CHAPTER IX—FASTING AND FEASTING—THE SULTAN AND HIS COURT.
The Great Moslem Fast—Nights of Feasting and Days of Fasting—The Injunction of Mahomet—The Ravenous Mussulman—An Hotel Swindle—A Stranger and They Took Him In—“Too Thin, too Thin”—Greek Wine—Going Out in a Blaze of Glory—Thunder, Smoke, and Flame—The Approach of the Sultan—How He Looked—A Peep at the Ladies of the Harem—The Veiled Queens—The Sultan’s Mother—The Empress Eugenie at the Seraglio—Insult Offered to Eugenie—A Queen in Tears—A Question of Court Etiquette—Murdering Christians.
WHEN the month of Ramadan falls in winter, and the days are short and cool, the fast is not very severe, especially for the wealthier class who are not obliged to work.
But in summer, with heat and long days, the fast becomes a serious matter for all parties, especially for the poorer class who must attend to their daily avocations. The rich Moslems lie around their houses in a semi-comatose condition; some of them sit up all night eating, drinking, and smoking, and devote the day to digestion and sleep; thus they rob the fast of its terrors, and I am told that many of them do not hesitate to take an occasional bite during the day, but they take it very privately and in the strictest confidence.
The fast comes heaviest on the poorer classes, and especially the abstinence from drinking. Think of being at work out of doors in a July day fourteen hours or so, and not a drop of water or any other liquid passing your lips! Men frequently faint under such circumstances, and sometimes their health is seriously impaired. Should a Turk faint from fasting and you endeavored to revive him by pouring coffee or water down his throat, it is an even chance that he would berate you soundly when he came to himself, for attempting to make him abandon the faith of his childhood, and embrace that of the Christian dog.
The Prophet enjoined his followers not to crowd this fasting business too much; soldiers in time of war are not required to keep the fast, nor persons who are sick or on a journey. It is even stated in the Koran that nobody should keep the fast unless perfectly healthy and able to do so, and that he should not neglect necessary labor to keep it. But if he does not fast during Ramadan, he must do so an equal number of days in the rest of the year.
In Constantinople a gun is fired at sunrise and another at sunset, and between these gun-fires the fast is in full force. As evening approaches every body gets ready for business, and is determined that no time shall be lost. Fires are lighted, food is cooked and placed on the table, and coffee is poured out. As the sun touches the horizon the dinner party sits (or squats) at the table, and when the gun booms out there is from one side of the Ottoman capital to the other a simultaneous extension of; right hands to clutch something edible, and convey it to the gaping Moslem mouths. You can almost hear the rush of wind caused by that synchronous movement, and if the force employed could be utilized by wheels and belts, it would be found sufficient for the propulsion of a cotton factory of the largest calibre.
Things went on this way day after day during Ramadan, and wherever we went among the Turks, near the sunset hour, we witnessed the same scenes.
The mosques were brilliantly illuminated both externally and internally; the rows of lamps hung round the upper galleries of the minarets presented a curious appearance, as the minaret would generally be quite invisible in the darkness, so that the rows of light would appear to be suspended high up in the air. The people assembled for daily prayers, instead of weekly ones, and there was a general appearance of piety all around, coupled with an intense desire to make the most out of the “stranger within the gates”.
Even the Christian residents seemed to have caught the infection—the proprietor of the Hotel d’Angleterre “raised” on us about four hours after we had settled into our quarters, and we had a row by way of diversion.
When we went there from the steamer we arranged to have everything, rooms, attendance, lights, and wine at dinner, for twenty francs per diem; when we were gathered at the table we were told that wine would be extra—the manager was sorry, but they had made a mistake in telling us wine was included. He would not yield, and next morning we packed our baggage and went to the rival house.
When he found that we were leaving, he came down. We might have wine free, he would give us the best rooms in the house, he would eat dirt, any dirt we might select, and in any quantity, if we would only stay.
But “it was no go,” or rather it was a go on our part, and we patronized the Hotel de Byzance, where, for sixteen francs, we had everything as good as at the other house, and wine included. The wine proved to be ornamental rather than useful; it was a Greek article, with the goût of nitric acid and oak bark, and brave must be the man who would drink it.
Should I visit that hotel a decade hence, I expect to find the same decanter of wine, that stood by my plate during my stay. The day I left I grasped the decanter affectionately and gave it a farewell kiss.
“Good bye, my friend, good bye,” I gently murmured, “we shall meet again some time, let us fervently hope. I am a frail mortal and may not last many years, but you have enduring qualities that should preserve you a century or two Don’t ‘sour on me’ when I am far away; if anything, you are too sour already.”
The decanter was too full for utterance.
A tear stood in its eye, though it may have been a drop remaining from the effort of the waiter to tone the wine down with water, so that the stuff would be drinkable.
Ramadan closed in a blaze of glory. The ships of the Turkish squadron were gorgeously dressed in flags, and many English and French residents hung out their national standards.
From the ships and the forts all round came the booming of artillery—not in occasional spattering shots, but in a salvo that seemed to shake the city, and check the flow of the waters through the Bosphorus.
The fast was over and the Moslem was happy. Next day was the feast of Bairam, and the Sultan was to pray in the mosque of Saint Sophia. Of course we went to see him arrive at the mosque, and we had to rise disagreeably early in order to be promptly on the ground.
From the Stamboul end of the bridge over the Golden Horn, there was a double hedge of infantry and cavalry all the way to the mosque. We took positions near the entrance to the Seraglio Park, where we could have a front view of the carriages as they approached, and then a side view as they turned to enter the gate. The aphorism that great minds think alike was well verified on that occasion, as we found some two or three thousand people holding similar views to ours, and a front place seemed hopeless.
The police were very civil, and the “cavass,” or police officer on duty in front of our party, kept the population from crowding us in conveniently close. The “cavass” was arrayed in gorgeous style, and a franc slipped into his hand proved a good investment; where he had before used words he now used a stick, and soon convinced the multitude that it had no rights which he or we were bound to respect. We had front places, and the fellow even brought a couple of bricks on which the lady of our party could stand and thus preserve her feet from the dampness of the earth.
We were close to the gate and had a good position. On the opposite side of the gate there was a crowd of women, principally Turkish; we intimated that we would like to stand there, but the force of politeness and “backsheesh” could no farther go. Our lady might join the feminine group, but as for the rest of us it was out of the question. No man was allowed to intrude there; to Christian and Moslem, Jew and Pagan, the place was forbidden, and two policemen were there to enforce obedience.
By and by there was a commotion, and a squadron of cavalry came trotting up the street and into the gate. Close behind them came carriages containing officers of the Sultan’s cabinet, and, behind them in the most gorgeous carriage of all, was the Sultan Abdul-Aziz, the head of the Ottoman Empire.
He rode alone, etiquette forbidding that he should be accompanied by any one, even by a minister of State. He is a stout, in fact more than stout, individual, with a heavy face, rather devoid of expression. I saw him seven years before in Paris; then his cropped and full beard was black; but as I looked at it, on that morning of Bairam I found that it was well sprinkled with grey. Unless the Sultan renews his youth at some Ponce de Leon fount of hair dye he will be a respectable old grey-beard before many years, provided he is not gathered too soon to his Osmanli Fathers. He was born on the 9th of February, 1830, and so you can easily calculate his age—just as easily as he can do it.
He sits erect and with an air of dignity; evidently he knows that people are looking at him, and he ought to be on his good behavior. He is in a gaudy uniform, which my hasty glance does not allow me to include in detail, and his fez is bright, and has evidently been sent out that morning and freshly ironed.
He is evidently proud of his fez and gives his whole mind to it.
The Sultan is a devout Moslem, and goes to church, or mosque, with exemplary regularity. Every Friday he leaves his palace about eleven o’clock and goes to one of the mosques, never to the same one twice his mind an hour or so before he sets out. He generally goes ===on horseback, and sometimes in a caique, and rarely in a carriage. He never goes back by the way he came, and he never returns on the horse that brought him, a second horse being sent, for his homeward ride.
The same plan is followed when he goes in caique or carriage, a second being taken for his return journey. I asked the reason of this, and was told that it was the custom, and that the Sultan had certain superstitions which those around him found it well to humor.
Before the Sultan’s cortege came in sight several carriages containing women were driven rapidly through the gate, and others came after His Majesty had entered. These were the ladies of the Imperial Harem, all dressed in their best clothes, and all wearing the yashmak, or veil. They were all pretty, or, at any rate, their veils made them appear so, if they were not.
The Turkish veil is very thin,—so much so that it distinctly reveals the outline of the face and softens any tendency to harshness. It appears more like a slice cut from a cumulus cloud than like a real tangible substance that costs money.
The Sultan’s mother was in one of the carriages; a dignified old lady, whose beauty has evidently gone back on her, as she wears a veil thicker than those of the Sultan’s wives, either full rank or brevet. She is a true believer of the old school; she believes most emphatically in the impurity of the Christian dogs, though she is open to reason sometimes when her son takes her in hand.
When Eugenie, Empress of the French, visited Constantinople, she was received by the Sultan with high honor as the representative of His (then) Majesty, Louis Napoleon. She was presented to the Sultan’s mother, and when the introduction was pronounced Eugenie stepped gracefully forward and kissed the old lady.
The O. L. was taken by surprise, and did not know what was coming till the smack of affection had touched her forehead, She was on her ear instantly, and with a howl of anger and contempt pushed Eugenie from her, and then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
The situation was an awful one. Eugenie’s Spanish blood rose to about 211° Fahrenheit, and it was a struggle for her to keep it from passing the boiling point. But as Empress of the French, she had a position to sustain and she managed to keep her temper till she reached her apartments in the palace assigned to her. It is said that she had a good cry when she got there, and, moreover made it lively for her attendants.
Next day there was an attempt to patch up the row; Eugenie was informed of the cause of the strange conduct of the Sultan’s mother, and assured that it was not at all personal, but a matter of religion. They wanted her to be introduced again, and it was stipulated that the Turkish lady should kiss the French one, and try in a general way to make herself agreeable. But Eugenie had had enough and declined another interview.
The fanaticism of the Moslems concerning the touch or presence of the infidel has largely disappeared in Constantinople. Down to the Crimean war there was much of it, and many places were forbidden to the Occidental. But the British and French soldiers went where they pleased, and when the barriers were thus broken they were not likely to be restored. The Janizaries used to consider it rather meritorious than otherwise to stab Christians, while peaceably walking the streets, and other Moslems followed their example. But that is a thing of the past, as the Sultan Mahmoud, in the interest of civilization and humanity, butchered the Janizaries and thus opened the way to progress and reform. There are still some parts of Islam, where the life of an infidel would not be safe, but their limits are narrowing every year.
The Bairam festival after Ramadan lasts three days, and is not unlike our Christmas. The master of a house gives each servant a suit of clothes or some other presents, and the working people generally go round to call on those from whom they may hope to extract gifts. Everybody goes to the mosque to say his prayers, and friends who meet there indulge in a good deal of embracing and kissing. They visit each others’ houses and have a good time generally, and altogether the festival of Bairam puts the city in a very picturesque condition.
CHAPTER X—THE MOSQUES—FAITH AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE MUSSULMANS.
Among the Mosques—Their Special Uses—Greek Burglars, their Capture and Execution—A “Firman,” What is it—A Turkish Dragoman—A Relic of Ancient Byzantium—Its Name and Origin—Taking a Portrait—Turkish Superstitions—Worshipping in St. Sophia—Moslem Fanatics—Counting the Minarets—What came of a Wet Pair of Boots—The Judge in a Tight Place—The “Doubter” commits Sacrilege—Uncovering a Sarcophagus—Attacked by the Priests—Barefooted Worshippers—Teachings of the Koran—Cleanliness and Temperance—Why Turkish Women do not go to the Mosques—Why good Mussulmans never get Drunk.
SIGHT-SEEING in the capital of Turkey would be incomplete if it did not include the mosques. Mosques are to the Orient what churches are to the Occident, and are used for the same purpose—the assemblage of the faithful for religious worship. The Moslem goes to the mosque to say his prayers, when he can do so conveniently, especially on Friday, which holds the same place in Mohammedan countries that Sunday does in ours. But the purpose of the mosque goes somewhat beyond that of the church in Christian lands, and in some respects sets an example worthy of our attention.
The church in our country is for worship only, and when not used for devotional purposes, its doors are closed or only opened for the visits of the curious. In the Orient the mosque affords a refuge to the houseless poor, and this is particularly the case in Damascus and Cairo, where the Moslem faith has been longer at home than in Constantinople.
Most of the mosques have large court yards attached, and a portion of these yards is roofed over to afford protection against the sun and rain.
A visitor nearly always finds groups of people sitting there, many of them at work, with as much ease and comfort as though in their own homes Tradesmen who have no shops of their own frequently bring their work to the mosque, so that you nearly always find numbers of them engaged in sewing, spinning, or other light occupations. This is particularly the case in the afternoon; and not unfrequently the mosque, at such times, or rather the court yard of it, presents a very lively appearance. Groups of children may be seen playing in the court yard, but they do not play as noisily as do most of the Occidental juveniles, and consequently their sports are not so annoying as one might be led to expect. In the mosque itself you frequently see bales and boxes piled up as in a warehouse; these are the property of persons who have gone on a journey—particularly oh a pilgrimage to Mecca—and have sent their valuables to the safest place they know. Articles sometimes lie there for years, and the owners feel entirely assured against loss. A Moslem would never steal from a holy edifice, and an infidel thief would run a great risk if he attempted it.
A few years ago some Greek and Italian scoundrels “put up a job” to plunder one of the mosques at Constantinople. They were weeks at work, perfecting their plans, and managed to get their plunder safe on board a schooner which was waiting in the sea of Marmora, a mile or two from shore. They sailed away in triumph, but the electric telegraph, which has brought so many scoundrels to justice, caused them to be overhauled at the Dardanelles.
The schooner was captured and brought back to Constantinople; the property was returned to the mosque, and the enterprising gentlemen who removed it without authority received the polite attentions of a Turkish headsman. Not only they, but the entire crew of the schooner down to the cook and cabin boy—also a cat and two kittens—were decapitated, without fear or favor.
“Bismillah!” (in the name of God) shouted the executioner each time he swung his sword. “Inshallah!” (God is willing) responded the attendant, as he gathered up the heads one by one and stowed them away in a sack.
The mosques of Constantinople are the finest in all Islam; they crown the summits of the hills of Stamboul, and are the most prominent objects in the picture, as one regards the city from the Bosphorus. To visit them, one must be provided with a “firman” or passport, and to obtain this document the article of “backsheesh” is required.
A request must come from the embassy or consulate of the visitor’s nation, and with this request and the payment of a sum equal to two dollars for each person of the party, there is no further trouble. Our polite Consul-general, Mr. Goodenow, greatly facilitated our efforts by sending his dragoman with ours to obtain the “firman;” the consular dragoman is a personage of great importance, all through the East, and often advances the transaction of business with the government bureaux. The passport thus obtained is good, not for one alone, but for all the principal mosques.
The most interesting and best known of the mosques is that of Saint Sophia, as it is erroneously called. It was not called so after any canonized woman named Sophia, but in honor of divine wisdom, Aya Sofia. It was thus consecrated by its founder, Constantine, in the early part of the fourth century, and when the Turks captured it a thousand years later, they retained the title, and call it Aya Sofia at the present day.
The Turks have endeavored to remove the evidences of its former Christian character, but have not altogether succeeded. In many places one can see the cross and other emblems of the western religion, and in some instances the faces of men and angels have not been entirely obliterated. Mohammedanism forbids the making of any graven or pictorial image, and for this reason, it is very difficult to induce an orthodox believer, uncorrupted by occidental heresies, to sit for his portrait.
The belief is that the person who makes a representation of any living thing, will be confronted with it at the day of judgment, and ordered to endow it with life. Failing to do this, he will be condemned to a locality I need not mention.
I once endeavored to induce an Arab to stand in a certain position while I made a sketch of him.
He declined, and explained through an interpreter, that a duplicate of himself would make things rather inconvenient at the day of judgment, as there might be a difficulty in proving which was which. I tried to convince him that it would be all right, as my lack of artistic ability would be sure to save him.
After looking through my sketch-book h e gained confidence, and was willing to take the risk for two francs. We compromised on one franc, and when I finished the picture he surveyed it and delicately hinted, that he was entirely safe from harm on the score of that duplicate.
Most of the Moslem residents of the cities visited by Europeans, have got over any qualms of conscience about pictorial representations, but they still decorate their mosques after the traditional manner. There are no representations of living things on the walls; nothing but texts from the Koran and attempts at architectural elegance about the arches and pillars.
We left our hotel after an early breakfast, as it was necessary to pay our visit before the noon prayers, and we had several mosques to go through. To describe them all would be tedious; it was a trifle so to go through them, and therefore I will let down gently. We had a long walk and were elbowed by a great many Turks, especially while crossing the bridge between Pera and Stamboul, and followed by a goodly number of beggars.
The Turkish beggar is generally a fanatical Moslem who would not pollute himself by contact with the infidel; he would starve rather than cat a dinner with a Christian, and as to taking a drink with him, it would be quite out of the question.
But when it comes to money he makes no distinction, and will receive a Frank franc as readily as a Turkish one.
The mosques of Suleiman II., Ahmed I. and Mohammed the Conqueror, (by whom Constantinople was captured; in 1453,) are magnificent edifices, each; with a grand dome in the centre, and a smaller dome at each corner. The arrowy minarets rise around each mosque and add to the picturesque effect; their practical use is like that of a bell tower, as from the gallery near the summit the Muezzin chants the call for the people to come to prayer. No bells are allowed in the minarets, nor in fact in all Constantinople, as their sound is offensive to Moslem ears.
The mosque of Ahmed has six minarets; up to the time of its construction the mosque of the Kaaba at Mecca was the only one with six minarets, and as it was the holiest of all places in Islam, it was considered rather “off color” for Ahmed to put an equal number on his own edifice. He compromised the matter by ordering another minaret for the Kaaba, and paying the bills for its construction, and thus it happens that this mosque has seven instead of six minarets.
This same mosque, the Ahmediah, is in the middle of a large yard planted with trees, and affording a very pleasant shade from the heat of the day. The interior of the mosque is simple, but magnificent; the vast central dome is upheld by four immense pillars, each more than thirty feet in diameter, and cut on the outside so as to resemble a bundle of columns. There are half domes opening into the central one, and there are numerous pillars of marble and granite, sustaining arches at the sides and ends of the building. The absence of any decorations, save the texts from the Koran and the names of God, give an aspect of severity to the interior, especially when one has become familiar with the profuse adornments of Italian churches.
The founders of mosques generally, but not always, intend them for their own burial places. What is left of Ahmed I., and I fancy there isn’t much left now, is laid away, not in the mosque itself, but in a tomb close at hand, and forming a sort of adjunct to the grand building.
We had to take off our shoes on entering it, just as we did on entering the mosque, and all the other mosques; we brought along our slippers to wear in these excursions, and our guide walking ahead with six pairs under his arm, might have been easily taken for a second-hand dealer in foot gear. The Judge, the heavy man of the party, had wet his feet a little, and as his boots were very tight, he had hard work to doff and don them at each halting place.
He sat on the pavement in front of a mosque, while the guide undertook to remove the refractory boots. They stuck faster at each change, and toward the last it became necessary to hold him, or have him sit astride a post during the operation. Otherwise the guide pulled him all around the yard as a country doctor does a patient when extracting an obstinate tooth.
We feared it would be necessary for all of us to sit on him, or pile stones on him while the guide pulled, but happily this did not become necessary.
The oft-repeated dragging around on the rough ground was detrimental to the trowsers of the Judge, and he was obliged to have them half-soled before he again wore them.
When we were at the tomb of Ahmed, which contained a sarcophagus, covered with magnificent and costly shawls, and was surmounted with the turban of the defunct Sultan, our sceptical comrade, the “Doubter,” expressed a suspicion that the ruins of Ahmed were not in the box.
“These people are all liars,” said he, “and I don’t believe there ever was such a man.”
We tried to convince him that it was all right, and as he had paid for entering, he was at liberty to believe what he pleased.
“Tell the man to open the place up,” said the “Doubter” to our guide, “and let us see what there is inside.”
The guide tried to inform him, that such a proceeding would be contrary to custom, but the “Doubter” was obstinate and determined to have things his own way.
“I am bound to find out for myself,” he continued, and suiting the action to the word, he endeavored to lift one of the shawls that covered the sarcophagus.
The moment his purpose became evident, the custodians seized his hands, and half a dozen Moslems who had been standing round made a vigorous forward movement.
They would have ejected him in a moment, had not our guide interfered, and possibly they would have brained him.
It is a serious matter to touch things in a mosque, and this experience taught the “Doubter” a lesson which he remembered at least an hour. We visited the tombs of several Turkish Sultans, and finally reached the mosque of Saint Sophia, a little before noon, so as to make a hasty survey of the lower part of the edifice before the people assembled for prayer.
I will not attempt a detailed description, as it would be very long, and interesting only to an architect.
Suffice it to say, that the church was originally very nearly a square—two hundred and fifty feet by two hundred and twenty-five—and the height of the cupola is about two hundred feet. Since it was dedicated to the worship of Mohammed, minarets have been built around it, and some of the external features have been changed. There are numerous columns of porphyry, black and white marble, Egyptian and other granite, and alabaster, and various colored stones. The abundance of columns, the galleries at the side, and the richness of the interior generally, form quite a contrast to the plainness of the other mosques, and one would hardly need be told that he is in an ancient church of Christendom.
The mosaics which represented biblical subjects, have been covered in part, but to so slight an extent that their richness is fully perceptible. Thus, for example, the four Cherubim in the base of the cupola are clearly visible, all except the faces, which are concealed by patches of cloth of gold. The same is the case with other mosaics where figures are delineated.
All mosques are built so that the mihrab or altar placed against one of the walls shall be nearest to Mecca, and the worshippers, while looking toward this altar, shall be looking toward the Holy City. Strips of carpet are laid upon the matting which covers the floor, and on these strips the worshippers kneel, so that they are in rows exactly as if seated in the pews of a church. Saint Sophia was not properly placed for Mohammedan worship, and consequently the mihrab is at one side and the strips of carpet are stretched diagonally, so that they materially mar the architectural effect of the building. It is also injured by numerous ostrich eggs, which are suspended by long wires or cords, and by Moslem chandeliers, which do not harmonize with the walls and pillars of the edifice. As the hour of prayer approached we mounted the gallery to look at the assembled congregation. By twelve o’clock the mosque was fairly filled—the worshippers in lines or files on the strip of carpet, reminding one of a regiment of infantry, in columns of companies. Each man brought his shoes in his left hand with the soles placed against each other, and as he took his position in one of the lines, he laid his shoes in front of him on the open space between his strip of carpet and the next one. Rich and poor prayed side by side, and were all considered equal in the sight of God. Occasionally there was a person with a prayer-carpet of his own, which had been brought and spread by a servant, but these instances were not numerous.
The prophet is entitled to much consideration for some of his enactments which we find in the Koran. Cleanliness is enjoined upon the worshipper, and in compliance with this injunction the Moslems wash their hands and arms before prayers; and if water cannot be had for this purpose, they make use of sand. This is the custom before the daily prayers.
On Friday (the Moslem Sunday), the true believer takes a bath and becomes so clean that he might be used for a dinner-plate on an emergency.
There is always a fountain in the court yard of the mosque, and here, those whose feet and hands are not clean proceed to wash themselves before entering the sacred building. The floor of the mosque is scrupulously clean, and the removal of shoes or boots is required, not as a religious observance, as many suppose, but; in order that no dirt may be left on the matting. You can wear your boots in a mosque, provided you have large slippers to go over them, or if you wear overshoes and remove them at the door. Sometimes the custodians have large slippers which you can hire, and sometimes they tie your feet in napkins, allowing you to retain your boots.
The congregation was a masculine one; the Koran does not prohibit women from entering the mosque or attending prayers there, but says it is better for them to pray in private. It also hints that the devotional feelings of the men are likely to be reduced, if women are near them during the public service, and that it is far better that there should be no such distraction. Mohammed knew what he was about, and understood human weaknesses when he wrote the Koran, and prescribed the formulas of his religion.
There is an erroneous belief among the Western nations that Mohammed denied women the possession of souls. The Koran, in several places, promises paradise to all true believers, whether male or female, and enjoins women to be faithful and obedient to the laws of the Prophet. But as Moslem women are secluded on earth, the natural inference is that they will not occupy a high social position hereafter. The houris, or spiritual wives, which are promised to the believers, render women of no future consequence in the eyes of a masculine Moslem, and hence it is not likely that he cares a straw whether his wives of this earth go to Paradise or stay away from it.
The prayers were recited by an Iman or priest, who stood on the top of the pulpit, in company with other priests. From my position I was not able to see clearly all that was done at the pulpit, but I could see that the prayers were quite analogous to the mass of the Catholic church, and included readings, chant-ings and responses, with frequent bowings and genuflections on the part of the people. The congregation moved as a unit; when one man bowed, all bowed; when he knelt, all knelt; when he prostrated himself, the rest did likewise. The service was an impressive one in every respect, and the most casual observer could not fail to see that every worshipper felt the solemnity of the place and occasion.
The following illustration is an exact facsimile of the opening chapter of the Koran.
This has been anglicized by Rodwell as follows:
1 Bismillahi’ rahmani’ rraheem
2 El-hamdoo lillahi rabi’lalameen
3 Arrahamani’ raheem
4 Maliki yowmi-d-deen
5 Eyaka naboodoo waéyaka nestâeen
6 Ihdina’ ssirat almostakeem
7 Sirat alezeena anamta aleihim, gheiri’lmoghdoobi aleihim wala’daleen. Ameen.
Burton made a rhyming translation of the same, which I herewith give.
1 In the Name of Allah, the Merciful the Compassionate!
2 Praise be to Allah who the three worlds made,
3 The Merciful the Compassionate.
4 The King of the day of Fate.
5 Thee alone do we worship and of thee alone do we ask aid.
6 Guide us to the path that is straight—
7 The path of those to whom thy love is great,
Not those on whom is hate,
Nor they that deviate. Amen.
And now let me say a word to the Infidel, and show him how much he gains or loses by not being a Moslem.
The first article of faith is: “There is no God but God.”
In chapter 112 of the Koran, his unity is set forth thus: “Say he is God, one God, God is the Eternal. He begetteth not, nor is he begotten; and there is none equal unto him.” The Moslems believe that Christ was the Messiah, and brought the gospel upon the earth; they do not call him the Son of God—but simply a prophet or apostle. They believe he was taken up to Heaven after having accomplished his mission, and that he will come again on earth to establish the Moslem religion.
The second article of faith is: “Mohammed is the Prophet of God.”
The Moslems acknowledge six prophets—Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Christ, and Mohammed—and that each brought a system of revealed religion. They claim that each system was a true one, but was abrogated by that which followed it.
Consequently, Christianity was the true faith from the beginning of our era down to the time of Mohammed, except when it was corrupted by the belief that Christ was the Son of God.
They believe in the existence of angels and good and evil genii, in the immortality of the soul, in resurrection and judgment, in future rewards and punishments, in the balance of good and evil works, and in a bridge formed of the edge of a sword over the centre of hell. All must cross this bridge; the good pass safely over and enter Paradise, but the wicked fall from its centre.
The Moslem faith is much weakened in those parts of the Orient that have had familiar intercourse with the Occident.
Temperance is enjoined by the Koran, but there are thousands of Moslems in Turkey and Egypt who drink wine and spirits without hesitation. As the Moslem becomes civilized and enlightened, he generally proceeds to get drunk; and the more he is instructed in the ways of Christianity, the drunker he becomes. Of course, there are many exceptions; but they only prove the correctness of the rule, and our missionaries in the Orient must deeply lament that the injunction to sobriety is less severe in Christianity than in the religion it seeks to displace.
CHAPTER XI—WHIRLING AND HOWLING DERVISHES—WHO AND WHAT THEY ARE.
The Dervishes of Constantinople, What are They?—How They Live and What They Do—Unclean and Devout Beggars—Where They Bury their Dead—Opening their Circus—Removing the “Doubter’s” Boots—An Amusing Situation—Clearing the Floor—Human Top-Spinning—Dropping into Jelly-bags—A Pliable Lot of Living Corpses—The Howling Dervishes—Where and How they Live—A House Full of Madmen—A Shrieking Chant—“La Hah il Allah”—Stirring up the Wild Beasts—Spectators Joining in the Chorus—Horrible Superstitious Rites—Treading on Sick Children—Reaching Paradise by Bodily Tortures—A Sad Disappointment—The Founder of the Sect and Who He Was—Pulling Teeth as a Proof of Sanctity.
ONE of the stock-sights of Constantinople is the performances of the dervishes, which can be witnessed every Friday throughout the year.
The dervishes are to Islam what the bare-footed friars are to Christendom; they are men whose lives are devoted to holiness and idleness in unequal portions, and they subsist upon charity or from the endowment of their mosques.
Most of the orders of dervishes in Constantinople, Damascus, and Cairo, have comfortable homes and very little to do; the members say their prayers daily, and devote an hour to their peculiar worship on Friday, and beyond this they do very little. But there are many dervishes not as well off, who are obliged to work or beg in order to make an honest living, and they greatly resemble Christian monks, in preferring beggary to labor. They argue that they have more time to devote to religious observances in the former case than in the latter, and therefore it is the duty of the less pious public to support them in idleness. But the public does not always see it in this light, and hence the dervishes sometimes find begging unprofitable, and are forced into respectable occupations. The dervishes are a lazy and uncleanly set. They profess to live a life of abstinence, but I was told of cases where they have been known to drink rum with great devotion.
The most noted of the dervishes are the Whirling and Howling sects; sometimes the former are called Dancers, and the latter Singers, but it is a libel upon dancing and singing to call them so. The performance of the Whirling Dervishes resembles dancing about as much as a frog resembles a prairie chicken; the Howling Dervishes could give a pack of wolves seventy-five points in the game and beat them easily, and their devotional exercises resemble singing as much as the noise of a monster tin-shop resembles the opera of Trovatore, as rendered at the London and Paris opera houses.
My first visit to these gentry was at the convent of the Whirling Dervishes. It is situated on the hill of Pera, close by the principal hotels, thus affording an agreeable contrast to our excursions among the mosques and bazaars, which requires a long walk to Stamboul. The convent covers quite an area, and has a neat garden and several cosy buildings. I was told that the convent owns several surrounding buildings, and that the income from these furnishes a very good revenue, on which the dervishes live comfortably. In the garden in front of the building there are the tombs of several “ex-whirlers,” and I was told that it is the practice of the monks to bury their dead on their own premises, instead of sending them to the Mount Auburn of Constantinople.
These dervishes are a decent lot of fellows, much less fanatical than the “howlers,” and always, ready to allow strangers to attend their circus, on condition that they leave their boots at the door and behave themselves, while the curtain is up.
Our party of half-a-dozen went there rather ahead of time, and was obliged to wait in the front yard for the opening of the hall. Some of the dervishes were around there and treated us just as they treated the fence or the gate posts. They said nothing to us nor we to them, except that our guide made a feeble effort to ascertain when the affair would begin.
By the time the doors were opened the party of spectators numbered thirty or more—all strangers like ourselves. There was the usual trouble in removing boots, and the “Doubter” was obliged to call a couple of Turkish loafers to assist him in getting his feet in order, for admission. He caused considerable delay, and it was suggested that for the future he had better leave his boots at home, and set up for a monk of the bare-footed order.
When we were properly un-booted we were allowed to pass the doorway and stand in the interior of the convent.
The building is quite plain; the part that we saw was circular, and consisted of a space in the centre for sacred waltzes, with a floor carefully polished, and waxed to such an extent that it lacked very little to render it useful as a mirror. Around this arena there was a low balustrade, and between this balustrade and the walls was the station of the spectators. Our party of foreigners was allowed about a quarter of the space surrounding the ring, another portion was assigned to the musicians, while the remainder was devoted to Moslem spectators! Above this floor was a gallery supported by graceful columns; a part of the gallery was assigned to Moslem women, and there was a loge or box for the Sultan whenever he chooses to honor the dervishes with his presence. At one corner is a little box for women, furnished with gratings for them to peep through.
The ornamentation of the ball room was as simple as that of the mosques—no pictures nor statuary, but only texts from the Koran, some of them highly illuminated. On the left hung a large board, like a table of laws; to what use it could be put was a puzzle. Lamps are hung all around the building. To the right of the place of worship, under a projecting roof, and of an octagonal form, is a marble fountain, of fine execution. Here devout Moslems perform their ablutions, before entering the main theatre.
We waited some time, and it was no easy matter to wait, as we had to rest like the party at a public dinner when somebody proposes the memory of Washington—standing and in silence.
After a while a solemn old fellow wearing a hat an inch thick and shaped like a sugar-loaf, entered the ring and squatted on a small carpet which was spread just opposite the entrance. As soon as he was seated, the rest of the party, to the number of twenty-five or thirty, made their entrée and bowed very low before the first comer. He was sheik, or chief of the lot; the rest were the rank and file—the common fellows who were obliged to wait his orders.
They did not come in with a rush, but very slowly, one and two at a time, so that they consumed at least a quarter of an hour in getting into their places.
In bowing to the sheik they bent their bodies so that their backs became horizontal, and I longed for a spirit-level that I might ascertain if these fellows were on the square. Each of them wore a sugar-loaf hat like that of the boss, and like his, made of coarse felt of a reddish grey color. Each was wrapped in a long cloak of dark blue cloth, and as they stood in their places, they held these cloaks tightly around them. Later—after the service began, they threw aside these robes and revealed a long skirt of the same color, and not unlike a hoopless petticoat in its general appearance. The skirt was wide at the base, but gathered closely at the waist, and the part above the waist was by no means a bad fit.
The prayers began with the sheik in the centre, and there were many prostrations, bows and genuflections before they were ended. Then there was a chant, which was taken up by the orchestra, in which the only instruments were flutes and light drums or darboukas. The music was not at all disagreeable, but, like all Oriental melody, had a good deal of monotony mingled with its plaintiveness. Up to the opening of the music, the dervishes were standing in the arena, and as it began, they closed their eyes, and seemed to be indulging in a species of intoxication. In a few minutes one of them began to turn mechanically, and at the same time opened and extended his arms with the palm of his left hand turned upward, while that of the right was downward.
Scarcely was he under way before another, and then another set his engines in motion, and in a few minutes the whole party was under a full head of steam. They whirled so rapidly that the centrifugal force caused their skirts to expand and stand out at a sharp angle to the perpendicular, just as you have seen the dress of a fashionable woman extend itself during an exciting waltz. Sometimes they reminded me of so many pieces of machinery—their skirts forming a sort of cone.
These dervishes perform the double feat of whirling round and moving onwards at the same time.
Occasionally they revolve for awhile with both arms extended, like windmills.
Half of them appear to have their eyes closed, and to be dancing in a sort of drunken ecstacy, but somehow they did not run against each other, and the performance went on in good order. The chief whirled a little while with the rest, and then he moved about in the group urging the slow ones to whirl faster, and occasionally hurrying up the musicians, by beating time with his hands to a somewhat quicker measure. After a while he halted the music a couple of minutes, and the “whirlers”. slowed down to half speed and wiped off the perspiration. Several of the “whirlers” now drove back the surrounding crowd with sticks, and for about two minutes I thought there was a lively prospect of a first-class row.
The halt did not long continue. The chief gave a signal and the music began again as lively as “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning,” for it was in double quick time, and made warm work for the gentlemen engaged. The whirling was now in dead earnest, and made the skirts expand like those of the première danseuse executing a pas seul when she revolves across the stage in her finale which is to secure her the thundering plaudits of the audience.
They whirled.
And whirled.
And they kept on whirling.
And they whirled some more.
And they kept it up until the brains of the spectators were in a whirl, and some of them (spectators, not brains) had their money’s worth and went away.
After a while one of the dervishes threw up the sponge (figuratively), by sinking down on the floor in a state of exhaustion and perspiration.
He was as pliable as a jelly-fish, and the attendants who came to his relief handled him with care through an apparent fear that he would drop to pieces. Soon another fell, and then a third, and then a fourth, and then the chief gave the signal for stopping the roulette. The dervishes had been on the whirl nearly twenty minutes, and were quite ready to finish the game. Towards the end I noticed that the toes of some of them were terribly cramped, and the veins of their feet swollen like drum cords.
They gathered up their morning wrappers, and after bowing profoundly to their chief, walked slowly from the room. This was the end of the affair, and we returned to the outer door where we mounted our boots, paid our “backsheesh” and departed.
None of these dervishes were corpulent, but whether from accident or design I am unable to say. They were all of a lean and hungry build, and all were pale in the face except one, who was a negro, and couldn’t have paled however much he wished to. Their exercise is not calculated to develop obesity, and if one should grow fat he would be obliged to change his profession, as he couldn’t keep up with the rest without killing himself with overwork. Their faces were not prepossessing as a general thing; some had a pleasing cast of features, but the majority were of an aspect decidedly forbidding.
Before we left the place I told our guide that I could give the chief a hint which might be of service to him.
“Tell the sheik that we have machinery in America which we use for drying clothes in large laundries. The clothes are put into a cylinder which revolves above five thousand times a minute, and throws the moisture out by the centrifugal force.”
“Yes, but that no good would be for ze dervish. He dry his clothes just like somebody else, and no have much clothes to dry.”
“Not for his clothes,” I replied, “but for the service we have just attended. Let them erect such a machine in their ball-room, and have it large enough to hold all the worshippers. Put them inside and start the engine, and they could do more whirling in, fifteen minutes than they can do in a week in the old fashioned way.”
“I think ze Moslem no like such machine, but I speak to ze sheik next time I see him. How much cost one machine?”
I went on to explain its cost and advantages to the innocent guide, who did not suspect that he was being hoaxed. Whether he spoke to the dervishes about it or not, I am unable to say, but at all events he never made any report of the matter to me.
The “Howling Dervishes” are another sort of devotees. Their convent where I visited them was more like a mosque than was that of the Whirlers, as it was much larger and had a high roof. The walls were bare of ornament, except of inscriptions from the Koran; on the side, where stood the altar, there was a lot of implements of warfare, including spears, arrows, old matchlocks, swords and various other odds and ends, all of an ancient appearance. We went through the usual process of leaving our boots at the door, but we were not obliged to stand during the performance. A polite attendant brought chairs enough for seating all the strangers, and thus made us comfortable. There were about fifty worshippers, and they stood in a semicircle, with their chief inside. He began a low chant which included one of the chapters of the Koran, and was joined in the chant by the rest of the party.
At each verse they threw their heads forward, with a jerk, and immediately threw them backwards. The chant was very soon concluded, and without any pause the chief started the formula, “la Hah! il Alla!”
Now we began to understand why these pious individuals were called “howlers.” The sound that they produced was more like the noise of a menagerie, when the keeper stirs up the beasts, than like the tones of the human voice. It was a rough and rather prolonged bark and howl, in which the word Allah! was all that could be understood. The movement of the head became an inclination of the whole body from the hips upward; at one instant the men were bent nearly double, and at the next they had their heads thrown forward, so that their faces were horizontal, and there seemed a probability that the worshippers would fall backward.
They had removed their turbans, as no head-dress could stand this wild motion, unless glued or nailed on. Many of them wore their hair long, and the masses of chevelure swung in the air like so many dirty mops, from which a kitchen-maid is endeavoring to shake the superfluous water.
The noise became frightful, and several ladies of the visiting party, as well as some of the gentlemen, had their money’s worth in a very little while.
Every minute or two some of the dervishes fell exhausted to the floor; two foamed at the mouth and became wildly insane, so that it was necessary for others to hold them, or carry them out of the room.
There were several negroes in the room, and I observed that they howled the worst and were first to become frenzied. They raved like mad men, and indeed they were for a time furiously mad. I am sure Bedlam would be considered a quiet and well-behaved place, in comparison with the mosque of the “Howling Dervishes.”
There were fifty or more Moslem spectators, and some of those on-lookers became so excited that they joined in the service and soon were as frenzied as the rest. Among them was a soldier—a negro—who had not been five minutes in the charmed circle before he fell writhing to the floor, and foamed at the mouth, as though he had swallowed an entire soda fountain.
The spectacle is far more disagreeable than that of the whirling dervishes. You want to go away, and you are held there by a strange fascination; you cannot imagine how things can be any worse than they are five minutes after the howling has begun, and yet you know perfectly well that it will be much worse before the end. You feel that you have had enough and you want to go, and then you feel that you ought to stay, as you will miss some of the fun by leaving.
I don’t know a place where one is more swayed by conflicting emotions than while assisting at the devotional exercises of these gentlemen. I think an American or Englishman feels very much as did the tender-hearted Romans (if there were any), at the gladiatorial combats in the Coliseum, or at the matinees, where the Christians “on the half-shell” were served up to tigers that had been on short rations for a fortnight.
Civilization in its advance into the Orient has robbed these dervish-entertainments of some of their interesting features. While the howling was going on, people used to bring sick persons, particularly children, and place them on a sheepskin spread on the floor inside the semi-circle. The chief stood upon these invalids and danced about on them, and this homoeopathic treatment was supposed to do the patients much good. If they recovered, it was natural enough that their cure should be considered miraculous; if they died it was in accordance with the will of God, and the dervishes could not be blamed for an occasional failure.
Then they used to wrap barbed chains around themselves, or around any person who had an inquiring turn of mind and wished to make an experiment.
They took down some of the swords and spears, and stuck the points into their arms and legs without manifesting any pain. In fact, they practiced a variety of tortures, or what seemed so to the infidel spectator.
When I went to the show that day, I was expecting a delightful time, as I had been reading a book in which all these entertainments were described. Soon after we entered the mosque, an officer with a couple of policemen at his side, came into the room and took his place against the wall, and inside the semi-circle, which was just then forming.
“What is that officer here for?” I inquired of the guide.
“He comes to regulate the behavior of the dervishes. To see that they do not tread on sick children, as they used to do, and to prevent the devotees from lacerating themselves.”
“And shall we have no tortures to-day?”
“None at all. The government forbids it.”
Imagine my disappointment. I had expected to lunch full of horrors, without returning to the hotel, and here I was cut down to seeing a lot of grown men make temporary maniacs of themselves, and to hear the worst human howling that ever saluted my cars. All the beautiful pictures that my fancy had painted of seeing sick children trodden under the feet of the priests, and pious devotees cutting themselves with swords and spears, had quite vanished and would never be realized.
The age of sentiment is gone. Shall we ever welcome its return?
The Oriental governments are slow to move, but they do move after all. Moslem fanaticism is every year diminishing, and many of its cruelties are brought to an end. Occidental civilization in its aggressive course has accomplished much, and will do more as time rolls on.
Most of these sects are not held in great esteem by the people, though there are many Moslems who believe that the whirling, howling, and other performances of these gentry, are caused by divine inspiration, and consequently should be held in reverence.
The Turkish government has on several occasions contemplated the suppression of some of the orders of dervishes, particularly those that possess considerable wealth. There are persons uncharitable enough to suppose that this contemplated suppression is induced by the fact that the property of the dervishes would revert to the government in case the sects were discontinued.
Some of the sects have a great deal of fasting and prayer, and make their ceremonies interesting by the addition of various bodily tortures. It is said that a sect was founded in the first century of the Hegira by a holy man named Uvies. Among other farewells to worldly pleasures, he required his followers to draw all their teeth, in remembrance of the Prophet’s loss of two teeth at a battle on behalf of Islam. Painless dentistry was not, then in vogue, as nobody had discovered chloroform, ether, or laughing gas. Uvies did not get very far with his sect, and it expired soon after his death. Another pious Moslem tried to start a sect of dervishes in which every member should have his eyes put out during the ceremony of initiation. He was obliged to be chief and all hands, as he never found anybody to join his order. The devout Mohammedans couldn’t see it.
