Greek Orthodox Music in Ottoman Istanbul
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Greek Orthodox Music in Ottoman Istanbul


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During the late Ottoman period (1856–1922), a time of contestation about imperial policy toward minority groups, music helped the Ottoman Greeks in Istanbul define themselves as a distinct cultural group. A part of the largest non-Muslim minority within a multi-ethnic and multi-religious empire, the Greek Orthodox educated elite engaged in heated discussions about their cultural identity, Byzantine heritage, and prospects for the future, at the heart of which were debates about the place of traditional liturgical music in a community that was confronting modernity and westernization. Merih Erol draws on archival evidence from ecclesiastical and lay sources dealing with understandings of Byzantine music and history, forms of religious chanting, the life stories of individual cantors, and other popular and scholarly sources of the period. Audio examples keyed to the text are available online.

1. The City's Greek Orthodox: An Overview
2. Liturgical Music and the Middle Class
3. Confronting the Musical Past
4. The Music Debate and Tradition
5. Music and National Identity
6. Singing and Political Allegiance



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Date de parution 07 décembre 2015
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EAN13 9780253018427
Langue English
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Ethnomusicology Multimedia

During the late Ottoman period (1856–1922), a time of contestation about imperial policy toward minority groups, music helped the Ottoman Greeks in Istanbul define themselves as a distinct cultural group. A part of the largest non-Muslim minority within a multi-ethnic and multi-religious empire, the Greek Orthodox educated elite engaged in heated discussions about their cultural identity, Byzantine heritage, and prospects for the future, at the heart of which were debates about the place of traditional liturgical music in a community that was confronting modernity and westernization. Merih Erol draws on archival evidence from ecclesiastical and lay sources dealing with understandings of Byzantine music and history, forms of religious chanting, the life stories of individual cantors, and other popular and scholarly sources of the period. Audio examples keyed to the text are available online.

1. The City's Greek Orthodox: An Overview
2. Liturgical Music and the Middle Class
3. Confronting the Musical Past
4. The Music Debate and Tradition
5. Music and National Identity
6. Singing and Political Allegiance

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Ethnomusicology Multimedia
Ethnomusicology Multimedia (EM) is a collaborative publishing program, developed with funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, to identify and publish first books in ethnomusicology, accompanied by supplemental audiovisual materials online at .
A collaboration of the presses at Indiana and Temple universities, EM is an innovative, entrepreneurial, and cooperative effort to expand publishing opportunities for emerging scholars in ethnomusicology and to increase audience reach by using common resources available to the presses through support from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Each press acquires and develops EM books according to its own profile and editorial criteria.
EM s most innovative features are its web-based components, which include a password-protected Annotation Management System (AMS) where authors can upload peer-reviewed audio, video, and static image content for editing and annotation and key the selections to corresponding references in their texts; a public site for viewing the web content, , with links to publishers websites for information about the accompanying books; and the Avalon Media System, which hosts video and audio content for the website. The AMS and website were designed and built by the Institute for Digital Arts and Humanities at Indiana University. Avalon was designed and built by the libraries at Indiana University and Northwestern University with support from the Institute of Museum and Library Services. The Indiana University Libraries hosts the website and the Indiana University Archives of Traditional Music (ATM) provides archiving and preservation services for the EM online content.
Nation and Community in the Era of Reform
Merih Erol
Indiana University Press
Bloomington and Indianapolis
This book is a publication of
Indiana University Press
Office of Scholarly Publishing
Herman B Wells Library 350
1320 East 10th Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47405 USA
2015 by Merih Erol
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The Association of American University Presses Resolution on Permissions constitutes the only exception to this prohibition.
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ISBN 978-0-253-01833-5 (cloth)
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1 2 3 4 5 20 19 18 17 16 15
To my dear parents
And in memory of Vangelis Kechriotis
Ethnomusicology Multimedia Series Preface
A Note on Pronunciation and Transliteration
1 The City s Greek Orthodox: An Overview
2 Liturgical Music and the Middle Class
3 Confronting the Musical Past
4 The Music Debate and Tradition
5 Music and National Identity
6 Singing and Political Allegiance
Ethnomusicology Multimedia Series Preface
Guide to Online Media Examples
Each of the audio, video, or still-image media examples listed below is associated with specific passages in this book, and each example has been assigned a unique Persistent Uniform Resource Locator, or PURL. The PURL identifies a specific audio, video, or still-image media example on the Ethnomusicology Multimedia website, . Within the text of the book, a PURL number in parentheses functions like a citation and immediately follows the text to which it refers (e.g., PURL 3.1). The numbers following the acronym PURL refer to the chapter in which the media example is found and the number of PURLs contained in that chapter. For example, PURL 3.1 refers to the first media example found in chapter 3 , PURL 3.2 refers to the second media example found in chapter 3 , and so on.
To access all media associated with this book, readers must first create a free account by going to the Ethnomusicology Multimedia Project website and clicking the Sign In link. Readers will be required to read and electronically sign an End Users License Agreement (EULA) the first time they access a media example on the website. After logging in to the site, there are two ways to access and play back audio, video, or still-image media examples. In the Search field, enter the name of the author to be taken to a web page with information about the book and the author as well as a playlist of all media examples associated with the book. To access a specific media example, in the Search field enter the six-digit PURL identifier of the example (the six digits located at the end of the full PURL address below). The reader will be taken to the web page containing that media example, as well as to a playlist of all the other media examples related to the book. Readers of the electronic edition of this book will simply click on the PURL address for each media example; once they have logged in to , this live link will take them directly to the media example on the Ethnomusicology Multimedia website.
List of PURLs
Chapter 2
PURL 2.1 nastase s mera. ( 78 RPM Orfeon-Odeon [1914-1926]. Byzantine Music. The Protopsaltis of the Holy Great Church of Christ Iakovos Nafpliotis . Research and texts by Prof. Dr. Antonios E. Alygizakes. Istanbul: Kalan M zik, 2008.)
PURL 2.2 H seyni a r semai, composed by Zakharia Hanende (eighteenth century). ( Hanende Zaharya. En Chordais Music Ensemble . Istanbul: Kalan M zik, 2005.) Live recording at the Athens Concert Hall in 2000.
PURL 2.3 T n Pagkosmion Doxan (Hymn at the Glory of the stich ra of Vespers in the 1st chos ), composed by Zakharia Hanende. ( Hanende Zaharya. En Chordais Music Ensemble . Istanbul: Kalan M zik, 2005.)
Chapter 3
PURL 3.1 Hymne Chr tienne d Oxyrhynchus (Egypte). Hymn to Trinity from the 3rd/4th c. AD. ( Musique de la Gr ce Antique . Burbank, CA: Harmonia Mundi, 1979.)
Chapter 4
PURL 4.1 Krat ma, chos 4th legetos, composed by Petros Peloponnesios (1730-1778). ( Petros Peloponnesios . Thessaloniki: Music Ensemble En Chordais, 2005.)
Chapter 5
PURL 5.1 Oti s t ra etekes, chos barus. Krat ma from Hymn to the Virgin Mary of Petros Bereketis. ( . 3 . [Monuments of ecclesiastical music: 3 Theotoke Parthene of Petros Bereketis]. Chanted by Thrasuboulos Stanitsas, Research by Manolis K. Hatziyakoumis. Athens: Research and Publications Center, 2001.)
PURL 5.2 Axion estin (enarmonion). ( 78 RPM Orfeon-Odeon [1914-1926]. Byzantine Music. The Protopsaltis of the Holy Great Church of Christ Iakovos Nafpliotis . Research and texts by Prof. Dr. Antonios E. Alygizakes. Istanbul: Kalan M zik, 2008.)
PURL 5.3 1er Hymne Delphique Apollon. ( Musique de la Gr ce Antique . Burbank, CA: Harmonia Mundi, 1979.)
PURL 5.4 Apopsi ta mesanychta (Tonight at midnight), song from Sinasos, in the album Songs of Cappadocia , Friends of the M.F.A., Center for Asia Minor Studies, 2002, sung by Anastasia Chourmouziad , recorded in 1930. (This song is included in Georgios D. Pachtikos s folk-song collection 260 , , , , , , , [1888-1904] [260 Greek folk songs from the mouth of the Greek folk of Asia Minor, Thrace, Macedonia, Epirus and Albania, Greece, Crete, the Aegean Islands, Cyprus, and the coasts of Marmara, collected and notated, 1888-1904].)
I N S EPTEMBER 2000, when I assumed the role of translator between the Greek oud player Christos Tsiamoul s and the Turkish kanun player G ksel Baktagir, who was my kanun teacher, I had no idea this would be the beginning of a dilettante s curiosity about Greek music that would gradually turn into passion for a research topic. Tsiamoul s was visiting Istanbul with a group of nearly twenty students of the music school of Patras, all of whom were excited about visiting K nstantinoupol , the City whose privileged place in the memory of Greeks is beyond doubt. The students appetite for musical scores, CDs, and the diverse instruments of what was called in Greece paradosiak mousik (traditional music) was impressive. At that time, I did not speak a word of Greek; I was translating from Turkish to English and back again between the two musicians who wanted to collaborate for a future concert.
The next spring, the friendships established during this first encounter took me to Athens. This book contains much of the inspiration and enthusiasm fueled by the overwhelming impressions of that first visit, in addition to what I learned from hours spent in various libraries and archives. The first Greek Orthodox service I attended was the liturgy on Holy Thursday at the small eleventh-century Byzantine church Kapnikareas at the center of Athens. No less of a milestone was my joy and pride in learning the Greek alphabet by doing the playful exercise of transliterating Ottoman Turkish maqam names written in Greek characters as I struggled to read the recently published books on traditional music. The magical atmosphere of musical gatherings at friends houses or in the familiar taverns of Athens or, later, in Rethymno during my Erasmus year in Crete, renewed my passion for my topic more than reading any book could have done. Any moments of pessimism and feelings of defeat I had during my research and writing were dissipated by the thought that the publication of this book would be the best thank you to my friends who had nurtured me with music, ideas, and encouragement to pursue the difficult topic that I, a foreigner and a Turk, had chosen. I m sure my interest in this subject seemed incomprehensible to most of them.
This book is a response to a set of practices in the history of the Turkish Republic whose aim has been to create a society with a singular identity (Sunni Muslim and Turkish) and a monolithic culture. These practices had tragic results for the Greek Orthodox population and for other non-Muslim and non-Turkish groups. In the process that began with the Greek-Turkish population exchange of 1923, and especially in the period between 1955 and 1974, thousands of Greek Orthodox had to depart from Turkey, leaving behind what is today a very small community in Istanbul. On another level, this study is timely in these days when the Turkish public has animatedly been discussing its Ottoman past. Under the shadow of nostalgic discourses that unabashedly evoke Ottoman tolerance toward the non-Muslims who lived in the empire, the Janus-faced and inconsistent attitude toward the Christian past history of the land continues. Exploring the contested territory of national identity formation and the complex identities of Ottoman Greek Orthodox Christians in the nineteenth century through the prism of music, this book is a call for a pluralistic society and, more precisely, aims at increasing sensibility both in regard to the issues of ethnic and religious identity in Turkey and to the Christian heritage of the country.
April 18, 2015
T HE WRITING AND publication of this book have been possible thanks to the support of many colleagues, friends, and institutions. The Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation made possible my first long-term stay and research in Greece, in 2004-2005. I want to thank Maria Pagoni at Foreigners Fellowships Programme for her unforgettable kindness and helpfulness. Most important, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to the Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation for sponsoring the publication of this book. I especially thank Fannie Papathanou and Stella Tatsi for their extreme helpfulness along the way.
Also, my heartfelt thanks go to ARIT (American Research Institute in Turkey) for sponsoring my research in Turkey and Greece.
Professor Edhem Eldem has eagerly supported this project from the beginning and has been superbly responsive whenever I needed his support for furthering my research. Several dear colleagues and professors read and commented on earlier drafts. In this regard, I would like to thank Vangelis Kechriotis, Ahmet Ersoy, Christoph K. Neumann, and Katy Romanou. Professor Romanou also deserves sincere thanks for her enormous generosity in providing me with exceptional material from her own library. If I should thank anyone wholeheartedly for inspiring me to make music the object of my historical investigation and engagement, and to bridge amateur musicianship and musicology, it is certainly Cem Behar. Also, I am indebted to Chryssi Sidiropoulou, with whom I enjoyed learning modern Greek.
During the first stage of research that has gone into this book, the faculty members of the History and Archaeology Department of the University of Crete made my stay on their wonderful island and my intellectual development at the university a truly fruitful and unforgettable experience. I am especially indebted to Antonis Anastasopoulos, Efi Avdela, Christos Hadziiossif, Giannis Kokkinakis, Christos Loukos, Socrates Petmezas, and Vasiliki Seirinidou for their valuable comments. I want to offer my warm thanks also to the personnel of the Library of the University of Crete, especially to Eleni Kovaiou and Kostas Papadakis for their prompt help every time I looked for a source in the Closed Access Collections Department. At various stages of my research and travels to Greece, I asked advice from Sia Anagnostopoulou, Stavros Anestidis, Haris Exertzoglou, Christina Koulouri, and Dimitrios Stamatopoulos, whom I remember with gratitude. I have benefited much from Antonis Liakos s intellectual input, counsel, and encouragement.
During the course of this project I received generous financial support from the DAAD (German Academic Exchange Service), thanks to which I spent the year 2007-2008 in Berlin and continued my research under the supervision of the late Holm Sundhaussen, director of the East European Institute at the Free University, to whom I owe sincere thanks for his hospitality and help. I am indebted to Miltos Pechlivanos for allowing me to attend and present my work at his Modern Greek seminar at the Free University. I had an amazingly fruitful year of research and writing at the program in Hellenic Studies at Princeton University in 2011-2012. I am truly obliged to the director of the program, Dimitri H. Gondicas. Parts of the initial draft of this book were read and commented on by Peter Brown and Molly Greene, to whom I owe warm and heartfelt thanks. I am indebted to the Center for European Studies at Harvard University for its hospitality and for giving me the opportunity to discuss my project with valuable colleagues. I also extend my sincere thanks to Michael Herzfeld for his generous support, the CES director, Grzegorz Ekiert, and the executive director, Elaine Papoulias. I enjoyed discussions with Patrice Higonnet, Amanda Klekowski von Koppenfels, J rn Leonhard, Manuel Schramm, and Franziska Torma. I found a genuine critic and a rare office mate and friend in Franziska Torma.
This book is the product of extensive research carried out in numerous libraries and archives. The staff at the library of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, particularly Kosta kar, the late Megas Oikonomos Nikolaos Petropellis, Yorgo Benlisoy, and Yannis Stavridis deserve my genuine thanks. During the course of the project, I visited and did research at the Gennadios Library in Athens more than once, finding each time the same responsive and helpful atmosphere. The density and variety of material used in this book required a search not only in public libraries and archives but also in specialized institutions and bookstores, personal archives, and recording companies. In Athens and Istanbul, I enjoyed the sincere help of Markos Dragoumis, director of the Musical Folklore Archives of the Center for Asia Minor Studies; Stephanie Merakos, director of the Music Library of Greece Lilian Voudouri, The Friends of Music Society, Athens; Hasan Salt k, founder of Kalan M zik; and Lampros Kostakiotis, owner of Koultoura Publications. In this regard, I am also greatly thankful to Antonios Chatzopoulos, Stelyo Berber, Cemal nl , B lent Aksoy, Manolis K. Hatziyakoumis, Maria Barbaki, and the late Lukourgos Angelopoulos for their generosity, counsel, and company.
This book could not have been possible without friends who introduced me to contemporary musical life in Greece and the friendships that nurtured my love for and engagement with music and also the continuing rapprochement between the peoples of Greece and Turkey, which I follow with extreme delight and happiness. The fruits of those friendships and the delightfully shared moments of music are in this book. I am grateful to Ourania Liarmakopoulou and her family, Fotini Louka, Sophia Kompotiati, Marios Papakyriacou, and Panagiotis Poulos.
Regarding the book s publication, I especially thank Mollie K. Ables and Rebecca J. Tolen at Indiana University Press, and John Donohue at Westchester Publishing Services.
Finally, I am thankful to my parents, whose support has been invaluable for the completion of this project.
Parts of this study have been published previously as journal articles: Surveillance, Urban Governance, and Legitimacy in Late Ottoman Istanbul: Spying on Music and Entertainment during the Hamidian Regime (1876-1909), Urban History 40, no. 4 (2013): 706-725 (Cambridge University Press), and The Musical Question and the Educated Elite of the Greek Orthodox Society in Late Nineteenth-Century Constantinople, Journal of Modern Greek Studies , 32 (2014): 133-163 (Johns Hopkins University Press).
A Note on Pronunciation and Transliteration
In transliterating Greek-script terms, I have rendered Greek characters and the sounds they denote as follows:
, sounds like the English v: transliterated as b
, 1 sounds like the silent g in Turkish or the English y: transliterated as g
, sounds like the English a: transliterated as e
, sounds like the English th: transliterated as th
, sounds like the English e: transliterated as
, sounds like the English ks in exercise: transliterated as x
, sounds like the English e: transliterated as u, y
, sounds like the English f: transliterated as ph
, sounds like the English h: transliterated as ch, kh
, sounds like the English ps: transliterated as ps
, 2 sounds like the English o: transliterated as
, sounds like the English av in severe: transliterated as ev
, sounds like the English b: transliterated as b
, sounds like the English u in put: transliterated as ou
sounds like uh in understand : transliterated as ha (hence, is transliterated as Hagios)

I N THE 1990 S , Turkish society began to face the ruptures and shifts in its own past, as witnessed by an explosion of cultural productions that celebrated the linguistic and cultural differences within the country. 1 In the press and other media, the public s interest turned to Turkey s pre-nation-state past, more precisely to the pluralistic image of the multiethnic and multiconfessional Ottoman society. An important dimension of this revival of interest was the public representation of Istanbul s Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Jewish populations, which became emblematic of a selective nostalgia for the city s past cosmopolitanism. 2 Concomitantly, the proliferation of family histories and personal narratives in the public domain presented challenges to national identification practices and national historiography. 3 In the course of the last decade, memories of landscapes and neighboring practices in Istanbul among both the majority and minority individuals took on a kind of authority, obscuring other, alternative narratives of history. 4
A significant aspect of this remembering was the new attention devoted to the lost sounds of those neighbors. For example, Greek rebetika and Jewish maftirim music found a new audience in 1990s Turkey beyond their own traumatized communities. 5 A historical-sociological analysis of music and sound can help us grasp an alternative and nuanced version of the official history. Sound, due to its abstract and ineffable quality, interacts with human imagination and memory in different ways than do other media-for instance, landscape, which, as Amy Mills has observed, thanks to its materiality, appears neutral and objective and is taken as a mere trace of history. 6 The listener construes the ideas that sounds represent through the mediation of culture. In the recent and ongoing reinvention of sounds of the past in the whole eastern Mediterranean, including Turkey and Greece but not exclusive to them, lies a search for new bases for constructing identities. 7 Interestingly, the dominant mode of this recovery has turned out be the study of individual musicians. Philip V. Bohlman has named the phenomenon the power of the singular voice, which draws us to the area between myth and history, to what he has called the musical lieux de m moire that are neither minority nor majority, the traces of neither the colonized nor the hegemonic colonizers. 8
This book had its origins in its author s participation in the musical dialogue between Turkey and Greece in the early 2000s. It is not possible to replicate the sounds of nineteenth-century Constantinople/Istanbul completely, but by investigating the ideas and discourses surrounding the musical practices of the time, we can gain a sense of the soundscapes of late Ottoman Istanbul. By extension, we can incorporate music and sound into the cultural history of the Ottoman Empire.
Diversity within Diversity: The Greek Orthodox Community of Istanbul
Istanbulite Greek Orthodox showed great diversity in terms of their migration histories, their linguistic, socioeconomic, and cultural differences, and their subject status and nationalities. A prominent group were the Phanariots (or neo-Phanariots as they came to be called, referring to their reconsolidation of power after their persecution during the Greek Revolt of 1821), who traced their origins back to the Byzantine Empire. Influential as they were in the inner politics of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, the members of this group also acted as governors of Ottoman lands and as high-ranking officials. Their presence in Istanbul in some cases went back several centuries; most of the relative newcomers originated from an Ottoman province in Europe. 9 With the Ottoman Empire s integration into European trade networks in the nineteenth century, the city welcomed Greek merchant families from Europe and Russia. In the 1840s and later, migration from other parts of the empire brought the inhabitants of Rumelia and the Aegean Islands to Istanbul, where they settled at the margins of the city. New immigrant subgroups clustered around their parish churches, often sponsored by the well-to-do of those communities, as exemplified by the churches of Panagia Kaphatian and Hagios I ann s t n Chi n in Galata, which were predominantly attended by migrants from Chios.
The Greek Orthodox population in Istanbul, as elsewhere in the empire, was diverse also in terms of legal status and national belonging. While the majority were Ottoman subjects, some were Hellenic subjects or were granted protection by various European states. Language was another dividing factor. In this book, I avoid using the term Greeks in referring to the ethnic-religious group under scrutiny, as not all Orthodox Christians spoke Greek, and, more important, the awareness and expression of an ethnic identity developed over time, and confession was a more significant identity marker than nationality for most of the nineteenth century. As Ottoman subjects were grouped according to confession, a common Christian Orthodoxy subsumed the Bulgarian, Vlach-, Armenian-, and Turkish-speaking Orthodox Christians (Karamanlides) under the term Rum millet ( millet is the term used for the ethnic-religious community in the Ottoman Empire). Linguistic diversity, besides having more obvious consequences related to the perception of ethnicity, certainly had implications for social identity. Istanbulite Rum may have also seen themselves as different from or privileged with respect to their coreligionists who lived in other parts of the empire. Today s Istanbulite Rum use self-designations and discourses of social distinction based on the urban-rural division, 10 and some of the divisions of social stratification and cultural clash in the nineteenth century may have had to do with a urban-rural divide as well.
The historian Gerasimos Augustinos identified three complementary worlds of identity through which the Ottoman Greek Orthodox defined themselves until around the end of the eighteenth century: the community, which denoted a circumscribed world centered on notions such as locality and customs; the broader world of the confessional community, or the Rum millet; and the (intellectually) more dynamic world of urban Hellenic culture, which largely interacted with ideas from the West. 11 As Augustinos eloquently noted, the founding of the Hellenic nation-state broached a new world of identity that encompassed all three previous realms of identity in a new formulation. With the onset of nationalism, and even more with the founding of a nation-state that spoke for the nation, the traditional religion- and ethnicity-based solidarities were enormously transformed.
It would be misleading, then, to imagine nineteenth-century Istanbul s Greek Orthodox community as a unified, monolithic collectivity whose members solidarity and familiarity with each other can be taken for granted. Because of their socioeconomically differentiated cultural practices and consumption choices, the Greek Orthodox had diverse everyday life experiences and worldviews. Especially among the upper classes, a cosmopolitan common culture acted as a catalyst for class formation that eventually transcended traditional solidarities of a religious or ethnic nature. 12
The chronological focus of this book begins around the time of the Reform Edict promulgated in 1856, when the administration of the Rum millet underwent significant changes and major shifts occurred in the power relations within the Greek Orthodox community. By promulgating the edict, the Ottoman government reassured the Great Powers that it would pursue the reforms that had begun with the Tanzimat (Turkish for reorganization or ordering ). The term refers to the period of reforms in the Ottoman Empire (1839-1876, collectively known as the Tanzimat) in 1839 regarding the equality of its subjects beyond ethnic and religious divisions. The Tanzimat statesmen had envisioned a reform of unprecedented scope that would bring forth a new order, with its ambitious project of centralization, bureaucratization, and modernization of the administration of various domains, such as justice, finance, and conscription. The changes in the realm of millet administration were translated as the redefinition of the concept of millet and the boundaries of the ethnic-religious community. The change in the ideals and concepts of governance and the reorganization of the Ottoman non-Muslim communities were closely linked with the empire s changing position in European diplomacy, its new geopolitical alliances, and the emergence of new groups who benefited from the socioeconomic change that came along with the empire s integration into large European-Mediterranean trade networks.
In the mid-nineteenth century, the evolving social and economic constitution of the Ottoman port cities led to the appearance of new institutions in public life and to the modernization of those cities and their inhabitants. 13 The process through which new government buildings, places of worship, cultural associations, piers, parks, and squares were constructed provides us with clues about the notions of urban governance, the competing social groups, and the use and aesthetics of the city spaces. As music performance and hearing are embedded in space and require a space in order to be fully realized, space will be part of my analysis of musical discourse in this book.
By the 1860s, ethnic separatist movements and anti-Greek sentiment among the Balkan (Slav) Orthodox began challenging the ecclesiastical authority of the Patriarchate in Istanbul. Greek musical discourse will be analyzed in this study over the span of roughly sixty years, beginning in the 1860s and concluding at a conventional historiographical frontier in 1922, the end of the Greek-Turkish War. In accord with the Lausanne Convention of the Lausanne Treaty, signed on January 30, 1923, around a half-million Muslims of Greece were exchanged for up to 1.2 million Orthodox Christians of Turkey. Even though the Orthodox Christians of Istanbul and the islands of G k eada/Imbros and Bozcaada/Tenedos were exempted from the population exchange, contrary to the treaty over ten thousand Orthodox Christians were also expelled from Istanbul. 14 In the Turkish Republic, the major communities of non-Muslims gave up their communal privileges to become equal citizens, yet the new terminology designated them as minorities, a legal status defined on the basis of religion. The fact that immediately after the war the Turkish delegation at the international convention demanded the deportation of the Patriarchate shows how precarious the future might have seemed to Istanbul s Greek Orthodox population. 15
The calamities of the twentieth century erased the marks of a long-existing and significant Greek Orthodox presence in Istanbul. Between 1844 and 1856, the Greek Orthodox population of Istanbul increased from roughly 21 to 25 percent of the city s population, which remained until 1880 predominantly non-Muslim. 16 A population estimate for 1897 based on ethnic distribution counted Greeks as 236,000 constituting a significant portion of the 1,059,000 inhabitants of the city. 17 Despite significant differences between Ottoman scholars assessments of the Muslim population around 1900, by 1906 the Greek Orthodox with respect to the Muslim population was represented by the ratio of two to five, constituting one-fifth of Istanbul s population. For the 1910s, notwithstanding some variations, the results of different censuses roughly agree that Greeks who lived in Istanbul and its environs were 242,000 to 319,000. 18
The Greek Orthodox were mainly concentrated in the European commercial quarters of Istanbul-namely, Galata, Beyo lu, Pera (Stavrodromi), and Tatavla. In 1849, 6,000 Greeks constituted almost one-fifth of the population of Pera, which was between 28,000 and 30,000. 19 It is hard to determine the exact distribution rates of Greeks within Istanbul s geography. According to the Greek census of 1910-1912, Greeks who resided in the Pera, Galata, and Tatavla districts numbered 128,412 and hence constituted 40 percent of all the Greeks living in the city of Istanbul. 20 This high rate should be taken with some caution given that, as one study for the 1880s stated, only 12 percent of Istanbul s Greeks resided in Galata as compared to 20 percent of its Armenians and half of its Jews who lived in the district. 21 Another Istanbul neighborhood with a significant Greek population was Fener (Phanar) across the Golden Horn, whose Greeks clustered around the Patriarchate and the Great School of the Nation/ Megal tou Genous Schol . Located along the Sea of Marmara, the districts of Samatya (Ps matheia) and Kumkap (Kontoskali) had large concentrations of Karamanli (Turcophone) Greeks. Outside the Byzantine walls, down the Marmara shore, through Bak rk y (Makrichori) and Ye ilk y (San Stefano) to Lake ekmece and atalca, there were sizeable Greek communities. Along the Bosphorus, the biggest centers of Greek Orthodox population were Arnavutk y (Mega Revma), Yenik y (Neoch ri), Tarabya (Therapia), and B y kdere (Bathurruax).
The increase in trade and economic ties with Europe following the Anglo-Turkish Commercial Treaty of 1838 produced emigration to Istanbul from the rural interior and other areas. In the 1840s and 1850s (and even before), there was significant Greek emigration to the Ottoman capital from the Anatolian interior, as well as from Epirus, the Aegean Islands, and the Kingdom of Greece. 22 According to the 1885 census report, only one-fourth of the Muslim, Greek Orthodox, and Armenian Orthodox males then living in the city had been born there. 23 An important group of migrants were seasonal workers. In an exemplary fashion, in the 1880s the number of male workers from the Ionian Islands (Heptanisa) in shipping trade was so high that this created a big gap between the numbers of men and women in the Greek population of Galata. 24
Music: A Common Language
For musicians who lived in the Ottoman ecumene, music was a system of knowledge with its own rules- ilm-i mus ki (the science of music), as they commonly called it. As recounted by Phanariot Demetrius Cantemir, the son of the prince of Moldavia, Constantine Cantemir, who came to Istanbul in 1688, the Ottoman musical scene showed great diversity in terms of the ethnic, confessional, and social origins of its practitioners. Ottoman Muslim functionaries, Mevlevi dervishes, members of the Phanariot nobility, and artisans of various ethnic origins practiced music together and instructed each other. 25
What the late musicologist Eugenia Popescu-Judetz called musical acculturation intensified in the first half of the nineteenth century with attempts to create new musical notations that were the revised versions of older neumatic systems. 26 These innovations cannot be attributed to particular individuals or ethnic-religious groups. For example, the inventor of a new system of notation, the Armenian church musician Hampartzum Limondjian, not only practiced Armenian religious music, but was also well versed in melodies and rhythms of Arab-Persian-Ottoman music and mastered Byzantine music and notation as well. 27 Likewise, the Metropolitan of Bursa Chrysanthos from Madytos/Eceabat, who is credited with inventing a system of notation-almost simultaneously with Hampartzum-to facilitate the instruction and practice of Greek Orthodox liturgical music, according to some nineteenth-century sources, besides his erudition in European music, also played the ney , the primary instrument of Ottoman Sufi music. 28 The archivist of the Patriarchate and eminent Istanbulite intellectual Manou l Gede n tells us that at family gatherings and celebrations, both oriental melodies ( Turkish songs ) and Orthodox religious chants were performed, due to their shared quality of being familiar to the ears of the past generations of Istanbulite Greeks. 29 Arguably, the simple principles of Chrysanthos s new notation had made it easier for the Greek Orthodox musicians to write and learn the Turkish songs based on the maqam system. In the bilingual and bi-musical song anthologies published by the Karamanli Greeks of Anatolia, Turkish melodies were transcribed in the reformed Byzantine notation, and Turkish texts were printed in Greek script. 30
The music debate examined in this book spilled over into the twentieth century, pursued by eminent cantors who continued their singing careers in Istanbul, Athens, or Salonika. Ecclesiastical music s historical origins, the issue of notation, and the intervals and problems of intonation were fervently discussed among experts on church music. Of course, the age-old debate over polyphonic liturgical music remained a subject of dispute. In the 1920s, the chief cantors at the Patriarchate were still debating the possibility of the harmonization of church hymns without any change in their modal qualities. Eventually, in Istanbul, signed on December 12, 1922, the memorandum prepared and sent by the Ecclesiastical Musical Society of Constantinople to Patriarch Meletios IV condemned the almost ten-year trial of European polyphony in liturgical music. 31 The results of the polemics were far from being painless for some church musicians; the Lambadarios (chief of the left choir) of the Patriarchate Evstathios Vingopoulos fought hard against the attempts to introduce polyphonic music to Greek Orthodox churches, whose impassioned reaction, though, was punished by Patriarch Meletios IV, who dismissed him from his position. 32
The demographic and psychological plight that Istanbulite Greek Orthodox musicians suffered in the aftermath of 1922 is best demonstrated by the following two examples. Basileios Kamarados was first cantor at the Church of Hagios Dimitrios in Tatavla. In 1922, he had to leave for Greece. As the tragic story goes, Kamarados hanged himself in the church where he was employed in Athens, probably due to the unbearable frustrations of refugee life and expatriation. 33 Cantors losing their jobs because of their Greek citizenship was not uncommon. Due to a law issued in 1924, foreign citizens could not be employed at the Patriarchate, which obligated the Protopsaltis Iak bos Nafpli t s (a Greek citizen) to resign from his position, to which, however, he could return in 1926. 34
Music: East and West
The abolition of Ottoman military music along with the janissary corps in 1826 and its replacement by Western music have traditionally been seen as the beginning of unfavorable conditions for the existence of Ottoman music. By the term Ottoman music I refer to the music (based on eastern maqam s and rhythms) that prevailed in the urban centers of the Ottoman Empire beginning from the sixteenth century. In the following decades, the musical life of the court would change drastically, with important consequences for the patronage of music and, relatedly, its compositional forms, rhythmic structure, and repertoire. 35 Crucial to the musical debates examined in this book, similarly to other Ottoman elite groups, the Greek Orthodox urban upper and middle classes embraced Western music as an emblem of their own modernity, the practice and display of which gradually became a status symbol. The most striking symbol of this phenomenon, after its popularity in post-Napoleonic Europe-the piano-which had become the instrument par excellence of the rising middle classes on a global scale, prominently entered Ottoman palaces, mansions, and upper-class homes during the Crimean War. 36 Any contextualization of the westernization of aesthetic preferences and musical choices must turn to the mid-century Ottoman modernization reforms-namely, the Tanzimat. The catchphrase of the reform period, alla Franca, typically used for music in the European style as well as for a dress, furniture, or a habit, signified progress, as opposed to the concept alla Turca, which came to imply backwardness. 37 Those two terms remained effective in popular Ottoman/Turkish modernization discourses well into the twentieth century.
In examining this dichotomy in the musical culture of Turkish Jewry, Pamela J. Dorn made the point that the changes the Jewish music in Turkey underwent had to do with more substantial changes in ideas about the Eastern and Western cultures held by the Turkish Jewry. 38 During the nineteenth century, the images of the West generated discourses about community and the self in both the Muslim and the non-Muslim segments of the Ottoman society. As observed by Haris Exertzoglu, this resulted in Western domination in the fields of social imagination and discourse because local agents appropriated and internalized fundamental polarities of the Western discourse of modernity such as East-West, modernity-tradition, old-new, and so on. 39 In the musical discourse of the mid-nineteenth century, the term alla Turca denoted the adoption of European terminology and a typically orientalist desire of Ottoman musicians to express their otherness, that is, to mark a cultural distinction between Ottoman values and European sensibilities. 40
This shared dichotomous idea of East and West, and the conceptualization of a difference between the music of the self and the music of the civilization, took another discursive turn in Greek musical debates. Two major factors determined the framework of (Ottoman) Greek musical discourse: first, Greece s connections with Europe s historical foundations, which defined a special relationship between the modern Greek and contemporary Western identities; and second, the Ottoman colonial present, which began with the capture of Constantinople by Ottoman Turks. As this book will further problematize, for instance, the advocates of the classicist strand of cultural nationalism often designated Greek Orthodox ecclesiastical music-referred to as Byzantine music-as a barbarian medley of Jewish, Arabic, and Turkish influences. 41 Moreover, informed by Greek nationalist narratives of the Turkish yoke, the view was expressed that Greek music declined and became corrupt under Ottoman rule, drawing upon the broader idea that Hellenism had suffered a cultural decline under foreign and despotic domination. In the creation of the national school of Greek music during the twentieth century, as prominently represented by the Greek musician Manolis Kalomiris, the East-West problematization was very effective in the way national music was conceptualized. 42
Music and the Nation
Music draws a cognitive and emotional map that models individuals perspectives as members of a nation or a social group. Styles, repertoires, and genres are often loaded with cultural significance that pertains to self-identification. Noticeably, in myriads of stories about the births of nations, the most captivating element is often music, due to its affectivity and also to its status as a reliable marker of cultural authenticity. Musical authenticity has been a powerful discursive trope employed by ethnic groups in their construction and negotiation of boundaries. 43 In the age of nationalism, Greek musical discourse designated an idealized Greek music in opposition to foreign musical styles and techniques. In particular, nasal singing and guttural ornamentations were condemned as Asian, effeminate, and degenerate.
Music and nation converged in the eighteenth century. Specific musical genres such as historical opera, ethnic dances, choral drama, and ballads were characterized, as Anthony D. Smith noted, by a heightened expressive subjectivity well suited to the conceptual language and style of ethnic nationalism. 44 The underlying view at the core of the ideology of nationalism was the eighteenth-century German thinker Johann Gottfried Herder s theory that every nation has its peculiar genius -its own ways of thinking, acting, and communicating. 45 According to the prominent representatives of romantic nationalism in Europe, including Rousseau, the authentic character of a people was manifest in its language, folklore, and music. 46 In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, a new concern with history and social development, and at the same time with the origins and descent of peoples, which found their expression in the new trend of historicism, contributed to the consciousness of nations about their ethnic backgrounds. An ethnic revival attempted, as Anthony D. Smith put it, at one and the same time to preserve the past and to transform it into something new, to create a new type upon ancient foundations and a new man and society. 47 Recovering the history of a nation generally involves the invention of a pattern containing a migration story, a founding myth, and a golden age. 48 It is to be expected that intellectuals and artists have had a significant role in the promotion and cultivation of national ideologies. 49 John Hutchinson credited historical scholars and artists with being in the forefront of cultural nationalism, which he painstakingly separated from political nationalism and characterized as a movement of moral regeneration. 50
There is almost a consensus among contemporary historians that nations and nationalisms are modern phenomena. 51 Smith defined nationalism as an ideological movement for attaining and maintaining autonomy, unity , and identity on behalf of a population deemed by some of its members to constitute an actual or potential nation. 52 It is remarkable that each of those three emphasized concepts was a product of only the last two centuries. Also, what the modernist view of the nation implies is that nationalism creates the nation and national identity, not the reverse. 53
Music has been an effective means in nation building. As the histories of many national movements show, intellectuals who sought to rediscover the collective self and ascertain the authentic identity of a nation often turned to studying the epics and folk songs of the people. Thus, in nineteenth-century Europe, many folklorists and musicians contributed prominently to the discovery of an authentic repertoire of narratives, symbols, musical styles, and sounds that they claimed on behalf of the nation. 54 Music came to represent the nation, as the musicologist Philip V. Bohlman put it, due to its being a particularly malleable means for shaping a nation s many images. 55
As elsewhere in Europe, folklore studies were no doubt a primary agent in the making of modern Greece by demonstrating the continuity and unity of Greek culture. Folk song became an essential force in the construction of a Greek national identity and was the defining element in the creation of a national music in Greece. Whereas the majority of studies of traditional Greek music have privileged the folk music of rural communities, this study shifts the focus to the urban setting and the educated elite, in particular the churchgoing educated Greek Orthodox elite in Istanbul, the cantors, and their debates on the reform of traditional church music. By looking at the Greek Orthodox urban elite s engagement with its liturgical music, my aim is to shed light on the strategies of ethnic-communal reproduction, the images of modernity and the West, and the ideas and behavior of this social class about consumption and materiality. 56
In Greece, ecclesiastical and folk traditions have been closely linked and mutually formative. The printed collections of folk songs primarily used Byzantine notation, which had evolved throughout the history of ecclesiastical chant. In the nineteenth century, folk music and dance were seen as crucial elements of a distinctively Greek culture, along with ecclesiastical music. The musical practices of Istanbulite Greek Orthodox reveal that folk music had particular significance for the constitution and maintenance of their national identity. Notably, in their cultural associations and clubs, the members of this educated Greek Orthodox society promoted and sponsored the collection and study of folk songs, folk tales and sayings, and traditions from a countryside whose Hellenism had to be demonstrated. 57 As mentioned in a family anecdote, in mid-nineteenth-century Alexandria but probably not restricted to this Greek-dominated city of the eastern Mediterranean, demotic and the so-called klephtika (anti-Ottoman insurgents songs) songs and Greek patriotic poems were part of the curriculum taught by private tutors to the children of the Greek aristocratic and upper-class families. 58 In 1900s Istanbul, the sons and daughters of upper- and middle-class Greek Orthodox families joined private choirs to perform Greek dramas and sing folk songs for elite audiences gathered at literary and cultural societies.
The introduction of European polyphony to the Greek Orthodox churches was heatedly debated, not only by the Istanbulite Rum, but also within Greek Orthodox communities in major European cities such as London, Paris, Vienna, Marseille, Trieste, and the capital of independent Greece, Athens. Religious music had an emblematic significance for the urban identity of an ethnic group living in the multiethnic and multiconfessional Habsburg Empire. In the Greek enclaves of these cities, monophonic church singing clashed with the European cultural practices that the members of those Greek communities experienced in their everyday lives. These European Greek Orthodox communities came into contact with diverse European musical traditions. Most of the merchant families in western and central Europe were well connected with their relatives in Greece and the Ottoman Empire, and so the musical practices of European Greek churches were copied, adapted, or rejected. Viennese Greeks boasted about having a reformed, polyphonic church music set for four voices, which they saw as an indication of their progress and keeping pace with the times. The variety of psaltic traditions within the Orthodox ecumene also contributed to the diversity of musical practices. Different historical, geographic, and political circumstances had resulted in the emergence of distinct styles and even remarkably different musical practices. Examples include the chanting practiced in the monastic communities of Mount Athos, the Italian-influenced musical tradition of the Ionian Islands, 59 and the musical practice in Bulgarian churches, particularly after the foundation of the Bulgarian Exarchate in 1870.
The distribution of ritual knowledge has always been a factor in ecclesiastical politics. In the course of the nineteenth century, the Patriarchate s ecclesiastical and civil jurisdiction over all Orthodox Christians diminished, especially with the establishment of the autocephalous churches in the new states, beginning with the Greek church in 1833. The modern Greek state was founded as an outcome of an insurrection against Ottoman rule in 1821-1830. The leaders of the Greek state posed a direct challenge to the authority of the Patriarchate by claiming to speak for all the members of the ethnic community, both inside and outside the kingdom. In the second half of the nineteenth century, the Patriarchate had to defend the integrity of the Rum millet against both the Ottoman state, which issued an imperial decree in 1870 for the foundation of the Bulgarian Exarchate, and the Greek state, which pursued irredentism with the aim of bringing the Orthodox Christians of the Balkans into its fold. Liturgical music debates were crucial in this politics; the Patriarchate of Constantinople promoted a discourse on ecclesiastical music which attempted to show that the Orthodox tradition in southeast Europe was not alienated from the tradition of Constantinople. 60
In Istanbul, the leading cantors of the Patriarchate of Constantinople came to be viewed as the principal repositories of Byzantine chant. Their manner of singing was highly valorized by virtue of their belonging to the school of the Patriarchate. Even in recent discourse on ecclesiastical music in Greece, the long chain of protopsaltes in the patriarchal church is credited with the maintenance and transmission of the liturgy and of the order of church service and its tradition. 61 Sacred myths hold an important place in attributing a unique identity to an ethnic group. Anthony D. Smith coined the term missionary myths of chosenness 62 for the less rigid forms of sacred myths of ethnic election (the prototype is ancient Israel) and considered the Byzantine Orthodox Greeks as an example. In fact, the Rum of Istanbul saw themselves as the first among the Christian nations, a conviction that imposed on them the duty, or the mission, to protect what they saw as the genuine traditions of the Church. Music and sound have thus been interpreted, appropriated, and represented in various ways, and ultimately have served to represent the millet and the nation. In this equation, the interest in the tradition evoked the question of which past or pasts were deemed a source for self-identification.
Sound, Past, and Memory
A nineteenth-century Greek-speaking Orthodox Christian had many pasts to deal with. He would learn to be proud of the great civilization of classical Greece, read about the lives of those legendary founders of democracy, and feel as if he were walking in fifth-century-BC Athens as he wandered the streets of the new Greek capital full of public buildings in neoclassical style erected with the initiation of the Bavarian state elite. 63 He would, however, also ponder the might of the Byzantine emperors and would imagine, reconstruct, and celebrate Byzantine Christianity in its apogee, when the holy hymns echoed inside the magnificent Church of Hagia Sophia. In addition to those two strands of pasts that stood in a complex relationship to each other, a Greek Orthodox Christian of Istanbul would have in his repertoire the communal narratives of four hundred years of Ottoman rule. The legacy of a grand past connected the Istanbulite Rum to the memory of the old Phanar and the Greek Phanariot aristocracy and their traditions. All those pasts were now accountable in one way or another to the present, whose main protagonist was the modernizing West and the irresistible changes that it caused. Characteristically, the Ottoman Greek Orthodox commercial and business elites were the rising new social groups who saw themselves as the influential agents of European modernization and the progress of the Greek Orthodox element in the empire.
Ethnic-religious identity is imagined geographically, through place-based narratives and in spatial practices. 64 In their first-person accounts of the development of their musical identities, Istanbulite Greeks often referred to their memories of particular districts, such as Pera/Beyo lu, Mega Revma (Arnavutk y), and, mainly, the seat of the Patriarchate, Phanar. 65 The concept of soundscape is useful for considering such links between sound and landscape. As elsewhere, in nineteenth-century Istanbul, too, spatial festive practices often included music, and a particular musical tradition specified the identity and character of a place. For instance, the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox typically affirmed and displayed their taste for Western music in Pera and Galata at the annual ball held as a fundraiser for the Greek Orthodox schools of the district. Likewise, the sounds of Byzantine chant privileged Phanar in the collective memory of Istanbul s Rum as the very location of their religious identity.
For further elaboration on the connections of sound, memory, and Greek Orthodox identity, we have to reflect upon the acoustics of Orthodoxy, which also raises the question of the authority of the past. Jeffers Engelhardt described the ethical dimension of Orthodox singing. Orthopraxy, in the sense of right singing, performatively recognizes the authority manifest in ritual order. 66 Thus, sound establishes sacred, social, and moral orders. Engelhardt cogently argued: Hymns and singing create sacred territory because of the ubiquitous presence of heightened speech and singing in Orthodoxy and the ontology of Orthodox sound itself. 67 According to the traditional belief about Orthodox singing, the text (the word) should not be shunned by music, because Orthodox singing is prayer, sacralized language. Thus, the human voice has been considered the ideal sound for the music of the Eastern Church, whereas musical instruments or an unnatural human voice are proscribed because of their artificiality.
Musical Discourse Is Practice
This book deals with music as cultural practice. It may disappoint those who are seeking a technical analysis of music, for its primary focus is on the experience of the extramusical rather than on the music itself. 68 It aims at creatively applying a set of fundamental concepts, such as discourse, representation, and appropriation, to the social and cultural study of music. By examining musical style, performance, and music theory within a particular cultural context, we can see how these were part of ideology and social action, and not the manifestation of the latter at the surface of sociocultural processes. 69 In attempting to grasp the meaning or the signifying process of music, I will look at the intersections of the institutional, political, and aesthetic spheres. 70 The musicologist Nicholas Cook wrote: social meaning is not inherent in music but constructed through the interpretation of music. 71 For him, music theory that cross-mapped concepts between music and other domains such as philosophy, political thought, and cultural critique provided the foundation for any such interpretation. This methodological insight should be kept in mind in reading the coming chapters, where I will unravel the aspects and implications of music-theoretical writings of certain nineteenth-century Greek Orthodox literati and musicians.
In the Greek Orthodox community of Istanbul, musical discourse was organized verbally and nonverbally through a process of selecting and privileging of themes, symbols, and myths, and by making choices about priorities and strategic means to implement them. As Michel Foucault describes it, discourse is a practice which names, analyses, classifies and explains the objects of which it speaks. 72 Drawing on Foucault s notion of the archive, Keith Michael Baker claims that an inventory of the intellectual stock of any society would reveal a multiplicity of separate discourses constituting separate domains of meaning. He is attentive to the differentiation of discourses in a given period. Baker writes, Each of these discourses would have its own history; each would have its own logic ; each would constitute a field of social action by categorizing the world of social actors in accordance with its own terms of reference. 73 This method of situating discourse at the intersection of ideology and action is especially pertinent to the contextual approach to discourse analysis used here, with its focus on musical actors associational strategies and their various activities.
Music generates meaning and constructs one s sense of identity. Musical signification operates in a complex fashion due to the fact that music exists and generates meaning in a number of different, simultaneous forms. These include musical sound, which is mediated by notations, performance, social institutions and socioeconomic arrangements, various narratives, theoretical and critical exegeses, discourses, and, relatedly conceptual and knowledge systems. 74 That music holds a privileged place as a key to the study of identity and difference has been noted by many anthropologists and ethnomusicologists. Apart from the richness of its layers that unfold for an interpretation of culture from multiple viewpoints, music has a unique plurality and fluidity of meanings. Some of those rich layers are the valorization of music by contemporaries as remnants of a past that can be read as a reference to the imagination of the nation, the negotiation of change in musical tradition by a certain agent of authority, and the listening and playing of music as practices of social distinction. Georgina Born and David Hesmondhalgh have interestingly noted that the connotations attached to musical representations and appropriations are aesthetically and discursively more fertile than those of the visual and literary arts, because they are potentially more labile and unfixed. 75 In a similar vein, Martin Stokes has drawn our attention to the nonverbal quality of music, which makes it open to discursive invasion, and therefore open to discursive debate. 76
Beginning in the 1860s, the periodical press of Istanbul played a key role in shaping the discursive debate on music. Local Greek newspapers announced the sessions of the city s Greek music clubs and associations in advance and reported on the decisions taken in their meetings. They informed their readers about coming theatrical and musical performances in the city, and published news about the audiences of those events, their sponsors, the notable personalities who attended them, also commenting on the performances of the artists or singers on the stage. Greek dailies published essays on music written by members of the educated Greek society of Istanbul. Periodicals that specialized in music contained musical scores (sometimes in both Western staff and Byzantine notations), announcements of musical events, essays on music, reports on folk-song collection trips, biographies of musicians, and letters from readers. In addition to the daily press and the specialized musical press, some prominent cultural associations, such as the Greek Literary Society and the Ecclesiastical Musical Society, published the minutes of their meetings, including the text of public lectures and the minute details of discussions on music.
Overview of the Book
This study traces the musical discourse among Ottoman Greek Orthodox Christians in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by examining newspapers, musical journals and periodicals, statutes of musical clubs and associations, correspondence records of the Greek Orthodox community of Stavrodromi (Beyo lu), Patriarchal correspondence and encyclicals, Ottoman spy records on music and entertainment in public and semipublic places, specialized treatises and essays on music, liturgical books (collections of ecclesiastical chants), collections of popular and folk songs, speeches given by Greek literati on various occasions, as well as novels and memoirs.
The book s narrative is organized both thematically and chronologically. Chapter 1 investigates the political, social, and cultural transformations of the Ottoman Greek Orthodox community in the second half of the nineteenth century. The bird s-eye view of the Tanzimat era and the later periods is followed by a discussion of the conceptual and ideological framework of the principle of Ottomanism, which offered a supranational identity to the subjects of the empire. The chapter also addresses recent historiographical debates on cosmopolitanism in relation to the study of nineteenth-century Ottoman and non-Ottoman Mediterranean cities.
Chapter 2 analyzes contemporaries views on the aesthetic and affective dimensions of liturgical music and, by considering the usefulness of the concept of class in studying the Greek Orthodox residents of Ottoman Istanbul, investigates the links between musical choice and social identity. It relatedly discusses aspects of musical professionalism in church singing. The chapter also illuminates a barely researched domain: the social and regional origins, the educational backgrounds, and the appointment and promotion paths of Greek Orthodox cantors in nineteenth-century Istanbul. The chapter ultimately attempts to understand why the Greek Orthodox educated middle classes of Istanbul thought that their liturgical music and the way it was performed had to be reformed.
Chapter 3 turns to the context of the appropriations of the Greek past in nineteenth-century European classical scholarship and modern Greek national historiography, and reads Ottoman Greek perceptions and interpretations of musical heritage against this background. It analyzes how the agents of musical reform positioned themselves with respect to classical Greek and Christian Byzantine pasts, which have often been seen as markers of two diametrically opposed cultural identifications. This chapter examines further the interconnectedness of institutional, political, and aesthetic spheres in the Greek Orthodox community of Istanbul, where music was easily and smoothly employed in referring to the Greek past, and where it evoked collective memory and communal identity.
Chapter 4 is devoted to a focused analysis of the actors on the ground and of debates and disputes regarding the reform of liturgical music in the Greek Orthodox community of Istanbul. Using a musical dispute between a music aficionado Istanbulite banker and a cantor as a case in point, the chapter explores the Istanbulite westernizing Greek upper classes and church musicians priorities and views regarding the musical reform. It also provides an ethnographic description of the rituals, symbolisms, and activities of Ell nikos Mousikos Syllogos (the Greek Musical Society) founded at the initiative of some Istanbulite cantors. By examining the efforts of the cantors and the religious authority to standardize and systematize liturgical music and its instruction, it demonstrates how, ultimately, the living chanting practice was employed to restore what was considered the tradition.
Chapter 5 investigates the propagation of a distinctive cultural identity by Istanbulite Greek Orthodox in the first decades of the twentieth century, when ethnic identities and cultural borders were asserted and protected more and more. By examining the statements, speeches, and publications of the members of the Ecclesiastical Musical Society of Constantinople, the chapter explores how Istanbulite cantors redefined the Greek musical heritage and positioned themselves with respect to other ethnic groups that shared the Byzantine tradition on the one hand, and to the Ottoman urban music tradition on the other. As the chapter turns to the politics of nation making and identity formation, it deals, albeit not exhaustively, with specific attempts to restructure music education at the Greek Orthodox schools, where a proper (in the sense of characterized by its significant Greekness) music education was expected to play a determining role in the upbringing of spiritually and mentally developed and upright Greek Orthodox children who were connected to their roots. The chapter also explores the relations between the practice of collecting folk songs and the construction of national identity at the turn of the century.
Chapter 6 considers political allegiance and censorship of music and entertainment in Istanbul. It explores the everyday conflicts between the Greek Orthodox of the imperial capital and the state authorities over such issues as obtaining permission for charity concerts in light of the increased tension between separatist movements and the Ottoman state. In particular, it investigates how Ottoman authorities dealt with public behavior at celebrations and faced the challenge of music that allegedly expressed patriotic feelings.
Over the course of the nineteenth century, music became an important cultural and artistic domain in which Ottoman Greeks defined themselves as a national community within the multiethnic and multiconfessional populations of the Ottoman Empire. The discourse on music was formed under the impact of the social, aesthetic, and cultural discussions that were available to Istanbulite Greeks in this period. Music serves as a useful prism through which to view the diversity and plurality of self-identifications and discourses of cultural identity in the Greek Orthodox community in Istanbul.
1 The City s Greek Orthodox
An Overview
The Rum Millet in the Era of Reforms
Around the mid-nineteenth century, Ottoman statesmen initiated extensive reforms to bring the empire into the fold of a new and modern administrative model. They were inspired by the system of state and society in Europe. More precisely, Ottoman bureaucrats introduced reforms and new institutions in the legal and fiscal realms with the aim of centralizing the administration and taxation of the empire s subjects. Arguably, in order to save the empire, they tried to create an imperial system of governance based on universal laws. They introduced new notions of government and a new concept of authority that heralded radical changes both in the administration of the millets 1 and in the relations between the sultan and his subjects. The reforms ultimately had important consequences for Ottoman subjects view of their polity and their imaginings of the future. The ground-work for this official attempt to redefine and reshape the nature of the Ottoman government was laid during the reign of Mahmud II (r. 1808-1839), which saw several separatist uprisings in the Balkans and the eventual emergence of an independent Greek state. With the promulgation of the Hatt- erif (Imperial Rescript of G lhane) on November 3, 1839, a period of reforms began that is generally referred to as the Tanzimat era (1839-1876). With the edict, Muslim and non-Muslim subjects were made equal before the law, at least in principle, and the notion of a state based on law was promoted. 2
Two decades later, a new reform decree, the Islahat Ferman (Imperial Rescript of Reform), which consolidated the spirit of the Tanzimat, was declared by the Ottoman government almost simultaneously with the Congress of Paris in 1856, which was held to make peace after the Crimean War. The Tanzimat reforms were encouraged, if not dictated by liberal Europe, especially Great Britain. In this state of affairs, Ottoman bureaucrats realized that domestic reform was linked with international recognition. 3
Within the new framework introduced by the Tanzimat, the Ottoman state recognized the Orthodox Christians of the empire as the Rum millet and institutionalized its privileges as belonging to the millet, not to its religious leader, the patriarch, as had previously been the case. 4 The Islahat Ferman (1856) further recognized the Orthodox patriarch of Constantinople as the only interlocutor regarding the affairs of the Orthodox Christians in the empire. For instance, the latter s demands for church construction or establishing other institutions was to be conveyed to the imperial government through the patriarch, who had full control over them. Another significant change was that the millet leaders, the Greek Orthodox and Armenian patriarchs, and the hahamba i of the Jews were now held responsible for the homogenization of their communities and their harmonious integration into the broader society.
A careful analysis is required in order to fully grasp the new challenges the millet leaders faced. As Sia Anagnostopoulou has cogently noted, along with the new regulations, those spiritual leaders authority over their millets was undermined, as they had now become agents of lay education and the secularization of the institutional framework of the millets. 5 Further complicating matters was the fact that, within the Tanzimat framework, the religious leaders of the millets had to legitimate not only their spiritual but also their political authority, as the millet in the nineteenth century was no longer just a traditional-religious but also a modern political entity. 6
The mid-century reforms continued to recognize the religious foundation of the millets while at the same time creating new hierarchies in them. In the spirit of the reforms, the Greek Orthodox, Armenian (Apostolic Church), and Jewish millets enacted statutes ( nizamname ) in 1862, 1863, and 1865, respectively, for the regulation of their internal administrations. 7 The General Regulations ( Genikoi kanonismoi ) were an attempt at administrative reorganization. According to these, the Rum millet would be administered by two organs: the Holy Synod, composed of twelve Metropolitans; and the Permanent National Mixed Council, composed of eight lay and four clerical members. The former would appoint bishops and be responsible for the spiritual affairs of the millet. The latter would deal with non-spiritual issues, for instance, supervising the functioning and financing of the schools, hospitals, and similar institutions of the millet. 8 In the new state of affairs, obviously, the church had to share power with the lay element. Due to their economic power, the voice of the lay members of the community was heard more and more in the decision making about community affairs. Nevertheless, in the Rum millet, the religious establishment and the clerical element were still very powerful, especially in comparison to the overwhelming authority of the lay people in Armenian and Jewish millets. 9
A bone of contention between the leaders of the Rum millet and the Ottoman government throughout the second half of the nineteenth century was the issue of communal privileges. 10 These privileges guaranteed a degree of autonomy to the Greek Orthodox millet primarily in the realms of religion, family affairs, and education. In the Tanzimat era, some segments of the Rum millet-especially the Greek Orthodox clergy-saw the principle of equality, which was enacted by the previously mentioned two imperial edicts, as a threat to the privileges the Greek Orthodox came to hold as a community. They insisted on communal privileges and further demanded that any new privileges had to be conferred on them as a distinct community, not as Ottomans. 11
In the second half of the nineteenth century, the Greek Orthodox millet was more autonomous in its internal affairs in comparison to the previous decades and centuries. 12 What might this mean in terms of the existence or the intensity of intercommunal contacts in daily life? Research on Ottoman non-Muslims in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries has drawn attention to the flexibility in Ottoman Christians and Jews use of noncommunal institutions in their everyday matters, hence challenging the older view of rigid borders separating the millets. 13
As argued by Ay e Ozil, in the late Ottoman Empire the development of modern administrative and fiscal structures and other factors, such as mass education and the emergence of modern nationality, contributed to diversity among the Orthodox Christians, while at the same time they highlighted the difference between the individual and the communal spheres. 14 Thus, nowhere in the empire were the Orthodox Christian communities compact and homogenizing entities. Relatedly, communal institutions and networks were far from being the exclusive determinants of Greek Orthodox individuals choices in matters of daily life. Many Greek Orthodox exploited professional opportunities outside their communal institutions and networks and came into contact with individuals and institutions beyond their own communities.
The false conviction that the millets were homogeneous and self-sufficient entities might mislead us to a simplistic model of continuity from the millets to modern nations. The emergence of national communities in the late Ottoman Empire has often been explained as a paradox of the Tanzimat era or an unintended consequence of the millet reforms. According to this interpretation, those reforms eventually amalgamated the religious communities into larger national communities and, by allowing them to run their internal affairs on their own, undermined the ideal of the union of Ottoman subjects and their loyalty to the Porte. 15 Others considered the rise of new and economically powerful social groups that challenged the traditional authority of the clergy to be the primary factor in nation formation among Ottoman subjects. Kemal Karpat summarized the factors in the process, which extended back to the early eighteenth century, as being the structural transformation of the traditional communities, the changing role and positions of community leaders, the rise of new social groups, the enhancement of the role of lay primates, and, concomitantly in the nineteenth century, the development of a new sense of identity and belonging in new sociopolitical units. 16 Both views have enormous explanatory merit and valuable insight. However, such explanations have more or less focused on the issue of the breakup of the empire as a clash between the supranational ideology of Ottomanism ( Osmanl l k ) and the nationalist/irredentist ideologies that were influential among the empire s subjects. Recently, the paradigm of the clash of separate ethno-national identities (Turks vs. Greeks, Armenians vs. Turks, etc.) and ideologies has been attacked by scholars whose analyses focus on political culture and citizenship discourses. 17 Such studies have pointed to a new way of approaching and studying national identities. Dismantling them from notions of territory, they treat national identities as a factor in the formation of imperial citizenship discourses that, according to these studies, were the real parameters at stake between the non-Muslim elites and the ruling Ottoman elite. A critical distance between ethno-national identities and territorial nationalism is necessary. Regarding the empire s Greek Orthodox populations, a nation-state-oriented Greek irredentism was only one of the options, even a marginal one. For different groups and individuals in different positions in the Ottoman administrative and social structure, there were competing definitions and meanings of being a Greek Orthodox.
Once again, it is worthwhile to rethink the contradictory nature of the mid-century reforms and revise the from-millets-to-nations thesis along more sophisticated lines. Complying with the principle of equality among the empire s subjects, the reforms sought to minimize clerical influence in non-Muslim communities and increase the participation of the lay element in their administration. Yet they affirmed the organization of Ottoman subjects along religious lines and confirmed the role of religion as the main structuring element of the society. 18 In later decades, religion gained further importance as the basis of social and political solidarity, as the Ottoman Empire, akin to contemporary modern European empires, began to appeal to religion as an instrument of integration and control. 19
In the late Ottoman Empire, the boundaries between religion and ethnicity were blurred, and as the traditional religious structures were transformed, religious and national identities converged. As observed by Selim Deringil, similar to the other monarchies of the nineteenth century, the Ottoman ruling elite sought to create a national basis in order to legitimize its own existence. Particularly during the Hamidian regime, Islamic institutions, sharia, and the caliphate were endowed with new content as part of a search for a new imperial/national ideology. 20 Similarly, as Kemal Karpat described it, though for an earlier period, faith as an individual religious commitment increasingly coincided with faith as a form of political identification and as a means of integration into a new form of political organization. 21 This brought forth the nationalization of the religious communities. As argued by Sia Anagnostopoulou, two prominent and parallel cases were the Ottomanization of the Umma (the entire community of Muslims) and the Hellenization of the Orthodox Genos (Christian Orthodox race ). 22 In the Orthodox millet, religious identity was especially precarious at a time when the fear of fragmentation of the Orthodox Christians along ethnic/national lines was a serious concern. In the mid-decades of the century, Bulgarians began to emerge as a distinct ethnic group demanding a national church. In 1870, a Bulgarian exarchate was established.
Remarkably in the last quarter of the century, Orthodoxy was increasingly mobilized for the unification of the Orthodox Christians living in the Balkans, Eastern Mediterranean, and the Black Sea region. In 1880, Patriarch I akeim III (1878-1884, 1901-1912) established in Istanbul the educational and philanthropical brotherhood Agapate All lous (Love one another) with the aim of supporting the education and nurturing of poor Orthodox Christians in and outside the Ottoman Empire. The message framing the initiative as a Christian charity was well taken; the brotherhood s founders, the influential lay elite of the Greek Orthodox community in Pera, perceived and promoted it as a pious deed pleasing to God. 23 Except for using education and charity as channels for enlarging and cementing the religious community, Patriarch I akeim III resorted to what can be described as invented traditions. He heavily employed religious symbolism to serve for his inclusive and ecumenist project, reviving Byzantine imperial and religious symbols, and inspired an increased interest within the Greek Orthodox community in Byzantine traditions, one of which was Eastern Orthodox chant. 24
In order to investigate the musical discourse in the Greek Orthodox community in nineteenth-century Istanbul as a microcosm of Ottoman Greek Orthodox identities and the imaginations of a religious-national community, one needs further elaboration on issues related to political allegiance and ideology among the Ottoman Greek Orthodox in the nineteenth century.
The Sultan s Subjects
Beginning in the reform-era Tanzimat, Ottoman statesmen espoused the ideology of a supranational patriotism, which came to be known as Ottomanism ( ittihad- Osmani or ittihad- Anas r ). As a scholar of the Ottoman Empire has defined it, Ottomanism was the policy of the Sublime Porte to promote the notion of one Ottoman nation, consisting of individuals with equal rights, sharing the same mother country, and loyal to the state and the sultan. 25 According to some Ottomanists, this top-down ideology failed to secure the loyalty of all the subjects of the Ottoman Empire, particularly the allegiance of its Christians. As Kemal Karpat noted in his chapter in the volume Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire , which had opened up new vistas in the early 1980s in the study of Ottoman non-Muslim communities, the Ottoman government imposed upon the transforming ethnic-religious units a common Ottoman nationality without trying to resolve the incongruity and conflict between the legal secular concept of state initiated by the Tanzimat and the essence of the millet-system idea of nationality rooted in religious identity. 26 When we focus more on the perception of this ideology at the societal level than on its imposition from the center, it is possible to see yet another layer of explanation. An eminent scholar of the late Ottoman Empire has recently observed that the policy of Ottomanism was perceived and received differently by Ottoman subjects from different social strata and living in different parts of the empire. It did not bring benefit to all; hence it was not embraced by large masses of people. 27
Against the backdrop of this very brief and general discussion of the ideology of Ottomanism, during the Tanzimat era, accompanied by certain geopolitical shifts, some segments of the millet-i Rum developed what could arguably be seen as a doctrine of Greek-Turkish coexistence. This particular form of Ottoman patriotism or Helleno-Ottomanism, as it has been referred to by scholars, shared traits with other similar discourses of patriotism that emerged during the Tanzimat era. Remarkably, all over the imperial geography the subjects who wished to identify themselves with the country and their fellow peoples turned to the Ottoman dynasty as a prominent symbol. 28 The Ottoman Greek Orthodox displayed, in various settings, perhaps most emblematically at the celebrations of their community schools, their devotion to the person of the sultan and, through him, to the Ottoman state. 29 A manifestation of this was the symbolic act of singing hymns to Ottoman sultans, which served to legitimize their political authority over the Rum millet while consolidating the status and power of the Orthodox patriarch and Greek Orthodox elite within both the Rum millet and the political structure of the empire. 30 An encomium composed for singing at Greek Orthodox schools during the reign of Sultan Abd lmecid (r. 1839-1861) is striking for its exuberance: O God our protector, make the Sublime Porte radiant with the glory of kingship! May the Sultan Abd lmecid, our lord, the refuge of the world, live a thousand years! May the princes, his beloved children, [receive] the heritage of the kingship, as God decrees! Rejoice and delight in him in prayer, servants of God throughout the world! 31
The research on Greek Orthodox populations of the Ottoman Empire has associated Helleno-Ottomanism largely with a specific group of Ottoman Greeks who held positions of power within the Ottoman system, the Neo-Phanariots. 32 These Ottoman Greek statesmen can be noted for their outwardly expressed wishes to participate in a unified Ottoman commonwealth including Muslims and Christians who enjoyed material and spiritual progress. In 1851, the Phanariot statesman Stephanos Bogorid s dedicated a poem titled Let s Do Our Best and Go Forward to Sultan Abd lmecid, who attended his daughter s wedding. Bogorid s wrote his Ottoman anthem, which he referred to as Our Marseillaise, with the goal of blessed sympathy and integration of Muslim and Christian countrymen. 33 These Christian statesmen sometimes expressed their devotion to the state and the sultan, drawing on a sympathetic attitude toward Islam, the faith of the dynasty, and the dominant faith in the empire. Also, they sometimes identified themselves with the Muslim East as opposed to the Christian West, which they represented as the Other. Bogorid s declared further to the sultan that he took his inspiration for the poem from the hadith, the saying of the Prophet Muhammad Hubb ul-watan min el-Iman, or Love of the Fatherland is a part of faith.
In another example, the allusion to Islam is more subtle yet draws incisively a boundary between the Eastern Self and the Western Other. In a poem by lias Tantalid s, an eminent Istanbulite Rum poet and intellectual, for Sultan Abd laziz (r. 1861-1876), composed upon his return from his journey to Europe in the summer of 1867, the poet explicitly engages in the legitimation of the Ottoman dynasty and its rule in relation to the Christian European powers.
Saw the foreign peoples and governments saw
The star of hopes of the aged Orient,
Saw the mighties the mighty, the kings the king,
The Christians saw the leading sword of Osman. 34
In the mid-nineteenth century, Istanbul s Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie saw its future comfortably in the empire, and observed the Kingdom of Greece and its irredentist prospects with disapproval and an ironic smile. Given their positions as merchants and bankers benefiting from internationalized trade, it is plausible to think that these entrepreneurs wished to enjoy a unified economic space in the eastern Mediterranean, and did not find confining or focusing their activities within the boundaries of a small state feasible. 35 The grandson of the prominent banker Georgios Zariph s described his grandmother Elen Zariph s s visit to mid-nineteenth century Athens in a revealing manner that may shed light on the sentiments of Istanbulite Rum at that time concerning independent Greece:
Exactly across the hotel there was a warehouse in which six cannons were lined up. Every Sunday people were coming to see and marvel at them.
The hot-blooded were saying, we will take the City with these.
Nothing could make my grandmother angrier. Moderate and prudent as she was, she had difficulty in understanding on what these feeble-minded Athenians relied, in order to realize their venturous dreams. She knew well what [the] Turkey and Ottoman Empire were, and that it was impossible to defeat the strongest army of the East with six cannons. Her enervation was turning into melancholy when she thought how so many feeble-minded would administer tomorrow the fate of the Genos . Speaking in this manner she was not only expressing a personal view. Many people of her time, who either visited themselves the then Greece or were depending on the narrations of the travelers, had the deep-seated conviction that the Free Kingdom was nothing but a source of frustration. 36
Obviously, as inhabitants of the capital of an Eastern power competing for supremacy among the Christian states in the eastern Mediterranean and the Balkans, Istanbulite Greeks took pride in their city and considered it far superior and preferable to Athens, capital of the Greek kingdom. Could it also be that they found the latter parochial in comparison to what they saw as the cultural progress of the Greek element in the empire, particularly in its flourishing and Europeanizing capital? An anecdote may illuminate this question. In 1869, thanks to the sponsorship of the wealthy Istanbulite Greek Orthodox, the Hellenic theater groups that occasionally performed in Istanbul were eventually endowed a new venue in which to continue their activities. The press coverage of the theater s inauguration pompously drew attention to the fact that the city of Athens had failed so far to possess a Greek theater. 37

1.1. Song in Byzantine notation composed in maqam mahur by I ann s Z graphos of Geyve, for the return of Sultan Abd laziz from Europe in 1867. Source: From the archive of N lefs Kamarados: the collection of Arabo-persian music, Music Library of Greece Lilian Voudouri, The Friends of Music Society, Athens. Reproduced courtesy of Stephanie Merakos.
So, in the Tanzimat era, the general political outlook of the Ottoman Greek bureaucratic and economic elite was shaped primarily by being loyal subjects of the Ottoman sultan and supporting the reforms. At the same time, the members of this elite sponsored the building and maintenance of primary- and secondarylevel Greek Orthodox schools and donated to voluntary philanthropical and cultural associations for the advancement of Greek language and culture within and beyond the borders of the empire. Given official approval for the foundation of such societies, it seems that this was not seen by state authorities as a challenge to the ideal of Ottomanism and loyalty to the sultan and the government. In fact, especially in the 1860s-1880s, educated Istanbulite Greeks often displayed a rhetoric that praised the sultan by virtue of his being an enlightened monarch who allowed, and even encouraged, the intellectual progress of his subjects. 38 This was, of course, overlapping with the Helleno-Ottoman discourse already discussed.
Beginning with the Tanzimat, education became a crucial means for the project of Ottoman nation building and creating citizens loyal to the state and the sultan. Yet, in the Hamidian era, the mechanisms of creating a unified Ottoman nation were put into practice more effectively and more extensively. Seen as a unifying element, the instruction of Turkish was made obligatory in non-Muslim communities schools-in fact, before the Hamidian era-with the Regulation of Public Instruction promulgated in 1869. On the part of the Ottoman state elite, this indicated an expectation of assimilating the ethnically, linguistically, and culturally different peoples of the empire into a common Ottoman-Turkish culture. 39 In her recent book, M ropi Anastassiadou has noted that, at the end of the 1880s, Istanbulite Greeks reacted to Turkish instruction in their schools by declaring that they did not have the means to finance the salaries of Turkish instructors. 40 This might indicate, as she has concluded, I would say to a certain extent, that Istanbulite Greeks were not enthusiastic about joining the project of forming an Ottoman nation, at least one that imposed Turkish language on them in the name of linguistic unity. It is beside the point that a good number of Orthodox Christians who lived in Anatolia spoke no other language but Turkish. Nevertheless, the resistance to Turkish instruction suggests the limitations of the Helleno-Ottomanist outlook.
It is not difficult to understand the shift in the attitude of Ottoman Greeks, given the changes in the official ideology of the state during the Hamidian era. Under the reign of Abd lhamid II (1876-1909), the inherently secular ideology of Ottomanism for which the Tanzimat bureaucrats had stood came to coexist with a form of Islamic Ottomanism. It is well known that the Hamidian regime s mobilization of Islam and its domestic use of Pan-Islamic ideology were directed mainly at curbing the nascent nationalist movements among Muslim Ottomans. 41 Yet it can also be safely argued that the Hamidian Islamist politics alienated the local non-Muslims. 42 This was particularly so after the events of 1896 that resulted in the massacre of Armenians in Istanbul and the 1897 Greek-Ottoman War. 43
The Cosmopolitan City
In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the empire was never so diverse in terms of its ethnic, confessional, and linguistic plurality. The loss of territories in the 1877-1878 Russo-Ottoman War augmented the already existing diversity with the immigrations especially from the Balkans and Caucasus. In the century s last decade, Istanbul s population manifested a highly diverse mixture of Muslims, local Christians and Jews, and foreign nationals. 44 The foreign population had increased due to the growth of economic relations with Europe and the development of communications and transportation. Modern urbanization that had started with the Tanzimat was maintained under Abd lhamid II: new public spaces emerged; new leisure activities and mixed schools made possible the interpenetration of different communities. 45 This new plurality was different from the multi-religious Ottoman urbanity that preceded it. As an Ottomanist scholar has recently argued, it had replaced the quotidian urban experience of sharing and togetherness that had been lived in the streets, bathhouses, and marketplaces in the previous centuries. 46
Historians have come to address the multiethnicity, multilingualism, and multiconfessional profile of certain eastern Mediterranean cities-namely, Izmir, Istanbul, Cairo, Alexandria, Salonika, and Beirut, particularly in the period from the 1880s to the 1920s-with the ambiguous qualifier cosmopolitan. A viable definition for cosmopolitan, is provided by the sociologist Sami Zubaida: cosmopolitan is not the fact of multi-cultural coexistence, but the development of ways of living and thinking, styles of life which are deracinated from communities and cultures of origin, from conventional living, from family and home-centeredness, and have developed into a culturally promiscuous life, drawing on diverse ideas, traditions and innovations. 47 If we accept this definition, then, despite the diversity and plurality of the last Ottoman decades, in fact it is hard to find, except in some limited niches, a cultural synthesis that could totally transcend the influence of the religious and national communities and distinctly defined cultures on individuals living and thinking.
One of the principal markers of the diversity of major Ottoman cities in the nineteenth century, which differentiated them from the implicit multiethnicity and multireligiosity of Ottoman urbanity of the previous centuries, was the fact that they possessed, as Edhem Eldem described it, an upper-class cosmopolitanism, based on a system of references located outside the Ottoman borders, most dominantly in Western Europe. 48 The social conditions for its emergence were the new secular conception of the state implemented in the Tanzimat era and, concomitantly, the weakening of communal boundaries and the creation of institutions and milieus of communication outside communal and religious authority. As mentioned, this type of cosmopolitanism was particular and restricted to the elite strata of cities. In his book Salonica, City of Ghosts , Mark Mazower portrayed a classroom at a French high school in early twentieth-century Salonika: A typical class at the Petit Lyc e Fran ais in 1904 had three French pupils, one Greek, four Jews, a Serb, a Ma min , an Armenian, a Turk and a Montenegrin. This was the city s new cross-national cosmopolitan elite in embryo, for whom the ways of European bourgeois life were slowly erasing the old markers of religious and communal difference. 49
The European colonial encroachment was definitely a decisive agent in the emergence of cosmopolitan cities in the wide Mediterranean topography. The driving forces of this phenomenon were the legal privileges and economic opportunities granted to foreign nationals as an extension of capitulations, the immigration of foreign capital, know-how, and manpower, and European schools that disseminated foreign education. Thus, this type of cosmopolitan urbanity s political-cultural context was the colonial or quasi-colonial nature of the balance of power between the local society and the (Great) Western powers. 50 Hence, the late Ottoman plurality was a product of a semicolonial context. As an indication of this, the knowledge of French language and culture was the symbol of modernity and distinction, especially for the upper classes. 51 The westernizing local elite of Istanbul shared a seemingly unifying identity around the common use of the French language in their communication.
During the Crimean War (1853-1856), Istanbul became the stage for multifarious change. Instigated by relations and institutions established during the war, the city began to acquire a European appearance with its Western-modeled urban projects and public transportation. 52 A commission for the ordering of the urban space ( ntizam- ehir Komisyonu ) was established by the government in 1855. Two years later, the first municipal institution in Istanbul, the Municipality of the Sixth District ( Alt nc Daire-i Belediye ), which included the districts of Pera, Galata, and Tophane, was formed. The non-Muslim elite of the city from Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Jewish origins, and foreign subjects-being the wealthy property owners of the district-were predominant in this municipal council. 53 They used French as their working language, as it was the common language of this multiethnic and multilingual elite fraction of Istanbul s population. As stakeholders in the transformation of the urban landscape, these individuals operated in a quasi-colonial context where European financial interests exerted pressure on the Ottoman government. The scholars of the port cities of the nineteenthcentury eastern Mediterranean have often considered those composite municipal councils as the prime loci of cosmopolitanism. 54
It is not possible to argue against the fact that what we see as a cosmopolitan nineteenth-century Istanbul was largely linked with the penetration of Western capitalism, European consumption patterns, and the knowledge and experience of European (particularly French) language and culture. However, there has been some discussion on the relationship between cosmopolitanism and colonialism, and on whether the two have been inherently intertwined in various non-Western contexts. In a recent study on late nineteenth-century Egypt, Deborah Starr has emphasized that cosmopolitanism is neither reducible nor equivalent to colonialism. 55 Similarly, Will Hanley argued that not only non-Muslims deserved to be represented as cosmopolitan in Alexandria at the turn of the twentieth century but also Muslim Arab Egyptians, who were involved in mixed linguistic practices of communication on the streets. 56 Bearing on these insights, I think equating cosmopolitanism, tentatively defined as the coexistence and blending of various practices and lifestyles from different cultural backgrounds, with the effects of Western or European influence wrongly makes the term a euphemism for European colonialism. Relatedly, it would not be fair to restrict the use of the term cosmopolitanism to lifestyles of the westernized, secular, local, and foreign bourgeoisies of the late nineteenth-century port cities. This might obstruct us from observing other forms of cosmopolitanisms and internal and indigenous social and cultural combinations that did not necessarily derive from an increased Western impact at different levels of the society. Agreeing with an eminent scholar of the Ottoman Empire, we should also note that the generally taken-for-granted dichotomy or isolation between the Ottoman upper classes and the lower classes caused by the acceptance of the former of a foreign culture was not absolute; cultural forms suggest interpenetration, though with a degree of internal conflict felt by the westernized elites. 57
Furthermore, the Eurocentric and the elitist approach to the concept of cosmopolitanism fails to see what might be named as a grassroots, vernacular form of cosmopolitanism to which I would now like to draw attention. Popular culture seems to be the right starting point. A well-known Istanbul song may serve as an example. The song goes: It started raining on my way to sk dar/My scribe s skirt is long, his trouser is in mud. This song became popular in Istanbul during the years of the Crimean War, which also witnessed the new dress code introduced by Sultan Abd lmecid, primarily for scribes ( katibs ) but also for the society at large. 58 In mockery of the scribes who began to wear trousers upon the sultan s decree as the story has it, an Istanbulite wrote down those lyrics, pointing to sk dar as the place of foreigners who wore trousers, in other words, where British and French soldiers were accommodated in the barracks. More interestingly, the lyrics were set to a tune borrowed from a march sung by the Scottish troops of the British army, who composed it when inspired by oriental airs on their way to Istanbul. Hence, in this song, the criticism of new habits or the emulation of European styles by popular classes took the form of a creative synthesis that highlighted both the cosmopolitan context of the novelty and the cosmopolitan form of the satirical engagement itself.
The upper segments of the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox were familiar with European music; they attended operas and concerts at theaters and clubs and generally owned and played instruments such as the piano or the violin. When we look at the groups lower down the social scale, their popular songbooks, which addressed a bilingual audience of Greek and Turkish speakers reveal a vernacular cosmopolitanism that shares elements with imported upper-class cosmopolitanism yet is local. The following trilingual song from the songbook Kalliph nos Seir n , classified under the category of Greek and European songs, is revealing:
St n lup n mou konsolasion [French: consolation]
Poulmad m [Turkish: I could not find] oude mian
Thr n log tessellakhs z [?]
Mon dieti turannia
Consolation for my sorrow
I could not find even a little
I lament because of [?]
Whose tyranny I suffer
Klai touzour [toujours] mephaats z [mefaatsiz?].
Zesper [j esp re] p s tha khtukias ,
Dioti ein trediphisil [tr s difficile],
Tzan m [can m] na se xechas .
I m crying all the time, you unfaithful.
I hope I get tuberculosis,
Because it is very difficult,
Darling, to forget you. 59
The ethnomusicologist Thomas Turino denoted cosmopolitanism as a specific type of cultural formation and constitution of habitus that is both local and translocal at the same time. 60 Seen in this light, this song perfectly reveals a fusion of Western cultural and linguistic influence with local notions of love and suffering. Typically, the collage of words in French with the two local (Greek and Turkish) languages affirms the prominent resurgence of French influence in the Mediterranean basin from the mid-nineteenth century onward. The audience for this song was possibly a wide range of individuals, from newly emerging professionals such as lawyers, engineers, physicians, teachers, and journalists to people from the lower ranks of the middle classes like artisans and shopkeepers, and members of more marginal social groups such as seasonal workers and sailors.
The imperial capital as a port city was a contact zone where a variety of foreign elements met a wide variety of local cultural practices and attitudes. The cosmopolitan outlook of Istanbul in the second half of the nineteenth century was also a result of the unprecedented visibility and perception of this diversity. In other words, the recent reforms opened up new avenues of expression and visibility for the existing local diversity. This indigenous cosmopolitanism, which was facilitated by external factors such as Western pressure on the Ottoman government toward providing equal rights to the Christians of the empire, thrived still, though only to a certain extent, because it fitted well with the Ottoman bureaucrats project of bringing Ottomans together around common political goals and prospects of the future, as well as with a shared historical narrative and culture.
The creation of a civic Ottoman identity depended on a favorable politicalideological foundation that would allow for the melding of approaches from diverse traditions of thought, and that concomitantly approved of and encouraged cosmopolitan patterns of sociability and lifestyle. 61 Despite the disclaimer that cosmopolitanism may coexist with parochial identities, it is plausible to argue for an inherent link between cosmopolitan everyday practice and cosmopolitist perceptions of the self. During the Tanzimat period, the Ottoman ruling elite engaged in efforts to explore the non-Islamic historical legacies of the empire, and furthermore attempted to forge a new identity, as it were, for the empire, which fed on the multiethnicity-particularly the Arabic, Persian, and Byzantine roots-of the Ottoman cultural tradition. Naturally, this attitude conformed to the Tanzimat s cultural and political inclusivity. 62 Again in this context, the new appraisal of the Greco-Roman heritage of the empire, and particularly of Istanbul, had largely to do with claims to modernity and efforts to secure the Ottoman capital a place of honor in the time line of the Western historical narrative. The Tanzimat regime provided official backing for projects like the display and restoration of the Byzantine remains in the capital. To cite an example, as mentioned by Ahmet Ersoy, Der Bosphor und Constantinopel , a guidebook on Istanbul occasioned by the Vienna Exposition 1873, emphasized the city s Byzantine heritage and thus confirmed the desire of the Ottoman elite to portray the Ottoman Empire as a modern state that valued and preserved its non-Islamic cultural inheritance. 63 With this, as the same author argued, the Ottoman reformers wished to subscribe to a universal history of civilization as it was defined by the West. The embrace of cosmopolitan cultural roots was closely linked with the indigenous cosmopolitanism that thrived on local diversity and contacts. A remarkably large number of Ottoman Muslim literati of the Tanzimat period knew some Greek in addition to other foreign languages. A good example could be Ahmed Vefik Pasha (1823-1891), who was perfectly familiar with Greek and had an intimate knowledge of the Greek milieu of the Ottoman capital. 64 Some of these Muslim intellectuals had an organic connection with Greek culture due to their education at Greek secondary schools. Furthermore, during the Tanzimat era, Ottoman intelligentsia increasingly adopted the view that the achievements of ancient Greek civilization lay at the foundations of the contemporary European culture they admired. 65 In this climate, the notable Ottoman Turkish intellectuals, journalists, and literary men cooperated with the Greek Orthodox educated elite in local voluntary cultural and scientific societies.
Cosmopolitan cities at the turn-of-the-century eastern Mediterranean, as I have ventured to contextualize late Ottoman Istanbul s diversity in these terms, inevitably call for a discussion about how this cosmopolitanism or mixture of peoples and cultures ended. The term cosmopolitanism has contributed to the emergence of a framework which came to discuss, not only the shared interests and dialogue, but also the conflicts that tore apart the very urban constellations that made cosmopolitanism possible. 66 In this vein, the rise of nationalisms and the secular nation-states has been considered as the major responsible factor in the destruction of cosmopolitan cities. Populations that were excluded from the body of the nation yet had comprised those diverse societies had to depart in the early decades of the twentieth century, as Turkish, Greek, and Egyptian nationalists came to view minorities as comprador bourgeoisies who allegedly collaborated with the colonial regimes or European powers. 67 More often than not, economic rivalry divided the societies along ethnic and religious lines. Hence, some of Istanbul s Greek Orthodox population who departed from the city in 1918-1923 shared a similar fate with the D nmes (Jewish converts to Islam) of Salonika after World War I, the Jews of Corfu in 1891, or the Greeks of Alexandria in the 1950s. 68 Thus, in all those cases, the economically powerful religious Other became the target of discourses and policies that excluded communities with ambiguous national affiliations.
The Greek Orthodox Middle Class
The scholars of nineteenth-century Ottoman urban history have employed various terms such as the urban elite, the middle class(es), or the bourgeoisie(s) in referring to the well-off and educated strata of the major Ottoman cities, namely Istanbul, Izmir, Salonika, Beirut, and Alexandria. Typically, the members of those socioeconomic groups took initiatives, thanks to their civic consciousness, in urban administration, public education, and civil organization in the cities that they inhabited. 69 Inspired by this scholarship, in what follows I will be using the term middle class 70 to denote an educated strata of the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox, who were mostly non-entrepreneurial, belonged to various professions, and had certain income, social status, and prestige. 71 For the most part, it is this socioeconomic group that comprises the main actors in this book. Alternately, without evoking its classical economic meaning, I will also employ the term bourgeoisie in referring to the higher echelons of the middle classes. Some caution is necessary here, as the social group we classify as the nineteenth-century Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie was very fluid, mobile, and hybrid, 72 and was generally a merger of two groups: the new class of professionals who provided services to the state and private sector; and the older commercial class.
The Istanbulite Greek Orthodox middle class had a somewhat different profile from the socioeconomically similar Greek-speaking groups in other Ottoman cities. In particular, it should be distinguished from the Hellenic middle class of Izmir and its environs, which emerged due to some specific demographic, administrative changes and the new economic opportunities that arose in the Aegean in the post-1830s. 73 Istanbul s Greek Orthodox middle class was different from that of the Smyrniot Greeks, who had tighter relations with Greece through educational and professional networks, and among whom Hellenic nationals who exploited new opportunities in the Ottoman coasts were a significant number. Along with the Greek merchants who were well connected with global markets, in Izmir, professionals such as doctors, lawyers, and journalists who had close ties to Greece constituted the backbone of the Hellenic middle class. 74 In contrast, the Istanbulite Rum middle class or the Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie consisted mainly of wealthy and notable merchants and bankers who had close ties to the Ottoman bureaucracy in the imperial capital and Ottoman Greek bureaucrats.
The new economic opportunities that emerged due to the Crimean War (1853-1856) and to British efforts to establish trade relations in the Ottoman Empire, and particularly in Istanbul, helped Greek Orthodox merchants to increase their wealth and economic power. Following the Crimean War, during which the Ottoman state borrowed from European money markets, certain families of the Greek Ottoman business elite shifted from trade to banking, a sector that remained profitable until the establishment of the Ottoman debt administration in 1881. 75 This new field of economic activity concentrated in a particular district of the Ottoman capital, Galata. In the late 1840s, Greek Orthodox banker families began to move their residences to Pera, a neighborhood in the vicinity of Galata. To cite an example, in 1848, the previously mentioned Zariph s family moved from Phanar to Pera (Stavrodromi), which was a general trend in those years. 76
One must resist the temptation to see the Greek Orthodox middle class as a distinct collective of people within the larger Ottoman society. As recently expressed by a scholar of Ottoman social and cultural history, it is plausible to conceptualize an Ottoman bourgeoisie of Istanbul who shared similar lifestyles, similar experiences with Western patterns of organizing their lives, and a more or less shared commitment to Western ideas acquired through similar trajectories of education. 77 This emphasis on cultural convergence based on similar socioeconomic means is different from the portrayal of the nineteenth-century Ottoman upper classes as divided along the lines of ethnicity and religion that is encountered in some versions of late Ottoman historiography. 78 As I will demonstrate in my investigation of the voluntary societies of the Ottoman Greek Orthodox middle class, though the ethnically mixed member profile and the inclusive activities of the latter strengthen the argument for an Ottoman bourgeoisie whose lifestyles and self-perceptions converged, at the same time these societies outwardly expressed goals of promoting ethnonational heritage, language, and culture point to the emergence of discourses of national identity and to their particularism.
Voluntary Societies: Sociability and Education
Voluntary cultural and scientific societies were important contributions of the Tanzimat era to the formation of a civil society. They were conduits for the socialization and integration of the Ottoman upper and middle classes. In some cases, they were initiated as a result of a collaboration of Ottoman statesmen and European scholars. 79 Parallel attempts to promote scholarly research and debate came from the millets, which began to mobilize to encourage secular education. Ottoman Christians-Greek Orthodox, Armenians, Bulgarians, Arab Christians-and Jews founded scientific, literary, and cultural societies in order to spread literacy, scientific knowledge, and more generally the ideals of enlightenment and civility. Voluntary societies emerged under the impact of complex processes of westernization and rapid socioeconomic change and were nurtured by the newly formed urban publics. Despite their inclusive character, which embraced, in principle, the city s educated middle classes beyond any religious and ethnic borders, these societies became forums where protonational discourses were articulated by the elites of various subject populations. 80
According to a contemporary medical doctor, the syllogoi (the Greek word for societies ) addressed the human need to develop an intellectual mind, to meet with each other, to talk and discuss. 81 In the 1960s and 1970s, the research in Greece on the syllogoi of Ottoman Greeks was influenced by a specific historical discourse that prevailed in most of the twentieth century in the nation-states that succeeded the Ottoman Empire. 82 This discourse, with its orientalist view of the Ottoman legacy, saw the associational activities of the Orthodox Christian merchants and educated groups as progressive actions against the arbitrary and stagnant Muslim rule. They represented and celebrated the syllogoi as centers for the unredeemed Greeks struggle against despotism and ignorance and as those ethnic fellowmen s bastions to uphold Hellenism in the East. 83 Today, the educational, philanthropic, and cultural societies are considered within a framework of broader changes in Ottoman society that accounts for the transformative power of knowledge, especially over a certain stratum of the Ottoman Greek-speaking population. The author of a recent study has stated that the syllogos movement was a reflection of the interests and aspirations of certain strata of the Ottoman Greek population, and in particular the westernized intelligentsia of Constantinople. 84 The Medical Society (1861) and the Greek Literary Society of Constantinople (1861) were the first voluntary associations the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox founded. They hosted various scientific and literary discussions and lectures and had members from diverse ethnic-religious backgrounds. These voluntary societies connected private interests and public good. Donating to educational, philanthropic, and cultural associations earned one moral significance as well as becoming a factor in determining one s social status. Wealthy Ottoman Greek Orthodox came to perceive it as a duty toward their community or genos . 85
In establishing clubs and cultural associations, the Greek Orthodox middle classes and intelligentsia drew their inspiration from similar associations and societies of the European inhabitants of the empire; forming them was a manifestation that these elites shared common values with the European upper classes. 86 Clubs and societies were places where civilized, bourgeois codes of behavior were learnt and practiced. For example, in the founding statutes of these clubs, entertainment was regularized and controlled by numerous rules that described the working hours of the club and ordained the games and dances it allowed. The statute of Smyrna s New Greek Club included as many as fifteen articles devoted solely to the subject of dance. 87 Dance was an activity upon which certain moral behavior was imposed. Similarly, Club Byzantion in Istanbul prohibited in any circumstance visards, and sordid and obscene clothing during Carnival (Apokries). 88 Club Byzantion and Club Mn mosyn were located in Phanar, the old Greek neighborhood in Golden Horn. The primary goals of these two social clubs were entertainment and social gathering among their members, and they were closed to the wider public. They staged theater plays and organized dance evenings. Club Byzantion, in particular, was a center for the cream of Istanbulite Greek Orthodox society. Some of its members were famous bankers and merchants such as Georgios Zariph s, Aristeid s Baltatz s, Dimitrios Genidounias, Stephanos Skouloud s, Andreas Syngros, and N. K. Rodokanak s. 89 This Greek Orthodox business elite traveled frequently to Europe in order to monitor their firms business activities in cities like Paris, London, Marseille, and Trieste. In those European cities, they frequented the same cultural and entertainment milieus as the Greek-speaking merchants and businessmen from other parts of the continent. Therefore, their social clubs and societies in Istanbul can be considered as hubs crucial to the formation and maintenance of a trans-European Greek upper class.
As I have hinted before, in the early 1860s the big Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie in Istanbul remained remote from if not indifferent to the political turmoil in the Greek kingdom. In contrast, some members of Istanbul s radical Greek intelligentsia and professional class were extremely preoccupied with the constitutionalist movement. Their stance aligned with the contemporary British policy regarding the Eastern Question, which was manifestly anti-King Otto. The prominent medical doctor Heracles Basiad s led the antiroyalist and constitutionalist movements in Istanbul and publicly expressed his discontent with the pan-Slavist turn of Russia. Britain s support for the opposition to King Otto peaked around 1861-1862. In those years, British foreign policy was marked by its support for the integrity of Ottoman territories in the Balkans. Relatedly, the British diplomats who served in the imperial capital often saw the advance of Greek education in Ottoman Europe, which was disseminated through the activities of the Greek educational societies in Istanbul, as an antidote to the expansion of Russia s pan-Slavic influence. Furthermore, they saw the ( syllogos ) movement with its national character as a factor that would weaken the position of King Otto. 90
The Greek clubs and societies, with their celebrated contributions to the socialization and cultural improvement of Ottoman subjects, were probably considered by the Tanzimat bureaucrats as showcases displaying the liberality of the government, especially toward European powers. This may explain to some extent why the Tanzimat governments issued decrees without much reservation for the foundation of voluntary cultural and educational societies by local Greeks. 91 Another reason might have been the British diplomats support. On May 7, 1863, at the annual celebration of the Greek Literary Society in Constantinople and the Greek Medical Society, Heracles Basiad s, chairman of the Greek Literary Society, declared the British ambassador Sir Henry Bulwer an honorary member. The British diplomat responded with an enthusiastic philhellene statement: It is not possible not to admire the nation which produced Homer, Aeschylus, Demosthenes, and the inventor of medicine Hippocrates, and the means of today s civilization in the universe. He further added that Greeks deserved literary societies more than other nations because they protected the heritage of their ancestors. Bulwer also noted that the Ottoman government and the Reform Edict had allowed the foundation of such societies and facilitated the development of each nation. 92 Hence, he reminded Istanbul s Greek Orthodox that the flourishing and improvement of their national institutions had become possible only as the result of the recently implemented laws and implicitly advised them to support the Ottoman reforms. Thus, Greek-Ottoman collaboration, or the political allegiance of Greek Orthodox subjects to the Ottoman state, was actively endorsed by representatives of the Great Powers who were anxious about an upset of balance of power in the Balkans.
The syllogoi of Istanbulite Greek Orthodox also provided space for the formation and promotion of a national discourse. They served for the affirmation of a distinct cultural identity and dissemination of the knowledge of Greek language, history, and traditions. Emblematically, the local Greeks voluntary cultural clubs and societies bore names that referred to ancient Greece, such as Mn mosyn , Ath na, and Orpheus. The generous donations of the wealthy Istanbulite Greek Orthodox families to educational societies helped to create a wide educational network that was later to spread to the remotest towns with Christian Orthodox populations in Anatolia and the Balkans. By 1912, the greater city of Istanbul had twenty-six literary-educational societies. 93
Sacred Places: Religiosity and Display
The emergence and growth of an Ottoman Greek Orthodox middle class was attested not only by the opening of schools and voluntary associations but also by the appearance of new churches and cemeteries. The construction of new places of worship reflected both the nineteenth-century change in the actual legal framework and the hopeful atmosphere and sense of freedom among Istanbulite Greek Orthodox regarding their religious worship. The imperial decree of 1856 and the imperial diploma ( berat ) given in 1860 by the Ottoman sultan to Patriarch I akeim II (1860-1863) guaranteed freedom of religious worship. 94 The Reform Edict of 1856 allowed the construction of new churches by non-Muslims of the empire who had earlier been permitted only to repair existing ones. Also, with the edict previous prohibitions on religious ceremonies were weakened. Traditionally, non-Muslims were not allowed to pray outside of churches or synagogues. While ringing church bells was banned in accordance with Islamic law, even the sounds of hymns and worship were not supposed to be heard outside of non-Muslim worship places. 95 After the imperial decree, non-Muslims were allowed to sing their hymns loudly in public. 96
In Istanbul in the 1860s and later, wealthy Greek Orthodox built new churches in pompous architectural styles. As the major district where affluent Greek Orthodox lived, Pera/Beyo lu was the privileged site of new church construction. Since 1804, the only church serving the Stavrodromi/Pera community had been the Church of Panagia. In 1861, the increased congregation necessitated a second church; thus the Church of Hagios K nstantinos was built. Twenty years later, the most impressive church of Pera s Orthodox community, the Church of Hagia Triada, constructed in neo-Byzantine style, opened its doors in 1881. As a prominent scholar of the Greek Orthodox community in Istanbul has pointed out, in the second half of the nineteenth century Pera s Greek Orthodox elite engaged in church construction mainly as a symbolic action asserting and affirming its ethnoreligious identity. 97 Pera was certainly not the only neighborhood to have impressive Greek Orthodox churches in late Ottoman Istanbul. At the turn of the twentieth century, the Rum community in Khalk dona/Kad k y and Modi/Moda was like a miniature of the Pera community in terms of its socioeconomic profile, institutions, and communal and social life. Thus, inspired by the Church of Hagia Triada in Pera/Stavrodromi, the community of Khalk dona constructed an analogous church, whose foundations were laid in 1887. 98 The Church of Hagia Triada in Kad k y was completed in eighteen years thanks to the efforts of Germanos, the Metropolitan of Khalk dona. This impressive basilica church in the neo-Byzantine style was opened on April 10, 1905.

1.2. The Inauguration of the Church of Hagia Triada, Kad k y (Khalk dona), April 10, 1905. Source: From the archive of the Church of Hagia Triada. Reproduced courtesy of Kostas Kiracopoulos.
The symbolic meaning of the architecture and decoration of places of worship is indisputable. As important as churches in terms of signification, however, are cemeteries. After the sultanic decree of 1875 prohibiting the burial of deceased in the vicinity of inhabited areas and churches, the Greek Orthodox community of Pera began to use an empty plot of land in the district of i li as its cemetery. Inside the cemetery, an impressive funerary church, the Church of Metamorph s s (referring to Christ s transfiguration) was erected in 1888. It was designed by the French architect Alexandre Vallaury and financed by the Greek Orthodox banker Pavlos Stephanobik Skulitz s. 99 The monumental tombs that were constructed for community notables, mostly in the 1880s-1910s, enhanced the power and status of these individuals and their families. The symbols, epigraphs, and other visual elements that ornamented these tombs pompously referred to the piety, benevolence, and compassionate character of these individuals. Thus, even after death they contributed to the self-image of Pera s Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie as the benefactors of the Rum millet.
The phenomenon of the monumentalization and inscription of philanthropic work into the communal memory went hand in hand with a more general shift in the behavior of the Ottoman Greek middle classes, as noted by Haris Exertzoglou, from the traditional anonymous charity acknowledged as a Christian virtue to a secular version of benevolence whose public display enhanced the benefactor s social status. 100 The building of monumental sacred places (churches and cemeteries) by the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox bourgeoisie emphasized and consolidated the links between wealth, power, and intracommunal hierarchy and solidarity. Also, it had significant meaning as public performance of identities. The strong visibility of such spectacular constructions in the urban space concretized a particular confessional identity that the Greek Orthodox of Pera/Beyo lu wished to assert at a crucial moment of rapid political and social transformation.
2 Liturgical Music and the Middle Class
I N ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY , music was considered a privileged pedagogical field whose correct cultivation served the moral development of the person and consequently the flourishing of the collectivity in which he lived. In the early centuries of Christianity, music was also significant as an effective means of communicating with the divine. In various passages of their writings, the great fathers of the Church addressed Christians in musical terms: Exalt Him with the voice of the trumpet . Exalt Him with the psaltery and the cithara. Or, with the drum and the lyre. 1 In Basil the Great s Epistles , the prayer of the congregation who confesses to God in pain, sorrow, and tears is followed by antiphonal singing rendering the Psalm. 2 Reversibly, as opposed to the beneficial or positive ways of using the sense of hearing, as in the case of singing hymns of praise and thanksgiving to God, the abuse of this sense was severely forbidden by the Orthodox monastic tradition.
The monk Saint Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain, who lived in the eighteenth century, counseled both the clergy and laity alike about why they should guard their sense of hearing. Nicodemus wrote that hedonistic and worldly songs tended to weaken the manly and proud bearing of the soul with the consequence that the latter became effeminate and lethargic as it listened to those sweet sounds, and furthermore, these sensual songs tended to fill up the mind with the many passionate images which they described. Also he claimed that such songs were capable of impressing the imagination, moving the desire of the heart and drawing out an assent from the soul. 3 Nicodemus s conviction about the seductive power of music drew upon the model of the human soul developed within the Eastern monastic tradition of late antiquity. 4 As Christianity gained the support of imperial power and consolidated its influence, synods attended by bishops and fathers anathematized pagan customs and designated and organized the church liturgy and its music.
It is well known that in early Christianity the whole congregation chanted the psalms, while later, in the fourth century AD, chanting became restricted to appointed cantors who were to ascend the pulpit and sing from the ecclesiastical books. 5 Traditionally, the cantor, being a lay servant in the church, cannot mediate between the faithful and God in the sense of having the authority to provide the sacraments and does not necessarily possess any theological knowledge or learning of the Holy Scriptures. However, he is perhaps the most effective bearer of the word of God to the believer through his singing. Throughout the centuries, his art has constantly been under discussion for as long as practical theology lacked consensus about what constituted acceptable ecclesiastical singing. Furthermore, as organization and professionalization ebbed in its lower ranks, the profession of church singing suffered severely from the contempt of the economically and socially better-off groups. In the early nineteenth century, as romantic nationalism made music the natural representative and identifier of the nation, urban bourgeois groups and nationalist intelligentsias sought to rectify what they saw as the nation s musical heritage, which became closely linked with the latter s reputation. The rising concern of Istanbul s Greek Orthodox middle class regarding its ecclesiastical music, considered and embraced as a marker of national and civilizational identity, should be seen in this context.
During the period under consideration in this book, in numerous multiethnic and multiconfessional societies in Europe, minority groups considered reforming their liturgical musics, which they saw as part of their national selfimage. Also, it must be mentioned that in industrializing Europe both the essence of religious worship and the relationship of the various social strata with regard to religion were continuously being reinterpreted. In the context of these developments in Europe, but also as the direct and indirect result of the mid-century reforms, in this era religious identities began to be asserted in the Ottoman public space through new media, and more pompously than before.
The discourse and attitudes of the Istanbulite Greek Orthodox middle class regarding its church ritual and liturgical music took shape under the impact of two interrelated processes. The first was economic change, which not only created the Greek Orthodox middle class but also formed new class identities and markers of social differentiation. The second process was the articulation of a national discourse at the new institutions of the Orthodox Christian communities living in the empire and their search for and assertion of a definition of Greekness. This book analyzes the music question in relation to these two entangled processes. Now, before turning to Istanbul s Greek Orthodox and their liturgical music, it is necessary to see what was happening in the broader Greek world outside the empire s borders-namely, in the Kingdom of Greece and the Greek Orthodox diaspora communities in Europe.
The Westernization of Greek Orthodox Liturgical Music beyond the Ottoman Borders
First, let me present briefly a major reform attempt in the realm of the Orthodox chant that took place in the first decades of the nineteenth century. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the indigenous musical traditions of the Ottoman Empire went through a significant change. Almost in the same years, the Gregorian Armenian cantor Baba Hampartzum 6 and the Greek Orthodox Metropolitan Chrysanthos of Madytos invented systems of notation to facilitate the instruction and practice of liturgical music and to save the religious chants from falling into oblivion.
The reform of Greek Orthodox liturgical music is generally attributed to the Three Teachers : Chrysanthos of Madytos, 7 Gr gorios the First Cantor (Protopsaltis), 8 and Chourmouzios the Archivist (Chartophylakas). 9 In 1814, a new theoretical system and a new music notation were introduced by the Three Teachers. Chrysanthos, to whom the theoretical systematization is attributed, replaced the older polysyllable terms, which denoted the neumes, with monosyllable notes such as pa, vu, ga, di , etc., inspired by the re, mi, fa, sol , etc., of the European system. 10
There are examples of the attempts to introduce Western musical concepts and tools to the traditional monophonic chant of the Orthodox Church long before the nineteenth century. In the sixteenth century, Ier nymos from Cyprus, who studied music for nine years in Italy including his instruction from Gioseffo Zarlino in Venice for three years, offered a new system based on the major and minor tones of the Western music system. 11 Another well-known musician was Agapios Paliermos (born end of eighteenth century in Chios), who sought to simplify the existing notation and eventually convinced Patriarch Gr gorios V to use pentagram in his music lessons in the Patriarchal Music School, and further, though his attempt failed, worked on the harmonization of ecclesiastical chants. 12 Around 1828, even before the official foundation of the Greek state, the first ecclesiastical music school was opened on the island of Aegina, as part of the orphanage there, by the first president of the country, I ann s Kapodistrias. In the 1830s, the music teacher Athanasios Abramiad s was following Western musical models and eventually established a polyphonic church choir at the orphanage. In the subsequent decade, the use of a new notation system in ecclesiastical music instruction in this school, invented by Georgios Lesbios, alarmed the Patriarchate in Istanbul. Lesbios s notation was condemned by two encyclicals issued in 1846 and 1848. 13
It is important to remember that in this era, in the Greek kingdom both the authority of the Church and the doctrines of Orthodoxy were questioned or reinterpreted by certain popular religious and reformist movements based on new doctrinal, moral, and devotional concepts. 14 The Patriarchate s sensitivity toward what was considered as the traditions of the Church, and its persecution of innovations-namely the new notation system for the instruction and dissemination of ecclesiastical music-should be understood in this context.
The Church in Greece was established independent from all foreign authority (hence from the Patriarchate) in external matters and was made into an organ of the Greek state, which was created and led by a group of Bavarian statesmen. 15 With the Constitution of 1833, the Orthodox Eastern Apostolic Church of the Kingdom of Greece became autocephalous. In the following decades, the Church question continued, and in the ranks of the church clergy two opposing groups clashed with one another: the faction advocating an independent Greek church, led by Archimandrite Theokl tos Pharmakid s, and the other group, who rejected autocephaly, fearing that it would create a schism with the long Byzantine tradition led by the prominent scholar K nstantinos Oikonomos. 16 After two decades of severed relations with the Patriarchate, in 1849 Patriarch Anthimos IV offered to officiate at the funeral of the Greek ambassador to the Sublime Porte as a step toward amending relations with the Church in Greece. In June 1850, a Synodal Tomos was drawn up that recognized it as an autocephalous church in the Orthodox community. 17 Despite the reconciliation with the mother church, probably because the institutions of the Church in Greece were subject to the government machine, the prestige of the church was endangered, as a result of which its rite and liturgy came under criticism. To give an illustrative example, in his controversial novel I Papissa I anna , published in 1866, Emmanuel Roid s 18 condemned the liturgical art of the Eastern Orthodox Church. In the following excerpt, he designated aesthetic preference for the beautiful, which he equated with the art of the Western Church as the determinant of genuine piety: If the Madonna of Raphael would appear in our churches or if suddenly the holy melodies of Rossini or Mozart would echo, I think the eyes and the ears of the real orthodox would turn to these; the ones who prefer the gloomy and nasal Byzantine singing deserve to be called schismatics. 19
A few years later, during the Easter service in 1869, the choir of the Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens sang a few hymns in polyphonic music. 20 The reform of the church music was sparked. A year later, Georgios Mantzabinos, a professor at the Rizareios Theological School in Athens, wrote a series of articles in the newspaper Ai n supporting the introduction of polyphony to the church choirs in the Greek capital. 21 An important official backing to polyphonic liturgical music was the demand of Queen Olga, who was of Russian origin, for the implementation of Russian-style polyphonic chanting in the palace chapel. In 1870, the prominent musician and ecclesiastical choir leader Alexandros Katakouz nos (1824-1892) was invited from Odessa to undertake this task. 22 Eventually, in the first months of the year 1875, the Holy Synod of Greece issued an encyclical that allowed the chanting of polyphonic music in the Metropolitan Cathedral during national and royal feasts until the necessary improvement of the traditional church music was achieved. 23 In the nineteenth century, the Russian Orthodox Church was a powerful model for the autocephalous Orthodox churches that were established in southeast Europe. The Petrine model of church reform of the early eighteenth century influenced significantly the discourse and practice of the high-ranking church clergy in Greece. On the topic of liturgical music, too, the Orthodox Church in imperial Russia was often referred to as a successful example that implemented polyphonic music in the context of an Orthodox Eastern church.

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