. 4. Taqwīms and Ottoman History Writing

As shown, almanacs evince important dissimilarities stemming from the identities of their

93
SK Nuruosmaniye Ms. 3080, 18b: ʿale’t-taḫṣīṣ ḫuṣūṣiyet birle bizüm padişahımız üzerine
olsun….ki pādişāh-ı ʿālem ve ḫüdāvend-i benī Ādem malikü’r-rikābi’l-ümem seyyidü selāṭīnü’l-
ʿArab ve’l-ʿAcem İskender-i devrān ve Süleymān-āvān ve ṣāḥib-i ʿālem Ebū’l-fetḥ bi’l-yümn
ve’l-iḳbāl ve mesʿūd-ṭāliʿ ve meymūn-ṭalʿat ve ḫoceste-baḫt ve hümāyun-devlet maḥmūdu’l-faẓl
ve ṣādıḳu’l-ḳavl ve Mehdiyyü’z-zamān olmağına cemīʿ gāzī pādişāhlarıñ mufaḥḥiridir.”
94
TSMK Bağdat Ms. 314, 2b.
95
TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1712, 2a.
96
See Kutb-name, ed. İbrahim Ongun and İsmet Parmaksızoğlu (Ankara: TTK, 1980).
279
compilers and/or the immediate historical-political contexts in which they were composed. These

divergences extend, over time, to general structural changes in the contents of taqwīms. In terms

of language, for instance, there is a shift from the mid-fifteenth to the late-sixteenth century.97

While most extant taqwīms from the mid-fifteenth century were written in plain Turkish, almost

all surviving almanacs from the reign of Bāyezīd II—which number over 30—are in Persian,

likely reflecting a cultural reorientation at the court of the latter. Subsequently, as a result of the

wider Ottomanization process of the cultural and bureaucratic life in the course of the sixteenth

century, the language of taqwīms gradually shifts again, from Persian to a refined Ottoman

Turkish.98

As with language, the contents of taqwīms also underwent a serious transformation from

the mid-fifteenth century over the course of the sixteenth. The surviving mid-fifteenth-century

almanacs, which recall the late-fourteenth-century Eretna taqwīm, constitute compendia of useful

and entertaining knowledge, combining history, astronomy, astrology, and divination. In addition

to the detailed chronology tables summarizing the history of the world, one can find almost side-

by-side mathematical explanations of horoscope calculations and vernacular statements of omen

divination. By late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth century, however, many of these more demotic

97
For the details of this language shift, see Appendix C.
98
For the Ottomanization of the cultural and bureaucratic life in the sixteenth century, see
Cornell H. Fleischer, Bureucrat and the intellectual in the Ottoman Empire: the historian
Mustafa Ali (1541-1600). (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986); Gülru Necipoğlu, “A
Kanun for the State, A Canon for the Arts: Conceptualizing the Classical Synthesis of Ottoman
Art and Architecture,” in Soliman le Magnifique et son Temps: actes du Colloque de Paris, ed.
Gilles Veinstein (Paris: Documentation française, 1992), 195-215. For the increased use of
Turkish in scientific texts from the mid-sixteenth century onwards, see İhsan Fazlıoğlu,
“Osmanlı Döneminde ‘Bilim’ Alanındaki Türkçe Telif ve Tercüme Eserlerin Türkçe Oluş
Nedenleri ve Bu Eserlerin Dil Bilincinin Oluşmasındaki Yeri ve Önemi,” Kutadgubilig Felsefe-
Bilim Araştırmaları 3 (2003), 151-184.
280
components were on the verge of decline, as the contents of annual taqwīms became increasingly

mathematicalized and technicalized. While almost none of the mid-fifteenth century taqwīms

have detailed ephemeris tables, the almanacs from the time of Bāyezīd II onwards often include

them. The individual charts on different divinatory practices such as dream interpretation,

palmoscopy, and Aristotelian discourses on the conducts of wars and/or friendships were also

gradually purged from the taqwīm texts.

This transformation in the structure of the genre is best traced through examination of the

reverse-chronology sections. Before discussing the historical context of this transformation, it

remains to lay out first the contents of these chronological lists.

It is not, however, the primary aim of this section to evaluate the authenticity of the

historical information therein or its significance for early Ottoman history. In the 1950s and 60s,

the fifteenth-century Ottoman taqwīms containing reverse-chronology tables attracted the

attention of Turkish scholars, and some of these lists were published as separate editions.99 In the

absence of authentic historical materials and archival documents from the early fifteenth century,

Ottoman historiography welcomed these tabulated lists of historical events and used their data to

supplement the available knowledge of early Ottoman history. Osman Turan and Nihal Atsız

pioneered the use of these sources for historical purposes by publishing the chronology tables of

some almanacs from the first half of the fifteenth century. Drawing mostly upon the work of

Turan, Halil İnalcık was the first to import this new information into his study of the reigns of

99
See: Osman Turan, İstanbul’un fethinden önce yazılmış tarihî takvimler (Ankara: TTK
Basımevi, 1954); Nihal Atsız, “Fatih Sultan Mehmed’e Sunulmuş Tarihi Bir Takvim,” İstanbul
Enstitüsü Dergisi 3 (1957), 17–23; idem., Osmanlı tarihine ait takvimler (İstanbul: Küçükaydın
Matbaası, 1961); idem., “Hicri 858 Yılına Ait Takvim,” Selçuklu Araştırmaları Dergisi 4 (1975),
223–83.
281
Murād II and Meḥmed II.100 Besides incorporating into his text the historical details introduced

by the almanacs, such as the details about the first enthronement of Meḥmed II or Ottoman-

Karamanid relations in the first half of the fifteenth century, İnalcık also strove for an inter-

textual analysis of taqwīms and contemporary chronicles. In that regard, his most significant

contribution was the discovery that some late-fifteenth-century chronicles and historical

narratives had used the almanacs as sources. According to İnalcık’s study, Uruc Bey’s chronicle

and at least one of the anonymous histories of the Ottoman dynasty written in the late fifteenth

century drew upon the tabulated historical data of the almanacs.101 In a similar vein, Victor

Ménage also demonstrated, a few years after İnalcık, that Neşrī (d. <1520), another dynastic

historian of the Ottoman house, used the chronology sections of taqwīms as a source.102

Although both İnalcık and Ménage focused only upon the chronology sections of the almanacs

for historiographical purposes and ignored the remaining astrological contents, as their

predecessors Turan and Atsız had, it was Halil İnalcık who percipiently asserted that “the

munajjims in the [Ottoman] court can be regarded as the first vakʿanüvīs.”103

İnalcık, of course, does not mean here the office of court historian, which, as is well-

established, did not come into being until the late seventeenth century.104 His association of

munajjims with recorders of chronology and writers of history is worth pursuing indeed, for the

100
Halil İnalcık, Fatih Devri Üzerine Tetkikler ve Vesikalar (Ankara: TTK, 1954).
101
Halil İnalcık, “The Rise of Ottoman Historiography,” in Historians of the Middle East, ed.
Bernard Lewis and P.M. Holt (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), 152-167.
102
V. L. Ménage, “The Beginnings of Ottoman Historiography,” in Historians of the Middle
East, ed. Bernard Lewis and P.M. Holt (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), 168-179; also
see his Neshri’s History of the Ottomans: the Sources and Development of the Text (London:
Oxford University Press, 1964).
103
İnalcık, “The Rise of Ottoman Historiography,” 158.
104
Lewis V. Thomas, A Study of Naima (New York: New York University Press, 1972).
282
authority of munajims as experts of the science of the stars, and hence the reckoning of time and

chronology, has a long history. Despite the variety of ways of keeping time in past cultures, its

passing (in, e.g., years, seasons, months, days, or hours) was in principle measured in reference

to the movement of planets, particularly that of the sun and the moon. The history of

astronomical observation was always closely linked to the history of reckoning time; and, as

discussed in earlier portions of the dissertation, the broader definition of horological reckoning

includes all kinds of temporal computations ranging from establishing a year’s calendar to

determining auspicious moments to embark upon an activity. In addition to the regular and

relatively easily observable movements of the luminaries, the configuration of other planets was

also considered a key component in computing time for different purposes. The conjunction

astrology and the accompanying genre of astrological histories, as mentioned in especially the

first chapter, could be regarded as examples of such computations.

As experts in tracking the motions of celestial objects, the munajjims in the service of

early Ottoman sultans must have been also responsible for computing and recording “time” in

the broadest sense of the word. We do not have any surviving text by a munajjim from the

Ottoman court prior to the fifteenth century. Yet the surviving taqwīms from the first decades of

the fifteenth century are perfect pieces of evidence of the munajjims’ wide temporal

responsibilities, past, present, and future. In addition to chronologically tabulating major events

since the Creation, munajjims undertook a variety of tasks such as preparing the calendar of the

year, specifying the conversion of dates according to different calendric systems, composing

arduous electional tables (ikhtiyārāt) for acts to do or avoid on certain days or at certain times,

and spelling out forecasts/astrological judgments (aḥkām) as to the fortunes of the upcoming

283
year.

The tabulated lists of historical events found in the first few folios of some of the

fifteenth- and early-sixteenth-century almanacs are composed of brief entries, each referring to a

major political, religious, or natural incident in history. Events are dated (with a few exceptions)

not by the Hijrī year in which they occurred, but as having happened so many years before the

almanac was drawn up. Each entry is cast in the form, “[This many] years have elapsed since….”

(“…dan berü X yıldır”/“az gāh-ı....X sāl ast”) The entries are usually grouped under different

headings, reflecting the historical understanding of their compilers —which proves quite similar

to the contemporary or subsequent Muslim writers of universal history such as Khwāndamīr (d.

1535 or 1536) in his Habīb al-siyar or Muṣṭafā ʿĀlī (d. 1600) in the Künhü’l-aḫbār.105

Accordingly, the first section of the chronologies in the almanacs is devoted to the Creation of

the universe and the canonical history of pre-Islamic prophets. In this section, the prophet Idrīs is

almost always given a special importance as the originator of the scientia astrorum, and the date

the science of the stars was “descended” (“ʿilm-i nücūm İdrīs’e ineli” / “nuzūl-i ʿilm-i nujūm ba-

Idrīs”) to him is specifically mentioned. The next section covers the life of the Prophet and early

Islamic history through the end of the Abbasids. Despite the temporal span of this period, this

section in the almanacs is usually the least detailed one and only covers—unless the sub-section

on major Sufis and ʿālims is incorporated here—the birth and death of the Muḥammad, the four

Rightly Guided Caliphs, Ḥasan b. ʿAlī, Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī, and a few Abbasid caliphs from the early

105
For the universal historical vision and classification of epochs in Khwāndamīr’s Ḥabīb al-
siyar, see Shahzad Bashir, “A Perso-Islamic Universal Chronicle in its Historical Context:
Ghiyas al-Din Khwandamir’s Habib al-siyar,” in Historiography and Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke et
al. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2015), 207-223. For Mustafa Ali’s vision of history, see: Cornell
H. Fleischer, Bureucrat and the intellectual in the Ottoman Empire, esp. 235-253.
284
part of the dynasty. The Umayyads are almost always omitted and the entry on Karbala is

followed only by the rise (khurūj) of Abū Muslim. Following this section comes the most

comprehensive list tabulating the political and natural events in the Islamic East during the

Saljuq, Mongol, and post-Mongol eras. The history of the Ottoman dynasty is generally

appended to this section, and the entries on Ottoman history begin with the emergence (khurūj)

of ʿOs̱ mān Ghāzī and end with the most recent major event.

Although this scheme is followed as a general principle in different almanacs and the set

of events covered is quite standard, it is worth noting that chronology lists are not entirely

identical. Firstly, the discrepancy in the amount of elapsed years is a constant matter of conflict.

Especially when events from distant past are in question, such as the Creation or history of pre-

Islamic times, the discrepancies grow even larger. Given the difficulty of establishing an

accurate chronology for pre-Islamic history, a fact attested by medieval scholars like al-Bīrūnī

themselves; it is not at all unexpected to find serious inconsistencies between the chronological

lists of different almanacs.106 Yet sometimes such temporal discrepancies occur even in the

records of events from the more recent past. For instance, as to the birth of Meḥmed II, the

taqwīm of the year 843/1439 says that eight years have passed, thus establishing the birth year of

the prince as 835; whereas for the taqwīm of the year 856, twenty-three years have passed since

the birth of Mehmed II, leading to a two lunar-year discrepancy between the two taqwīms.107

106
In his encyclopedic work on different chronology systems, al-Bīrūnī often reminds of his
readers the difficulty to establish consistency among dating systems. See: Al-Bīrūnī, Kitāb al-
āthār al-bāqiya ʿan al-qurūn al-khāliya, tr. C. E. Sachau as The Chronology of Ancient Nations
(London: 1879), in passim.
107
Cf. Atsız, Osmanlı Tarihine Ait Takvimler, 105 and TSMK Bağdat Ms. 309, 3a. One can
argue here that one of these two taqwīms might have used the lunar calendar in calculating the
285
 Apart from these discrepancies in the number of years elapsed, the chronology tables also

vary depending with respect to the scope of events covered. Some almanacs are much more

comprehensive than others, recounting a greater range of political and natural occurrences. Thus

it is not unusual to find a reference to a historical incident unrecorded by other almanacs. For the

contents of the section on biblical and prophetic history, the variety is quite limited and almanacs

basically repeat the same list, starting with the Creation and/or fall of Adam from the heavens

and covering other prophets up to Muḥammad. In the section on early Islamic history, too, the

list is more or less standard. With the exception of the taqwīm of the year 843/1439, there is not a

single entry on the reigns of the Umayyad caliphs. The same taqwīm is also evidently the only

one that addresses (briefly) the Samanids, Buwayhids, Khwarizm-shahs, and the Atabegs.108

Almanacs also vary relative to the inclusion of events related to the politico-cultural and

environmental history of the Turko-Mongol Islamic East. The accession of Abū Saʿīd Bahādur

Khān (d. 1335), for instance, is recorded only in three taqwīms, while all except the two lists the

enthronement of Barqūq (d. 1399).109 In particular, with regard to the recent Anatolian and

Ottoman past, variety is almost a norm. The outburst of plague in the Karasi region, which

apparently occurred in the year 749/1348-9, is only recorded by the taqwīm of 824/1421 and is

disregarded by the rest.110 In a similar vein, the full solar eclipse and the appearance of a celestial

novelty that allegedly took place in the year 790/1388 are only recorded in the taqwīm of

age of the sultan, while the other employed the solan one. But even this could not help to explain
the chronological difference.
108
Atsız, Osmanlı Tarihine Ait Takvimler, 92.
109
The two taqwīms that did not record Barqūq are the 894/1489 taqwīm at TSMK Bağdat Ms.
310, and the 900/1495 taqwīm at TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/11, as the chronology tables in these
two taqwīms are only related to the history of the Ottoman dynasty.
110
Atsız, Osmanlı Tarihine Ait Takvimler, 25.
286
835/1432.111 Likewise, the early Ottoman conquests in Balkans and Anatolia do not enjoy the

same degree of attention in each almanac. These examples could be multiplied with further

discrepancies, and as such reveal what the individual almanac-maker deemed important and

unimportant when compiling his list. The selections of the almanac-makers could be further tied

to their geographical affiliations and professional backgrounds, as some of them might have been

simultaneously affiliated with different courts in the Rum-Anatolia region in the first half of the

fifteenth century that might have equipped them with local information on adjacent regions. The

death of İlyās Beg, the son of Menteşe, for instance, is only mentioned in the taqwīms of

856/1452 and 858/1454.112 In a similar vein, the fire in Samsun in 824/1421 is only recorded by

these two taqwīms. The death of Yāʿqub Çelebi b. Germiyan is also deemed important only by

the compiler of the taqwīm of 835/1432.

Having outlined the main characteristics of the chronology sections integral to certain—

not all—fifteenth century Ottoman taqwīms, one now raises two important questions earlier

scholarship has largely neglected: What might be the reasons for incorporating these chronology

sections in the first few folios of some almanacs and why did these tabulated lists of historical

events begin to disappear by the early sixteenth century?

As mentioned several times before, scholarship on earlier Ottoman taqwīms focused

almost exclusively on chronology tables and disregarded the remaining, much larger

astronomical and astrological sections, unfortunately reinforcing the assumption that taqwīms

were only produced for chronological purposes and erroneously implying that all almanacs

111
Ibid., 69.
112
Nihal Atsız, “Fatih Sultan Mehmed’e Sunulmuş Tarihi Bir Takvim,” 20; idem., “Hicri 858
Yılına Ait Takvim,” 262.
287
included tabulations of historical events. Quite contrarily, however, a systematic investigation of

the surviving taqwīms from the fifteenth through the seventeenth centuries clearly shows that

compared to the number of taqwīms without chronological tables, the ones with tabulated

historical information are indeed quite limited. In around hundred taqwīms I have personally

examined, there are no more than sixteen with chronology sections. In fact, from the late

fifteenth century onwards, the chronology sections became sparse and by the first half of the

sixteenth century they almost entirely disappeared. The reasons for this dwindling are hard to

reconstruct; it might be a useful starting point to discuss the initial use of historical chronologies

in taqwīms and their eventual elimination as a contribution to debates in the scholarship about

the rise of Ottoman history writing in the late fifteenth century and the changing dynastic claims

of the Ottoman establishment.

As we have already seen, the use of chronological tables in annual almanacs is not an

Ottoman innovation. In addition to the Eretna taqwīm mentioned above, there is a surviving

Rasulid taqwīm, currently preserved in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, which went

unnoticed in Varisco’s study on Rasulid almanacs. This taqwīm was produced in 841/1437 and

in both size and comprehensiveness its chronology section surpasses both the Eretna and

Ottoman taqwīms.113 The compiler of this lengthy almanac covers in over seventy folios the

detailed history of Yemen from 439/1047-1048 onwards with a special emphasis upon the

history of the Rasulid dynasty. In the first eight folios where the anonymous compiler of this

taqwīm lists the names and reigns of rulers from diverse civilizations and historical traditions, the

author perfectly exemplifies the universal historical vision embedded in almanacs. Accordingly,

113
BnF Arabe Ms. 4609.
288
he first starts with a biblical history that ends with a short entry on the prophet Moses. After this

section comes the list of rulers from the Banu Isra’il. Israelite rulers are followed respectively by

Babylonian, Persian, Greek, and Roman kings. Finally he jumps to the history of the Prophet and

the caliphs, and situates the history of Yemen and the Rasulid dynasty within this framework.

The wording he uses, to wit, “the transfer of rule” (intiqāl al-mulk) from one civilization to

another, clearly reflecting the almanac-maker’s understanding of the unfolding of history, was

fairly typical among scholars in his time.114

As the Eretna and Rasulid examples manifest, chronology tables, far from being

distinctive to the Ottomans, were among the favorite components of almanac-makers across the

Islamicate world in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The almanac-makers often prepared

their own tables by simply reproducing the lists at their disposal after making necessary

calculations based upon the year they lived in. For instance, the taqwīm of the year 842/1439,

produced by a certain Ibrāhīm b. shaykh al-munajjim wa’r-rammāl, was likely used by another

munajjim 44 years after its composition, for on top of each date recorded in the chronology list of

this taqwīm is there a marginal note, showing the new total number of years (added by 44) that

have elapsed.115 It is thus not surprising not to find much creativity among taqwīms when the

historical chronology sections are in question.

It is still worth asking though whether this period is in fact exceptional in terms of the

number and extent of historical chronology sections. The growing importance attached to

genealogical debates in the Eastern Islamic world from the thirteenth century onwards would

have provided fertile ground for such inquiries. The genealogical debates in the period served the

114
BnF Arabe 4609, 2b-8b.
115
BnF Supp. Pers. 367, 2b-4a.
289
concerns of ruling dynasties in the post-Mongol Islamic East in need of legitimizing their

authority in the absence of universally accepted principles of rule. The caliphal ideal had been

demolished by the fall of the Abbasid dynasty at the hands of Hülegü Khan in 656/1258, and the

later dissolution of Chinggisid rule made the bloodline of the Altan Urugh, the “Golden Family”

of Genghis Khan, less directly conclusive. The genealogical and chronological tables of

almanacs helped connect the history of a ruling dynasty to a prestigious, universal, and sacred

past.116 As we have already seen in the surviving taqwīms from the Rasulid, Eretna, and Ottoman

contexts, the history of each respective dynasty is always situated within the taqwīm’s historical

scheme as a culmination of the unfolding of universal history, granting the ruling dynasty a

divinely ordained status.

Although the genealogical agendas of the post-Mongol world may have played a role in

the growing incorporation of chronological tables into almanacs, it should also be noted that the

inclusion of historical information in almanacs was a much older tradition. Unfortunately no

taqwīm survives from earlier centuries with a historical chronology section to allow us a

comparison. Nonetheless, we should recall Bīrūnī’s saying in his Tafhīm that almanacs in those

times did contain lists of historical information. More important than this little piece of

information, Bīrūnī argued that the main motive of almanac-makers in including such

chronological sections was “the intellectual pleasure found in such things.”117

116
This paragraph is based on Evrim Binbaş, “Structure and Function of the ‘Genealogical Tree’
in Islamic Historiography,” in Horizons of the World: Festschrift for İsenbike Togan, ed. Evrim
Binbaş and Nurten Kılıç-Schubel (İstanbul: İthaki, 2011), 465-544; Cornell H. Fleischer,
Bureaucrat and Intellectual in the Ottoman Empire, 273-293; John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu:
Clan, Confederation, Empire. Revised and Expanded Edition (Salt Lake City: The University of
Utah Press, 1999), 1-23.
117
Bīrūnī, The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology, 188.
290
 Bīrūnī’s words are invaluable as they remind us of the importance in medieval Islamic

belles-lettres of the pedagogical motives and intellectual pleasures underlying the employment of

a certain literary device or composition. As we have already seen, the use of tables and charts

was favored in different literary genres mostly for the practical reason of presenting the required

information to the reader in a succinct and easily understandable fashion. Here, tabulating

important historical points concerning the prophets and distinguished rulers must have served

similar concerns of practicality. Yet, as Bīrūnī underlines, the type of the information is as

important as its form. Although we lack serious studies in the perception and recognition of

history as a literary activity in past cultures, it is self-evident that the knowledge of major past

events was considered an integral part of courtly and intellectual life, and the Ottoman munajjims

maintained this tradition in their taqwīms through chronological tables.

We still need to explain, however, why in the early sixteenth century these chronology

tables were on the verge of decline. Did they become obsolete in the eyes of their readers,

particularly the rulers? Did munajjims become uninterested in simply repeating the same

information each year, mechanically adding one more year to the sum of years elapsed? Is there

perhaps a correlation between the simultaneous rise of dynastic history-writing and decline of

annalistic chronology tables?

Given the dearth of contemporary sources illuminating the reception of taqwīms, it is

quite difficult indeed to provide substantial answers for each and every question. We can

nevertheless correlate the changes in the contents of taqwīms to the changing dynamics of

political and literary culture at the Ottoman court in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth

centuries.

291
 The general consensus in the relevant historiography about the rise of Ottoman history

writing maintains that during the reign of Bāyezīd II, a new historical consciousness arose,

ushering in the composition of the first Ottoman dynastic histories.118 Although there were

earlier Ottoman histories, written mostly in Persian verse in the mid-fifteenth century, through

the sustained attempts of Bāyezīd II gained the history writing a new momentum from the late

fifteenth century onwards.119 This process had seemingly two different phases. During the 1480s

and early 1490s, the type of dynastic histories that Bāyezīd II supported, such as the works of

Neşrī or Rūhī, were interested in the simple recounting of events in plain Turkish with an

annalistic format.120 These earlier examples of dynastic histories also attempted to portray the

Ottomans as heirs to the Seljuq dynasty. Thus, in terms of both style and contents, the historical

chronology sections of taqwīms were in harmony with contemporary dynastic histories.

By the early sixteenth century, however, due partly to the shifting cultural orientations of

the court and partly to the growing desire of Bāyezīd II to represent his rule and dynasty as the

most prestigious—both politically and culturally—among contemporary houses, leading literati

were commissioned to compose comprehensive histories of the Ottoman dynasty in eloquent and

118
In addition to İnalcık and Ménage cited above, see: Cemal Kafadar, Between Two Worlds:
The Construction of the Ottoman State (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 97;
Mehmet İpşirli, “The Ottoman historiography,” in The Great Ottoman-Turkish Civilization, ed.
Kemal Çiçek (Ankara: Yeni Türkiye Yayınları, 2000); Murat Cem Mengüç, “Histories of
Bayezid I, historians of Bayezid II: Rethinking late fifteenth-century Ottoman historiography,”
Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 76/3 (2013), 373-389.
119
For the mid-fifteenth century Ottoman historical texts written in Persian, see Sara Nur Yıldız,
“Ottoman Historical Writing in Persian, 1400-1600,” in Persian Historiography, ed. Charles
Melville (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 436-502.
120
Fleischer, 235.
292
learned style.121 Bāyezīd’s project bore impressive fruit: Idrīs Bidlīsī (d. 1520) composed the

Hasht Bihisht in elaborate Persian, and Ibn Kemāl produced an Ottoman history in high Turkish

prose. Unlike earlier annalistic dynastic chronicles and the chronology sections of almanacs,

these novel works were historically more analytical, as well as linguistically more elegant.122

Besides the stylistic and linguistic elements, the new dynastic history writing also gave voice to

the emboldened claims of the dynasty that increasingly demarcated itself from the simple Seljuq

legacy and emphasized instead the unmatched and inevitable success of the Ottoman house.

Literary tastes’ moving away from annalistic presentations and the innovative historiographical

attempt to distinguish Ottoman rule by detaching the history of the Ottoman dynasty from the

earlier Rum-Anatolian tradition, thus, stands as a working hypothesis to explain the gradual

decline of the chronology sections of taqwīms.123

IV. 5. Taqwīms and Contemporary Recognition

Despite the fact that historical chronology sections and detailed charts for various

divinatory practices eventually disappeared from taqwīms, astrological predictions remained

resilient and came to characterize the genre. As we have already seen, the majority of studies on

121
Vural Genç, “Acem’den Rum’a: İdris-i Bidlisi’nin Hayatı, Tarihçiliği ve Heşt Behişt’in II.
Bayezid Kısmı (1481-1512),” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Istanbul University, 2014); Christopher
Markiewicz, “The Crisis of Rule in Late Medieval Islam: A Study of Idris Bidlisi and
Governance at the Turn of the Sixteenth Century”, (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Chicago,
2015).
122
Fleischer, 239.
123
There are two surviving taqwīms produced in the first decade of the sixteenth century that
have chronological sections on the House of Osman, the 913/1508 taqwīm of Qāḍī-i Baghdād
and the 915/1510 taqwīm of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān munajjim. But as the first one was composed by a
newcomer to the Ottoman court and the second compiled for Bāyezīd’s favorite son Aḥmed in
Amasya, they might not have been aware of changing trends at the imperial court.
293
Ottoman taqwīms gives precedence to their non-astrological components, which has inevitably

led to the rise of misconceptions about the real function and value of the taqwīm genre. The

literature on the chronology tables, for instance, deliberately presents these tabulated lists of

historical information as the only significant part of taqwīms and completely ignores the wealth

of astrological materials by saying that such “superstitious” elements—which were among the

taqwīms’ raison d’être—have nothing to offer serious historical inquiry.124 As a result, the rich

prognosticative contents and their potential use for historians have escaped the eyes of modern

scholars.

Aside from the latent desire not to besmirch the Ottoman past with astrological

“superstition” and “irrationality,” the established scholarly convictions about the insignificance

of these sections are also justified on the ground that astrological contents of taqwīms are “near-

platitudes, equivocations, and the artful hedging of bets,” making them unreliable, if not

worthless, as historical sources.125 Considering the often boilerplate progression of astrological

predictions in taqwīms, this objection is not entirely unfounded. Yet, it would be a huge waste of

primary sources to categorically dismiss a written tradition that steadily filled pages and pages

over five centuries.

The astrological and prognosticative materials in the surviving taqwīms can be classified

roughly into two groups. The first group, which we can define as “year-specific” contents,

includes the detailed annual astrological predictions (aḥkām-i sāl) that munajjims prepared on the

124
Turan, 8.
125
This is also true for early modern European almanac-prognostications. See: Robin Bruce
Barnes, “Hope and Despair in Sixteenth Century German Almanacs,” in The Reformation in
Germany and Europe: Interpretations and Issues, ed. Hans R. Guggisberg and Gottfried G.
Krodel (Sonderband Washington: Gütershloh, 1993), 440-461.
294
basis of the horoscope of the intended year. What I mean here by “specificity” is not that the

astrological forecasts are explicit about specific individuals or events, but rather these predictions

are theoretically produced by the munajjim’s interpreting the horoscope of a particular year after

calculating the celestial positions at the exact moment the sun enters Aries (i.e., the year-transfer,

taḥvīl-i sāl). In this first group we include the brief astrological judgments accompanying the

monthly calendar tables, as munajjims also calculated and tabulated the horoscope of each month

(i.e., the Sun’s entrance into a new sign) with a few remarks on the general aḥkām of the month.

The second group consists of a wide array of prognosticative materials, ranging from long and

tedious electional tables listing acts to perform and avoid at certain times, to individual diagrams

and brief explanations for different sorts of divinatory techniques including dream interpretation

or palmomancy, i.e. prognostication derived from the observation of bodily spasms and jerks.

The contents of these prognosticative instructions are not strictly tied to a specific year and are

usually incorporated by the fifteenth century almanac-makers to enrich and “anthologize” their

occult compendia.126 Moreover, the first group of astrological contents is almost always an

integral part of annual taqwīms, whereas the inclusion of any or all of the components from the

second group is at the discretion of the munajjim.

As we have already mentioned, astrological predictions about the upcoming year are

expressed on vague terms and modern historians must be aware of the risks of treating their

contents as transparent. As astrology was (and still is) a highly conservative practice with quite

126
I borrowed the term from David Roxburgh, who identified in the late medieval Persian artistic
context an “anthologizing mode”, “a practice of making digests and compendia on different
topics that peaked under the Timurids and their contemporary dynasts.” See David Roxburgh,
The Persian album, 1400-1600: from dispersal to collection (New Haven: Yale University Press,
2005).
295
restricted, rigid interpretive mechanisms, any particular reference in a single taqwīm does not

always need to be related to a burning issue in the immediate historical context.

One method proposed above to deal with the problem of vagueness and repetitive

character of astrological predictions/references is to examine taqwīms as a cluster of texts and

read them in conjunction with others. Initial comparisons can be made of those taqwīms written

by a single compiler across time or taqwīms written for a single year by different compilers.

Juxtaposition makes it possible to track more accurately the repeated patterns and deviating

elements.

Another method of comparison that could provide even more precise answers about the

real value and contemporary recognition of the astrological predictions in annual taqwīms is to

read the contents of taqwīms and contemporary historical narratives in tandem with one another

in order to detect whether the astrological predictions expressed in almanacs influenced

contemporary discourse or even manipulated certain political and imperial decisions. This path

might also lead us to address the elephant in the room, to wit, whether these predictions and

prognostications expressed in quite vague terms did have any concrete influence on their

audience and their decision making-processes.

In the following pages, I will illustrate how the predictions in taqwīms were deemed

important by the contemporary Ottoman elites—at least in the early sixteenth century—no matter

how vaguely they were expressed. For that purpose, I will read sections from select taqwīms

together with contemporary historical narratives to demonstrate how the munajjims’

interpretations of the celestial data at a particular moment (i.e., his astrological predictions) were

later reinterpreted by a broader interpretive community, primarily composed of individuals

296
affiliated with the court.

In the taqwīm prepared for the year 920/1514 and presented to Sultan Selīm I before

Navrūz of that year (i.e., Muḥarram 13, 920/March 10, 1514), the anonymous munajjim

calculates, using the Ulugh Beg tables, a full solar eclipse beginning nine hours and 33 minutes

into Sunday night, Jumādā II 28, 920/August 20, 1514.127 The eclipse will begin to slow (makth),

ten hours and 23 minutes into the same night, reaching total eclipse at ten hours and 33 minutes.

The sun begins to reappear at ten hours and 43 minutes, fully emerging from eclipse 41 minutes

into Monday morning.

As for the astrological interpretation of this astronomical data, the anonymous munajjim

says the following:

“Because the total eclipse occurs below the horizon in this latitude (ufq), its effects in
this region [viz. Rūm] are relatively minor. [By the same token], because it occurs
above the horizon in the Persian lands (diyār-i ʿAjam), its effects are most strongly felt
in that region, including the region of the Euphrates, Mosul, Fars, Hamadan, the Sawad
of the Arab Iraq, Ferghana, Herat, India, Makran, eastern Khurasan, Ahvaz, Tabriz and
Isfahan, and will persist for two years and twelve days, being the strongest at the
beginning of this period. It signifies the affliction (nakbat) of a person of a great stature
(shakhṣī-i ʿaẓīm al-shān) in the region of the Euphrates, Mosul or the Persian lands. But
God knows best the true nature of things.”128

The categories and geographic references employed by the anonymous munajjim in his

astrological predictions of the expected solar eclipse are not that striking, as he refers to vague

127
TSMK Revan Ms. 1711/11, 266b.
128
Ibid.: “chūn vasaṭ-i kusūf dar īn ufq taḥta’l-arż ast, asar-i kusūf dar īn diyār kamtar bāshad
va chūn vasaṭ-i kusūf dar diyār-i ʿAjam favqa’l-arż ast taʾsīr-i kusūf dar ān diyār va kanār-i
Firāt va Mūṣul va Fārs va Hamadān va savād-i ʿIrāq-i ʿArab va Farghāna va Harāt va Hind va
Makrān va sharqī-yi Khorasān va Ahvāz va Tabrīz va Isfahān ba-vujūd āmad va do sāl va
duvāzdah rūz īn taʾsīr bi-mānad va muʿaẓẓam-i taʾsīr dar avāʾil ba-ẓuhūr āyad va dalīl-ast bar
nikbat-i shakhṣī-i ʿaẓīm al-shān dar aṭrāf-i Firāt va Mūṣul va diyar-i ʿAjam wallāhu aʿlam bi-
ḥaqāʾiq al-umūr.”
297
geographic categories such as the Euphrates, Mosul, and the lands of the ʿAjam. Yet he skillfully

concentrates the attention of the reader on the foretold individual, who is said to be of exalted

status. The anonymous munajjim’s remarks become all the more meaningful when they are

juxtaposed with an intriguing passage of the Selīmshāhnāme of Idrīs Bidlīsī, which explains the

Ottoman victory in 1514 over the Safavids in the Battle of Chaldiran in astrological terms:

“Among the indicators of the divinely-granted victory that made good the purpose of
the lord of all sultans of the age [i.e., Selīm] and the triumph realized by the allies of
that holy [sovereign] against foes perverted in religion and government were a number
of configurations (ṣūrat) apparent to the sight of percipient analyzers of the motions of
the heavenly spheres, this in accordance with the principles laid down by sage
observers of the fixed stars and planets (rāṣidān-i marāṣid-i nujūm-i savābit va sayyār)
and the meteorological phenomena that occur under cycling heaven.
The first [of these indicators] was the total solar eclipse that occurred on Sunday night,
Shaʿbān 28, 920 (vuqū-i kusūf tamām būd ki dar Yakshanbih bīst-o-hashtom Shaʿbān),
in the descending lunar node in the sign of Virgo, with Monday’s dawn breaking on the
eastern horizon during the height of the eclipse. Drawing on [professional] intuition
(taḥaddus) and [long] experience (tajriba), astrologers (arbāb-i aḥkām-i nujūm)
universally agree that the fact that the radiant body [of the Sun] remained dark for 41
minutes after its dawning in the east was a clear indicator of the calamitous and total
destruction of the power of the king of the east (tamām-i nakbat-i zavāl-i davlat-i
khusrav-i mashriq-zamīn) and the brilliant dawning of a manifest victory from the west,
this to protect religion and serve as a model warning [of the woe that awaits] tyrannical
foes on the Day of Judgment, as heralded by “The Hour has drawn nigh: the Moon is
split” (Q 54:1). And indeed, as occult synchronicity (gharāyib-i ittifāqāt) would have it,
at the moment of eclipse the army of the depraved shah, emperor of the east, was
arraying itself in opposition to the army of the sultan of the west. That is to say, it was
evident to perceptive observers that the body of that Sun, eclipsed by the darkness of
blackly oppressive enemy forces, became ever more ascendant precisely with the
increase of the thick blackness of that foundation of darkness and the evil fortune of
that black-hearted faction, such that the fully-eclipsed Sun broke forth from the east
amid the spheriform tents of the Qizilbāsh: thus did the Sun, wreathed in perfect beauty
and glorious majesty, rise from the west (such a reversal and opposition being one of
the conditions that will herald the Hour of Resurrection).”129

129
Idrīs Bidlīsī, Selīmshāhnāme, ed. Hicabi Kırlangıç (Ph.D. Dissertation, Ankara University,
1995), 136-7.
298
 There are number of striking issues for our purposes here as to the role taqwīms might have

played in shaping and mobilizing contemporary political debates and decisions. The work, which

narrates the incidents immediately before and during the reign of Selīm I and which aims at

underlining his deeds and achievements, was in fact never finished by Idrīs Bidlīsī during his

lifetime and could only have been compiled by his son in late 1560s from the scattered notes of

his father.130 Therefore, we are not in a position to clearly identify whether it was really Idrīs

who wrote the above-quoted passage, and if so, when exactly he composed it. Yet, the quality of

the Persian prose and the accurate historical details about the chronology of the Battle of

Chaldiran make it highly likely that Idrīs himself originally composed the passage.

The hard astronomical data given in Idrīs’s passage about the date and duration of the

expected solar eclipse almost entirely coincides with the calculations of the anonymous munajjim

in the annual taqwīm presented to the Palace before March 1514. The only information that

differs is the month in which the eclipse was expected to occur. However, this was likely a slip

of his son’s pen when copying Idrīs’s notes after so many years or by Idrīs himself while writing

down the passage, as the date, which is designated as Sunday (yakshanbih), could not simply be

in the month of Shaʿbān, which corresponds to Wednesday, October 28, 1514, almost two

months after the Battle of Chaldiran. The twenty-eighth of Jumādā II, however, makes perfect

sense at it corresponds to Sunday, August 20, 1514, immediately before the outbreak of the

battle. Apart from the exact month of this eclipse, Idrīs’ passage regarding the direction (on the

eastern horizon) and duration (41 minutes) of the eclipse also accords precisely with the

information given in the taqwīm.

130
Ibid., 12.
299
 The most important aspect of Idrīs’s remarks, however, is his dual-layered astrological

interpretation of the solar eclipse. By referring to munajjims’ interpretation of the solar eclipse,

Idrīs (re)interprets the celestial phenomenon as a clear sign of the total destruction (nakbat) of

the power of the Safavid shah and a manifest victory for the Ottoman sultan. Thus the vague

interpretation of the anonymous munajjim in the annual taqwīm finds its eventual fulfillment and

explanation. Whether or not Idrīs had the chance to read and review that particular taqwīm, the

use of raw astronomical data and the wording of astrological interpretations make a strong case

about the political and public recognition of the astrological predictions elaborated in taqwīms.

Idrīs’s remarks are just one example of how astrological predictions might have directly

shaped contemporary expectations and debates. Besides stimulating public discussions, the

astrological predictions of taqwīms also affected imperial decisions. It is indeed not surprising, as

many chronicles and historical narratives often mention in passing that a certain military

expedition was initiated or a certain imperial building’s construction began upon an auspicious

hour of the munajjims’ designation. What the parallel reading of taqwīms and

chronicles/historical narratives shows unequivocally that such remarks should not be dismissed

as simple rhetorical devices, for the instructive words of munajjims as to the propitious times to

embark upon certain individual and imperial enterprises were definitely taken seriously, as

already manifested in the dissertation by archival documents and manuscript sources.

To that end, I will focus here on the taqwīm prepared for the year 925/1519 by the Ḫāce

Kemāl and contrast it to another contemporary Selīmnāme, written by Keşfī Meḥmed Çelebi (d.

1525). As briefly mentioned before, Ḫāce Kemāl’s taqwīm, especially its astrological predictions

are surprisingly explicit in its references and use of categories. He, for instance, talks at length

300
about the uneasiness in the west (Batu), specifically in the land of the Franks (Frengistān), and

comments upon the probable Ottoman victory against the Pope (Rīmpāp) and the conquest of the

island of Rhodes. He, however, cautions the Sultan not to embark upon any campaign in the first

couple months of the year, because the relevant astrological variables betoken the advisability of

delaying the action at least past the first few months of the year. For Ḫāce Kemāl, the campaign

should be undertaken during the fourth or fifth month of the year.131

Quite intriguingly, at the end of his narrative, Keşfī Meḥmed Çelebi discusses Selīm’s

decision to call off his planned campaign against the island of Rhodes. According to Keşfī, Selīm

was eager to initiate a campaign against the island but after learning about the words of

munajjims who reached a consensus in their taqwīms saying that the beginning and the middle of

the year would be extremely inauspicious, he decided to give up the campaign.132

In just a few years after Selīm’s unfinished attempt, the Ottomans were able to seize the

island under the commandment of Selīm’s newly enthroned son Süleymān, but even before

Süleymān’s campaign against the island, astrological conspiracies in the contemporary taqwīms

seem to have distracted the palace. As already mentioned in the previous chapter, according to

ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi (d. 1571), a certain ʿÖzrī, who was at the time the qāḍi of Varna (today in Bulgaria)

besides his being a poet, presented to the court a taqwīm during the campaign against the island

of Rhodes. In his taqwīm, ʿÖzrī Çelebi allegedly predicted that the island of Rhodes would

131
TSMK Emanet Hazinesi Ms. 1695, 6b: “delāʾīl şöyledir ki bu yılıñ ibtidāsında ḥażret-i
pādişāh-i ʿālem-penāh kendü nefsine sefere çıkmayalar… amma sefere çıḳtıḳları vaḳit dördüncü
ve beşinci ay ola, vallāhu ʿālam”
132
SK Esad Efendi Ms. 2147, 133b: “ve hem ehl-i nücūm müttefiḳunʿaleyh bu yılıñ evāʾili ve
evāsıṭı gāyetde şūm ve nihāyetde mezmūmdur diyü taḳvīmlerinde taḥrīr … ḳıldılar. Ol sebebden
sefer emri teʾḫīr buyuruldı.”
301
eventually be conquered but the siege would be prolonged and cost the lives of many soldiers.133

Embittered by these predictions in the taqwīm, Süleymān asked his retainers to bring the author

of this taqwīm to his presence. Upon hearing the sultan’s order, ʿÖzri first visited a close friend

of his, Muṣṭafa the geomancer, and they together interpreted his ascendant, reaching the same

conclusion that he would die during his visit of the palace. According to Āşık Çelebi’s anecdote,

ʿÖzrī died exactly as he foretold.134

The taqwīm of ʿÖzrī is not extant today; therefore, unlike the cases of Idrīs Bidlīsī and

Keşfī, we could not read this anecdote in parallel with the actual predictions from the original

almanac. In fact, the anecdote recounted by ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi is likely apocryphal, for contemporary

archival records about a certain poet named ʿÖzri clearly document that as late as Muḥarram 19,

940/August 10, 1533, he received gifts and allowances from the court.135 No matter what really

happened to ʿÖzri Çelebi, and how and when he lost his life, ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi’s anecdote is still

valuable as it conveys a contemporary perspective pertaining to the discursive power of the

taqwīms.

A last piece of evidence for the extent to which contemporary (ruling) elites deemed

astrological predictions important is a non-anecdotal, archival one: a petition, written apparently

by a dismissed munajjim and delivered to Sultan Bāyezīd II, likely through the end of his reign.

In this anonymous petition—or in fact a letter of pardon—the dismissed munajjim asks the

sultan’s mercy for his recent failure to present the court with taqwīms. He explains it by referring

first to his lately shifting scientific interests, as apparently he has become interested in medicine.

133
Aşık Çelebi, Meşa’irü’ş-Şuara, ed. Filiz Kılıç, v. 2 (Istanbul: Suna ve İnan Kıraç Vakfı,
2010), 1064.
134
Ibid.
135
Kamil Kepeci 1764.
302
He then reveals the real reason of his failure by saying that as he becomes older and death draws

near, it excites more grief and uneasiness to deal with the stars, especially with the judicium.136

In the last part of the petition, the anonymous dismissed munajjim desperately pleads with the

sultan and concludes the petition by asking the sultan to reemploy him in his service.

Besides revealing an interesting detail about the epistemological suspicions of a practicing

munajjim as to his own craft, the petition is a clear proof that sultans—at least some of them—

inquired after, and waited impatiently for, the annual astrological counsel of the munajjims, and

failing to produce the annual astrological prognostications in a timely manner potentially entailed

a munajjim’s loss of position.

All in all, the taqwīms that munajjims produced and presented the Ottoman court on a

yearly basis are invaluable sources modern scholars from various subdisciplines should pay more

attention. Not only the taqwīms can allow modern historians of science to easily track the

scientific models and astronomical methods preferred by different practitioners. They also

provide, through especially the detailed astrological predictions on the fortunes of the upcoming

year, complementary details and colorful insights about the burning political and ideological

matters of the time, which were subject to constant change. Though it is a challenging task to

glean the valuable historical information out of the often repetitive and hackneyed prose of

prognostications, that the taqwīms were composed on a yearly basis helps the modern researcher

detect more accurately the diverging elements to further associate them with the problems and

136
TSMA E. 10159/145: “dar īn ayyām muyassar nashod ki bi-istikhrāj-i taqvīm mashgūl
shavad….Az chand jihat yaki az ishtighāl bi-muṭālaʿa-i ṭibbiyya ammā māniʿ-i kullī ān ast ki īn
kamīna rā vaqt-i irtiḥāl nazdīk ast va ishtighāl bi-nujūmiyāt siyammā bi-aḥkāmash mustalzim-i
qasāvat-i qalb ast.”

303
debates of their times. The testimony of contemporary historical narratives and a few archival

documents about the recognition of munajjims’ astrological predictions in the taqwīms also

reveals the need to appreciate the value of these texts for historical purposes. It should be also

noted that taqwīms were not the only surviving textual product of the munajjims. The astral

experts were also engaged in producing other types of annotated horoscopes that they composed

for the occasions of birth, enthronment of the sultan, or the calculation of the auspicious moment

for undertaking an imperial enterprise. The next chapter will discuss the significance of this

genre on the basis of few surviving examples from the fifteenth and sixteenth century Ottoman

world.

304
 Chapter Five—From Bolstering Royal Claims to Expressing Self-
Aggrandizement: Political and Personal Dynamics of Casting Horoscopes

V. 1 Introduction

In the previous chapter I delved into one particular, and seemingly the most prevailing,

form of horoscope production identified within the astrological practice of (solar year)

revolutions (taḥvīl-i sāl). In annual taqwīms, munajjims and other individuals conversant in the

astral sciences interpreted the horoscopes they prepared on the basis of the key moment of sun’s

annual ingress into Aries, i.e. the beginning of the solar year, as well as its monthly entrance into

other Zodiacal signs. Contrary to the conventional wisdom that tends to take taqwīms simply as

calendars, ample amount of relevant texts descending from the fifteenth-and sixteenth-century

Ottoman realm has demonstrated that astrology played a central role in the taqwīm tradition.

There are other examples of horoscopes produced for different forms of astrological

practice such as nativities and elections.1 As I already outlined in greater detail in the first

chapter, the genre of nativities (mawālīd) rests upon the fundamental assumption that the

celestial configuration at the time of birth has an enduring impact on a person’s destiny. Whereas

the branch of elections (ikhtiyārāt) intends to determine the most propitious moment to start a

specific enterprise or perform an activity, such as enthronement of a ruler, embarking upon a

military campaign, or laying the cornerstone of an imperial building. Although the amount of

such horoscopes descending from the period in question is not as many as the extant taqwīms, a

1
For a more universal discussion of it, see H. Darrel Rutkin, “Various Uses of Horoscopes:
Astrological Practices in Early Modern Europe,” in Horoscopes and Public Spheres. Essays on
the History of Astrology, ed. by G. Oestmann, H. D. Rutkin and K. von Stuckrad (Berlin: Walter
de Gruyter, 2005),167-182.
305
few surviving documents, including the nativity of Meḥmed II and the horoscope produced for

the construction of the Süleymaniye mosque complex, will be scrutinized in this chapter with an

eye toward examining the intersecting personal and imperial dynamics of the astrological

practice.

The reasons are not clear why we have surprisingly so little extant nativity books and

occasional horoscopes, although the practice itself was quite widespread given the frequent

references in contemporary sources.2 In addition to numerous anecdotes about the practice that

regularly feature in the chronicles and historical narratives, manuscript sources also contain

various personal horoscope charts (zāyicha), often in the standard square or rectungular format

divided into twelve sections, scattered in the colophon page or the recto of the first folio (ẓahr al-

2
Even in the surviving horoscope for the construction of the Süleymaniye complex, which I will
discuss in detail below, the author Riyāżī explicitly refers to other horoscopes he prepared for the
birth and accession day of Süleymān. Unfortunately none of these horoscopes have survived our
day, unless they remain undiscovered in some obscure manuscripts. One should also recall the
discussion in the taqwīm of the year 849/1446 about the horoscope of Murād II’s second
accession to throne or the elaboration of Idris Bīdlīsī on Bāyezīd II’s horoscope, both discussed I
more detail above.
Similar references could also easily be found in earlier historical narratives. In his Gazānāme-i
Rūm (ca. 1456), Kāşifī recounts that when Meḥmed II was born, Murād II called for the
munajjims and asked them to interpret the birth horoscope of his son. Apparently, munajjims
interpreted the celestial configuration as the definitive sign of Meḥmed II’s being a ṣāḥib-qirān.
See: Ebrahim M. Esmail, “Kâşifî’nin Gazânâme-i Rûm adlı Farsça Eseri ve Türkçe’ye Tercüme
ve Tahlili.” (MA Thesis, Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University, 2005), 14.
Kıvāmī narrates in his Fetḥnāme-i Sulṭān Meḥmed that when Meḥmed II ascended the throne for
the second time, he had the munajjims interpret the horoscope of his ascension. Their
interpretation was that Meḥmed II would rule the world like Alexander the Two-horned. See:
Ruşan Türken, “Kivâmî, Fethnâme-i Sultân Mehmed.” (MA Thesis, Fırat University, 2006), 192.
Such anecdotes in the earlier Ottoman sources follow the examples richly elaborated in
preceding and/or contemporary Persian chronicles and historical writings, such as Khwāndamīr’s
Ḥabīb al-siyar or Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī’s Zafarnāma. For example for the curious story of
Mavlānā ʿAbd al-Lisān munajjim’s calculation and interpretation of the birth horoscope of
Ibrāhim Sulṭān b. Shāhrukh (d. 1435) see Yazdī, Sharaf al-Dīn ʿAlī, Zafarnāma, ed. by Sayyid
Saʿīd Mīr Muḥammad Ṣādiq and ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn Navāʾī, v. 1 (Tehrān: Kitābkhāna Mūzih va
Markaz-i Asnād-i Majlis-i Shūra-yi Islāmī, 1387), 786-788.
306
kitāb).3 These diagrams are not necessarily accompanied by an astrological commentary of the

horoscope, but still hint at the prevalence of the practice.

One important reason of the scarcity of extant textual examples of these occasional

horoscopes is the very personal nature of these materials. As Laurence Elwell-Sutton has already

pointed out, since most of these horoscopes were of interest only to the individual or the specific

occasion to whom/which they applied, their preservation across different generations was not an

immediate concern.4 We should also take into consideration the oral nature of the astrological

counseling, which I have already mentioned, as these natal charts or suggestions for elections

might have been interpreted verbally on the spot.

In order to introduce the reader to the distinguishing characteristics of the materials this

chapter will evaluate, i.e., the nativities and other horoscopes produced for electional purposes, it

would be useful to start with comparing them with the taqwīms. First of all, in both taqwīms and

nativities, the same standard mathematical and astronomical procedures were followed for

casting the horoscope at the desired moment. Accordingly, the munajjim first determined the

degree of the ascendant (ṭāliʿ), the Zodiacal sign rising above the horizon, by consulting the

astronomical tables (zīj) or sometimes using an astrolabe, or even both. The next step was to

demarcate all the other eleven astrological houses, so as to sketch the position of the Zodiac in

relation to them at the designated moment. This operation is called the equalization of houses

3
These charts available in numerous Islamic manuscripts still wait to be thoroughly studied. For
a general evaluation of the question in medieval European manuscript culture, see: Sophie Page,
Astrology in Medieval Manuscripts (British Library/University of Toronto Press, 2002). On
zāyicha (horoscopic diagram), see: David Pingree, “Horoscope” EIr; Enrico Raffaelli, “Zāyča”
EIr.
4
Laurence P. Elwell-Sutton, “A Royal Tīmūrid Nativity Book,” in Logos Islamikos: Studia
Islamica in Honorem Georgii Michaelis Wickens, ed. Roger M. Savory and Dionisius A. Agius
(Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, c1984), 119-134.
307
(taswiyat al-buyūt). Once the horoscope chart (zāyicha) was drawn, the munajjim became ready

to start prognosticating it.

Here emerges the fundamental difference between the taqwīms and the nativities, because

in the former case the calculations and ensuing prognostications are only for the particular year

in question, whereas in the nativities munajjims needed to project the celestial calculations and

astrological interpretations toward the temporal point that the newborn is expected to reach in

terms of lifespan. In order to make these projections and establish the life expectancy of the

newborn, the munajjims had recourse to calculating additional astrological variables such as the

haylāj (indicator for the body), kadkhudā (indicator for the soul), tasyīrāt (prorogation or

progression), firdārāt (planets ruling certain periods), or intihāʾāt (profections), all of which are

discussed in greater detail in the major examples of the zīj genre.5

Aside from the use of additional astrological indicators, another important difference

between the nativities and taqwīms is the timing of these calculations. In the taqwīms, which

were produced and presented before or around the time of Navrūz (i.e., the revolution of the solar

year), calculations were made prospectively, to wit, the munajjims estimated the moment of the

solar year transfer in order to make prognostications out of it. Whereas in the nativities, the

munajjim makes retrospective computations on the basis of the information provided to him

about the exact birth date of the individual. Although there is both textual and visual evidence

implying that munajjims might have been in close proximity to the royal birth chamber, the

5
The last major section in both the Zīj-i Īlkhānī and Zīj-i Ulugh Beg is solely devoted to the
elaboration of these procedures. For the technical details of these indicators, see the very useful
commentary and annotated glossary of astrological terms prepared by L. P. Elwell-Sutton in his
edition of a horoscope descended from the Qajar period: The Horoscope of Asadullāh Mīrzā: A
Specimen of Nineteenth-Century Persian Astrology, tr. and ed. by L. P. Elwell-Sutton (Leiden:
Brill, 1977), 57-98.
308
detailed birth horoscopes at hand rather reveal that the nativities were produced after the

munajjim was approached by the client, who was usually enjoying his/her her adult years and

curious enough to ask the munajjim to prognosticate his/her destiny in the remaining years of his

or her life.6 As part of this request, the client (or his/her deputy) usually provided the munajjim

the original date of his/her birth. For example, in the nativity of the Timurid Mirzā Rustam

Bahadur, produced in Muharram 822/February 1419 by a certain Yaḥyā b. ʿImād b. Yaḥyā al-

munajjim al-Kāshānī, the munajjim refers to the initial calculation of the degree of the ascendant

that was apparently recorded by an observer (of the sky) (rāṣidī) at the original time of birth.7 In

a similar manner, as we briefly mentioned about its contents in the second chapter, a petition was

delivered to Bāyezīd II by an anonymous munajjim, who, apart from asking for permission to

have access to certain books and instruments in the treasury, promised the sultan to prepare

nativities for the princes Ḳorḳud and Aḥmed if their birth dates are communicated to him.8

As it was the case in previous chapters, the present chapter also does not set out to

illustrate the complex methods and techniques used by the munajjims to cast horoscopes or

verify the past calculations on the basis of modern computations. It has rather the sole purpose of

6
George Saliba’s study on the status of astrology in medieval Islamic society provides several
examples of miniatures depicting munajjims as part of the royal birth chamber. See: Saliba, “The
Role of the Astrologer in Medieval Islamic Society,” Bulletin d’études orientales 44 (1992), 45-
67. For other references to visual evidence also see: Eva Orthmann, “Circular Motions, Private
Pleasure, and Public Prognostication in the Nativities of the Mughal Emperor Akbar,” in
Horoscopes and Public Spheres. Essays on the History of Astrology, ed. by G. Oestmann, H. D.
Rutkin and K. von Stuckrad (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005), 101-114.
7
Huntington Library Ms. HM 71897, 7b: “rāṣidī ki bi-ālāt-i raṣad daraja-i ṭāliʿ maʿlūm konad
... az taḥrīr-i musavadda-i ki mavjūd būd. Chunān maʿlūm shod ki az shab-i mazkūr dah sāʿat
gozashta būda ta zamān-i vilādet-i mubārak.”
8
TSMA E. 10159/6: “va agar ṭāliʿhā maʿlūm nabāshad tārīkh-i vilādathā taslīm namāyand tā
baʿd az istikhrāj kayfiyyat-i ṭāliʿ-i har yak rā chunāncha az dalāʾil-i nujūmī maʿlūm shavad ba-
ʿarḍ rasānīda shavad.”
309
understanding what these extant occasional horoscopes could tell the modern historians about the

complex political and patronage dynamics underlying their production and circulation. Unlike

the taqwīm genre, however, the amount of surviving textual materials is significantly limited.

Therefore compared to the comparative analytical examination of the numerous taqwīms from

the fifteenth-and early-sixteenth-century Ottoman milieu, the treatment here will be more

descriptive and sporadic. Here I will describe in detail two specific examples. One of them is a

nativity produced for the sultan Meḥmed II through the end of his life. Although ʿĀṭūfī’s

catalogue of the Palace library that he prepared in 1502-3 also lists the horoscopes of Cem Sultan

and Bāyezīd II in the inventory, these texts have not survived our day.9 The second textual

example that I will discuss even in more detail is Riyāżī’s curious horoscope that he composed

around the year 1550 for the occasion of the construction of the Süleymaniye mosque complex.

V. 2. Nativity Books as a Means of Self-Propaganda

Immediately after arriving at the court of Meḥmed II and presenting him in December

1479 with his lengthy commentary on Ṭūsī’s Si faṣl (which he entitled Muwaḍḍih al-rusūm fī

9
Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Ms. Török F 59, 317: “Risāla wilādat Cam
raḥimahallāh wa huwa Ibn Muḥammad Khān”; 27: “Risāla fī al-handasa wa risāla ṭāliʿ sulṭān
al-salāṭīn Sulṭān Bāyezīd Khān bin Muḥammad Khān zīda naṣrahu wa risāla fī al-tafsīr fī
mujalladin wāḥidin.”
There is an eighteenth century copy of Bāyezīd II’s horoscope, fragmentedly copied by a certain
al-Sayyīd ʿAbdu’l-kerīm b. Muṣṭafa in Muharram 1177/July 1763. This copy consists of only
five folios and does not contain the part on astrological judgments. In the horoscope, Bāyezīd’s
birth date is set as 5 Muharram 851/March 26, 1447 and the birth place as Manisa. While this
birth date complies with the overall consensus in the relevant historiography, his birthplace is
usually considered to be Dimetoka. See: Kandilli Rasathanesi Kütüphanesi Ms. 396.
310
ʿilm al-nujūm), Khiṭābī was requested by the sultan to compose his nativity.10 The voluminous

nativity was originally completed by him in 24 Rabīʿ al-awwal 885/June 3, 1480, and another

presentation copy was made ready before the sultan would pass away in May 1481.11 The

horoscope begins with a standard invocation of God, to which are added several quotations from

the Quran that refer to the heavenly bodies, the world of the unseen (aʿlam al-ghayb), or the idea

that human body is the microcosm of the universe. This is followed by a brief doxology in praise

of the Prophet Muhammad. These rather standard textual components are then followed by a

relatively long passage glorifying Meḥmed II and his rule. Among numerous strong appellations

with full of celestial imagery, Khiṭābī particularly defines the sultan in this passage as the caliph

of the epoch (khalīfat al-dahr), the imām of the age (imām al-zamān), and the khān to all the

world rulers (khān-i khavāqīn-i jihān).12 He then swiftly records the birth date of the sultan, first

according to the lunar Hijri system (26 Rajab 835) and then the Old Iranian/Yazdigerd era. (2

10
SK Esad Efendi 1997, 2b: “ammarani an yustakhraja ṭāliʿ mawlūdihi al-maymūn wa yuḥaṣṣal
min wilāyat mā huwa al-aṣl wa-l-qānūn li-yaẓhara min ithbātihi awḍāʾ al-suʿūd wa-n-nuḥūs wa
yuʿraf mā yuṣtaḥṣala min sayrihā al-sanawī…”
11
There are at least two copies of this text. The one now located at SK Esad Efendi 1997 and
composed of ninety folios seems to be the autograph copy of Khiṭābī. Not only the quality of the
script seems very similar to the handwriting of Khiṭābī in his other works cited in the third
chapter. In the colophon part of the copy Khiṭābī says that he first finished writing it in Istanbul
in 24 RA 885/June 3, 1480. SK Esad Efendi 1997, 90b: “Tammat al-kitāb awwal ʿalā yad al-
ʿabd al-żaʿīf Khiṭābī al-munajjim al-Jīlānī fī yawm al-arbaʿā ʿishrīn Rabīʿ al-awwal min shahr
[sic] sana khams wa samānīn wa samāna miʾa hijriyya nabawiyya fī baladiyyat al-
Qusṭanṭiniyya.” Based likely upon this copy, another and more flamboyant presentation copy
(composed of 264 folios) was prepared by the famous calligrapher of the time, Ghiyāth al-dīn
Iṣfahānī. TSMK Yeni Yazmalar 830, 264a: “tammat al-kitāb al-ṭāliʿ al-mawlūd al-mubārak
humāyūn khalladallāh taʿālā ʿumrahu wa khilāfatahu ʿalā yad al-majrūh al-ḥaqīr Ghiyāth al-
mujallid al-Iṣfahānī bi-dār al-salṭanat Qusṭanṭiniyya aṣlaḥallāhu shānahu abadan.”
Unfortunately its copy date is not specified, but Ghiyāth al-dīn’s wording certainly implies that it
was produced when Meḥmed II was still alive.
12
SK Esad Efendi 1997, 2b. As for celestial imagery, Khiṭābī uses the following expressions:
“āfitāb-i jalāl az ufq-i iqbāl ṭulūʿ kard” (for describing the birth of Meḥmed II), “khilāfat-i
āfitāb-i falak-i mustaqīm, markaz-i dāʾira-i muqīm-i mihr, burj-i ṭājdārī dar daraj-i shahriyārī”
311
Murdād māh-i qadīm 801).

The author then gives a quick table of contents and briefly introduces the main chapters

in the horoscope. Although he says that the text is composed of three chapters (salāsa abvāb), it

would be more accurate indeed to group his overall scheme into two main parts:

astronomical/computational (elaborated in between 3a-67a) and astrological/interpretive (67b-

90b), because the three chapters Khiṭābī introduces in the beginning are only related to the

specific astronomical/computational procedures. These are as follows:

i) Procedures undertaken to determine the degree of the ascendant (istikhrāj al-

ṭāliʿ);

ii) Procedures undertaken with the use of the indicators to establish the life

expectancy of the newborn (haylāj and ʿaṭīyya al-kawākib);

iii) Procedures undertaken with the use of the latitude of the incidental horizons

(ʿarūḍ al-āfāq al-ḥāditha).

Khiṭābī opens his elaboration by fixing the birth date of the sultan in the Old

Iranian/Yazdgirdi era as Saturday, 2 Murdād 801. He then starts establishing the equivalent dates

according to other temporal systems. As an indication of his intentions to show off his extensive

knowledge in computational tasks, Khiṭābī here instructs, in the fashion of the zīj literature, how

these calendric calculations can be manually made. After making, and showing how to make,

painstaking calendric calculations, he establishes that the equivalence of the date in the lunar

Hijri calendar (tārīkh-i ʿArabī) is 26 Rajab 835. The corresponding dates in the Rūmī/Iskandarī

(tārīkh-i Rūmī) and Jalālī/Malikshāhī (tārikh-i Malikī) eras are given respectively as 29 Āzar

312
māh (April) 1843 and 17 Farvardīnmāh 353.13 He later gives the place of the birth as Edirne (dār

al-salṭanat), which he says is located in the sixth clime. He then moves to the next section and

fixes the exact hour of the birth as eight hours and four minutes into the Saturday evening, 26

Rajab 835/March 29, 1432. Here, like Yahyā munajjim in the horoscope of Mīrzā Rustam

Bahadur, Khiṭābī refers to the notes of an anonymous observer that had recorded the birth date of

the sultan.14 He further implies his surprise to have found this information already recorded,

because as he says, in the absence of such recorded dates munajjims often have to appeal to

instruments like the astrolabe (usṭurlāb) or hourglass (shīsha-i sāʿat) to retrospectively calculate

the time of birth. However, in the case of Meḥmed II, there is no such need.

After setting the ground by inserting the date and place of the birth, Khiṭābī starts his

lengthy exposition on the complex mathematical and astronomical procedures required for

calculating the horoscope. Quite similar to the flow of narrative in other extant horoscopes from

the Timurid realm, such as the famous horoscope of Mīrzā Iskandar produced by ʿImād al-

munajjim or the horoscope of his half-brother Mīrzā Rustam Bahadur composed by Yaḥyā b.

ʿImād b. Yaḥyā al-munajjim, Khīṭābi himself explains and exemplifies in a very detailed fashion

(in almost two-third of the entire work (3a-67a)) those specific methods an erudite munajjim

should adopt when preparing someone’s nativity. The methods he specifically mentioned include

the namūdārāt of Ptolemy, Idris, Abū Maʿshar, or Zarathustra as well as the haylājāt,

kadkhudāhs, and firdārāt. He also provides in a simple textbook format the minimum sufficient

13
Ibid., 3a-3b.
14
Ibid., 4a: “ḥāfiẓān-i vaqt-i vilādat-i bā-saʿādat-i humāyūn ba-taqrīb va kitābat chunān
rasānīdand chūn ṣāḥib-qirān bā-davlat va saʿādat az katm-i ʿadam-i mubārak ba-ṣaḥrā-yi vujūd
nihād gozashta būd az shab-i shanbih hasht sāʿat va chahār daqīqa taqrīban muvāfiq bā-bīst o
shash-i māh-i mubārak sana 835.”
313
knowledge on the dispositions of the stars and planets (ṭabāyiʿ-i sitāragān), indications of each

astrological house and signs of the planetary aspects (ittiṣāl-i naẓarī).

It is partially true, in light of the extant annotated horosopes from the Timurid realm, that

such detailed explanations on the astronomical, mathematical, and astrological technicalities of

the practice, which probably did not have any bearing on the patron sultans, were in fact dictated

by the genre of the nativities. Every new munajjim might have felt the pressure to (re)produce

these generic features and conventions of their scholastic endeavor in order to prove how well-

trained s/he was as a munajjim. In fact the exhaustive comments upon these technical matters

might have served two important purposes. On the one hand, the munajjim could create another

opportunity for him/herself to demonstrate, in the presence of both the primary patron and

contemporary practitioners, his deep knowledge in the different foundational units of the astral

sciences. On the other hand, these explanations with exemplary cases and insertion of tables

might have stood as useful training materials for the would-be munajjims.

Given the fact that there is almost no surviving manuscript evidence as to the extra copies

of such lengthy horoscopes, and that those limited extant copies do not contain any rich

marginalia that would have proved otherwise its heavy use by the past readers/students, it is quite

difficult to say, at least for the period in question, that these texts produced for the royal

consumption were also studied by contemporary munajjims for pedagogical purposes. The later

centuries witnessed, however, the emergence of zāyicha collections, through which certain

munajjims brought together several horoscope charts drawn for some of the recent political

incidents as well as the decisive events in the Ottoman history such as the conquest of

314
Constantinople, the enthronement of Süleymān, or the battle of Mohaç.15 Although these copies

are also devoid of reader notes, one may still consider, in the light of Monica Azzolini’s

excellent study about the pedadogical uses of collected horoscope charts, as exercise notebooks

of certain practitioners.16

In Khiṭābī’s case, however, he shows his scholarly aspirations and ambitions to display

his intellectual assets through painstaiking quotations from, and detailed refererences to, some of

the major authorities in the astrological lore including Ptolemy and Kitāb al-Thamara, Bīrūnī

and his Tafhīm, Ghaznawī and his Kifāya, ʿAlī-Shāh Bukhārī and his Asmār va ashjār, Hermes

and the Kitāb al-asās, or Ṭūsī and his Zīj-i Īlkhāni. Somewhat similar to his lengthy commentary

on Ṭūsī’s Sī faṣl, by which he also likely aimed at convincing the sultan as regards to his level of

expertise, the horoscope best serves for the self-interests of Khiṭābī, who was trying to establish

a stable position for himself in the court hiearachy as an erudite munajjim.

Following his long discussion on the lots and the fixed stars as well as the concepts of the

proragators, whose specific function is considered influencing the lifespan of the native, Khiṭābī

finally turns to what was presumably the main justification for the entire work: the astrological

interpretations of the celestial fndings.17 He first starts with the general prognostications based

upon the degree of the ascendant of Meḥmed II’s birth, which was established, according to his

15
See for instance Kandilli Rasathanesi Kütüphanesi 444. See also the Mücerrebāt of Muṣṭafā
Zekī: SK İzmir Ms. 485.
16
See: Monica Azzolini, “Refining the Astrologer’s Art: Astrological Diagrams in Bodleian MS
Canon. Misc. 24 and Cardano’s Libelli Quinque (1547)” Journal for the History of Astronomy
42/1 (2011), 1-25.
17
SK Esad Efendi Ms. 1997, 67b: “Chūn az taṣḥīh-i daraja-i ṭāliʿ va taʿyīn-i haylāj va
kadkhudhāhāt va ʿarūḍ-i āfāq-i kavākib va tasyīr-i avtād (...) fārigh shodīm khāstīm ki aḥkām-i
davāzdah khāna rā mujmalan bayān konīm baʿd az ān aḥkām-i har sāl ra ʿalā al-tafṣīl īrād
konīm.”
315
own calculations, the 22nd degree of the Aquarius. Similar to the discourse produced in the

taqwīms, Khiṭābī employs platitudes and vague references to praise the rule of Meḥmed II. For

Khiṭābī, as far as the indications of the horoscope are concerned, the owner of this horoscope

would be firmly stationed in his throne. All of his measures would well serve to their purposes.

Whoever dares to revolt against him or avoids fully obeying him would end up being a miserable

and formidable one. He would be victorious over his rivals, and many sultans of the time would

envy him due to his successes. Day by day his glory would intensify, and his generosity would

keep pleasing the scholars, Sufis, and mystics. When his age would turn to 45 (solar years), there

is a possibility that he would undertake a military campaign, at the end of which he would be

victorius. His fame would spread over all corners of the world. When he would turn to 47,

several mischievous individuals would try to provoke trouble and unrest. During this age, the

balance of his blessed temperament would be disturbed, and the enemies and dissidents of his

state would be in a stronger position. Nevertheless in the end they would be defeated at the

blessed hands of the sultan.18

As far as Khiṭābī’s projection for the sultan’s life expectancy is concerned, the turning

point seems to be the year 60, as Khiṭābī particularly says this is the era when the owner of the

horoscope may come close to the end of his “granted/gifted” life. Therefore he should be careful,

18
Ibid., 68a-70b: “ṣāḥib-i ṭāliʿ-i humāyūn … bar maqarr-i salṭanat va ʿaẓamat va pasand-i
khilāfat va imārat thābit va rāsikh bāshand va nikū-rāyi va khūb-andīsha va tīz-dhihn va rūshan-
rāy bovand va ʿāqil va kāmil va khudāvand-i rāy va tadbīr bovand va dar ʿavāqib-i umūr fikrhā
ba-ṣavāb andīshand va ba-har muhim va kāri ki rūy āvorand akthar ba-ḥuṣūl payvandand va
rūzgār bi-ʿaẓamat va ḥashmat godharānand va harkas ki bā ān ḥażrat sar az mutābaʿ va
ʿubūdiyat munḥarif kardānad maḥzūr va mankūb karda …..aksar avqāt tīr-i tadbīr bar hadaf-i
ṣavāb zanand va bar aʿdā muẓaffar va manṣūr gardand…..bar chashm-i salāṭīn maḥsūd
bovand.”
316
at that particular time, especially with the food he would eat and water he would drink.19 If

nothing bad happens during that period, Khiṭābī concludes, the owner of the horoscope would

live until he would be 75 years old. Considering the likely timing of the production of this

horoscope, which coincided with the last phase of Meḥmed II’s political carrer when

controversies derived from the deterioration of his health condition were in circulation, these

vague remarks and cautions as to the dietary measures of Meḥmed II are reflective of the

atmosphere at the court of Meḥmed II.20

V. 3. Choosing the Most Auspicious Time for the Sultan and the Self

An important aspect of the munajjims’ authority in measuring and interpreting time was

to elect astrologically auspicious moments to start a specific activity. As regards to the elections

of propitious moments, Ottoman chronicles and historical narratives are replete with references,

albeit vaguely expressed, to the munajjims’ designation of auspicious hour. The periodic

insertion of formulaic remarks (“bir sāʿat-i saʿd ve vaḳt-i meymūn” or “mübārek sāʿat ve fīrūz-

dem”) into historical narratives inevitably raises questions whether these fillings on pages point

19
Ibid., 88b-89a: “ammā dar sāl-i shastom-i shamsī tasyīr-i daraja-i ṭāliʿ-i maymūn ba-Marrikh
aṣl mi godharad, darīn sāl khavf va khaṭr ast az ghidāhā-yi nā-munāsib iḥtirāz bāyad kard ...
yumkin ki dar īn sāl mizāj-i mubārak az ḥadd-i iʿtidāl munḥarif gardad dar īn sāl az ghidā-yi nā-
munāsib va havā-yi bad va āb-i bad muḥtariz bāyad būdan va nīz dar bāb-i dovvom dhikr karda
shoda ast ki Harmas [Hirmis] ḥakīm dar kitāb-i Asās āvorda ast ki chūn ʿaṭiyya-i muʿadala-i
kadkhudhāh tamām shavad dar ān rūzhā iḥtirāz bāyad kard az ghidā-yi nā-munāsib va havā-yi
bad va dar sāl-i 60?? shamsī ʿaṭīyya-i mushtarī ba-ākhir rasīda ast. Pas dar īn sāl khavf va
khatrat az bīmārī va ghayruhu chūn az īn sālhā-yi makhūfa ki ān dar ākhir-i sāl-i 51-i? ʿarabī?
ast va dar sāl-i 61. arabī?? bi-ṣiḥḥat va salāmat ba-ghozarad va ʿomr-i mubārak-i humāyūn …
ba-haftād o panc sāl ba-rasad inshāllāh taʿālā.”
20
For the detailed political history of the final period of Meḥmed II’s life from May 1480
onwards, see Franz Babinger, Mehmed the Conqueror and his Time (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1978)
317
to an actual, historical fact or are used as a mere rhetorical device. Extant archival documents,

most of which survived from seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, clearly evince the former, as

court munajjims were routinely asked to compute astrologically auspicious moments for a wide

variety of matters, such as setting out on a military campaign, launching a newly constructed

galleon, organizing a banquet, or even manufacturing a talismanic shirt.21 Despite the fact that

there were certain Ottoman sultans who were uneasy with the idea of heeding astrologers’

advice, the ruling authorities often duly noted the temporal instructions of the court munajjims.22

In certain cases, when the initial recommendation of munajjims could not be implemented due to

unavoidable delays, they might have even been asked to calculate an alternative auspicious hour.

For example, in a brief memo written in the year 1788, the office of court astrologers was asked

to designate an alternative hour to set out on the military campaign towards Bulgaria after the

first proposed time was missed. Upon this request the office calculated a second hour and

delivered it to the grand vizier. 23

These surviving archival documents, through which the court munajjims reported the

result of their calculations to the court for the requested imperial matter, were usually written in

the form of brief memos.24 Unfortunately, prior to the late seventeenth-century there is no such

surviving archival document. There is, however, one extant report in a manuscript form,

21
See for instance BOA C. SM 37/1873, BOA AE SMST III 50/3625.
22
As a counter example, one may consider Sultan Abdulaziz. See: Aydüz,
23
BOA Hat 14/576: “ordū-yı hümāyūnuñ…Rusçuḳ’ta ṣaḥrāya ḫūrūcu żımnında bir vaḳt-i
mübārek iḫtiyārını ḥāvī müneccim-i evvel ve sānī efendiler dāʿīleriniñ iki ḳıṭʿa iḫtiyār pūsūlāları
ordū-yı hümāyūna müteḳaddimen gönderilmiş idi. Lakin iḫtiyār olunan vaḳtlerden ilerüce bir
vaḳt-i sa’d iḫtiyār olunmaḳ ḫuṣūṣu ṣadr-ı ʿāẓam ḳulları ṭarafından taḥrīr olunduğuna bināen
mūmāileyhumā dāʿīlerinden tekrār birer iḫtiyār pūsūlāsı getürdülüb maʿrūżu ʿatebe-yi ʿulyāları
ḳılınmışdı.”
24
See for instance BOA C. SM 37/1873, BOA AE SMST III 50/3625.
318
produced in the mid-sixteenth century and now located at the “Yazma Bağışlar” collection of the

Süleymaniye manuscript library. Surprisingly, the text is not mentioned in the comprehensive

bio-bibliographical catalogue of the Ottoman astral lore published in 2011. Nor is there any

reference in modern studies to the text or its author, albeit he was a decent poet in the eyes of his

contemporaries.

The report is written on the occasion of the construction of the Süleymaniye mosque

complex and its author ʿAlī (d. later than 1550), who uses the epithet Riyāżī, says explicitly in

his introductory lines that he composed this treatise upon hearing that Süleymān the Lawgiver

requested from the munajjims to designate an auspicious moment to lay out the foundation of the

mosque he was planning to construct.25 In nine short chapters Riyāżī delivers the auspicious hour

that he has calculated, explicates in detail the scientific reasoning behind his temporal election,

and communicates his predictions regarding the fortunes of the complex.

As a unique document ––unique in the sense of its existence and scope, not in terms of

the practice itself–– the text neatly illustrates how munajjims put astrology in practice for both

scientifically ratifying the grand ideological claims of their patron rulers and promoting their

own personal professional interests. Given the fact that the date Riyāżī suggests for the

commencement of the construction perfectly accords with the date recorded in the surviving

inscription of the Süleymaniye mosque as well as in other contemporary historical narratives, the

document stands as yet another concrete example of the political and practical recognition

25
SK Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 4034 (from now on Riyāẓī), 2a: “emr-i ḳażā-nişānları cereyān ve
ḥükm-i vācibü’l-izʿānları sereyān itdi ki bir cumʿa-i ʿāli-nihād ve ʿimāret-i ḳavī-bünyād mānend-
i ‘İrem-zāti’l-ʿimād allatī lam yakhluq mithluhā fī l-bilād’ tedbīrine mübaşeret ve taʿmīrine
mübāderet olunmağa ibtidā-yı esās-ı rūyīn-evtād ve ṭarḥ-ı bünyād-ı temkīn-nihād içün bir ṭāliʿ-i
meymūn ve sāʿat-i hümāyūn iḫtiyār oluna.”
319
astrological advice received at the time. There is of course the slight possibility that the treatise

was composed when the construction had already started, yet I should also underline the fact that

the contents of the text do not contain any anachronistic element. In addition to showing the

political recognition of the service of the munajjims, the document as a foundation horoscope of

a Friday mosque also gives us another opportunity to question some of the established

convictions in the modern scholarship that has long assumed a definitive clash between

astrological practice and religious orthodoxy. Last but not least, the vocabulary and metaphors

used throughout the text present new evidence on the lofty political and cultural meanings

ascribed at the time to the Süleymaniye complex by the sultan and contemporary ruling elites.

Unlike the already mentioned archival documents from later centuries preserved in

shorter than one-page memos, the report in question is in a standard book format, consisting of

thirteen folios written in small clear naskh script, with diacritical marks and without a title. The

verse markers and section headings are in red ink, and titulature used for Süleymān in gold. The

manuscript is bound in brown leather and its center is embossed with a circular medallion

(shamsa). Both the medallion and decorative lines in the corners are also stamped in gold. Given

the physical qualities of its cover, folios, and script, the surviving manuscript seems to be the

presentation copy.

According to the colophon of the text, the work is written by a certain ʿAlī, better known

with his pseudonym Riyāżī.26 This pseudonym is not an accidental choice for an epithet, as

Riyāżī is an appellation literally corresponding to what the term mathematicus signifies in the

Renaissance context for those who were learned in the mathematical sciences (i.e. al-ʿulūm al-

26
SK Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 4034, 13b: “Qad iṭṭalaʿa kawākib hadihi ’l-aḥkām min falak al-ḍamīr
wa ufq al-aqlām, afqar ʿibādullāh al-rāḍī, ʿAlī al-nisāba al-Riyāżī.”
320
riyāḍiyya) of geometry (handasa), arithmetic (ʿadad), astral lore (hayʾa and nujūm), and music

(mūsīqī).27 As such, the adoption of this epithet certainly displays the self-confidence of our

protagonist in his knowledge of the mathematical sciences, which, as we have already examined

in the first two chapters, constituted the prerequisite skills and knowledge for the accurate

practice of learned astrology.

Riyāżī’s expertise, however, seems much more extensive than a standard coverage of

mathematical sciences. As already mentioned in the third chapter, he features in contemporary

biographical dictionaries as a polymath, equally adept in casting talismans and magic squares

(ṭılsım u nīrencāt ve vefḳ), geomancy (reml), celestial magic (teneccüm ve daʿvet), philosophy

(ḥikmet), logic (manṭıḳ), theology (kelām), and chronology (tevārīḫ-i eyyām).28 As a son of a

devşirme, he completed his standard madrasa education likely in the 1520s before he put himself

in the early 1530s a master-apprenticeship configuration under the supervision of a certain

Lüṭfullāh, who was one of the court munajjims at the time.29 Around this time Riyāżī began to

frequent the circles of such powerful bureaucrats as Ḳara Bālīzāde (d. 1537-8) and the chief

treasurer İskender Çelebi (d. 1535), but we unfortunately lack any additional detail about his

presence in the social environment of these wealthy residents of the blossoming capital.

27
Darrell Rutkin!
28
Aşık Çelebi, Meşairü’ş-Şuara, v. 3, 1396-8.
29
Very little is known about Lüṭfullāh, who is usually confounded in the current literature with
Mollā Lüṭfī (d. 1495), an executed Ottoman ʿālim upon allegations of heresy. The confusion
results from misinterpreting an imperial order written in 1578 in which the chief judge of
Istanbul was asked to procure for the newly constructed Istanbul observatory the relevant
astrological-astronomical books of “the late Lüṭfullāh.” Both Adnan Adıvar and Cevad İzgi, two
prominent names in Ottoman history of science, identify “the late Lüṭfullāh” as Mollā Lüṭfī
without any substantial reason. However “the late Lüṭfullāh” mentioned in this imperial order
was one of the court munajjims during the first half of the reign of Süleymān as clearly
documented by archival register of payments at the time and his own copy of the horoscope,
housed now in Kandilli Rasathanesi Library.
321
Although it is difficult to fully ascertain the date he started to work as a court munajjim, the

earliest reference I was able to find about him in the scattered archival documents dates only

back to 1548-9, a year before the construction of the Süleymaniye mosque started.

In terms of professional matters, the period preceding immediately the construction of the

Süleymaniye mosque must be quite disquieting for Riyāżī. As I already demonstrated in the third

chapter, in contrast to the pay levels of any other comparable palace personnel, the salary Riyāżī

received at the time was significantly lower. Moreover, he might have been uneasy with his

colleague Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer’s enjoying a more prestigious status than that of him, for in one of his

verses that ʿĀşıḳ Çelebi quotes, Riyāżī implies in a sarcastic tone the worthlessness of Yūsuf by

identifying him as the ass of a body while casting himself as its head.

This possible resentment of him partially explains why Riyāżī decided in the first place to

write a relatively long and detailed horoscope with sporadic insertions of personal remarks,

instead of merely delivering in a short memo the date he would have advised to start the

construction of the mosque. He must have used the sultan’s initial request for the planned

construction as an opportunity to impart and persuade the court that by virtue of his unmatched

expertise in the required mathematical sciences he was superior to all the other contemporary

munajjims.

Compared to the brevity of astrological memos later court munajjims wrote to designate

an auspicious moment for similar occasions, Riyāżī’s text is written in a codex form, containing

elaborate explanations for his astrological reasoning and occasional insertions of his original

verses, echoing his embittered voice. In the beginning of the text, for instance, he inserts one of

his verses that highlight his uneasiness about his adverse fortunes while other inept individuals

322
receive more favors. In fact the entire horoscope is an explicit call to the sultan to reassess and

appreciate his scholarly caliber. In the epilogue section of his treatise, Riyāżī maintains that

many calamitous incidents have recently happened in his life, and several unbearable obstacles

and adversities have hampered him living a blessed life. In a self-aggrandizing manner, Riyāżī

refers here to his own intellectual merits and does not shy away from expressing his discomfort

about the lack of meritocracy at his time:

“How strange it is that Riyāżī has no property in this world,

While he is equally well-versed in each of twenty four sciences.”30

Riyāżī opens his treatise with a brief deliberation of the reasons of its composition.

Accordingly, Süleymān, whom he glories as “the sultan of the Two Holy cities”, “the caliph of

the two mosques”, “the destroyer of the idols and the houses of unbelief”, “the founder of the

pavilion of the pure sharia and builder of the private columns of religion” demanded an

auspicious hour to lay foundation of a Friday mosque which eventually became the Süleymaniye

Mosque that still stands as one of the most significant landmarks of Istanbul.31 The mosque, for

Riyāżī, will be placed on a high ground, resembling “the Iram of the lofty pillars the likes of

which had never been created in the land.” (Q39: 6-7)

Ensuing this royal request, according to the narrative, Riyāżī made necessary calculations to

determine the most auspicious hour to start the construction of the mosque. His wording here

does not specify the type of instruments he used ––whether a zīj or an astrolabe–– to make these

30
Riyāẓī, 13b: “Yigirmi dört fünūnun her birinde Riyāżī yekfen olmuşken ʿacebdür! Ne malı var
ne esbabı cihānda, fażīlet zillete verse sebebdür”
31
Riyāẓī, 1b-2a: “Sulṭānü’l-ḥaremeyn…ḫalīfetü’l-mescideyn...hādim-i büyūti’l-küfr ve’l-aṣnām,
bānī-i ḳaṣr el-şerʿ el-mübīn…müʾessis-i erkān-i maḳṣūreti’d-dīn.”
323
celestial calculations.32 He simply says that after diligently analyzing the planetary aspects and

detecting the relative positions of the celestial objects according to the latitude of Istanbul, he

designated a propitious hour, auspiciousness of which was acknowledged by contemporary

astrologers and taqwīm-makers.33 Accordingly, the foundation should be laid ground four hours

and 12 minutes after sunrise on Thursday, 26 Jumādā I, 957/June 12, 1550 when the ascendant

would be in the twentieth degree of the sign Leo.34 Upon designating the exact date and time for

his election, Riyāżī then places the chart for the horoscope of the designated moment. Unlike the

prose section in which he established the ascendant in the twentieth degree of Leo, in the

horoscope chart the ascendant is denoted as the twenty-second degree of Leo, a fact he would

later explain in the text. Upon establishing the horoscope chart that denotes the celestial

configuration of the astrologically important variables on the day, he starts elaborating the

scientific foundations of his election and elucidates in nine short chapters the astronomical and

astrological matters relevant to this choice.

In the first chapter Riyāżī explains the reasons for taking the sign Leo as the base for his

calculation. He refers heavily to Abū al-Maḥāmid al-Ghaznawī’s (d. later than 1154) relatively

popular treatise Kifāyat al-taʿlīm fi ṣināʿat al-tanjīm, which introduces the students of the science

32
During my research in Süleymaniye manuscript library I found two manuscripts, specifically
two astronomical tables, bearing Riyāżi’s possession notes. The first one is a commentary of
Ilkhanid tables composed by Niẓām al-Dīn Nishābūrī (d. 1328/9) and the second one is Mīrim
Çelebi’s (d. 1525) commentary on the Ulugh Beg tables. It is difficult to gauge which table
Riyāżī was consulting for his calculations but as an erudite munajjim of his time, he was
certainly knowledgeable about both the Maragha and Samarqand tradition.
33
Riyāẓī, 2a: “Tecessüs-i ittiṣālāt-ı āsumānī ve teferrüs-i enẓār-ı ecrām-ı nūrānī idüb eṭbāq-ı
durūc-ı semevātı ve evrāq-ı burūc ve derecātı ḥarfen be-ḥarfen ve maẓrūfen ve ẓarfen tetebbuʿ
olındıqda bır sāʿat-i mesʿūde ve vaqt-i maḥmūde iḫtiyār olundı ki...”
34
Ibid.: “sene sebʿa ve ḫamsīn ve tisʿa miʾe Cemāze’l-ūlāsınıñ yigirmi altıncı gün pençşenbih
gününde ṭulūʿ-i Şemsden dört sāʿat ve on iki daḳīḳa mürūr itdikde ki ufḳ-ı dārü’l-mülk
Ḳosṭanṭıniyye…’de Esed burcu ufuḳda vāḳiʿ ve yigirminci derecesi ṭāliʿ olur.”
324
of the stars the movements and characteristics of celestial objects and imparts them the methods

for different forms of astrological practice.35 With reference to Ghaznawī, Riyāżī says that when

a royal enterprise is in question the astrologer should take into account the royal sign (i.e. Leo) as

well as the two luminaries (the Sun and the Moon) and the two remotest planets (the Saturn and

Jupiter).36 The signs ruled by Saturn ––the Capricorn and Aquarius respectively – are not

appropriate to choose for this specific enterprise, because the first one is a tropical sign, not

propitious for matters related to construction, and the second one is an inauspicious sign. In a

similar vein the signs ruled by Jupiter are also not relevant for construction business. Moreover,

as Riyāżī says, during that particular season the ascendants of these two signs would take effect

in nighttime, which thus renders them invalid as an option to start the construction. The Cancer,

another tropical sign ruled by the Moon, is also not suitable for this kind of election. Therefore,

the only available option is Leo, which is a fixed and royal sign appropriate for imperial

construction. As Riyāżī maintains, other authorities, including Kūshyār, are also in full

agreement about the validity of Leo in designating an auspicious moment for a royal construction

activity.37

In yet another reference to Ghaznawī, Riyāżī says in the remaining part of the first chapter

that the nativity of the querent (i.e. the Sultan in this instance) is equally important for accurately

electing the auspicious moment, for it should be in harmony with the horoscope of the designated

35
Younes Karamati, Farzin Negahban, “Abu al-Mahamid al-Ghaznawi,” Encyclopedia Islamica.
Online version.
36
Riyāżī, 3a: “Üstād-ı erbāb-ı tencīm ṣāḥib-i Kifāyat al-taʿlīm eydür: aʿmāl-i mülūkda burūc-ı
melikiyyenüñ eli ve kevākib-i ʿulvyiyye ve neyyireynüñ medḫali gerekdür.”
37
Ibid.: “Üstād-ı nāmdār Hekīm Kūşyār asbet-i burūc-i sābitedir diyü iʿtibār itmişdür ve Hekīm
İsmaʿīl daḫı burūc-ı sābiteden bināya enseb ve evlā burç Esed’dir diyü daʾvā itmişlerdir.”
325
hour.38 Like many other practicing munajjims of the time would think, says Riyāżī, each person

is born under different astrological conditions. Therefore the most auspicious time to hold an

event should be different for different individuals. Here he makes a medical analogy by saying

that irrespective of its potential benefits; a medicine would inevitably fail if it does not conform

to the bodily constitution (mizāc) of the particular person. In a similar vein, the selection of an

auspicious moment would not turn out good unless it complies with the natal horoscope of the

querent.39 Riyāżī does not give in full detail here the nativity of Süleymān, except implying that

the fourth, sixth, seventh (the descendant), and the twelfth houses on his nativity were malefic.40

In the second chapter Riyāżī explains the reasons why he found it important to rectify the

degree of the ascendant and set it as the 22nd degree of Leo as opposed to the consensus of

contemporary astrologers on the 20th degree of the same sign.41 Unlike other astrologers who

tend (or whom Riyāżī thinks tending) to believe that each degree of astrological signs produce

more or less the same effects, Riyāżī emphasizes the important nuances resulted from the

38
İbid., 3b: “[Ü]stād-ı ḳāʾid Ebū Ḥāmid [Gaznevī] cümle-i iḫtiyārātda ṣāḥib-i iḫtiyāruñ ṭāliʿ-i
vilādetini daḫı maʿlūm olduḳda riʿāyet ve ṭāliʿ-i muḫtāra münāsebet ḳaṣdın itmek gerekdür
dimişlerdür.”
39
Ibid.: “Şerbet fī nefsi’l-emr her ne deñlü müfīd ve nāfiʿ ve emrazı dāfiʿ daḫı olursa çün mizāc-ı
marīże münāsib ve muvāfıḳ olmaya, fāidesi ẓāhir olmaz. Pes vaḳt-i iḫtiyār ve ṭāliʿ-i muḫtār her
ne mertede ḥadd-i zatında mesʿūd ve bi-ḥasab-i delāil maḥmūd olursa daḫı çün ṣāḥib-i iḫtiyāruñ
ṭāliʿ-i vilādetine muvāfaḳatı ve delāiline münāsebeti olmaya, saʿādet-i maʾmūle el virmez. Bu
cihetden gerekdür ki ṭāliʿ-i muḫtār gerekdür ki ṣāḥib-i iḫtiyāruñ ṭāliʿ-i vilādetinde vāḳiʿ olan
buyūt-ı nuḥūsdan olmaya, sādis ve rābiʿ ve sāni ʿaşer ve sābiʿ gibi.”
40
As Riyāżī’s discussion in this text reveals, the birth and accession horoscopes of Süleymān
must have been in circulation at the time. However, to date, I have not been able to locate any of
them in any of the manuscript libraries I conducted research, not I have come across any such
references in a contemporary narrative source.
41
Riyāẓī, 4a: “Cumḥūr-ı aṣhāb-ı tencīm ve cümle-i erbāb-ı taḳvīm ittifāḳ ve tedbīr ve taʿyīn
itdikleri dereceyi tagyīr ve derece-i uḫraya teʾḫīr itmesinin beyanındadur: Cümle-i müneccimīn
ve cumḥūr-ı muḳavvimīn ittifāḳ itdiler ki ṭāliʿ-i mübārek Esed burcunuñ yigirminci derecesi ola
ammā derece-i mezkūreyi iḫtiyār ḳaṣda muḳārenet ve bu ḫuṣūṣa ziyāde münāsebetle değildür.
Belki bir ittifāḳ idi ki ittifāḳı vāḳiʿ ve bir tercīh idi ki bilā-müreccaḥ şāyiʿ oldı.”
326
differences in the individual degrees of the sign. As he states, just as the different zodiacal signs

have varying terrestrial influences, different degrees of a particular sign also leads to diverging

outcomes, and thus should be interpreted accordingly.42 This rule is, according to Riyāżī, already

established in the treatises transmitting Babylonian secrets and in some of those books written by

Muslim philosophers.43 Riyāżī says that after he consulted several books of earlier authorities,

particularly the teachings of Teucros, who was known in the Islamic world under the name

Tangalūshā, he decided to rectify the ascendant into the 22nd degree of Leo, because this degree

signifies piety and sound belief.44 By directly quoting a passage in Arabic attributed to

Tangalūshā, Riyāżī maintains that if the 20th degree of Leo is to be selected, then the portents

would not be promising because not only that the 20th degree is a malefic one, but also the

corresponding fixed star is an ominous one, a fact other contemporary munajjims simply passed

over. If the foundation of the mosque is laid ground when the ascendant is in the 20th degree of

42
Riyāẓī, 4b: “Burūcuñ āsārı mütefāvit ve aḥkāmı ʿalā sebīli’t-tagāyür sābit oldığı gibi derecāt
daḫı mütefāvitetü’l-āsār ve mütebāyinetetü’l-aḥkāmdır.”
43
Ibid: “ṣuver-i derecāta müştemil ve rumūz-ı Keldāniyyīne şāmil olan resāilde muḥarrer ve
felāsife-i İslāmdan baʿżınuñ daḫı kitāblarında musaṭṭerdür.”
44
Ibid., 4b-5a: “Pes faḳīr bu ḫuṣūṣda ziyāde diḳḳat ve kütüb-i mezkūreye mürācaʿat idüb Esedüñ
yigirminci derecesin tagyīr ve yigirmi ikinci derecesin taḥrīr…itdirdüm...Ḥekīm-i pīşvā
Tengelūşā ṣuver-i derecātı şerḥ itdigi kitābda bu derece şerḥinde eydür: ‘yaṭlaʿu fīhā aḥad al-
malāika al-ʿuẓmā maʿahā zammāra yazmiru bihā lā yasmaʿahu aḥad al-aṭrab ṭaraban shadīdan
man wulida bihā yakūn ʿābidan zāhidan bi-takallum al-ḥikma wa yaṭūlu ʿumruhu hadihi daraja
mubāraka’”
The text attributed to Tangalūshā was translated into Persian earlier than twelfth century but
apparently Riyāżī had access to an Arabic version of it. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s book on celestial
magic, al-Sirr al-maktūm, was also informed by the teachings of Tangalūshā. It is likely that
Riyāżī learned the teachings of Tangalūsḥa through Rāzī’s work.
For the modern Persian edition of the text, see: Tanklūsha, az muʾallifī-i nāshinākhtah, ed.
Raḥīm Riżā Zādah Malik (Tehran: Mīrās-i Maktūb, 1384/2005). For Tangālūshā, see also: Živa
Vesel, “Teucros in Nizami’s Haft Paykar,” in A Key to the Treasure of the Hakim: Artistic and
Humanistic Aspects of Nizami Ganjavi’s Khamsa, ed. by Johann-Christoph Bürgel & Christine
van Ruymbeke. Leiden: University Press, 2011, 245-252.
327
Leo, then majority of people would hesitate to frequent, and even dislike the mosque. Thereby

the building would not receive the attention of pious residents.45

Riyāżī’s elaboration in this second chapter is important for a number of reasons. First of all,

his alleged disagreement with contemporary munajjims as to the importance of the particular

degree of the ascendant hints at the intellectual competition among practicing astrologers, who

might have resorted to the teachings of different authorities and reached varying, and at times

conflicting, interpretations. Through the end of this chapter, Riyāżī claims in a self-promoting

manner that his explanations about the intricacies of the degree of the ascendant convinced his

contemporaries to revise their initial position, and they thus came to acknowledge his scientific

superiority more than ever.46

Besides this scholarly rivalry among practicing munajjims, Riyāżī’s concerns about the

number of individuals that would frequent the mosque perfectly resonate the redefined and

sharpened Sunni awareness among contemporary Ottoman political elites at the time. This period

overlapping with the second half of Süleymān’s reign witnessed a gradual shift from the earlier

universalist ambitions on the political and religious spheres to a “more sober and orderly

representation” of the empire.47 Several methods and measures of social disciplining were

45
Riyāẓī, 5a: “eğer bu derecede vāḳiʿ olaydı nüfūs-ı ʿāmmeniñ cāmiʿ-i mezkûra ʿadem-i
teveccühleri muḳarrer belki nefretleri muḳadder olub erbāb-ı zühd ve ṣalāḥ ve aṣḥāb-ı ´iffet ve
felāḥ çendān müteşevviḳ ve iltifatları müteʿalliḳ olmazdı.”
46
Riyāẓī, 5b: “ve bu meʿānī-i bedīʿayı beyān itdiḳde cümlesi bi’l-ittifāḳ semiʿnen ve aṭaʿnen
diyüb teslīm ve münḳād ve müstaḫriciñ fażīletine evvelden daḫı ziyāde iʿtirāf ve iʿtiḳād itdiler.”
47
Cornell H. Fleischer, “Shadows of Shadows: Prophecy in Politics in 1530s Istanbul,”
International Journal of Turkish Studies, 13/1-2 (2007), 61. For the importance of contrasting the
diverse political and cultural realities of the second half of Süleymān’s long reign with those in
the first half, see: Fleischer, “The Lawgiver as Messiah: The Making of the Imperial Image in the
Reign of Suleyman,” in Soliman le magnifique et son temps, ed. Gilles Veinstein (Paris: La
Documentation Française, 1992), 159-177; Gülru Necipoğlu, “A Kanun for the State, A Canon
328
introduced to implement state-sponsored confessional policies, promoting the Ottoman House as

the ultimate protector of Sunni Islam against the heretical Safavids, European Christians, and

recalcitrant Sufis with millenarian ideas. Through heresy trials, unruly dervish leaders were

executed and others tamed.48 Through the fatwas of Sheikhulislam Ebūssuʿūd Efendi and the

other legal writings of leading religious scholars, the irreligious character of the Safavid cause

was constantly lamented. New congregational mosques were constructed in almost every

neighborhood of the city and mosque worship was particularly promoted through new fines for

irregular attendance.49 Therefore Riyāżī’s explicit remarks on the importance of the quantitative

aspect of mosque worshipping should be evaluated within this particular context of the political

enforcement at the time of Sunni orthodoxy. In fact, the whole idea behind the construction of

the Süleymaniye mosque was, as Gülru Necipoğlu has aptly remarked, to promote “the policy of

religious orthodoxy enforced by a caliph-sultan seeking to legitimate his power as being in the

service of the Sharia’s straight path.”50

In the third and fourth chapters of this text, Riyāżī treats other celestial conditions and

planetary positions that corroborate the auspiciousness of the designated moment, as they sign

good fortune for the future course of the mosque. The first condition is related to the position of

for the Arts: Conceptualizing the Classical Synthesis of Ottoman Art and Architecture,” in
Soliman le magnifique et son temps, 194-216.
48
For the standard account of the history of these heresy trials, see: Ahmet Yaşar Ocak, Osmanlı
Toplumunda Zındıklar ve Mülhidler 15.–17. Yüzyıllar (İstanbul: Tarih Vakfı, 1998), esp. 236-
382.
49
The discussion here is based on the following works: Tijana Krstic, Contested Conversions to
Islam: Narratives of Religious Change in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Stanford,
California: Stanford University Press, 2011), 107; Kaya Şahin, Empire and Power in the Reign
of Süleyman: Narrating the Sixteenth-Century Ottoman World (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2013), 208-213.
50
Gülru Necipoğlu, “The Süleymaniye Complex in Istanbul: An Interpretation,” Muqarnas 3
(1985), 92-117.
329
the Moon and Riyāżī associates its astrological significance with the potential monumentality of

the intended mosque complex. For Riyāżī, the elevated ceiling of this noble construction will be

like the tenth celestial sphere, and the designed courtyard will look like the ninth degree of

paradise.51 The second astrological condition is linked to the station of Venus vis-à-vis the house

upon which Moon exerts the utmost influence. According to Riyāżī this sign is a benefic one,

also related, among other things, to the popularity of the mosque worshippers, as it signifies that

the mosque would be the favorite of all people from diverse regions.52 Third astrological

condition mentioned here refers to the firmness of the mosque’s architectural qualities.

When interpreting the fourth astrological condition, Riyāżī contrasts the yet-to-be-built

Süleymaniye mosque to the al-Aqsa mosque, and more importantly to the al-Bayt al-maʿmūr,

‘the Flourishing House’, which according to most Quran commentators is the heavenly

counterpart of the Kaʿba. For Riyāżī, the portents are obvious that the Süleymaniye mosque will

be as refined as these two holy structures. Moreover the same portents also indicate that like

Arafat, the Süleymaniye mosque will be brimful with pious and discerning people, and like

Kaʿba, men of the unseen realm (rijāl al-ghayb) will be ever-present there.53 As to the

interpretation of the fifth astrological condition, Riyāżī says that those who will perform their

prayers in the Süleymaniye mosque will be prosperous and thriving. The interpretations of the

51
Riyāẓī, 6a: “delālet ider ki bu binā-yı şerīfiñ saḳf-ı merfūʿı sipihr-i ʿāşir ve ṣaḥn-ı maṣnūʿı
behişt-i tāsiʿ olub ḳıbābınıñ ḳuʿūdı aḥsen-i vücūh üzere meşdūd ve müşeyyed ve mināreleriniñ
ḳıyāmı elif gibi memdūd ve müşedded ola.”
52
Ibid.: “[D]elālet ider ki evveli mesʿūd ve ʿāḳıbeti maḥmūd ve bünyādı meşdūd ve ʿimādı
memdūd olub manẓūr-ı kibār olmaḳda müşārünileyh ve meşhūr-ı diyār olmada müttefiḳünʿaleyh
ola.
53
Ibid., 6b: “[D]elālet ider ki bu cāmiʿ-i ʿālī mānend-i Beyt-i Maʿmūr-ı Cāvidān ve Mescid-i
Aḳṣā gibi ābādān olub ehl-i zühd ve ʿirfānla ʿArafāt gibi mālāmāl ve ḥużūr-ı ricālü’l-gaybla
Kaʿbe-i müşerrefe misāl ola.”
330
remaining conditions in this chapter and the next one are slanted rather towards expressing the

beauty of the façade of the mosque, the exquisiteness of its view, and the divine protection it will

enjoy against any sort of misfortune and affliction.

The fifth and sixth chapters of the treatise are devoted to a discussion on the importance of

the harmony between four horoscopes: the horoscope of the Süleymaniye complex, the nativity

of Süleymān, the horoscope of his accession to the throne, and the horoscope of the year-transfer

of the most recent year (i.e. the year 957). For Riyāżī, all of these horoscopes are in compliance

with each other, though he does not tabulate and verbally detail the remaining three. As Riyāżī

emphasizes, such a harmony is indeed a rare instance, further signifying that the Süleymaniye

mosque ––he likens it one more time to the legendary Iram of the lofty pillars and Kaʿba–– will

be strong, enduring, and immortal.54

In the seventh chapter Riyāżī points to some of the inauspicious signs in the designated

horoscope that could still be deployed for bringing auspicious consequences. Here he makes

another medical analogy and states with an explicit reference to (ps.-) Ptolemy’s Kitāb al-

Thamara that an erudite munajjim has to know how to balance the inauspicious portents just as a

learned physician should know how much poisonous substances to put in one’s medication.55

The eight chapter is consecrated to the elaboration of the fortunes of the architect of the

complex. Riyāżī says, without mentioning the name of Sinān (d. 1588), that the celestial

54
Some of the phrases he uses in these chapters to emphasize the rarity of this situation are:
ittifāḳ-ı nādiredendür; muvāfaḳat-i garībedür; böyle düşmek be-gāyet nādirdür; garīb ittifāḳdur;
ʿaceb muvāfaḳat-ı ṭāliʿdür.
55
Ibid., 10a: “ḥükemā- yı ʿilm-i nüjūm nuḥūsı daḫı maḥallinde istiḥdām ve anları baʿżı ṭarīḳiyle
dāḫil-i aḥkām iderler ṭabīb-i ḥāziḳ ve ḥekīm-i fāiḳ sumūmātdan baʿżın miḳdār-ı Muʾayyen birle
meʿācīne maḥlūṭ ve tiryāḳātına merbūṭ itdigi gibi nitekim üstād-ı ṣanaʿat ve pişvā-yı ehl-i heyʾāt
cāsūs-ı felek Baṭlamyūs Semere adlū kitābınıñ kelime-i sānī ʿaşeresinde eydür.”
331
configuration of the designated moment is a clear sign of the uniqueness of his acumen and

originality of his architectural plan.56 In the ninth and the last chapter, he tries to establish ––on

astrological terms–– the possible end date of the construction. Riyāżī reaches two conclusions on

the basis of his calculations as to the relative position of the Mars. According to the first

conclusion, the construction would last 5 years 3 months and 23 days. According to the second

one, it would last 4 years and 9 months. The discrepancy between the two derives, as Riyāżī

maintains, from the fact that the first calculation takes as the starting point the moment

foundations are to be dug, the second however only takes into account the actual start date of the

construction activity. Yet as he explicitly says, all of these (astrological) indications and

calculations are mere approximations and it is his hope that the construction of the complex will

be finished within five years. Considering the fact that the actual construction process lasted for

more than seven lunar years, this last chapter is a clear proof that the treatise was composed long

before the completion of the mosque.57

In all his remarks throughout the horoscope, Riyāżī mirrors the grand cultural, religious,

and architectural meanings ascribed contemporaneously to the construction of the Süleymaniye

mosque. The relatively long construction process of the Süleymaniye complex (1550-1557) is

well documented thanks to the ample literature on this cultural landscape. For example Ömer

Lûtfi Barkan published in two large volumes the detailed registers that list the type and amount

56
Riyāżī, 12a: “delālet ider ki miʿmārıñ fikri ṣāīb ve tedbiri sāḳıb olub ṭarḥ-ı aḳsāmı ʿadīmü’l-
emsāl ve ṣūret-i kārnāmesi bedīʿü’l-timsāl ve firāset-i muʿciz-nümāsı ʿaczden ʿārī ve ḥazāḳat u
taṣarrufātı bi-gayr-ı fütūrin cāri ola.”
57
Riyāẓī, 12b: “Pes delīl-i sānī beş yıl üç ay yigirmi üç güne delālet ider ve delīl-i evvel dört yıl
ve ṭoḳūz aya işāret ider. Ammā cāīz ki birisi ibtidā-i esāsdan intihāya şehādet ve birisi evvel-i
mübāşeretden intihāya beşāret ide ammā bu delīller taḳrībīdir ve’l-ḥāṣıl beş yıla dek inşāʿallāh
el-melik el-ʿallām intihā ve itmām bulur.”
332
of materials used, as well as the names, duties, and wages of workers employed in the

construction.58 The architectonics of the Süleymaniye mosque has also received the attention of

scholars, particularly the professional architects, who have focused on the material features of

the building.59 Beyond these statistical and structural studies, Gülru Necipoğlu has revealed the

political and cultural symbolism embedded in every aspect and detail of the construction of the

Süleymaniye complex, from chief jurist Ebūssuʿūd’s (d. 1574) placing the cornerstone of the

mihrab in the foundation ceremony and the titles used for Süleymān in the inscription to the

columns and marbles brought from the ruined Temple of Jupiter in Baalbek to Istanbul.60

Necipoğlu particularly emphasizes the cultural myths, cosmological references, and religio-

political symbolism underlying the construction of the complex, and further argues that

Süleymaniye was Süleymān’s ultimate ideological testimony. In that regard, the foundation

horoscope of the complex, and constant references of Riyāżī to the paradise or Kaʿba, provide an

invaluable contemporary testimony complementing what earlier scholarship has outlined as to

the political and cultural significance of the construction of the Süleymaniye Complex.

As to the date for the beginning of the construction, we have available a number of

contemporary sources allowing us to make a comparison with the designated hour at the

foundation horoscope, which was four hours and 12 minutes after sunrise on Thursday, 26

Jumādā I, 957/June 12, 1550. The most important of all these sources is the inscription that still

58
Ömer Lûtfi Barkan, Süleymaniye Cami ve İmareti İnşaatı (1550-1557), 2 volumes (Ankara:
TTK, 1972).
59
Tanju Cantay, XVI.-XVII. Yüzyıllarda Süleymaniye Camii ve bağlı yapıları (İstanbul: Eren,
1989); Serpil Çelik, Süleymaniye Külliyesi: Malzeme, Teknik ve Süreç (Ankara: Atatürk Kültür
Merkezi, 2009).
60
Gülru Necipoğlu-Kafadar, “The Süleymaniye Complex in Istanbul: An Interpretation,”
Muqarnas 3 (1985), 92-117; Ibid., The Age of Sinan: Architectural Culture in the Ottoman
Empire (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), esp. 207-222.
333
stands over the mosque’s portal. The inscription, which was composed by the chief jurist

Ebūssuʿūd and inscribed by the calligrapher Ḥasan Çelebi, a student of famous caligrapher

Aḥmed Karaḥisāri (d. 1555-6), clearly reads that the construction began in the last few days of

the Jumādā I 957 (al-biḍāya fī awākhir Jumādā’l-ūlā li-sana sabʿa wa khamsīn wa tisʿa-miʾa).61

In the semi-autobiographical memoirs of the Ottoman chief architect Sinān, the starting date of

the construction is also set as Jumādā’l-ūlā of the year 957 (ca. June 1550), but unfortunately no

specific day is mentioned. These information is further corroborated by the remarks of the

empire’s chief bureaucrat Celālzāde Muṣṭafā (d. 1567), who not only witnessed the construction

of the complex but also attached it a great importance in his chronicle by reserving a separate

lengthy chapter to introduce it as the “most articulate cultural statement of Ottoman imperial

Sunnism.”62 According to Celālzāde, after the site for construction was determined and the

foundations dug, the astrologers (mehere-i erbāb-ı taḳvīm ve nücūm) designated an auspicious

hour and the foundation was laid accordingly on Thursday 27 Jumādā I 957.63

When the information gleaned from these three key contemporary testimonies is juxtaposed

side by side with the date suggested in Riyāżī’s horoscope and the one presumably advised by

61
Cevdet Çulpan, “İstanbul Süleymaniye Camii Kitabesi,” in Kanuni Armağanı (Ankara: TTK,
1980), 291-299.
62
Şahin, 187.
63
Funda Demirtaş, “Celâl-zâde Mustafa Çelebi, Tabakâtü’l-Memâlik ve Derecâtü’l-Mesâlik.”
(Ph.D. Dissertation, Erciyes University, 2009), 719: “Temel emri tamām olub temhīd-i esāsa
ḳābiliyyet ve istiʿdād geldikde mehere-i erbāb-ı taḳvīm ve nücūm bir sāʿat-i saʿd iḫtiyār
eylemişlerdi. Sene sebʿa ve ḫamsīn ve tisʿa miʾa cemāziye’l-evvelinüñ yigirmi yedinci ḫamīs-i
meymenet-enīs güninde...”
Modern conversion tables (see: http://193.255.138.2/takvim.asp) establish 27 JA 957 not as
Thursday, as Celalzāde says, but rather as Friday. When converting dates from Hijri to Gregorian
calendar, it is considered much more important to see whether corresponding days of the week
fully overlap. Since both calculations give Thursday as the day during which construction
started, we can simply disregard this one-day deficit and conclusively establish that the
construction started on Thursday of the last week of Jumādā’l-ūlā.
334
other munajjims, it becomes crystal clear that the imperial authority duly followed the ruling of

astrologers. As regards to the question whether the imperial authority adopted Riyāżī’s adjusted

recommendation or that of other munajjims, who allegedly recommended the time when the

Ascendant was in the 20th degree of Leo, it is not possible to give a definitive answer, as these

two different computations in fact differ by only eight minutes in terms of their temporal

equivalents.64 Hence they must have corresponded the exact same day. This, howver, makes it

impossible for us to ascertain ––on the basis of the evidence gleaned from contemporary

sources–– which recommended hour was taken into consideration. But the only thing that is clear

is that despite the declining interest at the time in the cultivation of astrology and patronage of

astral experts, the astrological advise of the munajjims was still taken into consideration for

symbolically important events as the construction of an imperial mosque.

64
In the concerning calculations, the astrological rules entail that at the rate of one degree, the
ecliptic moves (in relation to the Earth) every four minutes. See: Elwell-Sutton (ed.), The
Horoscope of Asadullāh Mīrzā: A Specimen of Nineteenth-Century Persian Astrology, 58.
335
 Conclusion
This dissertation was set out to explore the astrological texts produced and circulated in

the Ottoman realm, particularly at the Ottoman court, from the mid-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth

century. The initial research question was to examine whether the messianic and millenarian

discourse proliferating at the time from “Tagus to the Ganges”, which often had recourse to the

occult scientific principles as rhetorical devices, did permeate into the contemporary astrological

corpus. The rich body of Ottoman astrological materials surviving from the period seemed as a

promising source pool. This corpus consists primarily of almanac-prognostications (taqwīms)

produced on a yearly basis, annotated horoscopes cast on specific occasions, and all sorts of

astrological textbooks and astronomical tables (zīj) utilized by munajjims when practicing their

craft. While these sources have provided surprisingly little evidence as to the advancement of

messianic and millenarian claims, their sophisticated scientific underpinnings as well as their

ability to resonate the immediate political, cultural, and patronage dynamics of their times make

them valuable sources for historical purposes. It is, thus, the primary argument of this

dissertation that exploring the hitherto neglected Ottoman astrological materials and visiting the

lives of hitherto marginalized Ottoman astral experts (munajjims) can provide fresh insights into

the intersecting layers of politics, culture, and knowledge production in the early modern

Ottoman world.

The general conclusions that I have drawn after examining my research materials are

summarized in the Introduction, therefore I would like to use this section as an opportunity to

raise several issues that my dissertation has either scarcely covered or entirely left out of

immediate disccussion. I believe such a discussion will also be fruitful to address a number of

336
directions for future research.

The focus throughout this study has been upon the production of what the historians of

science would call “learned” or “mathematical” astrology in the courtly setting. In this kind of

astrological practice, the students and the patrons alike needed to be eager enough to undertake

complex mathematical and astronomical computations for accurately determining celestial

positions. Although the majority of the historians of scientific production in the Islamicate

context still hesitates to acknowledge the inherent astrological concerns in the advancement of

observational techniques and mathematical sophistication, the highly technical and “scientific”

sources as zījes are rather candid about it. This does not mean, however, that practitioners of this

“learned astrology” were blasphemous astral determinists or wonder-workers with occult

powers. Quite to the contrary, many of those practitioners in the field of learned astrology were

alert about the limits of their craft, either on scientific or religious grounds, or sometimes even

both. In that regard, the constant attacks directed against the astrologers and the charges, such as

astral determinism, heresy, and disbelief do not necessarily apply for them.

Needless to say, this “learned” and/or “mathematical” astrology was but one form of

astrological practice. There were other and mathematically less informed, if not altogether folk,

versions of astrological praxis that also counted on the indisputable belief in astral causality with

further affinity toward practicing magic. While it would be quite difficult, and historically

inaccurate indeed, to strictly separate these two types of mindset from one another, I should say

that the materials I have examined for this project fall rather into the first category than the other.

There is, thus, a certain need to treat the less-technical production of astrological knowledge and

its circulation in the Ottoman world on a wider social, geographical, and temporal scale.

337
 One should, however, take into consideration the availability, quality, and variety of

sources before undertaking any historical study. One important reason for focusing rather on the

astrological materials produced in the courtly setting was the more systematic nature of these

sources. Unlike scattered and fragmented textual artifacts circulated among more popular circles,

the technical astrological writings, which were regularly composed for the consumption of the

court, substantially alleviated the problem of documentation. It should be noted here that

historians working on the practice and politics of astrology are already in a disadvantageous

position because in many cases the exact service and presence of astrologers cannot be fully

captured and reconstructed due mostly to the oral nature of astrological counseling. The high

number of astrological textbooks in circulation, or the frequency of references in contemporary

narrative sources to the anonymous astrologers does not always solve this conundrum of

“documenting the undocumented.”

In terms of the temporal scope, although 1450s and 1550s have demarcated the

chronological boundaries of this dissertation, this does not mean that astrological pursuits played

no role afterwards in the Ottoman political, cultural, and intellectual spheres. In fact this scope

could and should be extended toward the reign of Murād III (r. 1574-1595), whose turn is crucial

for the cultivation of celestial knowledge through the establishment in the capital of the short-

lived observatory. The relevant literature on the observatory rather focuses on the infamous

episode of its destruction upon the fatwa of the shaikhulislam of the time, but the real scope and

contents of the astral pursuits undertaken in the short-lived observatory of Taqī al-dīn and his

collaborators still deserve a better and fair scholarly treatment.

Another important aspect that my dissertation has not properly addressed is the

338
penetration of astrological concepts and beliefs into courtly ceremonies and contemporary

artistic and visual production. The studies in especially the early modern Mughal historiography

have substantially demonstrated the importance accorded to the astrological teachings for the

organization of the courtly order. In a similar vein, Mughal paintings have been mined for the

powerful astrological symbolism and presence of astral experts therein. One can also add to this

list the need for exploring architectural structures for tracking the traces of astrological

influences.

As it is clear from this brief discussion and the longer treatment throughout the

dissertation, exploring the influences and textual/visual sources of astrological practice/mindset

in the late medieval and early modern Ottoman content can provide many fresh insights into the

inextricable spheres of intellectual, political, cultural, and personal life in the early modern

Ottoman world. The rich manuscript, archival, and visual sources descended from diverse

periods and locations could easily be studied across different historiographical and chronological

coordinates. Through such a theme-base study, it is even possible to rehabilitate the rigid

compartmentalization in the modern Ottoman studies.

339
 Appendix A: The list of astral experts at Bāyezīd II’s court, 1503-1512.

# of
Total #
allowances in
Occasions for
return for Special Active
receiving
Name Status Presenting Occasions Years
allowances
Taqwīm
Mevlānā monthly
1 for the loss of 1503-
Seyyid salaried palace ≥31 ≥8
his son 1512
Munajjim personnel
1 for his wedding
Mevlānā monthly
expenses, 1 for 1503-
Mīrim salaried palace 16 N/A
his wife’s 1512
Çelebi personnel
consumption
Monthly-
Sinān b. 1503-
salaried palace ≥10 ≥5 N/A
Munajjim1 1512
personnel

Yūsuf b. monthly
1 for Hajj 1503-
ʿÖmer el- salaried palace ≥8 ≥3
expenses 1512
Sāʿatī personnel

Ardashīr b. monthly
1505-
Malik salaried palace ≥5 ≥5 N/A
1512
Ḥasan personnel

monthly
Salmān-i 1503-
salaried palace ≥9 ≥8 N/A
ʿAjam 1510
personnel

Seyyid son of Sayyid 1503-

≥8 ≥5 N/A
Īsmāʿil Munajjim 1512

1
While it is true that in the Ottoman textual culture the names Sinān and Yūsuf were often used
interchangeably for individuals named as Sinānuddīn Yūsuf, it is more likely that these Sinān
and Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī are two different individuals, maybe even brothers as the sons of a
certain ʿÖmer who is referred to in the register sometimes as muwaqqit, sometimes as
muʾadhdhin, and sometimes as munajjim. For example in the relevant entries from the month of
Dhū al-Ḥijja in the year 916, Sinān’s name is recorded as the one given 500 aspers on the 25th of
that month for the taqwīm he presented whereas Yūsuf apparently received his customary 500
aspers on the 29th.

340
 İsḥāḳ 1505-
unspecified ≥8 ≥5 N/A
munajjim 1512
student of 1506-
ʿAlī ≥3 ≥3 N/A
Mīrim Çelebi 1510
time-keeper at
Murād Edirne Bāyezīd 1505-
≥2 ≥2 N/A
muwaqqit Mosque 1506
Complex
Muḥammed 1505-
sword-bearer ≥2 ≥2 N/A
b. Ḫıżr 1506
chief food
1508-
taster of
Mirzā Beg ≥2 ≥2 N/A 1510
Shahzāda
Aḥmed
Instructor of
Mevlānā religious
Sinān a.k.a. sciences 1507-
≥1 ≥1 N/A
Qāḍī-i at the Sultaniya 1508
Baghdad madrasa in
Bursa
ʿAbd al- munajjim of
N/A 1509-
Raḥman Shahzāda ≥1 ≥1
1510
munajjim Aḥmed
Muḥammed
b. Qāḍī-i unspecified ≥1 ≥1 N/A 1512
Üsküb
Muḥammed
unspecified N/A
b. Qāḍī-i ≥1 ≥1 1512
Gelibolu
student of
Māwlānā
Receb ≥1 ≥1 N/A 1512
Sayyid
Munajjim
Mevlānā 1503-
unspecified ≥1 ≥1 N/A
Şemseddīn 1504
Muḥammed
N/A 1505-
b. unspecified ≥1 ≥1
1506
Ḳuṭbuddīn

341
Appendix B: The list of books on ʿilm al-nujūm and ʿilm al-hayʾa at the Palace
library (1502-3)

Transcription of the relevant section in ʿĀṭūfī’s catalogue

(The Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Török F59, p. 313-333)

Kitāb al-Qānūn al-Masʿūdī fī ʿilm al-nujūm

Kitāb al-Qānūn al-Masʿūdī fī ʿilm al-nujūm
Kitāb Madkhal al-Nujūm bi'l-Fārsiyya fī ʿilm al-nujūm
Risāla fī Samt al-Qibla min qibal ʿilm al-nujūm
Kitāb Miftāḥ al-Nujūm bi'l-Fārsiyya
Zīj-i Khāqānī fī Takmīl-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Ulugh Beg fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Athmār wa Ashjār fī'l-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj Mawḍūʿ ʿalā mā ṣaḥḥahu al-shaykh Ābū al-Wafāʾ wa aṣḥābuhu fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Ulugh Beg fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Ulugh Beg fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm al-marqūm bi-annihi bi-khaṭṭ muṣannifihi al-Naṣīr Ṭūsī
Zīj-i mujmal li-Mawlānā Kūchak al-Amāsī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Ulugh Beg fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Zīj wa Risāla fī'l-Ṭāliʿ wa Aḥkām al-Nujūm [mujalladin wāḥidin]
Kitāb Rawḍatu'l-Munajjimīn wa Kitāb Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm wa Fann-i Uqlīdus min Kitāb
Durratu'l-Tāj wa Kitāb Aḥkām al-Aʿwām fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Burhān al-Kifāya fī'l-nujūm wa
Tuḥfat al-Gharāʾib fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Zīj-i Khāqānī fī Takmīl-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Zīj-i Ulugh Beg fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Zīj al-Jāmiʿ li-Kūshyār fī'l-nujūm wa Kitāb mujmal al-uṣūl fī aḥkām al-nujūm li-
Kūshyār wa Risāla Abī Maʿshar al-Balkhī fī iḥtirāqāt al-kawākib fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Kashf-i Ḥaqāyiq-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī li-Niẓām al-Dīn fī'l-Nujūm
Kitāb Kashf-i Ḥaqāyiq-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Kashf-i Ḥaqāyiq-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg li-ʿAlī al-Qūshjī fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg li-Mawlānā Mīrim Chalabī sallamahallāh taʿālā fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī al-musamma bi-Kashf-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī'l-nujūm
342
Kashf-i Ḥaqāyiq-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī fī Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Īlkhānī bi-khatt-i shāriḥihi fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Zīj-i ʿAlī al-Qūshjī raḥimaha Allah taʿālā bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-nujūm
Tarjama-i Risāla al-Jayb bi'l-Turkiyya min qibal al-hayʾa wa'l-nujūm
Kashf al-Rayb fī ʿamal al-Jayb min qibal al-hayʾa wa'l-nujūm
Risāla Kāfiyya fī'l-Ḥisāb wa Risāla Sī Faṣl bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Ḥidāya fī'l-ḥikmat al-falsafiyya wa Sharḥ-i Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa wa Sī Faṣl li-
Khāja Naṣīr fī'l-nujūm f mujalladin wāḥidin
Kifāya al-Taʿlīm fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Mukhtār min kutub al-ikhtiyārāt al-falakiyya fī'l-nujūm
Kifāya al-Taʿlīm fī'l-nujūm
Al-Kitāb al-Bādiʿ fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb Kūshyār fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Tarjama Kitāb Thamara-i Baṭlamyūs bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-
nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Madkhal al-Nujūm wa Kitāb Zubdat al-Raml wa Kitāb Ṭāliʿ al-Waqt fi'l-nujūm
Kitāb Madkhal al-Nujūm wa Kitāb Uṣūl al-Malāḥim min qibal al-nujūm
Risāla Tashrīḥ al-Ālāt min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb Tarjama-i Kitāb Ṣuwar al-Kawākib bi'l-Fārsiyya al-marqūm bi-annihi bi-khaṭṭ mutarjimihi
alladhī huwa al-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī'l-nujūm
Risāla Wilādat-i Cem rahimahallāh wa huwa Ibn Muḥammad Khān ṭāba tharāhumā fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Madkhal manẓūm fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Risāla Sī Faṣl fī'l-nujūm wa Risāla al-Usṭurlāb
min qibal al-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb fīhi Arbaʿ Maqālāt fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Risāla al-Usṭurlāb min qibal al-nujūm fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Mukhtaṣar Madḥal ilā ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm wa Tarjama al-Mukhtaṣar al-Madkhal ilā aḥkām al-
nujūm bi'l-Fārsiyya
Kitāb al-ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb li-ʿAbd al-Raḥman al-Ṣūfī wa Risāla fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb al-
kurrī li-Ḥāmid bin ʿAlī min qibal al-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Manhaj al-Ṭullāb fī ʿAmal al-Usṭurlāb min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Aṣl fī ʿilm al-nujūm wa Sarāyir al-Asrār li-Abī Maʿshar al-Balkhī al-Munajjim
Mukhtaṣar fī Maʿrifat al-Usṭurlāb al-Naṣīr Ṭūsī min qibal al-nujūm wa Risāla al-Bāb al-Sābiʿ
min Kitāb Qusṭā fī’l-ʿamal bi'l-kurra wa Risāla fī'l-Farq bayn al-Ḍād wa'l-Ẓā min qibal ʿilm al-
Qirāʾa wa Risāla ukhrā fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ-i Bīst Bāb fī Maʿrifat-i Usṭurlāb min qibal ʿilm al-nujūm
Ikhtiyārāt al-Aḥkām al-ʿAlāʾiyya fī'l-nujūm
Ikhtiyārāt al-Aḥkām al-ʿAlāʾiyya fī'l-nujūm
Risāla Bīst Bāb fī Māʿrifat al-Usṭurlāb wa Risāla Sī Faṣl fī'l-nujūm wa Risāla fī'l-Rubʿ al-
Mujayyab wa Risāla fī'l-Rubʿ min qibal al-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Jāmiʿ al-Mabādī wa'l-Ghāyat maʿa Noqṣān al-Fann al-Rābiʿ min al-khar fī mujalladayn
fī'l-nujūm

343
Kitāb Jāmiʿ al-Mabādī wa'l-Ghāyat fī mujalladayn fī'l-nujūm
Risāla Mawḍiʿ al-Awqāt fī'l-nujūm
Tuḥfat al-Fuqarāʾ fī Rubʿ al-Dāʾira min qibal al-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Bīst Bāb fī Maʿrifat al-Usṭurlāb fī'l-nujūm wa Risāla fī Kayfiyya al-ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb
al-Kurrī fī mujalladīn wāḥidin
Mujmal al-Ikhtiyārāt fī'l-nujūm
Zubdat al-Hayʾa wa Sī Faṣl bi'l-Farsiyya fī'l-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Ikhtiyārāt al-ʿAlāʾiyya fī'l-nujūm wa Kitāb al-Dalāʾil fī aḥkām al-nujūm fī mujallidin
wāḥidin
Risāla Tabyīn al-Awqāt fī Maʿrifat Waḍʿ al-Rukhāmāt min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb Jāmiʿ Qawānīn ʿilm al-hayʾa wa Risāla min qibal al-nujūm wa gayruhu fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Kitāb Yawāqīt al-Mawāqīt min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Miʾa wa'l-ʿIshrīn fī Ḥisāb al-Ḍarb min qibal al-nujūm
Risāla bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-nujūm wa'l-ṭibb
Sharḥ al-Ṣafāyiḥ al-Āfāqiyya fī'l-nujūm
Tarjama Kitāb Thamara Baṭlamyūs bi'l-Fārsiyya fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Tafhīm fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Jadwal al-Āfāqī fī'l-nujūm
Tarjama Kitāb al-Jadwal al-Āfāqī bi'l-Turkiyya fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Jadwal Tashīl al-Qamar wa Jadwal Tashīl ʿUṭārid li-ʿİmād al-Dīn al-Bukhārī fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Mudhākirāt ʿan Abī Maʿshar al-Balkhī fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb Wilādat-i Iskandar bin ʿUmar Shaykh bin Amīr Taymūr min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb Miʿyār-i Āfitāb fī Sharḥ-i Bīst Bāb fī Maʿrifat-i Usṭurlāb fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Ṭāliʿ-i Wilādat-i Sulṭān Maḥammad bin Sulṭān Murād ṭāba tharāhumā wa jaʿala al-janna
mithwāhumā min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb Kūshyār fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Kitāb Burhān Hayʾa Falak wa Risālatān min qibal al-
nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafā fī funūn al-ʿulūm ka-al-riyāḍiyyāt mithl ʿilm al-ʿadad wa'l-handasa wa'l-
nujūm wa gayriha
Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafā fī funūn al-ʿulūm ka-al-riyāḍiyyāt mithl ʿilm al-ʿadad wa'l-handasa wa'l-
nujūm wa gayriha
Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafā fī funūn al-ʿulūm ka-al-riyāḍiyyāt mithl ʿilm al-ʿadad wa'l-handasa wa'l-
nujūm wa gayriha
Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafā fī thuluth mujalladāt
Risāla fī Kayfiyya al-ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb al-Kurrī li-kull ʿarḍin fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra fī'l-nujūm
Jāmiʿ al-Qismayn min al-riyāḍī wa'l-ṭabīʿi fī'l-nujūm wa'l-ṭibb
Sharḥ Sī Faṣl al-musamma bi-Muwaḍḍiḥ al-Rusūm fī ʿilm al-nujūm
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Kitāb al-Ṣūfī fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra wa Kitāb fī Maʿrifat al-Usṭurlāb al-Musaṭṭaʿ wa Kitāb fī'l-
ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb al-Kurrī wa Risāla al-Usṭurlāb wa Kitāb fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra wa Kitāb al-
Bīrūnī fī İstīʿāb al-Wujūh al-Mumkina fī Ṣanʿat al-Usṭurlāb min qibal al-nujūm fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Risāla al-Usṭurlāb al-musamma bi'l-Lubāb fī'l-nujūm
Risāla Aḥkām Ṭulūʿ al-Shuʿrā naqlan ʿan İdrīs al-Nabī alayhissalām fī ʿilm al-nujūm
Risāla Maʿrifat al-İrtifāʿ bi-gayr al-usṭurlāb fī'l-nujūm
Risāla al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra al-Falakiyya li-Qusṭa fī al-nujūm wa Risāla al-Usṭurlāb al-Kurrī wa
Risāla al-Usṭurlāb wa Risāla al-ʿAmal bi'l-Rubʿ al-Mawḍūʿ fīhi al-Muqanṭirāt fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Kitāb Aḥkām al-ʿAlāʾiyya bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-nujūm
Bustān al-Ḥikma fī İkhtiyārāt al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Tafhīm fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Tafhīm fī'l-nujūm
Khams risāla fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Rubʿ wa Risāla Qusṭā fī al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra Dhāt al-Kursī fī'l-nujūm
fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-ʿAmal bi'l-Usṭurlāb li'l-Ṣūfī wa Risāla al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra li'l-Shaykh al-Muʾayyad fī'l-
nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tafhīm bi'l-ʿArabiyya fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Masāʾil li'l-Qaṣrānī fī ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Masāʾīl li'l-Qaṣrānī fī ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Masāʾil li'l-Qaṣrānī fī ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Masāʾil li'l-Qaṣrānī fī ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Thamara-i Baṭlamyūs fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb al-İḥtiyārāt bi'l-ʿArabiyya al-manẓūma fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Majmūʿa Rasāʾil Ibn Al-Haytham baʿḍiha fī samt al-Qibla wa baʿḍiha fī khaṭṭ niṣf al-nahār wa
baʿḍiha fī irtifāʿ al-quṭb min qibal al-nujūm
Sī Faṣl bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-nujūm wa Madkhal-i manẓūm fī'l-nujūm wa Rasāʾil ukhrā fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil fī ʿAmal al-Ṣafīḥa wa ʿAmal al-Usṭurlāb wa gayruha
Tarjama-i Risāla al-Ṣafāyiḥ al-Āfaqiyya bi'l-Turkiyya min qibal al-nujūm
Risāla Wilādat-i Shāhzāda-i Aʿẓam Mahammad bin Sulṭān al-Salāṭīn Sulṭān Bāyezīd H̱ ān
zādallāh taʿala saʿādatuhuma fī al-dārayn min qibal al-nujūm
Tarjama-i Thamara-i Baṭlamyūs bi'l-Fārsiyya fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Sī Faṣl fī'l-nujūm
Sī Faṣl bi'l-ʿArabiyya fi'l-nujūm
Ṭāliʿ-i Wilādat-i Muhammad Khān bin Murād Khān ṭāba tharāhumā wa jaʿala al-janna
mathwāhumā min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb İdrīs al-nabī alayhissalām fī aḥkām Shuʿrā fī'l-nujūm

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Sharḥ-i Bīst Bāb fī'l-Usṭūrlāb
Risāla Baḥth aẓlāl al-Maqāyīs min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Azmān wa'l-Shuhūr min qibal al-nujūm
Risāla Fārsiyya fī'l-Usṭurlāb mukhtaṣar fī Maʿrifa al-Taqwīm fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb Fārsī maʿa ṣuwar al-burūj wa'l-kawākib fī'l-nujūm
Mukhtaṣar ʿAbd al-Raḥman al-Ṣūfī bi'l-Fārsiyya fī Ṣuwar al-Kawākib
Kitāb Bīst Bāb al-muḥashshā fī'l-nujūm
Kitāb al-Anwāʾ wa'l-Azmina wa Maʿrifat Aʿyān al-Kawākib fī'l-nujūm
Risāla fī'l-ʿAmal bi-Ashal Ālat min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb Jadāwil al-Tawārīkh wa'l-nujūm
Risāla fī ʿilm al-Usṭurlāb bi'l-ʿArabiyya min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb al-İstiʿāb fī ʿilm al-Usṭurlāb min qibal al-nujūm
Tarjama-i Kitāb-i Thamara-i Baṭlamyūs fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Kitāb-i Kūshyār fī aḥkām al-
nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Jadāwil awwaluha Jadwal ṭabʿuha burjiha min qibal al-nujūm
Muntakhab Kitāb-i Qirānāt-i Abī al-Maʿshar fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Kitāb Mujmal al-Uṣūl fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Risāla al-Usṭurlāb al-Zawraqī min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb İdrīs al-nabī alayhissalām fī Aḥkām-i Ṭulūʿ-i Shuʿrā fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Risāla Fārsiyya fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Sharḥ-i Thamara-i Baṭlamyūs fī aḥkām al-nujūm
Risāla fī'l-Ḥisāb wa Kitāb al-Shajara wa'l-Thamara fī aḥkām al-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil fīhā Risāla Bīst Bāb fī ʿAmal al-Usṭurlāb fī'l-nujūm wa Risāla fī Naẓm
Rashīd al-Dīn al-Waṭwāṭ fī ʿilm al-ʿarūḍ
Kitāb al-Alwāḥ al-ʿİmādiyya fī'l-ḥikma al-falsafiyya wa Sī Faṣl bi'l-ʿArabiyya fī'l-nujūm fi
mujalladin wāḥidin
Risāla al-Maqāla al-ḥādī ʿashar fī ʿamal al-Usṭurlāb fī'l-nujūm
Risāla Fattāḥī fī'l-İnshāʾ wa Risāla al-ʿAdad bi-Awḍāʿ al-Aṣābiʿ wa Kitāb al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra
fī'l-nujūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Muntakhab Kitāb Anwār al-Jawāhir fī Manāzil al-Qamar min qibal al-nujūm wa Risāla fī'l-Wafq
wa Risāla Makātibāt al-Shaykh Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qunawī maʿa al-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil fī'l-Rubʿ min qibal al-nujūm
Majmūʿa awwaluha Ḥall-i Shukūk fī Kitāb-i Majisṭī fī'l-hayʾa wa āhiruha Sharḥ-i Sī Faṣl fī'l-
nujūm
Majmūʿa awwaluha Risāla fī Kayfiyya al-Arṣād wa fī Kayfiyyat ʿAmal Ālāt al-Raṣad wa
Kayfiyya İstiʿmāliha min qibal al-nujūm
Majmūʿa fī aḥkām al-nujūm awwaluha Kitāb Hurmus wa huwa İdrīs al-nabī alayhissalam wa
dhalik al-kitāb huwa al-maʿrūf bi'l-Tāj
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa ʿAmal al-Usṭurlāb wa gayruhu
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Muntakhab Kitāb Abī Maʿshar fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa gayrihi min Rasāʾil al-nujūm
Risāla fī Samt al-Qibla min qibal al-hayʾa wa'l-nujūm
Risāla fī'l-Hayʾa wa Risāla fi'l-Daraj wa'l-Daqāyīq fī'l-nujūm wa Risāla fī'l-Ḥisāb fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Sharḥ-i maqālāt-i Baṭlamyūs fī'l-Qaḍāʾ bi'l-nujūm ʿalā'l-ḥawādith
Risāla fī Wilādat-i Sulṭān Maḥammad Khān bin Sulṭān Murād Khān ṭayyaballāh taʿālā
tharāhumā min qibal al-nujūm
Kitāb al-Miʾa wa'l-ʿIshrīn fī Ḥisāb al-Ḍarb min qibal al-nujūm wa Risāla ʿalā ṭarīq al-sūʿāl wa'l-
jawab fī'l-nujūm wa Rasāʾil ukhra fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ Sī Faṣl bi'l-ʿArabiyya fī'l-nujūm
Sharḥ Sī Faṣl bi'l-ʿArabiyya fī'l-nujūm
Risāla fī'l-Ālat al-nujūmiyya al-gayr al-mashhūra
Kitāb Abī al-Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī fī'l-Tafḥīm li-Awāʾil al-Tanjīm
Risāla Tuḥfat al-Faqīr li-Munajjim Bālī fī Rubʿ al-Dāʾira
Kitāb Jadwal ʿuyyini fīhi Shuhūr al-Kabīsa al-Qamariyya bi-sinniha min qibal al-nujūm
Risāla fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Basīṭa al-Ẓilliyya fī'l-nujūm
Mujallad Awwal min Tarjama Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-riyāḍiyyāt wa gayriha
Mujallad min Kitāb Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ fī'l-riyāḍiyyāt wa gayriha
Risāla al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra Dhāt al-Kursī min qibal al-nujūm
Majmūʿa min Kutubin awwaluha Mukhtaṣar Firdaws al-Ḥikma wa fīhā Kitāb al-tabṣira fī'l-
Hayʾa wa fīhā Risāla ʿAlī bin ʿİsā fī'l-Usṭurlāb
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil awwaluha Risāla ʿAlāʾiyya fī'l-Ḥisāb wa thāniyatuhā Risāla al-Muzhirāt
fī'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Muqanṭirāt wa thālithatuha Risāla Kashf al-Rayb fi'l-ʿAmal bi'l-Jayb
Risāla al-ʿAmal bi'l-Kurra al-Falakiyya min qibal al-nujūm wa Kitāb Daʿāwā Uqlīdus min qibal
al-handasa
Kitāb al-Ḥawāshī fī'l-ʿilm al-riyāḍī
Risala min qibal al-nujūm wa Risāla fī aḥkām al-nujūm wa Kitāb al-Shajara wa'l-Thamara fī
aḥkām al-nujūm wa Risāla al-Wafq wa Kitāb al-Ṣibyān fī'l-Lugha fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb İbn Sīnā fī'l-Manṭiq wa'l-Ḥikma al-Falsafiyya wa Kitāb Zubdat al-Adrāt? Fī'l-Hayʾa wa
Risāla fī ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm wa Rasāʾil ukhrā fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Nihāyat al-İdrāk fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb wa Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Jihān-Dānish bi'l-Fārsiyya Tarjama al-Kifāya fi'l-ʿilm al-Hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Ḥashiya Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Taḥrīr al-Majisṭī fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb Faṣṣ al-Khātim fī Hayʾa al-ʿĀlam fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Risāla al-Kurra al-Falakiyya min qibal al-nujūm
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Kitāb Uqlīdus fī'l-handasa al-Naṣīr Ṭūsī
Kitāb Uqlīdus fī'l-handasa
Kitāb Abī al-Wafāʾ fīma yahtāj ilayhi min aʾmāl al-handasa
Kitāb Ṣuwar al-Kawākib al-Ṣūfī min qibal al-handasa
Sharḥ Taḥrīr al-Majisṭī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Bayān al-Tadhkira fī Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyid al-Sharīf fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Uqlīdus fī'l-handasa li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī
Kitāb Nihāyat al-İdrāk fī Dirāyat al-Aflāk li'l-Shirāzī fī'l-hayʿa wa Sharḥ al-Risāla ʿalā'l-Ḥarakat
al-Daraja? fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tadhkira fī'l-hayʾa wa Kitāb Nihāyat al-İdrāk fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī'l-hayʾa
Nihāyat al-İdrāk fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Niksārī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Risāla Mughniya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa wa Sharḥ al-Risāla al-Mughniya wa Zubdat al-Hayʾa bi'l-
Fārsiyya li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa
Kitāb faʿaltu fa-lā-talum fī'l-hayʾa
Tarjama li'l-Chaghmīnī bi'l-Fārsiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Jihān-Dānish bi'l-Fārsiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb faʿaltu fa-lā-talum fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tadhkira fī'l-hayʾa wa Sharḥ al-Tadhkira li-Niẓām al-Dīn fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī fīʿl-hayʾa wa Sharḥ al-Tadhkira al-musamma bi-Bayān al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm
al-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Nihāyat al-İdrāk fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Uṣūl al-Aṣliyya fī'l-handasa
Talkhīṣ al-Makhrūṭāt fī'l-handasa
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyid al-Sharīf fī'l-hayʾa
Tarjama li'l-Chaghmīnī wa sharḥihi bi'l-Fārsiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾā
Risāla fī ʿilm al-hayʾa li-Mawlānā ʿAlī Qūshjī
Matn Ādāb al-Baḥth fī ʿilm al-Jadal wa Matn al-Chaghmīnī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Tawḍīḥ al-Tadhkira fī Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa

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Risāla Mawlānā Qūshjī bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-hayʾa wa Risāla Fārsiyya fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb wa Sharḥ
Ashkāl al-Tāʾsīs li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-handasa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’n-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa wa Sharḥ al-Maqāla al-ʿĀshira min Kitāb Uqlīdus li'l-
Ahwāzī fī'l-handasa wa Risāla fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb fī mucalladin wāḥidin
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ Ashkāl al-Tāʾsīs li-Mawlānā al-marḥūm Quṭb al-Dīn Chalabī ṭāba tharāhu fī'l-
Handasa
Ḥashiya Sharḥ li'l-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tadhkira fī'l-hayʾa wa Sharḥ al-Tadhkira li-Niẓām al-Dīn fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Kitāb fi'l-hayʾa wa Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-hayʿa
Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyid al-Sharīf fi'l-hayʾa
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ al-Ṭawāliʿ li'l-Sayyid al-Sharīf fī ʿilm al-Kalām wa Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-
Sayyid al-Sharīf fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Dawāʾir fī ʿilm al-hayʿa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira li-Niẓām al-Dīn fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-hayʿa
Risāla Fāl-i Qurān wa Kitāb-i Jihān-Dānish fī'l-hayʾa wa Risāla Fārsiyya fī Manāẓira Baghdād
wa Iṣfahān wa Risāla Munshāʾat al-sāḥib al-marḥūm fī mujalladin wāḥidin
İthnān min Sharḥ al-Tabṣira bi-khaṭṭ muʾallifihi Muḥammad bin Mubārak Shāh fī'l-hayʾa fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Fatkh al-Fatkhiyya fī Sharḥ al-Fatkhiyya fī'l-hayʾa
Mulakhkhaṣ li'l-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Mulakhkhaṣ al-Mashhūr bi-matn Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Risāla al-ʿAmal bi-Dhāt al-Ḥalaq fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-hayʾa wa Risāla li-˚Ishq bi'l-Fārsiyya wa'l-
Risāla al-Shamsiyya fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyid al-Sharīf fī'l-hayʾa wa Sharḥ Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb ʿUmda Khwarazmshāhī fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb Taḥrīr Majisṭī min qibal al-hayʾa
Sharḥ Taḥrīr Majisṭī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tajrīd fī Uṣūl al-Handasa wa Kitāb Uqlīdus wa Kitāb al-Kifāya fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ Qāḍīzāda li'l-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyīd al-Sharīf fī'l-hayʾa
Thuluth Jumal min Kitāb Durrat al-Tāj fī'l-Manṭiq wa'l-Falsafa wa Tarjama Kitāb Uqlīdis min

349
Kitāb Durrat al-Tāj fī'l-Handasa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-hayʿa
Tarjama Sharḥ al-Sayyīd al-Sharīf li-Kitāb al-Chaghmīnī bi'l-Turkiyya fī'l-hayʾa
Kitāb Taḥrīr Majisṭī min qibal al-hayʾa
Taḥrīr Majisṭī min qibal al-hayʾa
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa
Tawḍīʿ al-Tadhkira fī Sharḥ al-Tadhkira bi-khaṭṭ muʾallifihi Niẓām al-Dīn fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Kitāb Majisṭī-i Baṭlamyūs fī'l-hayʾa wa Sharḥ ākhar lahu ayḍan fī'l-hayʾa wa Risāla fī
Kayfiyya al-Raṣad bi'l-Ālāt fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tabṣira fī ʿilm al-hayʿa
Ḥashiya Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Ashkāl al-Tāʿsīs fī'l-handasa
Sharḥ Taḥrīr Majisṭī al-musamma bi-Tafsīr al-Taḥrīr fī'l-hayʾa
Zubdat al-Hayʾa fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Thābit bin Qurra fī'l-nisba al-muʿallifihi wa Sharḥ al-Shakl al-Mulaqqab bi'l-Qiṭāʿ min
Kitāb Majisṭī fī'l-hayʾa wa Risāla Thābit bin Qurra fī'l-Shakl al-Mulaqqab bi'l-Qiṭāʿ min Kitāb
Majisṭī fī'l-hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya li'l-Quṭb al-Shirāzī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira al-musamma bi-tawḍīʿ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira al-musamma bi-tawḍīʿ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Uqlīdus li’n-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fi'l-handasa wa Risāla mutaʿalliqa bi-baʿḍ mawāḍiʿ Kitāb Uqlīdus
fī'l-handasa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb Ablūnīyūs fī'l-Makhrūṭāt fī ʿilm al-handasa
Kitāb Ablūnīyūs fī'l-Makhrūṭāt fī ʿilm al-handasa
Kitāb Taḥrīr al-Majisṭī li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī'l-Hayʾa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-Hayʾa wa Rasāʾil ukhrā fī mujalladin
wāḥidin
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya bi'l-Arabiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Majmūʿa fīhā Kutub al-Handasa wa’l-Hayʾa wa gayriha
Kitāb Taḥrīr Majisṭī li’l-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-hayʾa
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī li'l-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa

350
Sharḥ Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī li’l-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Sharḥ Ashkāl al-Tāʿsīs fī'l-handasa
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī al-musamma bi-Ṭurur al-Mulakhkhaṣ fī'l-hayʾa bi-khaṭṭ
muʾallifihi
Sharḥ Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī li'l-Sayyīd Sharīf fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Taḥrīr Majisṭī fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Kitāb al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa
Majmūʿa min al-mutawassiṭāt wa gayruha min qibal al-handasa wa'l-hayʾa
Ḥawāshī al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī'l-hayʾa
Mulakhkhaṣ al-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa wa sharḥuhu li'l-Sayyīd al-Sharīf fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Risāla Mawlānā ʿAlī al-Qūshjī bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ Qaṣīda al-Garāʾ fī Ḥarakāt al-Aflāk min qibal al-hayʾa
Al-Qaṣīda al-Garāʾ fī Ḥarakāt al-Aflāk min qibal al-hayʾa
Kitāb Ablūnīyūs fī'l-Makhrūṭāt taṣannaʿu Abī al-Ḥusayn fī'l-handasa
Majmūʿa fīhā Kitāb Uqlīdis li’n-Naṣīr Ṭūsī fī'l-Handasa wa Rasāʾil ukhrā fī'l-handasa wa
gayruha fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Kutub al-Hayʾa wa'l-Handasa awwaluha Kitāb Ablūnīyūs
Kitāb Talkhīṣ al-Makhrūṭāt fī'l-handasa
Kitāb Jihān-Dānish fī'l-hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tadhkira bi-khaṭṭ al-Shāriḥ fī'l-hayʾa
Risāla fī'l-Tashwīq ilā'l-Ḥaywa al-Dāʾima wa Risāla al-Barkār al-Shām min qibal al-handasa fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil Abī al-Futūḥ awwaluha fī'l-Shakl al-Rābiʿ fī'l-Manṭiq wa'l-Bāqiyya fī'l-
Handasiyyāt
Majmūʿa min al-mutawassiṭāt wa gayruha fī'l-handasiyyāt
Majmūʿa fīhā Kitāb Uqlīdis wa'l-mutawassiṭāt fī'l-handasiyyāt wa Kitāb Taḥrīr al-Chaghmīnī
fī'l-Hayʾa wa'l-Tadhkira fī'l-Hayʾa fī mujalladin wāḥidin
İkhhiyārāt Muẓaffariyya fī'l-Hayʾa wa Mukhtaṣar fī'l-Hayʾa wa Risāla Muǧniyya fī'l-Hayʾa fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Mutun Ashkāl al-Tāʾsīs fī'l-Handasa wa Sharḥ Ashkāl al-Tāʾsīs li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-Handasa
wa Mutun Ḥikma al-Hidāya fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Al-Risāla al-Muʾayyaniyya bi'l-Fārsiyya fī'l-Hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya fī ʿilm al-Hayʾa
Sharḥ al-Tuḥfat al-Shāhiyya li-Mawlānā ʿAlī al-Qūshjī bi-khaṭṭihi fī'l-Hayʾa
Sharḥ Ashkāl al-Tāʾsīs fī'l-Handasa wa Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī li-Qāḍīzāda al-Rūmī fī'l-Hayʾā fī
mujalladin wāḥidin
Ḥāshiya Sharḥ al-Chaghmīnī fī'l-hayʾa
351
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil fī'l-handasa wa gayriha
Risāla ʿArabiyya fī'l-hayʾa
Majmūʿa min Rasāʾil İbn al-Haytham wa fīhā Kitāb Ablūnīyūs fī'l-Makhrūṭāt fī'l-Handasa
Risāla Fatḥiyya fī ʿilm al-hayʾa wa Risāla Muḥammadiyya fī ʿilm al-Ḥisāb fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Talkhīṣ al-Makhrūṭāt fī'l-Handasa wa Rasāʾil ukhrā fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb ʿAjīb fī'l-Hayʾa wa Risāla ukhrā fī mujalladin wāḥidin
Kitāb ʿAjīb fī'l-Hayʾa wa Risāla ukhrā fī mujalladin wāḥidin

352
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Murād II Yes Universal Zīj-i Persian BnF Supp. Ībrahīm b. 15 N 842

History Shāmil Pers. Ms. 367 Shaykh al- [1438]
(Individual Munajjim
Manuscript) wa’r-rammāl
ibn al-Jamāl
Murād II Yes Universal Unspe Turkish BnF Turc Ms. Unspecified 2 Z 848
History cified 180 [1445]
(Individual
Manuscript)

N/A Yes Universal Unspe Turkish Bodleian Hunt. Unspecified 13 ZA 849

History cified Donat. Ms. 16 [1446]
(Individual
Manuscript)

353
N/A N/A N/A Unspe Turkish BLM Or. 27 Unspecified 26 M 854
cified (Partial) [1450]

Meḥmed II Yes Universal Unspe Turkish TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 18 S 856

early-seventeeth century

History cified 309 [1452]

(Individual
Manuscript)

N/A N/A N/A Unspe Turkish BLM Or. 27 Unspecified 29 S 857

cified (Partial) [1453]

Meḥmed II Yes Universal Unspe Turkish SK Unspecified 11 RA 858

History cified Nuruosmaniye [1454
3080
(Individual
Manuscript)
Appendix C: The list of examined extant taqwīms from the mid-fifteenth to the
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Meḥmed II N/A N/A Zīj-i Shāmil Turkish- Bodleain Ms. Unspecified 15 SH 872
Persian Arch. Sel. 31 [1468]
(Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A Universal Zīj-i Jāmiʿ (li- Persian TSMK Bağdat Khiṭābī al- 9 R 894
History Rukn Āmulī) 310 Ḥusaynī [1489]
(Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Partial N/A Zīj-i Persian Kandilli 365/1 Unspecified 20 R 895

Muḥaqqaq-i (Bound together [1490]
Īlkhānī with taqwīm from
897)
Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 20 R 895

354
Gurgānī 311 [1490]
(Individual
Manuscript)
Bāyezīd II Partial N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian Kandilli 365/2 Unspecified 12 CA 897
Gurgānī (Bound together [1492]
with taqwīm from
895)
Bāyezīd II N/A Universal Zīj-i Īlkhānī Persian TSMK Bağdat ʿAbd al-karīm 14 C 900
History 312 b. Mawlānā [1495]
(Individual Sinān a.k.a al-
Manuscript) Ḥayātī

Bāyezīd II N/A Ottoman Unspecified Persian- TSMK Revan Unspecified 14 C 900

History Turkish 1711/1 [1495]
(together with
other taqwīms)
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Ḥamza b. 25 C 901

Muḥaqqaq-i 313 ʿAbd al- [1496]
Īlkhānī (Individual karīm
Manuscript)
Bāyezīd II N/A Universal Zīj-i Īlkhānī Persian TSMK Bağdat ʿAbd al- 6 B 902
History 314 karīm b. [1497]
(Individual Mawlānā
Manuscript) Sinān a.k.a.
al-Ḥayātī
Bāyezīd II Partial N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Ḥamza b. 6 B 902
Muḥaqqaq-i 315 ʿAbd al- [1497]
Īlkhānī (Individual karīm
Manuscript)
Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Nūr al-dīn b. 6 B 902

355
Muḥaqqaq-i 316 Ḥamza [1497]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Hazine Unspecified 17 B 903

Muḥaqqaq-i 505 [1498]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Unspecified Turkish TSMK Revan Unspecified 17 B 903

1711/2 [1498]
(together with
other taqwīms)
Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Hazine Unspecified 29 B 904
Gurgānī 513 [1499]
(Individual
Manuscript)
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 29 B 904

Muḥaqqaq-i 317 [1499]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 29 B 904
Gurgānī 318 [1499]
(Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 10 SH 905

Muḥaqqaq-i 1709 [1500]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A Universal Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 21 SH 906

356
History Muḥaqqaq-i 319 [1501]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian Kandilli 544 Unspecified 21 SH 906

Muḥaqqaq-i (Individual [1501]
Īlkhānī Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Turkish TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 2 N 907

Muḥaqqaq-i 320 [1502]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Bağdat Unspecified 24 N 909

Muḥaqqaq-i 321 [1504]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 24 N 909

Muḥaqqaq-i 1711/3 [1504]
Īlkhānī (together with
other taqwīms)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Emanet Salmān 23 N 909
Gurgānī Hazinesi 1712 [1504]
(Individual
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 15 L 910

Muḥaqqaq-i 1711/4 [1505]
Īlkhānī (together with
other taqwīms)

357
Selīm b. N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 15 L 911
Bāyezīd II Gurgānī 1711/5 [1506]
(together with
other taqwīms)

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 27 L 912
Gurgānī 1711/6 [1507]
(together with
other taqwīms)

Bāyezīd II Yes Universal Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian British Library Yūsuf b. 9 ZA 913
History Gurgānī Ms. Or. 6432 Ḥasan al- [1508]
(together with Ḥusaynī
taqwīm from 960) a.k.a. Qāḍī-i
Baghdad
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian IU FY 32 Unspecified 29 ZA 913

Muḥaqqaq-i (Individual [1508]
Īlkhānī Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 19 ZA 914

Muḥaqqaq-i 1711/7 [1509]
Īlkhānī (together with
other taqwīms)

Aḥmed b. Yes Universal Zīj-i Persian SK Esad Efendi ʿAbd al- 30 ZA 915
Bāyezīd II History Muḥaqqaq-i 1978 Raḥman [1510]
Īlkhānī (Individual
Manuscript)
Bāyezīd II N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 30 ZA 915
Gurgānī 1711/8 [1510]

358
(together with
other taqwīms)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK III. Yūsuf b. 12 Z 916

Muḥaqqaq-i Ahmed 1960 ʿÖmer el- [1511]
Īlkhānī (Individual Sāʿatī
Manuscript)

Bāyezīd II Yes N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 22 Z 917

Muḥaqqaq-i 1711/9 [1512]
Īlkhānī (together with
other taqwīms)

Selīm I Yes N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Emanet Yūsuf b. 3 M 919
Gurgānī Hazinesi 1710 ʿÖmer el- [1513]
(Individual Sāʿatī
Manuscript)
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

Selīm I N/A N/A Zīj-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 23 M 919

Muḥaqqaq-i 1711/10 [1513]
Īlkhānī (together with
other taqwīms)

Selīm I N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 113 M 920
Gurgānī 1711/11 [1514]
(together with
other taqwīms)
Selīm I N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian SK Esad Efendi Yūsuf b. 17 S 923
Gurgānī 1978 ʿÖmer el- [1517]
(Individual Sāʿatī
Manuscript)

Selīm I N/A N/A Unspecified Turkish TSMK Emanet Khwāce Kemāl 9 RA 925

359
Hazinesi 1695 [1519]
(Individual
Manuscript)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian - TSMK Revan Yūsuf b. 16 CA 931
Gurgānī Turkish 1711/13 ʿÖmer el- [1525]
(together with Sāʿatī
other taqwīms)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish- Arkeoloji Müzesi Necmeddīn b. 27 CA 932
Gurgānī Persian 1607/1 Seyyīd [1526]
(together with Muḥammed
taqwīm 932)
Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian Arkeoloji Müzesi Unspecified 27 CA 932
Gurgānī 1607/2 [1526]
(together with
taqwīm 932)
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BnF Turc Ms. Unspecified 27 CA 932
Gurgānī 183 [1526]
(partial)
Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish TSMK Revan Yūsuf b. 27 CA 932
Gurgānī 1711/14 ʿÖmer el- [1526]
(together with Sāʿatī
other taqwīms)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish- Kandilli 333 Unspecified 9 C 933
Gurgānī Persian (Individual [1527]
Manuscript)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Yūsuf b. 9 C 933
Gurgānī 1711/15 ʿÖmer el- [1527]
(together with Sāʿatī

360
other taqwīms)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian - TSMK Revan Necmeddīn b. 29 C 935
Gurgānī Turkish 1711/16 Seyyīd [1529]
(together with Muḥammed
other taqwīms)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Yūsuf b. 21 B 937
Gurgānī 1711/17 ʿÖmer el- [1531]
(together with Sāʿatī
other taqwīms

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish TSMK III. Al-Sayyīd al- 21 B 937
Gurgānī Ahmed 3497 Munajjim al- [1531]
(Individual Tokatī a.k.a.
Manuscript) Ibn Sayyīd
Tāj
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BLM Or. 156 Unspecified 3 SH 938
Gurgānī (Partial) [1532]

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BnF Turc Ms. Necmeddīn b. 7 N 941
Gurgānī 183 Seyyīd [1535]
(Partial) Muḥammed

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BLM Or. 156 Unspecified 18 M 954
(Partial) [1547]

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Persian TSMK Revan Necmeddīn b. 11 S 956
Gurgānī 1711/18 Seyyīd [1549]
(together with Muḥammed
other taqwīms)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish British Library Necmeddīn b. 26 RA 960

361
Gurgānī Ms. Or. 6432 Seyyīd [1553]
(together with Muḥammed
taqwīm from 913)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish TSMK Revan Yūsuf b. 7 R 961
Gurgānī 1711/19 ʿÖmer el- [1554]
(together with Sāʿatī
other taqwīms)

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BnF Turc Ms. Unspecified 9 CA 964
Gurgānī 183 [1557]
(Partial)

Süleymān N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish Kandilli 546 Yūsuf b. 13 C 967
Gurgānī (Individual ʿÖmer el- [1560]
Manuscript] Sāʿatī
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BLM Or. 156 Unspecified 19 SH 973
(Partial) [1566]

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BLM Or. 242 Unspecified ? 974
(Partial) [1567]

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BLM Or. 156 Unspecified 11 N 975
Gurgānī (Partial) [1568]

N/A N/A N/A N/A Persian TSMK Revan Unspecified 4 L 977

1711/18 [1570]
(together with
other taqwīms)

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BLM Or. 156 Unspecified 14 L 978

362
(Partial) [1571]

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish Kandilli 383 Unspecified 25 L 979
Gurgānī (Individual [1572]
Manuscript)

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BLM Or. 27 Unspecified 6 ZA 980
Muḥaqqaq-i (Partial) [1573]
Mudaqqaq-i Ṣaʿd
al-dīnī [Taqī al-
Dīn’s
computations?]

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BLM Or. 242 Unspecified ? 982
(Partial) [1575]
 Dedicatee Divinatory Chronology Zīj Language Collection - Author Year
Tables Condition

N/A Yes Universal N/A Turkish BnF Turc Ms. 182 Unspecified 27 ZA 982
History (Individual [1575]
Manuscript)
N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Turkish BnF Arabe 2570 Unspecified 9 Z 983
Muḥaqqaq-i (Partial) [1576]
Mudaqqaq-i Shams
al-Dīnī [Taqī al-Dīn’s
computations]

N/A N/A N/A N/A Turkish BnF Supp. Turc Unspecified 27 S 991
Ms. 236 [1583]
(Individual
manuscript)
N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Gurgānī Turkish Bodleain Hyde Unspecified 22 RA 996

363
Ms. 40 (Individual [1588]
manuscript)

N/A N/A N/A Ḥisāb-i Raṣad-i Turkish Kandilli 340 Yūsuf al- 115 N 1009
ʿOsmānī [Taqī al- (Individual Ṭabīb a.k.a. [1601]
Dīn’s tables] Manuscript) Ibn al-
Bakkāl

N/A N/A N/A Zīj-i Jadīd-i Gurgānī Turkish BnF Supp. Turc Yūsuf al- 22 ZA 1015
Ms. 235 Ṭabīb a.k.a. [1607]
(Individual Ibn al-
manuscript) Bakkāl

N/A N/A N/A N/A Arabic Michigan Library Unspecified 14 B 1037

Ms. 794 [1628]
 Bibliography
SOURCES

Archival:

Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Arşivi (TSMA)

Defter (D.): 5375, 5605, 9291/1-2, 9555, 9559, 9600, 9706, 9802, 10026, 10053, 10141, 10184.

Evrak (E.): 1698, 5375, 5605, 6172, 9555, 9802, 10053,10159/6, 10159/145, 10818.

Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivi (BOA)

Kamil Kepeci (KK) 1764
Kamil Kepeci (KK) 1864
Maliyeden Müdevver (MAD) 559
Maliyeden Müdevver (MAD) 7118
BOA AE SMST III 50/3625.
BOA C. SM 37/1873.
BOA D. BŞM. MHF. 55:34.
BOA D. HMH. SFTH. 21941-B.
BOA Hat 14/576.

İstanbul Atatürk Kitaplığı

Muallim Cevdet O. 71.

İstanbul Müftülüğü Şeriye Sicilleri

Kısmet-i Askeriye (KA) 502
Kısmet-i Askeriye (KA) 1650

Unpublished manuscripts:
Arkeoloji Müzesi
Ms. 1607/1 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 932/1526]
Ms. 1607/2 [Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed, Taqwīm of the year 932/1526]

Bibliotheca Medicea-Laurenziana (BML)

BML Or. 24 [Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Zīj-i Īlkhānī]
BML Or. 27 [Anonymous collection of taqwīms compiled by the late-16th century]
BML Or. 156 [Anonymous collection of taqwīms compiled by the late-16th century]
BML Or. 242 [Anonymous collection of taqwīms compiled by the late-16th century]

Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BnF)

BnF Arabe Ms. 2570 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 983/1576]
BnF Arabe Ms. 4609 [Anonymous Rasulid taqwīm ca. 841/1438]
364
BnF Turc Ms. 180 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 848/1445]
BnF Turc Ms. 182 [Anonymus taqwīm of the year 983/1576]
BnF Turc Ms. 183 [Anonymous collection of taqwīms from the mid-16th century]
BnF Turc Ms. 186 [Anonymous collection of texts on rūznāme and taqwīm]
BnF Supp. Turc Ms. 235 [Yūsuf al-Ṭabīb a.k.a. Ibn al-Bakkāl, taqwīm of the year
1015/1607]
BnF Supp. Turc Ms. 236 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 991/1583]
BnF Supp. Pers. Ms. 367 [Ībrahīm b. Şeyḫ al-munajjimīn wa-r-rammāl, taqwīm of the year
842/1439]

British Library
Add. 5983 [Ḫayreddīn Konevī, Kitāb-i ṭāliʿ-i mevlūd]
Or. 3289 [Vaḥyī’s burlesque taqwīm]
Or. 6432/1 [Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed, Taqwīm of the year 960/1553]
Or. 6432/2 [Qādī-yi Baghdād, taqwīm of the year 913/1508]
Or. 11630 [Abū’l-Maḥāmīd b. Masʿūd al-Ghaznawī, Kifāyat al-taʿlīm fī
ṣināʾat al-tanjīm]

Harvard University Library

Ms. Persian 33 [Rukn al-Dīn Āmūli, Risāla Panjāh Bāb]

Huntington Library
Ms. HM71897 [Yaḥyā b. ʿImād al-Yaḥyā, Ṭāliʿ-i mavlūd-i Sulṭān Amīrzāda
Rustam Bahadur]

İsmail Hakkı Konyalı Kütüphanesi

Ms. 153 [İbn Īsā Saruhānī, Rumūz al-kunūz]

İstanbul Üniversitesi
FY 32 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 913/1508]

Kandilli Rasathanesi Kütüphanesi

Kandilli 123 [Żaʿīfī’s collection of astronomical and astrological treatises]
Kandilli 310 [Sayyid Munajjim, Laṭāʾif al-kalām fī aḥkām al-aʿvām]
Kandilli 325 [Lüṭfullāh munajjim, Risāla-i nujūm]
Kandilli 333 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 933/1527]
Kandilli 340 [Yūsuf al-Ṭabīb a.k.a. Ibn al-Bakkāl, taqwīm of the year
1009/1601]
Kandilli 365/1 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 895/1490]
Kandilli 365/2 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 897/1492]
Kandilli 371 [Müneccimbaşı Meḥmed Çelebi, Risāle-i Aḥkām-ı Nücūm]
Kandilli 372 [Nücūmī, Mezāḳu’l-uşşāḳ fī ʿilmi’l-āfāḳ]
Kandilli 383 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 979/1572]
Kandilli 396 [Anonymous, Vilādet-i Sulṭān Bāyezīd]

365
Kandilli 546 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 967/1560]

Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences

Ms. Török 59

Oxford Bodleian
Arch. Sel. 31 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 872/1468]
Hunt. Donat. 16 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 849/1446]
Hyde 4 0 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 996/1588]
Marsh 396 [Zīj-i Ulugh Beg va Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg li-ʿAlī Qūshjī]

Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi (SK)

Ayasofya Ms. 2414M [Khiṭābi al-munajjim, Jāmiʿ al-qismayn]
Ayasofya Ms. 2432 [Anonymous collection of astronomical-astrological treatises]
Ayasofya Ms. 2474 [Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Sī faṣl]
Ayasofya Ms. 2618 [Anonymous, Risāla al-usṭūrlāb al-musammā bi’l-lubāb fī’n-
nujūm]
Ayasofya Ms. 2641 [Efezāde, Sharḥ-i bīst bāb fī risāla-i usṭurlāb]
Ayasofya Ms. 2667 [Anonymous, Miʿyār-i Āfiṭāb fī sharḥ-i bīst bāb-i maʿrifat-i
usṭūrlāb]
Ayasofya Ms. 2688 [ʿAlī-Shāh Bukhārī, Asmār va ashjār dar Aḥkām-i nujūm]
Ayasofya Ms. 2694 [Wābkanawī, Zīj-i Muḥaqqaq-i Īlkhānī]
Ayasofya Ms. 2697 [Mīrim Çelebi, Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg]
Ayasofya Ms. 2702 [Anonymous, Mukhtaṣar madkhal ilā ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm]
Ayasofya Ms. 2711 [Anonymous, Kitāb yawāqit al-mawāqit min qibal al-nujūm]
Ayasofya Ms. 2709 [Khiṭābi al-munajjim, Muwaḍḍiḥ al-rusūm fī ʿilm al-nujūm]
Ayasofya Ms. 3635 [ʿAbdurraḥmān munajjim, Jawhar ḥifẓ al-ṣiḥḥat fī al-ṭibb]
Ayasofya Ms. 4024 [Shukrullāḥ Shirvānī, Riyāḍ al-qulūb]
Bağdatlı Vehbi Ms. 2005 [Mīrim Çelebi, Masāʾil dar Taʾsīrāt-i Nujūm]
Darülmesnevi Ms. 345 [Ḫāce Aṭāʾullāh, Risāla-i Rubʿ]
Esad Efendi Ms. 1997 [Khiṭābī, Ṭāliʿ-i Mavlūd-i Sulṭān Muḥammed]
Esad Efendi Ms. 2147 [Kashfī, Selīmnāme]
Esad Efendi Ms. 2198 [Idris Bidlīsī, Hasht Bihisht]
Esad Efendi Ms. 3782 [Ibn Kemāl?, Risāle-i Ṭılsımāt]
Fatih Ms. 3421 [Niẓām al-Dīn Nīsābūrī, Kashf al-ḥaqāʾiq fī sharḥ Zīj-i Īlkhānī]
Fatih Ms. 4357 [Ibn al-ʿUlayf, al-Durr al-manẓūm fī manākib Bāyezīd malik al-
Rūm]
Hacı Mahmud Ms. 6344 [Seyfullāh Çelebi, Risāla fī’t-taḳāvīm]
Hafid Efendi Ms. 205/1 [Ḫāce Ebrī, Melḥame-i Ibn ʿĀdil]
Hamidiye Ms. 848 [Mīrim Çelebi, Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg]
Hüsrev Paşa Ms. 482 [Muḥammed Şāh Fenārī, Anmūzaj al-ʿulūm]
İzmir Ms. 479 [Mīrim Çelebi, Kitāb fī aḥkām al-nujūm]
İzmir Ms. 485 [Muṣṭafā Zekī, Mücerrebāt]
M. Nuri Efendi Ms. 151 [Mīrim Çelebi, Sharḥ-i Zīj-i Ulugh Beg]

366
Nuruosmaniye Ms. 2782 [Anonymous Eretna taqwīm ca. 773/1371]
Nuruosmaniye Ms. 3080 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 858/1454]
Reisülküttab Ms. 572 [Ps.-Ptolemy, Kitāb al-Thamara]
Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 1362 [Sayyid Munajjim, Risāla al-shakl al-mughnī wa ẓillī]
Yazma Bağışlar Ms. 4034 [Riyāżī, Zāyiçe]

Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Kütüphanesi (TMSK)

III. Ahmed (A.) 1960 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 916/1511]
III. Ahmed (A.) 2010 [Abdurraḥmān munajjim, Jawhar ḥifẓ al-ṣiḥḥat fī al-ṭibb]
III. Ahmed (A.) 2128 [Epistle of Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ on Asṭrunūmiyya]
III. Ahmed (A.) 3317 [Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Tadhkira fī ʿilm al-hayʾa]
III. Ahmed (A.) 3328 [Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Taḥrīr al-Majisṭī]
III. Ahmed (A.) 3343 [Marrākushi’s Jāmiʿ al-mabādīʾ wa’l-ghayāt fī ʿilm al-mīqāt]
III. Ahmed (A.) 3495 [ʿAbd al-salām al-muhtadī, Maʿrifat ḥaqīqat al-kawākib]
III. Ahmed (A.) 3497 [Seyyid Müneccim el-Tokatī, taqwīm of the year 937/1531]
Bağdat (B.) 309 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 856/1452]
Bağdat (B.) 310 [Khiṭābi al-munajjim, taqwīm of the year 894/1489]
Bağdat (B.) 311 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 895/1490]
Bağdat (B.) 312 [ʿAbdulkerīm b. Mevlānā Sinān, taqwīm of the year 900/1495]
Bağdat (B.) 313 [Ḥamza b. Abdulkerīm, taqwīm of the year 901/1496]
Bağdat (B.) 314 [Abdulkerīm b. Mevlānā Sinān, taqwīm of the year 902/1497]
Bağdat (B.) 315 [Ḥamza b. Abdulkerīm, taqwīm of the year 902/1497]
Bağdat (B.) 316 [Nūreddīn b. Ḥamza, taqwīm of the year 902/1497]
Bağdat (B.) 317 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 904/1499]
Bağdat (B.) 318 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 904/1499]
Bağdat (B.) 319 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 906/1501]
Bağdat (B.) 320 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 907/1502]
Bağdat (B.) 321 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 909/1504]
Emanet Hazinesi (EH.) 1695 [Ḫāce Kemal, taqwīm of the year 925/1519]
Emanet Hazinesi (EH.) 1710 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 919/1514]
Emanet Hazinesi (EH.) 1712 [Salmān, taqwīm of the year 909/1504]
Hazine (H.) 1760 [Partial Külliyāt-i Mīrim Çelebi]
Revan (R.) 822 [Külliyāt-i Żaʿīfī]
Revan (R.) 1704 [Anonymous, Miftāḥ al-nujūm]
Revan (R.) 1705 [Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī, Ikhtiyārāt al-aḥkām al-ʿalāʾiyya min al-ʿālam
al-samāwiyya]
Revan (R.) 1711/1 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 900/1495]
Revan (R.) 1711/2 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 903/1498]
Revan (R.) 1711/3 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 909/1504]
Revan (R.) 1711/4 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 910/1505]
Revan (R.) 1711/5 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 911/1506]
Revan (R.) 1711/6 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 912/1507]
Revan (R.) 1711/7 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 914/1509]
Revan (R.) 1711/8 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 915/1510]

367
Revan (R.) 1711/9 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 917/1512]
Revan (R.) 1711/10 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 919/1514]
Revan (R.) 1711/11 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 920/1515]
Revan (R.) 1711/12 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 923/1517]
Revan (R.) 1711/13 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 931/1525]
Revan (R.) 1711/14 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 932/1526]
Revan (R.) 1711/15 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 933/1527]
Revan (R.) 1711/16 [Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed, taqwīm of the year 935/1529]
Revan (R.) 1711/17 [Yūsuf b. ʿÖmer el-Sāʿatī, taqwīm of the year 937/1531]
Revan (R.) 1711/18 [Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed, taqwīm of the year 956/1549]
Revan (R.) 1711/19 [Necmeddīn b. Seyyid Muḥammed, taqwīm of the year 961/1554]
Revan (R.) 1713 [Mevlānā Kūçek Yezdānbaḫş, Zij-i Mujmal]
Yeni Yazmalar (YY.) 830 [Khiṭābī, Ṭāliʿ-i Mavlūd-i Sulṭān Muḥammed]

The University of Michigan Library

Islamic Manuscripts 794 [Anonymous taqwīm of the year 1037/1628]

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