Her captivity had naturally been a terrible blow to her betrothed, and the joy of her release was sadly darkened by horrible suspicions of the dishonor to which she might have been subjected. The young man accepted all the same his chosen bride, whom he had so narrowly escaped losing, and the wedding-day was fixed.
The bridegroom’s home was so situated, that from the windows of my room I could see into it. The family consisted of an aged Bulgarian woman and her son, a furrier by trade. A week before the ceremony took place, the old lady might be seen working away at the preparations for the coming event. The house was thoroughly cleaned and whitewashed; the copper pots, pans, and dishes, and the china and glass, indispensable decorations of the shelves that adorn the walls of every well-to-do Bulgarian tradesman’s house, were in their turn brought down, made bright and shining, and then returned to their places. All the carpets were then produced, in extraordinary quantity, and of all colors, dimensions, and qualities. These were stretched on mattresses, sofas, on the floors of the rooms and on the veranda. The cellar was next visited, and no small quantity of its fluid contents brought forth. Uskup is the only town in Turkey in which I have noticed a tendency on the part of the female population to indulge in drink; they do not, however, practise this vice in public, nor is an inebriated woman ever seen in the country. Finally the provisions, consisting of an abundant supply of flour, rice, butter, honey, and fruits were collected, and all seemed in readiness. The future bridegroom, however, who appeared ill and dispirited, took no very active part in the arrangements, and I frequently observed him sitting on the veranda silent and dull, smoking cigarette after cigarette; his mother occasionally whisking round and reprimanding him in strong Bulgarian language, to which he would sometimes respond by a few words and at others would heave a deep sigh and leave the house.
I went to see the bride on the day she was brought to her new home. She looked very pretty in her bright bridal costume, but her fine eyes had lost something of their lustre and her cheeks much of their wonted bloom. She looked serious and concerned; her husband, dull and dispirited. As they stood up to make the first formal round of the dance, I noticed the difference in their step, formerly so light, now heavy and sorrowful. As they turned round, slowly measuring their steps to the music of the gaida, not a smile parted their lips, not a cheerful word was heard from the rest of the company. The poor bride noticed this, and a few tears dropped from her eyes; but her cup of sorrow was not yet full. A suspicious-looking woman, famous for her deep knowledge of witchcraft, entered; taking aside the bridegroom, she whispered something in his ear which seemed to impress him deeply. This bird of ill omen left behind her a chill which all seemed to feel. When the week’s feasting was at an end, the gossips began to chat over the event, all agreeing that a duller wedding had never taken place in their town, and prophesying all sorts of misfortunes to the young couple. I frequently saw them from my windows, and noticed that they did indeed seem far from happy. The husband looked morose, was seldom at home, and during those intervals was always in bad humor and disputing with his mother, and quarrelling with his wife, who was oftener crying than laughing.
The gossiping tongues of the neighbors were once more loosed, and the report was spread that the bridegroom was laboring under the influence of a magical spell cast upon him by his disappointed rival, the Albanian chieftain, and that he was consequently zaverza. This spell cast upon men is, among other devices, operated by means of the locking of a padlock by a sorcerer, who casts the lock into one well and the key into another. This is supposed actually to lock up every feeling and faculty of the individual against whom it is directed, and to render him insensible to the impressions of love. This spell, implicitly believed in and much feared by all the ignorant people of the country, requires the assistance of a professional to remove its malignant effects. The unhappy couple, after many miserable months, resolved to have recourse to the sorceress before mentioned, and after the husband had undergone the remedies prescribed by her everything went well, and my heroine once again became happy. Such is the force of imagination.
The antidotes employed in these cases consist of quicksilver and other minerals, placed with water in a basin, called the Meras Tas, or Heritage-Bowl, a very rare vessel, highly prized for its virtues, and engraved with forty-one padlocks. The water is poured from this bowl over the head of the afflicted person during the seven weeks following Easter. At Monastir, this ablutionary performance is held in a ruined mill called Egri Deirmen, where every Thursday during this period may be seen a heterogeneous gathering of Turks, Jews, Bulgarians, Wallachians, Albanians, and Greeks, young and old, male and female, who resort to the spot, and for the modest payment of a copper coin receive the benefits of an anti-magical wash. Every one who has been to the place will attest the beneficial effect of this rite, and so deeply rooted is the belief in the influence of magic in the minds of these people that even those who may have wished to free themselves from what they almost admit to be a superstition, say that they are led back by the incontrovertible evidence they see of its effects on the persons against whom it is employed.
Most of the spells cast upon persons are aimed at life, beauty, wealth, and the affections. They are much dreaded, and the events connected with this subject that daily occur are often of a fatal character. A Turkish lady, however high her position, invariably attributes to the influence of magic the neglect she experiences from her husband, or the bestowal of his favor on other wives. Every Hanoum I have known would go down to the laundry regularly and rinse with her own hands her husband’s clothes after the wash, fearing that if any of her slaves performed this duty she would have the power of casting spells to supplant her in her husband’s good graces. Worried and tormented by these fears, she is never allowed the comfort of enjoying in peace that conjugal happiness which mutual confidence alone can give. A buyu boghcha (or magic bundle) may at any time be cast upon her, cooling her affection for her husband, or turning his love away from her. The blow may come from an envious mother-in-law, a scheming rival, or from the very slaves of whose services the couple stand daily in need. A relative of Sultan Abdul-Medjid assured me that on the death of that gentle and harmless Padishah no fewer than fifty buyu boghchas were found hidden in the recesses of his sofa. All these were cast upon the unfortunate sovereign by the beauties who, appreciated for a short time and then superseded by fresh favorites, tried each to perpetuate her dominion over him.
During a conversation I recently had with a Turkish lady of high position, who had spent seventeen years of her life in the seraglio of Sultan Abdul-Aziz, I happened to refer to the eccentricities occasionally displayed by that Sultan. She looked reproachfully at me and exclaimed, “How can you accuse the memory of our saintly master of eccentricity when every one knows it was the effect of magic?” and, adding action to her words, she began to enumerate on the tips of her fingers all the persons who had a special interest in having recourse to this practice in order to bewilder the mind of the Sultan. “The first schemer,” said she, “is the Validé Sultana, desirous of perpetuating her influence over the mind of her son. The next is the Grand Vizir, in the hope of further ingratiating himself with his master. Then comes the Kislar Aga, chief of the eunuchs, with a host of women, all disputing with each other the affection of the Sultan. If ten out of twelve of these fail in their attempt the machinations of two will be sure to succeed, and these two suffice to bewilder the mind of any man. When our lamented master was driven out of his palace, and the furniture removed from his chamber, buyu boghchas were found even under the mats on the floor. These, taken up by some good women that still venerated his memory, were thrown into the sea or consumed by fire.”
The buyu boghcha is composed of a number of incongruous objects, such as human bones, hair, charcoal, earth, besides a portion of the intended victim’s garment, etc., tied up in a rag. When it is aimed at the life of a person, it is supposed to represent his heart, and is studded with forty-one needles, intended to act in a direct manner and finally cause his death. Two of these bundles, of a less destructive nature, were thrown into my house; on another occasion two hedgehogs, also considered instruments of magic and forerunners of evil, were cast in. All these dreaded machinations had, however, no other effect on me beyond exciting my curiosity to know their perpetrator; but they occasioned great fear to my native servants, who were continually expecting some fatal calamity to happen in consequence.
The advice of magicians, fortune-tellers, dream-expounders, and quack astrologers is always consulted by persons desirous of being enlightened upon any subject. Stolen property is believed to be recoverable through their instrumentality, and the same faith is placed in them as a European victim of some wrong would put in the intelligence and experience of a clever detective. Some of these individuals are extremely acute in arriving at the right solution of the mystery. Their power, dreaded by the suspected parties as sure to result in some unforeseen calamity, is a moral pressure which, when set to work upon the superstitious, succeeds beyond expectation. The following is an example of the hold that superstition has over the minds of the most enlightened Turks. A Pasha, who had been ambassador at Paris, and whose wit, liberal ideas, and pleasant manners were highly appreciated in European circles, was appointed in his more mature years Governor-General of Broussa during the reign of Abdul-Medjid. During his travels he had collected a splendid library, the finest ornament of his house. These books gave umbrage to an old sheikh, who possessed unlimited influence over the Pasha. The old fanatic had mentally vowed the destruction of these writings of the infidel, and by means of his eloquence and by prophetic promises he so worked upon the governor’s superstitious feelings as to induce him to sacrifice his library, which was brought down into the court-yard and made into a bonfire. The recompense for this act of abnegation, according to the sheikh, was to be the possession of the much-coveted post of Grand Vizir. Strange to say, a short time afterwards the Pasha was called to occupy that position; but its glory and advantages were enjoyed by him for the short period of three days only—a poor recompense for his sacrifice.
Belief in the evil eye is perhaps more deeply rooted in the mind of the Turk than in that of any other nation, though Christians, Jews, and even some Franks regard it as a real misfortune. It is supposed to be cast by some envious or malicious person, and sickness, death, and loss of beauty, affection, and wealth are ascribed to it. Often when paying visits of condolence to Turkish harems, I have heard them attribute the loss they have sustained to the Nazar. I knew a beautiful girl, who was entirely blinded and disfigured by small-pox, attribute her misfortune to one of her rivals, who, envying in her the charms she did not herself possess, used to look at her with the peculiar fena guz (bad expression) so much dreaded by Turkish women. When the misfortune happened, the ignorant mother, instead of reproaching herself for her neglect in not having had her daughter vaccinated, lamented her want of foresight in having omitted to supply her with the charms and amulets that would have averted the calamity.