CHAPTER XII.CEREMONIES OF BIRTH AND INFANCY.The Birth of a Turkish Child—Midwives—Mummification of the Baby—Amulets—The State Bedstead—Naming the Child—Invalid Diet—Reception of Friends and Strangers—Treatment of the Baby—Evil Eye, and Remedies thereagainst—Bathing of Mother and Child—Daubing of the Mother and Refreshment of the Guests—The Cradle—Opiates given to Children—Treatment of Baby Illnesses—Food—Deaths from Over-eating—Late weaning—Circumcision—Procession—Rejoicings—Hospitality—The Diseases of Childhood and their Treatment in Turkey—Fosterage—Attempted Census—Frequent Deaths of Mothers—Births among the Jews—Armenian Birth Ceremonies—Births among the Greeks—Remains of Ancient Customs—The Christening—Triple Immersion—Dedication of Hair—Confirmation by Anointing—Conscientious Performance of the Duties of Sponsors—Hardiness of Bulgarian Women—Their Indifference to Lying-in—Their Sorrows—Survival only of the Fittest—A Bulgarian and her Cow—Doctoring Children.
The Birth of a Turkish Child—Midwives—Mummification of the Baby—Amulets—The State Bedstead—Naming the Child—Invalid Diet—Reception of Friends and Strangers—Treatment of the Baby—Evil Eye, and Remedies thereagainst—Bathing of Mother and Child—Daubing of the Mother and Refreshment of the Guests—The Cradle—Opiates given to Children—Treatment of Baby Illnesses—Food—Deaths from Over-eating—Late weaning—Circumcision—Procession—Rejoicings—Hospitality—The Diseases of Childhood and their Treatment in Turkey—Fosterage—Attempted Census—Frequent Deaths of Mothers—Births among the Jews—Armenian Birth Ceremonies—Births among the Greeks—Remains of Ancient Customs—The Christening—Triple Immersion—Dedication of Hair—Confirmation by Anointing—Conscientious Performance of the Duties of Sponsors—Hardiness of Bulgarian Women—Their Indifference to Lying-in—Their Sorrows—Survival only of the Fittest—A Bulgarian and her Cow—Doctoring Children.
The birth of a Turkish child is left very much to nature, slightly aided by the unscientific assistance of theEbé Kadinor midwives, who are very numerous in the country, recruited from the lower strata of society, and belonging to all creeds. They are ignorant, uneducated, and possess not the most rudimentary knowledge of medicine or of the surgical art. Some of these women, however, from long experience and naturalsavoir faire, acquire a certain repute for ability, well justified by the success they sometimes obtain in difficult cases. AllEbéswho have attained this height of superiority are much esteemed in Turkish society; they are admitted into elevated circles, and are entitled to special marks of honor and attention.
As soon as a Turkish child is born it is enveloped in a tiny chemise andLibardé, or quilted jacket of many colors, bound with a swathe; its limbs are pulled straight down, and then imprisoned in a number of quilted wrappers and tightly bandaged all over by another swathe, giving the unfortunate mummified being the appearance of a Bologna sausage. A red silk cap is placed on the head, ornamented with a pearl tassel, one or two fine gold coins, and a number of amulets and charms against the evil eye.
These objects consist of a head of garlic, a piece of alum, a copy of one or two verses of the Koran plaited in little triangles and sewn in bits of blue cloth, and a number of blue glass ornaments in the shape of hands, horseshoes, etc. The baby, thus decked out, is next placed in a fine square quilted covering, one corner of which forms a hood, the other three being crossed over its body; a red gauze veil, thrown over the whole, completing its toilette. After the child’s birth a state couch is prepared on a bedstead used for the occasion, decorated with the richest silks, the heaviest gold embroideries, and the finest gauzes of the East. The bed is first covered with a gauze sheet, worked with gold threads; five or six long pillows of various colored silks, covered with richly-embroidered pillow-cases, open at the ends, occupy the head and one side of the couch; one or twoyorgans, or quilted coverlets, heavily laden with gold embroidery, occasionally mixed with pearls and precious stones and the under-sides lined with gauze sheets, are thrown over it. On this bed of state the happy mother is placed, at no small sacrifice of ease and comfort. Her head is encircled with a redFotoz, or scarf, ornamented with a bunch of charms similar to that placed on the head of the child, the garlic insinuating its head through the red veil that falls on the temples. A stick, surmounted by an onion, is placed in one corner of the room, against the wall.
When these preliminary arrangements have been made, the husband is admitted, who, after felicitating his wife on the happy event, has his offspring put into his arms; he at once carries it behind the door, and after muttering a short prayer, shouts three times into the baby’s ear the name chosen for it. He then gives back the infant to its mother, and quits the room.[19]
For several days (the exact time depending upon the mother’s health) water, either for drinking or ablutionary purposes, is not comprised in the régime imposed upon the invalid, whose lips may be parched with thirst, but not a drop of water is given to her. Sherbet, made from a kind of candied sugar and spices, varied by a tisane extracted from the maidenhair fern, is the only drink administered. Turkish ladies, after confinement, get little rest; the moment the event is known, relations, friends, and neighbors crowd in, and are at once permitted to enter the chamber and partake of sherbet, sweets, and coffee, not even abstaining from their inveterate habit of smoking cigarettes.
On the second day a great quantity of this sherbet is prepared, and bottles of it sent to friends and acquaintances byMusdadjis,[20]also an invitation to theDjemiet, or reception held on the third day. The house on this occasion is thrown open to visitors, invited or uninvited. Dinner is served to the former, and sherbet to the latter. Bands of music are in attendance to receive and accompany upstairs the most distinguished guests, who arrive in groups, preceded by servants bearing baskets of sweets prettily got up with flowers and gilt paper and enveloped in gauze tied up with ribbons.
The guests are first conducted into an ante-chamber, where they are divested of theirYashmaksandFeridjés(veils and cloaks) previously to being introduced to the presence of the invalid. The latter kisses the hands of all the elderlyhanoums, who say to her, “Mashallah, ermuli kadunli olsoun.”[21]Very little notice is taken of the baby, and even then only disparaging remarks are made about it, both by relatives and guests, such asMurdar(dirty),Chirkin(ugly),Yaramaz(naughty). If looked at it is immediately spat upon, and then left to slumber in innocent unconsciousness of the undeserved abuse it has received. Abusive and false epithets are employed by Turkish women under all circumstances worthy of inviting praise or admiration, in order to counteract the supposition of ill-feeling or malice underlying the honeyed words of the speaker, which are sure to be turned against her in case of any accident or evil happening to the subject of the conversation.
As soon as the visitors have departed a few cloves are thrown into the brazier, to test whether any ill effects of the evil eye have been left behind. Should the cloves happen to burst in burning, the inference is drawn that the evil eye has exerted its influence; the consequences of which can only be averted by some hair from the heads of the mother and child being cut off and burnt with the view of fumigating the unfortunate victims with the noxious vapor. Prayers and sundry incantations, intermingled with blowings and spittings, are made over the heads of the stricken creatures, and only desisted from when a fit of yawning proclaims that the ill effects of theNazar(evil eye) have been finally banished.
The party suspected of having given the Nazar is next surreptitiously visited by some old woman, who manages to possess herself of a scrap of some part of the suspected person’s dress, with which a second fumigation is made.
Among the lower orders, coffee, sugar, and other provisions frequently replace the baskets of sweets; and if the father of the child is an official, his superior and subordinates may accompany these with gifts of value. The poor, who cannot afford to give dinners, content themselves with offering sherbet and coffee to their visitors. With the poor the third, and with the rich the eighth, day is appointed for the bathing of the mother and child. There is a curious but deeply-rooted superstition, accepted by all Turkish women, which imposes upon them the necessity of never leaving the mother and child alone, for fear they should becomeAlbalghan mish, possessed by the Peris. The red scarves and veils are, I believe, also used as preservatives against this imaginary evil. When a poor person is unavoidably left alone, a broom is placed by the bedside to mount guard over her and her child.
If the ceremony of the bath takes place in the house, theEbé Kadinand a number offriends are invited to join the bathers and partake of luncheon or some other refreshment. When the ceremony is carried out at the public bath, the company march there in procession, headed by theEbé Kadincarrying the baby. Each family sends a carpet and the bathing linen tied up in a bundle, covered with embroidery and pearls sometimes amounting in value to 30l.or 40l.The mother and child are naturally the chief objects of attention. The former, divested of her clothing, is wrapped in her silk scarf offered to her by theHammamji Hanoum(mistress of the bath), puts on a pair of high pattens worked with silver, and is led into the inner bath, supported on one side by the Hammamji and on the other by some friend, the baby in the charge of theEbé Kadinbringing up the rear. Hot water is thrown over it, and it is rubbed and scrubbed, keeping the company alive with its screams of distress. This concluded, the infant is carried out, and its mother taken in hand by herEbé Kadin, who, before commencing operations, throws a bunch of keys into the basin, muttering some prayers, and then blows three times into it. A few pails of water are thrown over the bather, and after the washing of the head and sundry manipulations have been performed she is led to the centre platform, where she is placed in a reclining position, with her head resting on a silver bowl. A mixture of honey, spices, and aromatics, forming a brownish mess, is thickly besmeared all over her body, and allowed to remain about an hour. Her friends surround her during this tedious process, and amuse her with songs and lively conversation, every now and then transferring some of this composition from her body to their mouths with their fingers. The spicy coating thus fingered gives to the lady a singular zebra like appearance; but, though not becoming, it is believed to possess very strengthening and reviving powers, and it is considered a good augury even to get only a taste of it. What remains of this mixture after the friends have been sufficiently regaled is washed off.
The lady, no doubt greatly benefited by this application, is then wrapped in her bathing dress, the borders of which are worked with gold, and is ready to leave the bath. Previous to doing so, she must make a round of the baths, and kiss the hands of all the elderly ladies, who say to her in return “shifalou olsoun.”[22]Refreshments are offered in abundance to the guests during the ceremony, which lasts the greater part of the day. These formalities are onlyde rigueurat the birth of the first child; at other times they are optional.
The cradle (beshik) plays a great part in the first stage of baby existence. It is a very strange arrangement, and, like many Turkish things and customs, not very easy to describe. It is a long, narrow, wooden box fixed upon two rockers, the ends of which rise a foot and a half above the sides, and are connected at their summits by a strong rail, which serves as a support to the nurse when giving nourishment to the child. The mattress is hard and no pillow is allowed. The baby lies on its back with its arms straight down by its sides, its legs drawn down, and toes turned in.
It is kept in this position by a swathe, which bandages the child all over to the cradle. A small cushion is placed on the chest, and another on the knees of the child, to keep it in position and prevent the bandage from hurting it. The infant thus secured becomes a perfect fixture, the head being the only member allowed the liberty of moving from side to side. This strange contrivance (called thekundak) has a very distorting effect, and is one of the principal causes of the want of symmetry in the lower limbs of the Turks and of the Armenians (who are reared in the same fashion), who are, as a rule, bow-legged and turn their toes in. I believe thekundaksystem is going out of fashion among the higher classes, but it is still resorted to by the lower, who find it extremely convenient on account of the leisure it affords to the mother. The child, thus disposed of, is left in the cradle for five or six hours at a time; it is occasionally nursed, and in the intervals sucks anemsikcomposed of masticated bread and sugar, or some Rahat lakoum (Turkish delight), tied up in a piece of muslin.
All Turkish mothers and many Armenians of the lower orders administer strong sleeping draughts, generally of opium, poppy-head, or theriac, to their infants; some carry the abuse of these to such an extent that the children appear always in a drowsy state, the countenance pale, the eyelids half closed, the pupils of the eyes contracted, the lips parched and dry, and a peculiar hazy expression fixed upon the face; all the movements are lethargic, in marked contrast to the sprightly motion of a healthy European child. The natural baby-cry is replaced by a low moan, and no eagerness is shown for the mother’s milk, only an inclination to remain listless and inactive. I have known mothers give as many as five opium pills to a restless child in one night. Besides the stupefying effect of these opiates on the brain, they are highly injurious to the digestive organs, occasioning constipation, which, treated under the designation ofsangyu(colics), is increased by frequent employment of heating medicines, such as spirits of mint, camomile, or aniseed. A Turkish mother never thinks of giving her child an aperient; almond oil is the nearest approach to a remedy of this kind.
Sleeplessness, uneasiness, or slight indisposition in babies is generally put down to the effects of the evil eye. Any old woman, whosenefs, or breath, is considered most efficacious, is called in. She takes hold of the child, mutters prayers over it, exercising a sort of mesmeric influence, and blowing it at intervals, a remedy that results in soothing the child to sleep for a while. Should her breathing powers prove inefficacious, theSheikh(whosenefsis held in the highest esteem) is called in. The magnetizing powers of the latter are increased by the addition of amuska(amulet) hung round the neck of the child, for which a shilling is paid. When all these remedies prove unavailing, the doctor is applied to, but his advice, generally little understood and less credited, is never thoroughly carried out. The Turks have no faith in medicine or doctors—“kismet” overrides all such human efforts.
No régime is followed with regard to the food of a child. It is allowed to eat whatever it can get hold of, and digest it as best it can. The excesses into which children are liable to fall by the indulgence of sweets and other unwholesome food often lead to serious consequences. I have seen a splendid child two years old die, after an illness of seven hours, from indigestion caused by eating an undue quantity of boiled Indian corn, a favorite dish among Turkish children. I have also witnessed two other similarly painful cases; one of a girl nine years of age, who, after consuming a large quantity of heavy pastry, was found dead, crouched up in a corner of a room; the other of a boy seven years old, whose partiality for pickles brought on inflammation of the bowels, from which, after forty days, he died.
Turkish children are nursed up to the age of eighteen months, and even to three years. Some foolish mothers will nurse their children as long as Nature supplies them with the necessary nourishment. I knew a boy of five years of age who was still being nursed. The strangest part of this case was that his foster-mother, a woman with whom I was personally acquainted, had never had a child of her own, but, determining to participate in part in the sweets of maternity, had adopted a baby, which she perseveringly nursed till Nature by some strange freak provided her with milk!
Weaning is perhaps the most critical period of babyhood. A little basket is provided by the tender parents, into which all kinds of fruits and sweets are heaped, and left at the child’s disposal to eat as much as it likes. The consequence of this injurious custom is the complete derangement and distension of the stomach, the effects of which are often noticeable in after-life. Rice and starch, boiled in water, are the ingredients Turkish women sometimes use for baby-food, feeding them invariably with their fingers; but it is impossible to say what they do or do not feed them with, for there is no notion in Turkey of a regular system for bringing up children.
A rite of childhood which must not be passed over, since it is accompanied by curious ceremonies, is circumcision. The obligatory duty of parents in this matter falls heavily on the middle classes and entails great expense upon the budget of the wealthy. When a Turk of some standing is expected to have aSunnet Duhun, the coming event is watched for by a number of persons who cannot afford individually to undertake the responsibility of the outlay the ceremony would involve. All such individuals send in the names of their children, begging that they might be allowed to participate in the ceremonial rite. The grandee appealed to fixes the number of these according to his means or his generosity. When the ceremony takes place in the imperial palace, the Sultans have not the liberty of limiting the number of applicants, which sometimes amounts to thousands, and occasions a very heavy drain upon the treasury.
TheSunnet Duhunbegins on a Monday and lasts a whole week. The ages of the candidates range from four to ten years. The boys are sent to the bath, where the uncropped tufts of hair left on the crown of their heads are plaited with gold threads allowed to hang down their backs up to the moment of initiation. The chief candidate is provided with a suit of clothes richly worked with gold and ornamented on the breast with jewels in the shape of a shield; his fez is also entirely covered with jewels. The number of precious ornaments necessary for the ceremony is so great that they have in part to be borrowed from relatives and friends, who are in duty bound to lend them. The caps and coats of all the minor aspirants are equally studded with gems. They are provided with complete suits of clothes by the family in whose house theSunnet Duhunis held, by whom also all other expenses connected with the ceremony are defrayed.
On the Monday, the youths decked out in their parade costumes, and led by some old ladies, make a round of calls at the harems and invite their friends for the coming event; Monday and Tuesday being dedicated to a series of entertainments given in the Selamlik, where hospitality is largely extended to the poor as well as the rich. Wednesday and Thursday are reserved to the Haremlik, where great rejoicings take place, enlivened by bands of music and dancing girls. On the morning of the latter day the ladies busy themselves in arranging the state bed, as well as a number of others of more modest appearance. The boys, in the mean time, mounted upon richly-caparisoned steeds and accompanied by their Hodjas, the family barber, and some friends, and preceded by music, pass in procession through the town. On returning home the party is received at the door by the parents of the boys. The father of the principal candidate takes the lead and stands by the side of the stepping-block, the barber and Hodja taking their places by his side. The horse of the young bey is brought round, and the hand of the father, extended to help him to dismount, is stayed for a moment by that of the Hodja, who solemnly asks him, “With what gifthast thou endowed thy son?” The parent then declares the present intended for his son, which may consist of landed property or any object of value according to his means, and then assists him to dismount. The other boys follow, each claiming and receiving a gift from his father or nearest of kin. Should any of the boys be destitute of relatives, the owner of the house takes the father’s place and portions him.
The children are then taken to the Haremlik, where they remain until evening, when they return to the Selamlik and do not again see their mothers till the morning of the completion of the ceremony, when they are carried to the Haremlik and placed upon the beds prepared for them. The entertainments this day are carried on in both departments. The children are visited by all their friends and relations, who offer them money and other presents; the ladies every now and then disappearing in order to allow the gentlemen to enter and bring their offerings. The money and gifts collected on these occasions sometimes amount to considerable sums. The Hodja and barber are equally favored. TheMusdadjireceives a gold piece from the mother on announcing to her the completion of the sacred rite.
Every effort is made in the harem to amuse and please the children, and beguile the time for them till evening, when the fatigue and feverish excitement of the day begin to tell upon them, and they show signs of weariness, the signal for the break-up of the party. On the next day the boys are taken home by their relatives, but the entertainments are continued in the principal house till the following Monday.
The Turks, hospitable on all occasions, are particularly so on this, and consider it a religious duty to show special regard and attention to the poor and destitute.
It is difficult to give a definite idea of the expense incurred by this ceremony among the rich. The lowest estimate among the middle classes, who limit it to one day, would be from 10l.to 12l., while the poor are enriched by it to the extent of 2l.or 3l.
Turkish children are subject to much the same diseases as those of other nations. The most terrible of these used to be small-pox, which committed fearful ravages, carrying off great numbers, and leaving its mark in blindness or some other organic defect in those who survived it. Its ravages, however, have greatly diminished since the introduction of vaccination, now pretty generally adopted throughout the country. Teething, measles, whooping-cough, scarlatina, and low intermittent fevers are the principal maladies prevalent among Turkish children. A doctor is rarely called in; the treatment of the invalid is left to the mother’s instincts, aided by some old woman’s doubtful pharmacopœia and the saintly influence ofHodjas, whose superstitious rites are firmly believed in by the applicants. Diphtheria, unknown in the country until the arrival of the Circassian immigrants, may also be classed among the prevalent infantile maladies; fortunately it has seldom been known to rage as an epidemic, otherwise its ravages would be incalculable by reason of the entire disregard of quarantine laws.
Mortality, however, among Turkish children is considerable, and one of the causes why large families are so rarely to be met with. A bey of Serres, for instance, possessed of a goodly number of wives, who had borne him about fifty children, saw only seven of them live to attain manhood.
In wealthy families a wet-nurse is engaged, calledSut nana(foster-mother), who enjoys great privileges, both during the time she serves and afterwards. Her own child becomes theSut kardash(foster-brother) of her nursling, a bond of relationship recognized through life, and allowing the foster-children, if of different sexes, to set aside, if they choose, the law ofNamekhram, and see each other freely. Besides the foster-mother, aDadi, or nursemaid, is at once appointed to attend upon a child of rank. She has the care of its wardrobe, and upon her devolves the duty of sleeping near the cradle.
Correct statistical information of births cannot be obtained, as no registration exists. Census regulations were for the first time introduced into the country by Sultan Mahmoud, and they have been but imperfectly carried out by his successors. During Sultan Abdul-Medjid’s lifetime a census of the population (excluding women) was made, but the Mohammedans, fearing the consequences in the conscription laws, tried as much as possible to avoid giving correct information; many people were represented as dead, others put down far above or below their actual ages. Every seven or eight years this census is taken and each time more strictly enforced, but the absence of birth-registration greatly facilitates the frustration of the Government’s desire for exact statements. The number of children in a Turkish family, notwithstanding the system of polygamy, is never great, ranging between two and eight. If the first children happen to be females, the mother is still ambitious of possessing a male child, but should the latter come first she is satisfied, and resorts to every means in her power to prevent further additions to her family. A Turkish mother may practically, with impunity, destroy her offspring if she chooses at any stage of her pregnancy; and this cruel and immoral custom is resorted to by all classes of society, often resulting in dangerous accidents, occasioning injuries felt through life, and sometimes having fatal results. Strong opiates are also resorted to for the same purpose, as well as a number of extraordinary means passing description. Many dangerous medicines used with this object, which in Europe are disposed of with difficulty, or of which the sale is even prohibited, are every year shipped for Turkey, where they find numerous purchasers. During a short visit I made to Philippopolis I stayed at the house of the Mudir of Haskia; his newly-married wife was very young, extremely pretty, and delicate. She was very much depressed at the idea of becoming a mother, before becoming rather plumper; forembonpointis a great object of ambition with Turkish ladies. When, on my return to Haskia, I stopped at the same house, the delicate beauty was dead, and her place already filled by a robust young rustic, who bustled about, trying with awkward efforts to accustom her untrained nature to the duties of her new position. On making inquiries about the previous wife in whom I was interested, I was quietly told that she had succumbed about two months previously to some violent measures she had used in order to procure abortion, and had been found dead in her bath. Her untimely end was due to the instrumentality of a Jewish quack, who, though having evidently caused the death of the poor woman, never lost any social position from what was simply considered as a misadventure.
I have heard from a trustworthy Turkish source that in Constantinople alone not less that 4000 instances of abortion are procured annually with the assistance of a class of women known as Kaulii Ebé, who earn considerable sums by their nefarious practice. This statement has been confirmed by the “Djeridé i Havadis” newspaper, and in an article which appeared in the Bassuret newspaper on the serious decrease of the population. The writer (a Turk) says this decrease is owing, first, to the conscription; secondly, to polygamy; thirdly, to the prevalence of artificial abortion; fourthly, to the absence of all sanitary precautions in domestic economy.
The births among other Eastern nations have all their peculiar ceremonies; some originating in national traditions, others being copied from the customs of the dominant nation. Jewesses pride themselves greatly when nature has made them prolific mothers; even the poorest rejoice over successive births, particularly when the children are males. On all such occasions, friends and relatives gather round the expectant mother, giving much of their time to her company, and making every effort to amuse her and make her less sensitive to the pains and anxieties of maternity. In some towns, Adrianople for instance, regularréunionstake place round the sick-couch (including visitors of both sexes), enlivened by music and dancing. If the child be a girl, its name is given to it; if a boy, it is circumcised. A Rabbi is called in, and a godfather and godmother chosen. The latter carries the baby to the door of the room and delivers it to the former, who holds the infant during the initiation; it is then returned to the mother, and a feast is given on the occasion.
The Armenians have conformed more to the Turkish customs than any other race in the country. An Armenian confinement is assisted by a midwife, herself an Armenian, and as ignorant as her Turkish colleague; only in difficult cases is a doctor resorted to. The ceremonies at an Armenian birth are scarcely less superstitious than the Turkish rites. They are of a more vague and indefinite character. If possible, a mother and child should not be left alone the first few days; but the broom is replaced by the venerated image of the Holy Virgin or some saint, put on guard over the bed. Garlic is not resorted to as a safeguard against the evil eye, but holy water is nightly sprinkled over child and mother, who are also fumigated with the holy olive-branch. The company received on these occasions is quiet, and only part of the Turkish show and pageantry is displayed in the adornment of the bed. The child has the same Bologna sausage appearance, modified by a European baby’s cap. A neighbor of mine once brought her child to me in great distress, saying it had not ceased crying for three days and nights, without her being able to guess the reason. I made her at once unbandage the baby, and soon discovered the cause. A long hair had in some inexplicable manner wound itself round the child’s thumb, which was swollen to a disproportionate size through the stoppage of the circulation, and was nearly severed from the little hand.
About the ninth day the bath ceremony takes place; but instead of the mother’s body providing food for her guests by the honeyed plaster of the Turkish woman, all sit down to a substantial luncheon in which theYahlan dolmaand thelakana turshou(Sauerkraut) play a prominent part, and which is brought into the bath on this occasion.
As the christening takes place within eight days, it cannot on that account be witnessed by the mother, who is unable to attend the church services before the fortieth day, when she goes to receive the benediction of purification. Part of the water used for the christening is presumably brought from the river Jordan, and the child is also rubbed with holy oil. The service concluded, the party walk home in procession, headed by the midwife carrying the baby. Refreshments are offered to the company, who soon afterwards retire. A gift of a gold cross or a fine gold coin is made to the child by the sponsors.
No system of diet is followed in the rearing of Armenian children, nor are their bodies refreshed by a daily bath. Few people in the East bathe their children, like Europeans, for a general idea prevails that it is an injurious custom and a fertile cause of sickness. Kept neither clean nor neat, they are allowed to struggle through infancy in a very irregular manner. Yet in spite of this they are strong and healthy.
The customs among the higher classes of Greeks and Bulgarians are very much alike. The latter, though now more backward, were till lately pretty faithful copies of the former. Their usages differ according to thedistrict, and depend upon the degree of progress civilization has made among the people. At Constantinople, for instance, everything takes place just as in Europe; but in district towns, such as Adrianople, Salonika, Vodena, Serres, many of the superstitions of the ancient Greeks may still be found in connection with the birth of a child. At Serres, for example, the event is awaited in silence by the midwife and a few elderly relatives; when the little stranger arrives, the good news is taken to the anxious father, and then circulated through the family, who soon collect round the maternal couch and offer their hearty felicitations, saying, “Νἀ πολυχρονήση.” The infant in its turn receives the same good wishes, and after being bathed in salt and water is wrapped up (but not mummified) and laid by the side of the mother, who can press its little hand and watch its tiny feet moving about under their coverings. The couch is kept for three days, when the accouchée is made to rise from it, walking in a stream of water poured by themammê(accoucheuse) from a bottle along her path. This custom must be connected with the conception of water as the emblem of purity, and must be intended to remind the mother that her strength must ever rest upon her chastity. On this night a woof and some gold and silver coins are placed under the pillow, as a hint to the Moeræ, or fates, who are supposed to visit the slumbering infant, that they may include riches and industry in the benefits they bestow upon it.
The christening, as a rule, takes place within eight days after the birth. TheKoumbárosand theKoumbára(also calledNonoandNona) stand as godfather and godmother to the child, who is carried to the church by themammêfollowed by the sponsors, the relatives, and friends invited to the ceremony. The cost of the baptismal robe, the bonbons, liqueurs, and all other expenses connected with the rite are defrayed by the Nono. The lowest estimate of the cost is 2l.10s., and, though a great outlay for a poor family, they are never known to be omitted.
The child, held by the godfather, is met at the church door by the officiating priests, who read over it part of the service, the Nono responding to the questions.
The priest then holds the child in an erect attitude, and standing on the steps of the church makes the sign of the cross with it. It is then taken by the godfather and placed for a moment before the shrine of Christ or the Virgin, according to its sex, while the priests, proceeding to the font, pour in the hot water and some of the oil brought by the sponsor and consecrated in the church. The infant is taken from his hands, and in its original nakedness plunged three times into the font. Three pieces of hair are cut from its head in the form of crosses and thrown into the water, which is poured into a consecrated well in the church. The cutting off of these locks of hair probably had its origin in a custom observed by the ancient Greeks, who dedicated their hair to the water deities; now it signifies the dedication of the infants to Christ at their baptism.
The sign of the cross is made on the head and parts of the body with holy oil, signifying confirmation. The child is then delivered into the hands of the godmother, who carries it three times round the font while prayers are being read; it is then taken to the holy gates, where the communion is administered in both hands with a spoon, so that the three sacraments, baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist, are all given to the child while an unconscious infant.
The service concluded, the party return to the house to partake of bonbons, liqueurs, etc., and to be decorated with small crosses attached to favors given as mementoes of the event.
The members of the orthodox church are perhaps the only people who do not content themselves with making solemn promises for the child, but conscientiously fulfil them to the best of their ability. The Nono and Nona, in consequence of the responsibilities they assume, become so closely connected with their godchildren that marriage between these and their own children is not permitted.
While the Bulgarian lady in town is setting aside many of the usages and superstitions attached to the rearing of children, a word or two about her hardy sister in the rural districts may not be out of place here. While staying at Bulgarian villages it was very pleasant to me to watch the simplicity, activity, and wonderful physical strength of the peasantry.
The Bulgarian women are rather small but thickly set, their chests well developed, their limbs powerful through constant exercise, and their whole frames admirably adapted for bearing children. They do not, as a rule, bear many, as they seldom marry young, and their life of constant toil and hardship makes them sterile before the natural time.
The delicate touch of refinement has not yet reached these strong natures, whose systems, kept free from special care and anxiety, remain proof against shocks that would kill many an apparently strong woman whose physical training had not been the same. Providence is the sole guardian that watches over these peasants, and nature the only fountain from which they derive their support. I remember the ease of a Bulgarianbulka, the wife of a tenant attached to the farm at which I was staying. She was a fine young woman, bright-looking, clean, and well dressed; her bare feet were small and well shaped, her mien erect and free, although she appeared far advanced in pregnancy. Daily I used to watch her walk out of the yard, with her two large copper pails slung on a rod gracefully poised on her shoulder, and go to the fountain to fetch water. One evening I saw her return later than usual; her step seemed lighter although her pails were full, and her pretty apron, the ends of which were tucked into her sash, contained something I could not well discern at a distance, but which, as she approached, I was surprised to see was a new-born baby, with its tiny feet peeping out on one side. Passing the door of a neighbor, she smilingly beckoned to her, pointing to the infant in her apron, and asked for her assistance. I followed shortly after, curious to see how fared this prodigy of nature. I found her quietly reposing on the bed that had been hastily prepared for her on the floor, while her companion was washing the infant. The latter, after its bath, was thoroughly salted, wrapped in its clothes, and laid by the side of the mother; but the miseries of the little being did not end there; a pan was produced, some oil poured into it and set to boil; in this three eggs were broken and cooked into an omelette. This was placed on a cloth with a quantity of black pepper sifted over it, and applied to the head of the unfortunate infant, who began at once to scream in great distress. I naturally inquired the benefit to be derived in salting and poulticing the new-born child, and was told that if not salted, its feet or some other part of its body would exhale offensive odors, and that the application of the poultice was to solidify the skull and render it proof against sunstroke. The next morning the mother was up going through the usual routine of her household work. She assured me that in a few days she would resume her field labor, carrying her suckling with her, which, she added, “now fanned by the evening breeze, now scorched by the burning rays of the sun, would all the same brave the adverse elements:Ako ema strabi jive(if it has life to live).”
Struck by the fatalistic meaning of her words, I asked how could a weak or delicate child stand such a trial. “Stand it!” she repeated, “who said it did? With us a delicate child does not outlive the year.” The Archangel would silently come upon it one day as it slumbered under the shade of some spreading tree and snatch away its innocent soul while the mother was toiling in the field to gain her daily bread and put by something for those left behind. “Happy they!” she went on, while hot tears ran down her cheeks. “Let the little souls depart in peace, and await in heaven the souls of their unfortunate mothers whom God and man seem to have abandoned to cruel adversity, heart-rending sorrows, distress, and despair.” I was deeply affected by this genuine outburst of grief, and did all in my power to console her.
Du sublime au ridicule il n’y a qu’un pas!Next morning, on a tour I made round the village, I stepped into a cottage that teemed with little children, and here I unexpectedly met with my second heroine, who, although a Spartan in body, was not specially vigorous as to mind. My other Bulgarianbulkawas a fat, jolly little woman verging towards middle age, the mother of ten children, most of whom had come by twins in rapid succession. The two youngest, born the day before, were just now reposing in kneading-troughs, violently rocked by their elder sisters, while the mother, surrounded by this happy family, was occupied in kneading bread.
As she saw me come in she advanced and welcomed me with the usual salutation. I questioned her about her children, and how she managed to bring up and feed such a number, often having the care of two infants at a time. “Oh,” said she, “it is no trouble. I and my cow, being two, manage between us to set the little mites on their legs. Yesterday, two hours after the arrival of my two children,” pointing to the troughs, “my cow poked her head in at the door lowing for me and for her calf. What could I do? I got up and milked her as usual, and sent her to her young one, while I fed my numerous family with her milk. We peasants who till the ground have not much time to think about ourselves or to give to our children, who cannot begin too early to accustom themselves to the hardships that await them through life. When the troubles of maternity are greater than usual, the oldest shepherd of the village is called in and performs for us the services of a doctor, and when any one among us is ailing, frictions and aromatic potions will cure him.”