CHAPTER XXI.ISLAM IN TURKEY.Religious Parties—The Ulema and Softas—Conservatism—Imams, Muftis, and Kadis or Mollahs—Corruption—The Dervishes—Their Influence over the People—A Dervish Fanatic in Bulgaria—Various Orders of Dervishes—Revolving and Howling Dervishes—The Bektashis—A Frank Sheikh—Ceremonies of Islam—Friday at the Mosque—The Prayers—Ramazan—A Night in Ramazan—Pilgrimage—Kismet.
Religious Parties—The Ulema and Softas—Conservatism—Imams, Muftis, and Kadis or Mollahs—Corruption—The Dervishes—Their Influence over the People—A Dervish Fanatic in Bulgaria—Various Orders of Dervishes—Revolving and Howling Dervishes—The Bektashis—A Frank Sheikh—Ceremonies of Islam—Friday at the Mosque—The Prayers—Ramazan—A Night in Ramazan—Pilgrimage—Kismet.
The religion of the Turks is properly the orthodox orSunniform of Islam, the doctrines of which are too well known to require description here. But the subject is complicated by the fact that there is a considerable opposition between the popular and the “respectable” religion. The Established Church, so to speak, of Turkey is governed by the Ulema, or learned men trained in the mosques, often supported by pious endowments. The popular faith, on the other hand, is led by the various sects of dervishes, between whom and the Ulema there exists an unconquerable rivalry. Some account of these two parties is essential to any description of the people of Turkey.
The Ulema are the hereditary expounders of the Koran, to the traditional interpretation of which they rigidly adhere. They have nothing to say to the many innovations that time has shown to be needful in the religion of Mohammed, and they brand as heretics all who differ a hair’s-breadth from the old established line. The result of this uncompromising orthodoxy has been that the Ulema, together with their subordinates the Softas (a sort of Moslem undergraduates), have managed to preserve anesprit de corpsand a firm collected line of action that is without a parallel in Turkish parties.
Midhat Pasha and his party perceived this, and made use of the Ulema as tools to effect their purpose; but as soon as thecoup d’étatwas completed, Midhat Pasha’s first care was to free himself as much as possible from further obligations towards them, and to break up their power by exile, imprisonment, and general persecution. He understood that if left to acquire further ascendency in public affairs, great mischief would ensue. The Ulema were clamoring loudly for reforms; but the reforms they demanded were those of the ancient Osmanlis and the execution of the Sheriat or Koran laws, which, equitable as they are among Mohammedans, would not improve the condition of the rayah. Herein lies the chief reason why reforms in Turkey remain for the most part a dead letter. The Koran has no conception of the possibility of Christian subjects enjoying the same rights as their Moslem neighbors. No judge, therefore, likes to go against this spirit; and no good Mohammedan can ever bring himself to a level with a caste marked by his Prophet with the brand of inferiority. Midhat Pasha, thoroughly cognizant of this fact, could not enter into a pact with the Ulema, the strictest observers of the Koran law, and at the same time satisfy the urgent demands of Europe in favor of the Christian subjects of the Porte. He did the best he knew in the midst of these difficulties, and produced his constitution. This was construed in one light to the Mohammedans, and in another to the Christians; whilst it was intended to pacify Europe by insuring, nominally at least, the reforms demanded by her for the rayahs. Nobody, however, believed in the Constitution. The Mohammedans never meant to carry it into execution; and Europe, in its divided opinions on thesubject, had the satisfaction of seeing it submerged in the vortex of succeeding events.
The order of Ulema is divided into three classes: theImams, or ministers of religion; theMuftis, doctors of the law; and theKadisorMollahs, judges. Each of these classes is subdivided into a number of others, according to the rank and functions of those that compose it.
Theimams, after passing an examination, are appointed by the Sheikh ul Islam to the office of priests in the mosques. The fixed pay they receive is small, about 6l.or 7l.per annum. Some mosques have several imams. Their functions are to pronounce the prayer aloud and guide the ceremonies. The chief imam has precedence over the other imams, the muezzins (callers to prayer), the khatibs, hodjas, and other servants of the mosque.
In small mosques, however, all these functions are performed by the imam and the muezzin. Imams are allowed to marry, and their title is hereditary. Should the son be unlettered, he appoints a deputy who performs his duties. Imams, generally speaking, are coarse and ignorant, and belong to the lower-middle class of Turkish society. Their influence in the parish is not great, and the services they fulfil among their communities consist in assisting in the parish schools, giving licenses, and performing the ceremonies of circumcision, marriage, and of washing and burying the dead. They live rent free, often deriving annuities from church property. The communities pay no fixed fees, but remuneration is given every time the services of the imam are required by a family. No Mohammedan house can be entered by the police unless the imam of the parish takes the lead and is the first to knock at the door and cross the threshold. Should the search be for a criminal in cases of adultery, and the charge be brought by the imam himself certifying the entrance of the individual into the house, and the search prove fruitless, the imam is liable to three months’ imprisonment. A case of the kind happened a few years ago to a highly respectable imam in Stamboul, who, having for some time noticed the disorderly conduct of a hanoum of his parish, gave evidence, supported by his two mukhtars, or parish officers, of having seen some strangers enter the house. The search leading to no discovery, the hanoum demanded reparation for her wounded honor, and the three functionaries were cast into prison. The imam, on being released, cut his throat, unable to survive the indignation he felt at seeing the evidence of three respectable persons slighted and set aside before the protestations of false virtue, backed by bribes.
This is one of the strange licenses of Turkish law. Crime is not punished unless its actual commission is certified by eye-witnesses; this is the reason that evidence of crime committed during the night is not admitted as valid by the laws of the country. The imams, under the pressure of this law, think twice before they give evidence; nor do they much like the unpleasant duty of accompanying police inspections, from which they generally excuse themselves.
Themuftis, or doctors of the law, rank next: seated in the courts of justice, they receive the pleas, examine into the cases, and explain them to the mollah, according to their merits or the turn they may wish to give to them. There is very general complaint against the corruption of these men, in whose hands lies the power of misconstruing the law.
Themollahsorkadisform the next grade in the Ulema hierarchy. They are appointed by the Sheikh ul Islam, and are assisted in their functions by the muftis and other officials.
The avarice and venality of this body of men are among the worst features of Turkish legislature. Few judges are free from the reproach of partiality and corruption. Their verdicts, delivered nominally in accordance with Koranic law, are often gross misinterpretations of the law, and thefetvahsor sentences in which they are expressed are given in a sense that complicates matters to such a degree as to render a revisal of the case useless, and redress hopeless, unless the pleader is well backed by powerful protectors, or can afford to spend vast sums in bribes—when, perhaps, he may sometimes, after much trouble and delay, obtain justice.
The Kadi Asker of Roumelia and the Kadi Asker of Anatolia come next in rank as supreme judges; the former of Turkey in Europe, and the latter of Turkey in Asia; they sit in the same court of justice as the Sheikh ul Islam.
This Sheikh ul Islam, or Grand Mufti of the capital, is the spiritual chief of Islam and the head of the legislature. He is appointed by the Sultan, who installs him in his functions with a long pelisse of sable. The Sultan can deprive him of his office, but not of life so long as he holds his title, nor can he confiscate his property when in disgrace.
The chief function of the Grand Mufti is to interpret the Koran in all important cases. His decisions are laconic, often consisting of “Yes” or “No.” His opinions, delivered in accordance with the Koran, are not backed by motive.
In instances of uncertainty he has a way of getting out of the difficulty by adding “God is the best judge.” His decrees are calledfetvahs, and he signs himself, in the common formula, “the poor servant of God.” He is assisted in his functions by a secretary called thefetvah eminé, who in cases of minor importance directs the pleas and presents them all ready for the affixing of the mufti’s seal.
The influence of the Sheikh ul Islam is great, and powerful for good or harm to the nation, according to his character, and the amount of justice and honesty he may display in his capacity of Head of Islam and supreme judge. This influence, however, being strictly Mohammedan, and based on rigid religious dogmas, cannot be expected to carry with it that spirit of tolerance and liberality which a well regulated government must possess in all branches of the administrative and executive power. Instances, however, in which Sheikhs ul Islam have shown strict honesty, justice, and even a certain amount of enlightened tolerance, have not been unfrequent in the annals of Turkey, in the settlement of disputes between Mussulmans and non-Mussulmans.
I have heard several curious stories about the Grand Muftis of this century. Whilst Lord Stratford was ambassador at Constantinople, one of the secretaries had an audience with the Sheikh ul Islam, who at the moment of his visitor’s entrance was engaged in the performance of hisnamaz. The secretary sat down while the devotee finished his prayers, which were ended by an invocation to Allah to forgive a suppliant true believer the sin of holding direct intercourse with a Giaour. His conscience thus relieved, the old mufti rose from his knees and smilingly welcomed his guest. But this guest, who was a great original, in his turn begged permission to perform his devotions. He gravely went through an Arabic formula, and ended by begging Allah to forgive a good Christian the crime of visiting a “faithless dog of an infidel.” The astonished old mufti was nettled, but with true Oriental imperturbability he bore the insult.
A late Grand Mufti was greatly respected, and appealed to from all directions for the settlement of new and old lawsuits, which he is said to have wound up with strict impartiality and justice; but at the same time he always urged upon the disputants the advantages of coming to an amicable arrangement.
One of his friends, observing that this advice systematically accompanied the winding-up of the case, asked the dignitary why, being sure of having delivered a just sentence, he recommended this friendly arrangement? “Because,” said the mufti, “the world nowadays is so corrupt, and the use of false witnesses so common, that I believe in the honesty of none; and my conscience is free when I have obtained something in favor of the loser as well as the winner.”
From the time of the annexation of Egypt and Syria by Selim the Inflexible, the title of Khalif, or Vicar of God, was assumed by the Turkish Sultan; but although this title gives him the power of a complete autocrat, no Sultan can be invested with the Imperial dignity unless the Mollah of Konia, a descendant of the Osmanjiks, and by right of his descent considered holy, comes to Constantinople, and girds the future sovereign with the sword of Othman; on the other hand, a Sultan cannot be deposed unless a Fetvah of the Sheikh ul Islam decrees his deposition, or, if by consent of the nation, his death.
Such, then, are the Ulema—the clergy, so to speak, of the Established Church of Islam in Turkey. They are the ultra-conservative party in the nation in things political as well as things religious. “Let things be,” is the motto of the Sheikh ul Islam and his most insignificant Kadi. It is not surprising that this should be so. Trained in the meagre curriculum of the Medressé, among the dry bones of traditional Moslem theology, it would be astonishing if these men were aught but narrow, ignorant, bigoted; and chained in the unvarying circle of the Ulema world they have no chance of forgetting the teaching of their youth. But this does not explain the fact that nine out of ten Moslem judges are daily guilty of injustice and the taking of bribes.
The Ulema entertain a cordial hatred for the dervishes, whose orthodoxy they deny, and whose influence over the State and the people alike they dread. The dervish’s title to reverence does not, like his rival’s, rest upon his learning and his ability to misinterpret the Koran; it rests on his supposed inspiration. On this ground, as well as on account of his reputed power of working miracles, and the general eccentricity of his life, he is regarded by the people with extreme veneration. His sympathies, moreover, are with the masses; ofttimes he spends his life in succoring them; whilst his scorn for the wealthy and reputable knows no bounds. Hence the people believe in the dervishes in spite of the ridicule and persecution of the Ulema; and even the higher classes become infected with this partly superstitious veneration, and seek to gain the dervish’s blessing and to avoid his curse; and often a high dignitary has turned pale at the stern denunciation of the wild-looking visionary who does not fear to say his say before the great ones of the land. Sultan Mahmoud was once crossing the bridge of Galata when he was stopped by a dervish called “the hairy sheikh.” “Giaour Padishah,” he cried, in a voice shaken with fury, seizing the Sultan’s bridle, “art thou not yet content with abomination? Thou wilt answer to God for all thy godlessness! Thou art destroying the institutions of thy brethren; thou revilest Islam and drawest the vengeance of the Prophet upon thyself and us.” The Sultan called to his guards to clear “the fool” out of the way. “I a fool!” screamed the dervish. “It is thou and thy worthless counsellors who have lost your senses! To the rescue, Moslems! The Spirit of God, who hath anointed me, and whom I serve, urges me to proclaim the truth, with the promise of the reward of the saints.” The next day the visionary was put to death; but it was declared that the following night a soft light was shed over his tomb, which is still venerated as that of a saint.
But it needed a bold man like the reformer-Sultanto put a noisy fanatic to death; and even in his case the wisdom, as well as the humanity, of the act may be questioned. Most grandees would think twice before they offended a dervish. For popular credulity accords to these strange men extraordinary powers—the gift of foreknowledge, the power of working miracles, and of enduring privations and sufferings beyond the limits of ordinary human endurance; and, not least, these enthusiasts are believed to have the power of giving people good or evil wishes, which never fail to come to pass, and which no human action can resist.
In spite of this apparently fanatical and charlatan character, there is much that is liberal and undogmatical about the dervishes. I have certainly met with many broad-minded, tolerant men among the sheikhs of their orders, and have been struck by the charm of their conversation no less than their enlightened views and their genuine good-will towards mankind.
On the other hand, though asceticism is part of the dervish’s creed, and though there be among them really honest and great men, it must be admitted that a good many dervishes entertain not the faintest scruples about intoxication and a good many other pleasures which do not seem very strictly in accordance with their vows. Among the wandering dervishes many savage and thoroughly bad characters are to be met with. They roam from country to country; climate, privation, hardships of all kinds, deter them not; they come from all lands and they go to all lands, but those of Persia and Bokhara surpass the rest in cunning, fanaticism, and brutality. There is no vice into which some of them do not plunge; and all the time they display a revolting excess of religious zeal, couched in the foulest and most abusive vocabulary their language affords.
One of these wretches once stopped my carriage under the windows of the Governor’s house at Monastir, and before the kavass had time to interfere he had jumped in and was vociferating “Giaour” and a host of other invectives in my face. It was lucky the guard was near and prompt in arresting him. Next day he was packed out of the town for the fourth time.
Notwithstanding their vices, nothing can exceed the veneration in which the dervishes are held by the public, over whom they exercise an irresistible influence. This influence is especially made use of in time of war, when a motley company of sheikhs and fanatical dervishes join the army, and encourage the officers and men by rehearsing the benefits promised by the Prophet to all who fight or die for the true faith. The voices of these excited devotees may be heard crying, “O ye victorious!” “O ye martyrs!” or “Yallah!” Some of these men are fearful fanatics, who endeavor by every means in their power to stimulate the religious zeal of the troops and of the nation. Every word they utter is poison to public peace. Among the numerous gangs of infatuated zealots that spread themselves over the country just before the outbreak of the troubles in Bulgaria, there was one wandering dervish who specially distinguished himself by the pernicious influence his prophecies and adjurations obtained over the minds of the Mohammedan population, exciting them against their Christian neighbors, who were completely “terrorized” by his denunciations.
The venerable Bishop of the town of L⸺ related to me the visit he had received from this dangerous individual, and assured me that this fanatic was in some measure the cause of the lamentable events that followed.
He first appeared in the town of X⸺, where, after preaching his death mission among the Mohammedans a few days before the Greek Easter, he walked up to the quarter of the town occupied by some of the principal Christian families, and knocking at each door entered and announced to the inmates that Allah had revealed to him His pleasure and His decrees for the destruction of the infidels within the third day of Easter. On reaching the dwelling of the Bishop he requested a personal interview, and made the same declaration to him.
The Bishop, with some of the leading inhabitants, alarmed at this threatening speech, proceeded at once to the Governor-General, and related the incident to him. The dervish was sent for, and, in the presence of the Bishop and his companions, asked if he had said what was reported of him, and what he meant by such an assertion. The dervish merely shrugged his shoulders, and said that he was in hishal, or ecstatic state, and could not therefore be answerable for what he talked about. The Pasha sent him under escort to the town of A⸺, with a letter to the governor of that place requesting his exile to Broussa; but the wily ascetic soon managed to escape the surveillance of the police of A⸺, and continued his mission in other parts of Bulgaria.
It is impossible here to enter into details as to the constitution of the various dervish orders (of which there are many), or the tenets held by them, or the ceremonies of initiation and of worship. Still, a few words are necessary about the two or three leading orders of dervishes in Turkey. The most graceful are the Mevlevi, or revolving dervishes, with their sugar-loaf hats, long skirts, and loosejubbés. Once or twice a week public service is performed at the Mevlevi Khané, to which spectators are admitted. The devotions begin by the recital of the usualnamaz, after which the sheikh proceeds to hispistiki, or sheepskin mat, and raising his hands offers with great earnestness the prayer to thePir, or spirit of the founder of the order, asking his intercession with God on behalf of the order. He then steps off hispistikiand bows his head with deep humility towards it, as if it were now occupied by hisPir; then, in slow and measured step, he walks three times round the Semar Khané, bowing to the right and left with crossed toes as he passes his seat, his subordinates following and doing the same. This part of the ceremony (called the Sultan Veled Devri) over, the sheikh stands on thepistikiwith bowed head, while the brethren in themutrib, or orchestra, chant a hymn in honor of the Prophet, followed by a sweet and harmonious performance on the flute.
The Semar Zan, director of the performance, proceeds to the sheikh, who stands on the edge of hispistiki, and, after making a deep obeisance, walks to the centre of the hall, and gives a signal to the other brethren, who let fall theirtennouris, take off theirjubbés, and proceed in single file with folded arms to the sheikh, kiss his hand, receive in return a kiss on their hats, and there begin whirling round, using the left foot as a pivot while they push themselves round with the right. Gradually the arms are raised upwards and then extended outwards, the palm of the right hand being turned up and the left bent towards the floor. With closed eyes and heads reclining towards the right shoulder they continue turning, muttering the inaudiblezikr, saying, “Allah, Allah!” to the sound of the orchestra and the chant that accompanies it, ending with the exclamation, “O friend!” when the dancers suddenly cease to turn. The sheikh, still standing, again receives the obeisance of the brethren as they pass hispistiki, and the dance is renewed. When it is over, they resume their seats on the floor, and are covered with theirjubbés. The service ends with a prayer for the Sultan.
The whole of the ceremony is extremely harmonious and interesting: the bright and variegated colors of the dresses, the expert and graceful way in which the dervishes spin round, bearing on their faces at the same time a look of deep humility and devotion, together with the dignified attitude and movements of the sheikh, combine to form a most impressive sight.
Equally curious are the Rifa’i, or howling dervishes. They wear a mantle edged with green, a belt in which are lodged one or three big stones, to compress the hunger to which a dervish is liable, and a white felt hat marked with eight grooves (terks), each denoting the renunciation of a cardinal sin. In their devotions they become strangely excited, their limbs become frightfully contorted, their faces deadly pale; then they dance in the most grotesque manner, howling meanwhile; cut themselves with knives, swallow fire and swords, burn their bodies, pierce their ears, and finally swoon. A sacred word whispered by two elders of the order brings the unconscious men round, and their wounds are healed by the touch of the sheikh’s hand, moistened from his mouth. It is strange and horrible to witness the ceremonies of this order; but in these barbarous performances the devout recognize the working of the Divine Spirit.
But the order which is admitted to be the most numerous and important in Turkey is that of theBektashis. Like all dervish orders, they consider themselves the first and greatest religious sect in the universe; and for this they have the following excellent reason. One day their founder, Hadji Bektash, and some of his followers were sitting on a wall, when they saw a rival dervish approaching them, mounted upon a roaring lion, which he chastised by means of a serpent which he held in his hand as a whip. The disciples marvelling at this, Hadji Bektash said: “My brothers, there is no merit in riding a lion; but there is merit in making the wall on which we are sitting advance towards the lion, and stop the way of the lion and its rider.” Whereupon the wall marched slowly upon the enemy, carrying Hadji Bektash and his followers against the lion-rider, who saw nothing for it but to acknowledge the supremacy of the rival sheikh.
The Bektashis are followers of the Khalif Ali, and attribute to him and his descendants all the extravagant qualities which the Alides have from time to time invented. These dervishes have also many superstitious beliefs connected with their girdle, cap, and cloak. One ceremony with the stone worn in the girdle is rather striking. The sheikh puts it in and out seven times, saying, “I tie up greediness and unbind generosity. I tie up anger and unbind meekness. I tie up ignorance and unbind the fear of God. I tie up passion and unbind the love of God. I tie up the devilish and unbind the divine.”
The special veneration of the Khalif Ali by this order renders it particularly hateful to the orthodox Mussulmans; and yet, strange to say, it acquired great popularity in the Ottoman Empire, especially among the Janissaries, who when first formed into a corps were blessed by Hadji Bektash in person. The new troops are said to have been led by Sultan Orkhan into the presence of the sheikh near Amassia, when the Sultan implored his benediction, and the gift of a standard and a flag for his new force. The sheikh, stretching out one of his arms over the head of a soldier, with the end of the sleeve hanging down behind, blessed the corps, calling ityenicheri, the “new troop,” prophesying at the same time that “its figure shall be fair and shining, its arm redoubtable, its sword cutting, and its arrows steeled. It shall be victorious in all battles, and only return triumphant.” A pendant representing the sleeve of the sheikh was added to the felt cap of the Janissaries in commemoration of the benediction of Hadji Bektash. Most of the Janissaries were incorporated into the order of Bektashis, and formed that formidable body of men, who, adding the profession of the monk to the chivalrous spirit of the warrior, may be considered the Knights Templars of Islam.
During the reign of Sultan Mahmoud II. the destruction of the Janissaries was followed by the persecution of the Bektashis, for whom the orthodox Mohammedans of the present day entertain a sovereign contempt.
The votaries of the Bektashi order in European Turkey are most numerous among the Albanians, where they are said to number over 80,000. A few years ago they were subjected to persecutions, which seem to have been caused by the little regard they displayed for the forms of orthodox Islam, from which they widely deviate. The point that gives special offence to the Turk is the little attention paid by the wives of these sectarians to the Mussulman laws ofnamekhram(concealment), with which they all dispense when the husband gives them permission to appear before his friends. Polygamy is only practised among Albanian Bektashis when the first wife has some defect or infirmity.
There is much that is virtuous and liberal in the tenets of this order, but very little of it is put into practice. This neglect is proved by the disordered and unscrupulous lives often led by Bektashis, and is accounted for by the existence of two distinct paths they feel equally authorized to follow: one leading to the performance of all the duties and virtues prescribed, and the other in which they lay these aside and follow the bent of their own natural inclinations.
Some of the principal monasteries of the Bektashis are to be found in Asia Minor in the vilayet of Broussa. A Greek gentleman of my acquaintance had strange adventures in one of their settlements at M⸺, where his roving disposition had led him to purchase an estate. After living for some years among this half-savage set, he became a great favorite, was received into their order, and finally elected as their chief, when he was presented with the emblematic stones of the order, which he wore on his person. One day, however, he narrowly escaped paying dearly for the honor.
A herd of pigs belonging to him escaped from the farm, and took the road to theTekké, into which they rushed, while the congregation were assembled for their devotions. The excited animals, grunting and squealing, mingled wildly with the devotees, profaning the sacred edifice and its occupants by their detested presence. The Bektashis sprang to their feet, and with one accord cried out to the owner of the unclean animals to ask if, in consequence of his infidel origin, he had played this trick upon them, and declaring that if it were so he should pay the forfeit with his life. The Bektashi sheikh displayed remarkable presence of mind at this critical moment. Rising to his feet, he looked round, assumed an attitude and expression of deep devotion, and in an inspired voice exclaimed, “Oh, ye ignorant and benighted brethren, see ye not that these swine, enlightened from on high, are impelled to confess the true faith and to join us in our worship? Let them pass through the ordeal, and tax not a creature of Allah with the effecting of an event for which He alone is responsible.” Strange to say, this explanation satisfied the devotees. It illustrates curiously the peculiar character of the dervishes, their faith in their sheikhs, and their belief in extraordinary inspiration.
The ceremonies of Islam are observed in Turkey in much the same way as in other Moslem countries. On Friday all good, and most indifferent, Mohammedans go to the mosque for the public prayer; but of course there is no touch of Sabbatarianism among the Turks any more than among any other followers of Mohammed. In most mosques women are admitted to a retired part of the edifice; but it is only elderly ladies who go. In some mosques at Stamboul, where the women’s department is partitioned off, the attendance is larger, especially during Ramazan. Last year I went dressed as a Turkish lady to the evening prayer during the fast. It was a strange sight to me, and the excitement was increased by the knowledge of the unpleasant consequences that would follow the penetration of my disguise. The Turkish women seemed out of place there: their levity contrasted markedly with the grave bearing of the men on the other side of the partition. The view I thus obtained of the beautiful mosque of Sultan Ahmet was singularly impressive. The Ulema, in their green and white turbans and graceful robes, absorbed in the performance of their religious duties; officers in bright uniforms, and civilians in red fez and black coat, side by side with wild-looking dervishes and the common people in the varied and picturesque costumes of the different nations, all knelt in rows upon the soft carpets, or went through the various postures of that religion before which all men are equal. Not a whisper disturbed the clear melodious voice of the old Hodja as he pronounced the Terravi prayers, which the congregation took up in chorus, now prostrating their faces on the ground, now slowly rising: you could fancy it a green corn-field, studded with poppies, billowing under the breeze. Above were the numberless lamps that shone in the stately dome.
You can give no higher praise to a Turk than saying that he performs his five prayers a-day. In right of this qualification young men of no position and as little merit are often chosen as sons-in-law by pious people. A Turk of the old school is proud of his religion, and is never ashamed of letting you see it. So long as he can turn his face towards Mekka, he will say his prayers anywhere. The Turks like to say theirnamazin public, that they may have praise of men; and it is to be feared that a good deal of hypocrisy goes on in this matter. This, however, is on the decrease, because fewer Turks in all classes say their prayers or observe the outward forms of religion than formerly. This is no doubt partly due to the influence of “Young Turkey,” though other causes are also at work.
But the orthodox Turk must do more than observe the prayers. The fast of Ramazan is a very important part of his religious routine. Every one knows this terrible month of day-fasting and night-feasting. It tells most severely on the poor, who keep it strictly, and are compelled to work during the day exactly as when not fasting. Women also of all classes observe the fast religiously. But there are very few among the higher officials, or the gentlemen who have enrolled themselves under the banner ofLa Jeune Turquie, who take any notice of it, except in public, where they are obliged to show outward respect to the prejudices of the people.
This fast-month is a sort of revival-time to the Moslems. They are supposed to devote more time to the careful study of the Koran and to the minute practice of its ordinances. Charity, peacefulness, hospitality, almsgiving, are among the virtues which they specially cultivate at this time; and though the theory is not put in practice to the letter, and hospitality not carried out as originally intended—the rich man standing at his door at sunset, bringing in and setting at his table all the poor that happened to pass by, and sending them away with presents of money—it is still very largely practised.
I have often partaken of anIftar, or Ramazan dinner. It is very curious to observe the physiognomy of theTerriakis, or great smokers and coffee-drinkers, who, as the moment of indulgence approaches, become restless and cross, now sighing for the firing of the gun that proclaims the fast at an end, now indulging in bad language to the people who gather round and tease them. As the sun approaches the horizon, a tray is brought in laden with all sorts of sweets, salads, salt fish, Ramazan cakes, fruit and olives, contained in the tiniest coffee-saucers, together with goblets of delicious iced sherbet. When the gun is fired every one utters aBismillahand takes an olive, that fruit being considered five times more blessed than water to break the fast with. After the contents of the tray have been sparingly partaken of, dinner is announced, and all gather round thesofra; few, however, eat with appetite, or relish the dinner half so much as they do the cup of coffee and cigarettes that follow.
During Ramazan night is turned into day, and the streets then remind one of carnival time in Catholic countries. The wealthy sit up all night, receiving and returning calls, giving evening parties, spending the time in a round of feasts and entertainments. At Stamboul, when the prayer of theTerravi—which is recited two hours after sunset—is over in the mosque, all the people betake themselves to the esplanade of the Sulimanieh, and hundreds of elegant carriages containing Turkish beauties may be seen cutting their way through the dense crowd of promenaders. The bazars are illuminated, and all the fruit and refreshment shops are open. Eating, drinking sherbet, and smoking, is the order of the evening, besides a great amount of flirtation. I cannot say that there is much taste or refinement in this unusual but tacitly recognized passing intercourse. The ladies all appear in high spirits, and tolerate, and even seem amused by, the acts of gross impertinence to which they are subjected by male passers-by. Some of the fast men andmauvais sujetsindulge in acts and language that would certainly obtain the interference of the police in an orderly society.
I accompanied some friends, the family of one of the ministers, to this evening entertainment. We had six servants round the carriage, but they were no protection against the heaps of rubbish in the shape of lighted cigarette ends, parched peas, capsicums, and fruit of all kinds thrown into it, not to speak of the licentious little speeches addressed to us by passing beaux. My friends advised me to be on my guard, as action is often added to word, and the arms and hands of the occupants of the vehicles made to smart from the liberties taken with them. Thus forewarned, I took care to shut the window on my side of the carriage; a little scream from my companions every now and then, when we found ourselves in the densest part of the crowd, followed by a shower of abuse from the negress sitting opposite us, showed that my precaution had not been needless. The little respect paid to women in this indiscriminatemêlée, where the dignity of the Sultana was no more regarded than the modesty of the lowly pedestrian, struck me forcibly. It made the greater impression upon me as it contrasted strongly with the respect paid to her under other circumstances. In steam-boats, for example, an unattended Turkish woman is seldom known to be insulted, even when her conduct gives provocation.
Three hours before dawn, drums are beaten and verses sung through the streets to warn the people to prepare for thesahor, or supper, after which an hour’s leisure is accorded for smoking and coffee-drinking, when the firing of a gun announces the moment for rinsing the mouth and sealing it against food till sunset. All business is put off by the wealthy during the day, which is filled up by sleep; while the poor go through the day’s work unrefreshed.
Pilgrimages, though less practised now than formerly in Turkey, are still considered the holiest actions of a Mohammedan’s life. The most perfect is the one embracing the visit to the four sacred spots of Islam—Damascus, Jerusalem, Mekka, and Medina; but the long journey that this would entail, the dangers and difficulties that surround it, are checks upon all but the most zealous of pilgrims, and only a few hardy and enterprising individuals perform the duty in full. The pilgrims, collected from all parts of the country, leave Constantinople in a body fifteen days before the fast of Ramazan. TheGovernment facilitates this departure by giving free passages and other grants. Those pilgrims that goviâDamascus are the bearers of the Imperial presents to the holy shrines. Every Hadji on returning from Mekka bears a token of his pilgrimage in a tattoo mark on his arm and between his thumb and forefinger.
I cannot close a chapter on Islam in Turkey without referring to a belief which, though but vaguely introduced into the original faith of Mohammed, has come to mean everything to the Turk. I meanKismet. It is not, of course, the belief in an inevitable destiny that is remarkable: all nations have their share in that, and modern Christianity has sometimes carefully formulated the doctrine of the fatalist. It is rather the intensity of the Turk’s belief, and his dogged insistance on its logical results, that make it so extraordinary. Many people besides Turks believe in destiny, but their belief does not prevent them from consulting their doctor or avoiding infection. With the Turk all such precautions are vain: if it is kismet that a thing shall happen, happen it will, and what then is the good of trying to avert it? Everything in Turkey is controlled by kismet. If a man suffers some trifling loss, it is kismet; if he die, it is also kismet. He marries by kismet, and shortly divorces his wife by the same influence. He succeeds in life, or he fails: it is kismet. Sultans succeed one another—again kismet. Armies go forth to conquer or to be conquered—Fate rules the event. It is useless to fight against the decrees of kismet. That Fate helps him who helps himself is a doctrine incomprehensible to the Turk. He lies passive in the hand of destiny: it would be impious to rebel.
The effects of this doctrine lie on the surface. Not only are lives constantly sacrificed, and wealth and happiness lost by this fatal principle of passivity, but the whole character of the nation is enfeebled. The Turk has no rightful ambition: if it is kismet he should succeed, well and good; but if not, no efforts of his own can avail him. Hence he smokes his chibouk and makes no efforts at all. Something might be done with him if he would only show some energy of character; but this doctrine has sapped that energy at the root, and there is no vitality left.
This is the main disastrous result of fatalism: it has destroyed the vigor of a once powerful nation. But every day brings forth instances of lesser evils flowing from the same source. It is hardly necessary to point out in how many ways a fatalist injures himself and all belonging to him. One or two common cases will be enough. I have already referred to the neglect of all sanitary precautions as one of the results of the belief in kismet. This neglect is shown in a thousand ways; but one or two instances that I remember may point the moral. Turkey is especially liable to epidemics, and of course the havoc they create is terrible among a passive population. In all district towns the Turks manifest the greatest possible dislike and opposition to every species of quarantine: they regard quarantine regulations as profane interference with the decrees of God, and systematically disregard them. The doctor of the first quarantine establishment at Broussa was assaulted in the street by several hundred Turkish women, who beat him nearly to death, from which he was only saved by the police. Small-pox is among the most fatal of the scourges that invade the people, and Turkish children are frequently victims to it; yet it is with the utmost difficulty that a Turk can be induced to vaccinate his child, though, happily, the precaution is now more practised than it used to be.
Separation in sickness is another of the measures Turks can never be made to take. A short time ago a girl of fourteen, the daughter of ourkavass, was seized with an attack of quinsy. As soon as I heard of it I begged our doctor to accompany me to the Mohammedan quarter and visit the invalid. We found her lying on a cleanshelté, or mattress, on the floor, which was equally occupied by her young brothers and sisters, who were playing round and trying to amuse her. The doctor’s first care was to send away the children, and recommend that they should on no account be allowed to come near her, as her throat was in a most terrible condition. Both parents declared that it would be impossible to keep them away; besides, if it was their kismet to be also visited by the disease, nothing could avert it. The room occupied by the sick girl was clean and tidy; the doors and windows, facing the sea, fronted by a veranda, were open, and the house being situated in the highest part of the town, under the ruins of the old walls, the sharp April air was allowed free access to the chamber most injuriously to the invalid. On the attention of the parents being drawn to the fact, they simply answered that the feverish state of the child needed the cool air to such an extent that twice during the preceding night she had left her room and gone down to the yard to repose upon the cold stone slabs in order to cool herself!
In spite of every effort to save her, she died on the third night from exhaustion caused by her refusal to take the medicines and nourishment provided for her, and to be kept in her chamber, which she had abandoned, taking up her quarters on the balcony, where we saw her on the last day. On visiting the family after the sad event, we found the unhappy parents distracted with sorrow, but still accepting it with fatalistic resignation, saying that “heredjelhad come to call her away from among the living.”
Our attention was next attracted by three of the children. The youngest, a baby, appeared choking from the effects of the same complaint, and died the same night. The other two, a boy and girl, also attacked, were playing about, although in high fever and with dreadfully swollen throats. The doctor begged that they should be sent to bed, to which they both refused to submit, while the parents phlegmatically said that it would be a useless measure, as they could not be kept there, and that if it should be their kismet to recover they would do so. I am glad to say they did recover, though I am afraid their recovery did not convert the doctor and me to a belief in kismet.
Owing to this fatal and general way of treating sickness, the prescriptions of physicians, neither believed in nor carried out, are useless; besides, they are always interfered with and disputed by quacks and old women, and the muskas, prayers, and blowings of saintly Hodjas.
When the patient survives this extraordinary combination of nursing, it is simply stated that hisedjelor death-summons has not yet arrived.
If a man die away from his home and country, his kismet is supposed to have summoned him to die on the spot that received his body.
Kismet thus being the main fountain whence the Mohammedan draws with equanimity both the good and the evil it may please Providence to pour forth upon him, he receives both with the stoicism of the born-and-bred fatalist, who looks upon every effort of his own to change the decrees of destiny as vain and futile. Hence he becomesMoslem, or “resigned,” in the most literal sense. His character gains that quality of inertness which we associate with the Oriental, and his nation becomes, what a nation cannot become and live—stagnant.