The Astrologers of the Ottoman Court: When Science Met Statecraft
When Sultan Mehmed IV demanded a reading on the great comet that slashed across the sky in November 1577, his chief astrologer worked day and night without rest. Taqi ad-Din studied the celestial visitor and declared it "an indication of well-being and splendour," predicting a conquest of Persia. Instead, plague swept through parts of the empire. Several important persons died.
That miscalculation would contribute to the destruction of Istanbul's magnificent observatory just three years later. Yet the position of müneccimbaşı – chief court astrologer – endured for another three centuries, a testament to how deeply astronomical and astrological expertise shaped Ottoman governance.
A Position Born from Imperial Ambition
The role of court astrologer existed informally in the early Ottoman period, but it was Sultan Bayezid II who massively expanded, funded, professionalised and institutionalised the position during his reign from 1481 to 1512. This wasn't mere superstition. The Ottoman court recognised that astronomy and astrology – disciplines that weren't clearly separated in the 16th century – represented technical mastery and learning.
These court astrologers were scholars who had studied at a medrese (Muslim theological school) and belonged to the birun dignitaries, whose offices were not in the inner palace. They weren't charlatans or mystics, but educated men proficient in mathematics and astronomical calculation. Some, like Mustafa b. Ali, produced important works in astronomy and geography. Others, like Takiyüddin-i Rasid, founded observatories and made celestial observations that rivalled anything in Europe at the time.
The office itself fell under an unusual chain of command. Chief astrologers were palace employees and part of the retinue of the chief doctor, who reported to the silahtar ağa (sword bearer of the sultan). As such, they were appointed and dismissed by the chief doctor.
Over the empire's lifetime, thirty-seven people occupied the position of chief astrologer. The final holder, Hüseyin Hilmi Efendi, died in 1924, and no replacement was appointed as the Ottoman Empire itself dissolved into history.
The Work: Calendars, Comets and Crucial Hours
What exactly did a müneccimbaşı do? The answer reveals much about pre-modern governance and the Ottoman state's sophisticated approach to timekeeping.
Beginning from the 16th century, chief astrologers compiled calendars, imsakiyes (timetables for fasting hours) and zayiçes (astronomical tables for horoscopes) for the palace and upper level Ottoman dignitaries. These weren't simple date lists. Ottoman calendars were elaborate documents containing astronomical data, religious feast days from multiple traditions, and astrological predictions.
The müneccimbaşı presented the calendar for the next year on Nawruz, the day of the vernal equinox, during a ceremony called nevruziyye to the sultan, the grand-vizier and other dignitaries. This ritual underscored how fundamental chronology was to Ottoman society.
But calendars represented just one facet of the role. Chief astrologers calculated the most auspicious hour for events like the ascension to the throne, a declaration of war, birth, marriage, launching of ships, letting the royal horses out to pasture and the sultan's transfer to his winter or summer residence.
These weren't trivial matters. When the Süleymaniye Mosque – one of Istanbul's most magnificent structures – was built, the moment its foundations began being built was picked by astrologers as being auspicious, demonstrating the extent to which the state used astrology for policy making.
Personal advice on optimum timing and horoscopes were given to sultans for marriage, travelling, wearing new garments, children's education and, of course, childbirth.
The müneccimbaşı also served as the empire's astronomical watchdog. Chief astrologers monitored events like the passage of comets, earthquakes, fires, and important astronomical phenomena like solar and lunar eclipses, reporting them to the palace together with their commentary.
Scary. That's real power – the authority to interpret celestial signs that might predict imperial fortune or disaster.
The Observatory Experiment
Perhaps no story better illustrates the precarious position of Ottoman court astrologers than the rise and fall of Taqi ad-Din's Istanbul observatory.
Born in Damascus around 1526, Taqi ad-Din became chief astronomer to the Sultan in 1571, replacing Mustafa ibn Ali al-Muwaqqit. He convinced Sultan Murad III that the astronomical tables of Central Asian astronomer Ulugh Bey were outdated and unable to meet the needs of the time, and therefore new observations were necessary.
The Sultan approved, and construction was completed in 1577, at nearly the same time as Tycho Brahe's observatory at Uraniborg. It consisted of two large structures perched on a hill above Tophane on the Bosphorus, offering a wide view of the night sky. One building housed the library and living quarters; the smaller contained Taqi ad-Din's instruments.
The sophistication of these instruments matched anything in contemporary Europe. Taqi ad-Din invented a mechanical "observational clock" to produce astronomical catalogues more accurate than those of his contemporaries, Tycho Brahe and Nicolaus Copernicus. He was also the first astronomer to employ decimal point notation in his observations rather than the sexagesimal fractions used by his predecessors.
Then came the comet of 1577. And the plague. And the political consequences.
In order to prevent the observatory's further use for astrological purposes, religious authorities successfully sought its destruction. It was demolished entirely on 22 January 1580, only eleven short years after the imperial edict which called for its construction.
The destruction is sometimes held up as proof of Ottoman scientific backwardness, but the reality was more complex. Astrology did not always have an easy time, as its importance depended on the times and the ruler. The observatory's fate reflected political and religious tensions, not a wholesale rejection of astronomical inquiry.
When Sultans Stopped Believing
Not every Ottoman sultan embraced astrology with equal fervour. The position's influence waxed and waned depending on the ruler's personal inclinations.
Sultan Abdulhamid I (1774-1789) belonged to a category who dismissed astrology as contrary to both religious principles and reason. When told by his grand vizier that astronomers had given two different auspicious times, the records suggest his scepticism.
His successor shared this view. Sultan Selim III (1789-1807) famously replied when asked to decide between two astrologically auspicious times: "Every day is the day of God Almighty. I have no belief in the stars. I place my trust in God, so let the navy sail on whichever day you deem appropriate." Yet even Selim, when presented with a further horoscope, allowed tradition to prevail, writing: "Since it has become the custom, let it be done accordingly."
This tension – between personal scepticism and institutional tradition – characterised the later Ottoman period. Rationalist sultans might dismiss astrological predictions privately, but the office of müneccimbaşı remained embedded in palace protocol.
The Scholar-Astrologer: Ahmed Dede
Of all the Ottoman court astrologers, Ahmed Dede Müneccimbaşı stands out not only for his astrological work but for his contributions to history and letters.
Born in Salonica sometime in the first half of the 17th century, Ahmed was educated at the Mevlevi dervish lodge in Kasımpaşa, spending fifteen years under Sheikh Halil Dede's supervision. After studies in astronomy and astrology, he became müneccimbaşi (court astrologer) for Sultan Mehmed IV in 1665.
In 1675/6, the Sultan raised him to the rank of musahib-i padishahi ("imperial companion"), signifying his admittance to the innermost circle of the court. This elevated position reflected both his astrological expertise and his broader scholarly achievements.
Ahmed Dede's main work, Jāmiʿ al-duwal ("The Compendium of Nations"), was a universal history starting with Adam and ending in 1672. Written in Arabic at the behest of Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa, it proved particularly valuable for the history of medieval Muslim dynasties around the Caspian Sea.
When Mehmed IV was deposed in November 1687, Ahmed Dede fell from grace. He was exiled to Egypt, where his adopted son Moralı Hasan Pasha served as governor. After some time he moved to Mecca, where he became sheikh of the local Mevlevi lodge. He spent seven years in Medina before being recalled to Istanbul in 1700 to resume his position as chief astrologer. Old age led him to decline, and he returned to Mecca, where he died on 27 February 1702.
The Technical Reality Behind the Stars
Modern readers might dismiss Ottoman court astrology as mere superstition, but that misses the point entirely.
The distinction between astrology and astronomy wasn't so clear cut in Ottoman times. Patronage of astrology also meant the expansion of things that we would consider science today. Munajjims possessed technical proficiency in mathematics and astronomy, which they applied in their practice of astrology.
These men weren't fortune tellers. They were the most mathematically skilled individuals in the empire, capable of complex calculations and astronomical observations. Until 1800, calendars were prepared according to the Ulugh Bey Zic (astronomical table); after this date they were prepared according to the Jacques Cassini Zic. This required genuine astronomical knowledge and mathematical sophistication.
Moreover, institutions like the muvakkithanes (office of the timekeeper for prayers) depended on the chief astrologers. Chief astrologers like Hüseyin Hüsnü and Sadullah Efendi also administered the Mekteb-i Fenn-i Nücum (Astronomical School).
In practical terms, these scholars were simultaneously religious officials, educators, timekeepers and scientific observers. They inhabited multiple worlds at once.
Legacy and Modern Understanding
For historians at Wilfred Hazelwood and other research organisations examining Ottoman history, the müneccimbaşı represents a fascinating case study in how expertise operated within pre-modern governance structures.
The position survived from the late 15th or early 16th century until 1924, when the last chief astrologer died and no replacement was appointed. That's roughly four centuries of institutional continuity, spanning the empire's rise and fall.
Recent scholarship, particularly A. Tunç Şen's work "Forgotten Experts," has rehabilitated the reputation of Ottoman court astrologers. These individuals served the Ottoman court with their expertise in mathematical, astronomical, and astrological sciences, distinguishing themselves from other occult practitioners and esoteric specialists.
Their work wasn't prophecy claiming spiritual weight, but methods of prediction developed from data and patterns elaborated through technical and scientific writings.
These eminent star gazers would publish their annual calendars at the beginning of each year in March on the Spring Equinox when the Sun entered Aries. They would identify auspicious and inauspicious dates and advise on how ill fortune could be avoided.
At the end of their calendars, having set out their forecasts, they would add 'Allah u alem' meaning 'God knows'. This was the equivalent of a disclaimer affirming that the müneccims' predictions might have been wrong and it was only God that could know the truth.
Even the most confident court astrologer maintained a degree of epistemic humility.
Conclusion: Between Heaven and Earth
The story of Ottoman court astrologers reveals how expertise, power and knowledge intertwined in pre-modern statecraft. These weren't mystics or charlatans, but highly educated scholars navigating the treacherous intersection of science, religion and politics.
When Taqi ad-Din's comet prediction failed, it didn't just cost him his observatory. It demonstrated the occupational hazard of advising sultans on the future – you're only as good as your last forecast. Yet the institution survived that debacle and dozens of others, precisely because it served genuine administrative needs.
The müneccimbaşı calculated prayer times, prepared calendars, determined auspicious moments for state ceremonies, monitored celestial phenomena and educated the next generation of astronomical scholars. Whether their astrological predictions held merit matters less than understanding why educated, rational administrators considered such expertise essential.
In the end, perhaps the most revealing detail is this: even Sultan Selim III, who declared "I have no belief in the stars," ultimately wrote "Since it has become the custom, let it be done accordingly."
Custom, tradition, institutional authority – these forces often matter more than personal belief. The Ottoman court astrologers understood that truth better than most, their eyes trained on the heavens whilst keeping both feet firmly planted in the palace's political terrain.
