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have been lost, similar lists survive for other artisan parades of the time. These

show that Evliya’s account, while sometimes exaggerated, in many respects

mirrors seventeenth-century realities quite well.

Moreover special ‘festival books’ (surname) sometimes recorded the cele-

brations. In two cases these books were lavishly illustrated, but even the more

mundane texts provide evidence concerning the different guilds participating

in sultanic festivals.

Apparently the relatively detailed ofﬁcial records of arti-

san participation, which formed the source basis for the more literary texts,

were meant to serve as precedents in the hands of ofﬁcials organising celebra-

tions at a later date.

Thus the woollen-cloth-sellers of Istanbul in 1675–6 had

contributed to Mehmed IV’s celebrations along with the so-called merchants

of the covered market (bedesten), and members of these guilds were required

to follow the same routine in 1720.

Apart from the gifts to the ruler which formed part of the ritual of artisan

processions, craftsmen were required to build ﬂoats, often quite elaborate,

illustrating the activities of their respective guilds. In many cases these three-

dimensional scenes, drawn on wagons or carried on the shoulders of porters,

featured miniature reproductions of the workshops in which the craftsmen

in question plied their respective trades. Even if one allows for stylisation and

simpliﬁcation – and transportation on Istanbul’s narrow streets did consti-

tute a limiting factor – these ﬂoats provide some of the rare visual evidence

concerning the appearance of pre-nineteenth-century craftsmen’s shops. This

was an opportunity to emphasise the guildsmen’s skill, as producing a shoe or

sewing a vest while precariously balanced on a moving cart must have been

a challenge in itself. Moreover, if Evliya C¸ elebi’s account is reasonably realis-

tic, guilds seem to have used this opportunity to emphasise their honourable

status by references to their holy patrons.

Studies of Ottoman festivities to date have usually limited themselves to

the shares of various performing arts in the festive Gesamtkunstwerk, or else to

the philological and art historical study of individual surnames.

As a result,

the debates among specialists of European early modern festivals have but

rarely attracted the attention of Ottomanists. Yet some of these discussions are

43 Esin Atıl, ‘The Story of an Eighteenth-Century Ottoman Festival’, Muqarnas, an Annual

on Islamic Art and Architecture: Essays in Honor of Oleg Grabar 10 (1993), 181–200; Gisela

Proh

azka-Eisl, Das S

urn

ame-i H

umayun: Die Wiener Handschrift in Transkription, mit Kom-

mentar und Indices versehen (Istanbul, 1995); Nurhan Atasoy, 1582 Surname-i h

umayun: An

Imperial Celebration (Istanbul, 1997).

Istanbul Bab Mahkemesi 124, fol. 204a(1132/1720).

45 Metin And, Osmanlı s¸enliklerinde T

urk sanatları (Ankara, 1983).

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Guildsmen and handicraft producers

of importance for the historian of Ottoman craftsmen as well, particularly the

question whether festivals constitute a means of (temporarily) palliating social

conﬂict. Or else, the festive locale may be viewed as a site on whichpolitical and

social contradictions are acted out. Presumably artisan parades were organised

by the Ottoman administration as a means of ensuring the loyalty of its urban

subjects, who were supposed to acknowledge the legitimacy of the ruler by

contributing to his gloriﬁcation. That such parades were sometimes made to

take place in the stressful times preceding a campaign rather conﬁrms this

assumption. However, it is possible that artisans did not always go along with

ofﬁcial policy, and invented their own scenarios. Or at the very least, they may

have used the venue of a festive parade to act out inter-guild rivalries.

Guild ofﬁcials

We are only beginning to understand the extent to which Ottoman guild

leadership evolved during the seventeenth, eighteenth and early nineteenth

centuries. This task is not made any easier by the fact that interregional

and inter-urban diversity was considerable.

It has been suggested that at

least in seventeenth-century Istanbul, the heads (s¸eyhs) of the guilds, whose

ofﬁce retained considerable religious connotations from its late medieval past,

were eclipsed by the keth

udas and yi

gitbas¸ıs, whose responsibilities were purely

administrative.

Only in the case of the tanners did the s¸eyhs of the Ahi Evren

tekkesi in Kırs¸ehir maintain their prestige throughout the eighteenth century,

and tanners’ guilds throughout the empire wrote to the Kırs¸ehir s¸eyhsinorder

to have their ofﬁcers conﬁrmed.

On the other hand, Cairo guilds were normally headed by a s¸eyh, who did

not, however, claim the religious prestige seemingly attached to this title in

the central Ottoman provinces. In the Cairo context, a s¸eyh was not always the

wealthiest man of his guild, nor did his example necessarily determine the

decisions of the masters under his jurisdiction. When it came to joining

this or that military/paramilitary corps, a s¸eyh would most probably be the

ﬁrst member of his organisation to take this momentous step. But ordinary

46 Marcus Koller, ‘Handwerk und Handwerker in Istanbul im 18. Jahrhundert’, unpubl. MA

thesis, Ludwig-Maximilians-University (1998); Aynural,

Istanbul de

girmenleri ve fırınları;

Suraiya Faroqhi and Randi Deguilhem (eds.), Crafts and Craftsmen of the Middle East:

Fashioning the Individual in the Muslim Mediterranean (London, 2005).

47 Mantran, Istanbul,pp.352–7.

48 Franz Taeschner, ‘Ein Zunft-Ferman Mustafas III.’, in Z

unfte und Bruderschaften im Islam:

Texte zur Geschichte der Futuwwa (Zurich and Munich, 1979), pp. 550–6.

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guildsmen might sign up for a different corps, rather than following their

s¸eyh.

In seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Istanbul, and probably in other

Turkish-speaking cities as well, the daily responsibility of running the guild

lay with the keth

uda. A guild master attained this ofﬁce by a complex process,

the ﬁrst step of which in many cases involved ensuring at least the passive con-

sent of his fellow guildsmen. Recording the candidacy in the kadi’s ofﬁce was

the next step; the judge, or his deputy (naib), would then inform the cen-

tral government of the application. Subsequently, a specialist scribe wrote an

endorsing petition, based upon this letter from the kadi’s ofﬁce. The grand

vizier would order an investigation, and if no impediment was found, an order

(buyuruldu) was issued in the name of this high ofﬁcial. In turn, the buyuruldu

formed the base for an order to issue the relevant appointment document.

This last item ﬁnally conﬁrmed the keth

uda’s tenure, but did not guarantee a

lengthy period in ofﬁce. At least in eighteenth-century Bursa, it was not rare

for masters to complain of the failings of their keth

uda to the kadi’s court,

and suggest a replacement. Apparently the courts often acted according to the

masters’ wishes, even though the complaints submitted might be quite triv-

ial. This happened even in instances in which the masters were non-Muslims

wishing to change their Muslim keth

uda. Rudeness, old age or the failure to be

actively engaged in the trade at issue all constituted valid reasons for deposing

a guild ofﬁcer.

Those keth

udas who had farmed their ofﬁce, or who had secured appoint-

ment by foregoing the payment of an ofﬁcial salary which otherwise would

have been their due, may have had greater security of tenure. It was not rare

to ﬁnd a keth

uda renouncing his position for the beneﬁt of someone else. In

such cases, the keth

uda in question obviously possessed some kind of right to

his position, whether by purchase or for other reasons. Where this was the

case, guild masters should have found it more difﬁcult to inﬂuence the selec-

tion of their keth

uda, especially if a keth

udaship had actually been purchased

from the central administration. For, in that case, the new candidate needed

to possess enough wealth to indemnify his predecessor, and in addition often

to pay a supplementary sum of money to the sultan’s treasury. But even so the

turnover among keth

udas remained substantial, and sometimes we hear that

dissatisfaction among the masters had been the cause of a guild ofﬁcer’s res-

ignation. However, the negotiations and power struggles that doubtless went

49 Raymond, Artisans, vol. II, p. 666.

50 Halil Inalcik, ‘The Appointment Procedure of a Guild Warden (Kethud

a)’, Festschrift

Andreas Tietze, Wiener Zeitschrift f

ur die Kunde des Morgenlandes (1986), 135–42.

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Guildsmen and handicraft producers

on in such cases for the most part remain obscure, and in particular we do

not know very much about the evolution of the keth

uda’s ofﬁce over time. But

as a working hypothesis, we can assume that, by and large, his position with

respect to the guild masters was strengthened in the course of the eighteenth

and early nineteenth centuries.

While in the Ottoman central lands, the devotional rituals evolved by late

medieval ahis were taken over by many guilds, the religious component in sev-

enteenth or eighteenth-century guild organisation should not be overrated.

There were quite a few guilds with both Muslim and non-Muslim members,

which meant that religious and communitarian allegiances remained distinct

from the loyalties binding masters to their guilds. Thus in 1720 a list of bakers

operating in Istanbul contained Muslim, Armenian and a few Greek masters.

Jewish bakers were not listed, which may have been due to the fact that bread

baked according to Jewish ritual would have been more expensive than ‘ordi-

nary’ bread, and therefore of no interest to non-Jewish customers.

In Cairo,

many goldsmiths were Copts, but this did not mean that no Muslims practised

this craft. Admittedly, as Cairo guildsmen were often organised according to

the location of their workplaces, practising the same craft did not automati-

cally imply membership in the same guild.

In this respect as in others, the

differences between cities and regions seem to have been considerable.

While the keth

udas of mixed guilds were always Muslims, and we also

ﬁnd Muslim keth

udas heading non-Muslim guilds, non-Muslim guild mem-

bers often were represented by a non-Muslim yi

gitbas¸ı. It is too early to decide

whether all keth

udas were Muslims, regardless of the religion of the guild mem-

bership. Unfortunately, little is known about the day-to-day activities of these

lower-level functionaries. Association of Muslim workmen and non-Muslim

masters within a workshop might occur; but this was strongly disapproved

of by some Muslim religious authorities, because a worker was expected to

show respect to his employer. If Evliya C¸ elebi is correct, however, this view was

not shared by Sultan Selim I; for his son, the later S

uleyman the Magniﬁcent,

was supposedly apprenticed to a Greek goldsmith of Trabzon, and obliged

to submit to a punishment his master had decreed.

In Bursa an opinion by

51 Abd

ulbaki G

olpınarlı, ‘S¸eyh Seyyid Gaybio

glu S¸eyh Seyyid H

useyin’in f

uvvetnamesi’,

Istanbul

Universitesi

Iktisat Fak

ultesi Mecmuası 17, 1–4 (1955–6), 27–72; Mantran, Istanbul,

p. 366.

Istanbul Bab Mahkemesi 124, fols. 151b–152a, 162a(1133/1720–1). I owe this suggestion to

Minna Rozen.

53 Raymond, Artisans, vol. I, p. 228.

54 Heath Lowry, ‘S

uleyman’s Formative Years in the City of Trabzon: Their Impact on

the Future Sultan and the City’, in S

uleyman the Second and his Time, ed. Halil Inalcik

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a jurisconsult (fetva) was recorded which forbade Muslim velvet-makers to

work for Christian employers (1595). As the people who had solicited this opin-

ion were velvet-makers themselves, competition for workmen, in addition to

religiously motivated propriety, may have been at the root of the case.

Changing organisational features: the gedik

When comparing the level of organisation in Ottoman guilds and the manner

in which it changed over time, we can base ourselves primarily on ﬁndings con-

cerning Cairo from the late seventeenth to the end of the eighteenth centuries,

twomonographs concerning seventeenth-century Istanbul and a further study

dealing with seventeenth-century Bursa.

Some work has been done on the

towns of present-day Bulgaria. Ankara and Konya have been covered by a

monograph dealing with the years around 1600, while an unpublished disser-

tation discusses Tokat at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the

nineteenth centuries.

Where the cities of Syria are concerned, information

can be gleaned from the sizeable number of urban monographs undertaken

during the last thirty years or so. But as in many cases there are great gaps

in the primary sources, Ottoman guilds have been covered in a rather patchy

fashion. Such generalisations as have been attempted here therefore apply

mainly to Istanbul cum Bursa, on the one hand, and to Cairo, on the other.

The crucial topic in the history of late Ottoman guilds is the gedik (kedek in

Syrian sources). This term has two distinct meanings: on the one hand, the

right to follow one’s trade in a given locale; and, on the other, the implements

and raw materials needed to pursue the trade in question. Both kinds of gedik

could be inherited by the sons of a master if they were competent to exercise

the craft in question. If no such successor was available, the oldest journeyman

often had a right to the gedik against payment of a sum of money. Gedikswere

thus alienable only within the relevant guild. When the term gedik is used in

the sense of ‘the right to exercise one’s craft in a given place’ we normally

have to deduce this meaning from the context. By contrast, when the mere

and Cemal Kafadar (Istanbul, 1993), pp. 21–36,atpp.32–3. Presumably the point of this

arrangement was to teach the young prince humility toward his elders.

55 Dalsar,

Ipekc¸ilik,p.321.

56 Mantran, Istanbul; Raymond, Artisans; Gerber, Bursa;Yi,Guild Dynamics in Seventeenth-

Century Istanbul: Fluidity and Leverage (Leiden, 2004).

57 Nicolaj Todorov, La ville balkanique aux XVe –XIXe si

ecles: d

eveloppement socio-

economique

et d

emographique (Bucharest, 1980) (with strong emphasis on the eighteenth century);

Ozer Ergenc¸, Osmanlı klasik d

onemi kent tarihc¸ili

gine katkı, XVI. y

uzyıldaAnkaraveKonya

(Ankara, 1995), pp. 89–108;Y

uksel Duman, ‘Notables, Textiles and Copper in Ottoman

To k at 1750–1840’, Ph.D. thesis, Binghamton University (1998), pp. 216ff.

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Guildsmen and handicraft producers

combination of implements and raw materials is at issue, the meaning is often

explained in eighteenth-century ofﬁcial documents. We can thus assume that

the second use of the term was the less familiar one.

In seventeenth-century Ottoman records, and even in texts from the early

1700s, references to gediks are quite rare. When, as we have seen, Istanbul

bakers selling underweight bread were to be punished by the conﬁscation of

their implements and shop inventories, and the sale of these items to other

bakers on behalf of the imperial treasury, there was no reference to the loss

of their gediks(1720). It is hard to imagine that in this context, the term could

have been avoided if it had been applicable at that time. Therefore in this

important Istanbul craft, gediks probably were not of major importance in

the early eighteenth century. In the case of seventeenth-century Bursa, guild

organisation seems to have been even looser; apparently the main criterion

for membership was the fact that a master paid his taxes along with his fellow

guildsmen. In the course of their active lives, certain craftsmen might even

belong to more than one guild.

This sort of ﬂexibility obviously became

impossible once the exercise of a given craft was normally tied to the holding

of a gedik.

Even in the sixteenth century, established craftsmen had attempted to make

entry into their crafts difﬁcult to newcomers.

But these attempts probably

became even more frequent in the second half of the eighteenth century, after

the prosperity that many craft sectors had enjoyed between the 1720s and

the 1760s ended abruptly with the Russo-Ottoman war of 1768–74.

Thus

it has been suggested that growing demands for rent on the part of pious

foundations, which, as we have seen, so often owned the shops occupied by

Istanbul craftsmen, constituted a major reason for gedik formation.

With the

support of urban kadis, craftsmen thus supposedly developed a new form of

property, alienable only within a small circle of people. By limiting demand

for shops and workshops, this arrangement made rent hikes more difﬁcult,

albeit at the price of limiting labour mobility. But then all processes enhancing

labour mobility always had seemed rather threatening to Ottoman (and other)

guildsmen. Moreover, the frequent holding of spaces in collective workshops,

discussed above, along with the intensiﬁed mutual control which this entailed,

may also have furthered entry restrictions. Whenever the exercise of a given

58 Gerber, Bursa,pp.35–7. 59 Inalcık, ‘Capital Formation’, pp. 116–17.

60 Mehmet Genc¸, ‘L’Economie ottomane et la guerre au XVIIIe si

ecle’, Turcica 27 (1995),

177–96.

61 Engin Akarlı, ‘Gedik: Implements, Mastership, Shop Usufruct, and Monopoly among

Istanbul Artisans, 1750–1850’, Wissenschaftskolleg-Jahrbuch (1984–5), 223–32.

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suraiya n. faroqhi

craft was limited to a certain khan or collective workshop, the guild could

easily exclude those masters without a ‘place’ in this facility.

But apart from the key institution of the gedik, guilds of the eighteenth

century, at least in certain localities, developed other devices promoting social

cohesion. In both Istanbul and Bursa, we now often hear of pious foundations

instituted by guilds, a phenomenon which had not been much in evidence in

the sixteenth or even the seventeenth centuries. Such foundations were meant

to sponsor the recital of a religious poem (mevlid) and/or ﬁnance a common

meal of the guild masters. At least in Bursa during the late eighteenth century,

such foundations held all their assets in money, which was lent out at a ﬁxed

interest (usually 15 per cent), and for which the foundation administrator

owed a regular account to the kadi. In this city, many of the more important

guilds had instituted pious foundations of this type, protected against the

rampant inﬂation of the times by recurring capital injections. It is likely that

members of the founding guild had the right of ﬁrst refusal when the relevant

foundation offered loans. But often enough, craftsmen from outside the guild

also borrowed money from this source, so that guild foundations helped to

establish links between the craftsmen of different guilds. This observation

is important, because it has sometimes been assumed that the loyalties of

Ottoman townsmen were limited to their religious community, guild and

quarter, without any overarching concern for the town as a whole.

The results of recent historiography: a combination

of different guild roles

In the perspective of the ﬁrst researchers concerned with Ottoman guilds,

these organisations possessed close links to the dervish orders, and also to the

urban brotherhoods known in fourteenth-century Anatolia as the ahis. This

view has not disappeared from the agenda, but given the relative lack of novel

documentation, it is now more important in Turkish political discourse than

in scholarly research. In the former, the ahis have quite often been instru-

mentalised in order to promote religiously motivated solidarities, as opposed

to class conﬂict. Contradicting this emphasis on religion and artisan morality,

certain historians have preferred to regard the guilds as mainly a means of state

control.

Such an approach has been facilitated by the fact that this aspect of

62 Suraiya Faroqhi, ‘Ottoman Guilds in the Eighteenth Century: The Bursa Case’, in Making

a Living in the Ottoman Lands, 1480–1820, ed. Suraiya Faroqhi (Istanbul, 1995), pp. 93–112.

63 Gabriel Baer, ‘Guilds in Middle Eastern History’, in Studies in the Economic and Social

History of the Middle East, ed. Michael Cook (Oxford, 1970), pp. 11–30,atp.29.

354

Guildsmen and handicraft producers

guild activity is by far the best documented; thus service to the state continues

to play an important role in recent monographs as well.

However, perhaps in consequence of the growing emphasis on ‘civil society’

in the political discourse ever since the 1980s, researchers dealing with Ottoman

guilds have ceased to view them exclusively as ‘tools of the state’. Moreover,

some Ottomanists have become concerned with comparative history, and are

therefore less inclined to stress the sui generis aspects of the Ottoman polity,

including the notion of an Ottoman state whose unprecedented power stiﬂed

all social development.

Granted the – undeniably – strong position of the Ottoman state, this new

perspective allows us to see artisans who did try to defend their interests

within the guild framework. The masters attempted to control access to raw

materials, workplaces and auxiliary labour. This defence of masters’ interests

almost never expressed itself in urban rebellions against the power of mer-

chants, contrary to the movements of late medieval craftsmen in Europe.

Yet Ottoman artisans certainly did participate in popular movements against

provincial governors, viziers and – upon occasion – even sultans.On the basis of

these observations, some contemporary historians have come to view the day-

to-day manoeuvring of eighteenth-century Ottoman guildsmen as so many

attempts to wield the ‘weapons of the weak’. Present-day anthropologists have

shown us that craftsmen or peasants may become quite expert at manipulating

for their own purposes the structures which the powerful of their society have

instituted in order to better control them.

In the present text, we have tried

to look at the condition of Ottoman artisans from such a perspective.

64 James Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven, 1985).

355

Declines and revivals in

textile production

suraiya n. faroqhi

Textiles as indicators

In the Ottoman Empire as in most pre-industrial societies, the manufacture

of textiles constituted one of the most signiﬁcant, and also best documented,

of industrial activities. In consequence, by discussing silk, wool and cotton

manufactures we may shed some light on Ottoman craft activity as a whole.

Internaltradein manufacturedgoods waslargelya trade in textilesand, to some

extent, Ottoman fabrics were also exported. Thus textile production furnished

occasions for economic integration in a way that was true of few other crafts.

However, a caveat is in order: in the 1960s and 1970s, historians writing the

history of a single textile tended to assume that the growth and decline of the

relevant industry mirrored Ottoman craft activity as a whole.

A comparison of

the trajectories of different handicrafts in medieval and early modern Europe

has, however, shown that such industries typically follow a parabola curve: an

impressive expansion is usually followedby an equally rapid decline.

Industrial

collapse may be caused by the competition of rival production centres, but

also by wars, excessive taxation and other non-economic factors, which may

originate both within and without the state at issue.

Thus it cannot be assumed that an industry, once established, will last

for centuries. From that point of view, the growth and eventual decline of

Ottoman manufactures conforms to an accustomed pattern, and the fate of

a single industry should not be taken to reﬂect the dynamic of the totality.

Only when no new centres of urban or rural production develop to replace

1 Murat C¸ izakc¸a, ‘Price History and the Bursa Silk Industry: A Study in Ottoman Industrial

Decline (1550–1650)’, Journal of Economic History 40, 3 (1980), 533–50; Benjamin Braude,

‘International Competition and Domestic Cloth in the Ottoman Empire 1500–1650:A

Study in Undevelopment’, Review 2, 3 (1979), 437–54.

2 Fernand Braudel, Civilization mat

erielle,

economie et capitalisme, XVe–XVIIIe si

ecle, 3 vols.

(Paris, 1979), vol. II, pp. 268–9; Domenico Sella, ‘The Rise and Fall of the Venetian Woollen

Industry’, in Crisis and Change in the Venetian Economy in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth

Centuries, ed. Brian Pullan (London, 1968), pp. 106–26.

356

Declines and revivals in textile production

the defunct ones can we conclude that the state or region studied has really

suffered a decline. However, since Ottoman documentation tends to highlight

urban as opposed to rural craftsmen, determining whether a given region as

a whole did in fact suffer deindustrialisation may not be a simple task. What

artisans of the larger towns lost may well have been the gain of their rural

competitors.

Primary sources on textile manufacture

Quantitative data originating from within the Ottoman polity are all but lim-

ited to tax-farming contracts and the correspondence leading thereto. For the

textile industry, stamp taxes (damga) are especially relevant, but in the case

of silk, weighing dues (mizan-ı harir) are also of importance.

Mohair cloth

production can be measured on the basis of a tax levied on the presses (cendere)

which gave the ﬁnished fabric its attractive sheen. Taxes levied from dye-

houses (boyahane), present not only in towns but sometimes also in villages,

constitute a valuable source of numerical data on both urban and rural textile

production.

Where the dyeing of wool (and, to a lesser degree, of cotton) is

concerned, data on alum mines also serve as valuable indicators, as alum was

an indispensable ingredient in this process.

Until 1695 the Ottoman ﬁnancial administration concluded short-term con-

tracts with tax-farmers, often of three years’ duration. However, if a higher

bidder emerged at any time, the ofﬁciating tax-farmer might need to relin-

quish his contract, or else make up the difference to the sultan’s treasury.

Assuming that prospective tax-farmers had some advance information on the

productivity of the revenue source they intended to take over, the amounts

of money paid for the right to collect dye-house dues or stamp taxes should

indicate whether the relevant textile industry was ﬂourishing or not.

Or else,

whenever customs registers are available in the Ottoman archives we may

glean some information on the importation of textile ﬁbres, especially Iranian

silk.

After 1695, the frequency of lifetime tax-farms (malik

ane) makes the data

3 Murat C¸ izakc¸a, ‘Incorporation of the Middle East into the European World Economy’,

Review 8, 3 (1985), 353–78.

4 Suraiya Faroqhi, Towns and Townsmen of Ottoman Anatolia: Trade, Crafts and Food Production

in an Urban Setting (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 125–55.

5 Suraiya Faroqhi, ‘Alum Production and Alum Trade in the Ottoman Empire (about 1560–

1830)’, Wiener Zeitschrift f

ur die Kunde des Morgenlandes 71 (1979), 153–75.

6 C¸ izakc¸a, ‘Incorporation’.

7 Nes¸e Erim, ‘Trade, Traders and the State in Eighteenth-Century Erzurum’, New Perspec-

tivesonTurkey5–6 (1991), 123–50.

357