While living at a farm near Broussa, situated a few miles from the town, not far from the ruins of a fine old hostelry called the “Bloody Khan,” my mother was one moonlight night accosted by an old Turk while we were out walking. He was a stranger in the place, tall and handsome, with a snowy beard falling upon his slightly bent chest. A peculiar, restless look about the eyes, and the numerous scars that covered his bare breast and face were evident indications that whatever his present calling might be, his past life must have been a stormy and adventurous one. He walked quietly towards us, and stopping before my mother, with a certain amount of respect mingled with paternal familiarity, said to her, “Kuzim, gel! (Daughter, come!) I have a secret to reveal to you.” My mother followed him, and half amused and wholly incredulous listened to the following recital. Pointing to the “Bloody Khan,” which, being situated upon the principal road leading into the interior, had once been occupied by a band of forty robbers, he said, “I was the chief of the band of brigands that occupied that Khan. You must know its story. Forty years have passed during which my faithful followers have been caught, killed, or dispersed, leaving me the sole representative of the band. A timely repentance of my evil ways led me to make a Tubé vow and renounce the old trade. I have since lived in peace with Allah and with men. I have sworn to lay violent hands on no man’s property more; but my conscience does not rebel against attempting to recover what I had buried beneath yonder wall. I want your powerful concurrence to dig out this buried treasure, the greater part of which will be yours.” My mother naturally refused to have anything to do with the affair. Seeing her unwillingness, the old man tried all his powers of persuasion to induce her to take part in his plan, saying, “On me, my daughter, be the sin. I will rest content with a small portion of what will be recovered, all the rest I abandon to you!” Finding this last inducement had no more effect than his previous promises, he turned away, saying, “Since you refuse I must seek somebody else.” Among the few Mohammedan inhabitants of the small village his choice fell upon the Imam, whose enterprising face promised the old man better success. The cunning Imam, on hearing the brigand’s tale, being persuaded of its veracity, at once promised his assistance, mentally deciding, however, that he would be the only one to profit by the hidden treasure. He at once began to make use of the usual stratagem of superstition, which could alone secure the success of his plan. Telling the old man that according to his books ill-gained wealth must be in the possession of evil spirits, and that in order to guard themselves against their influences during their digging enterprise, and to prevent the treasure from turning into charcoal, a peculiar process of appeasing and soothing incantations would be needed; but that he would at once proceed to perform these, and at the first crowing of the cock all would be ready, and they would proceed together to the spot and unearth the treasure. The credulous old chief stroked his beard, and said that with Allah’s help and the good-will of the Peris by the next day they would be rich men. In the course of the night, as arranged, the two, spade in hand, leading the Imam’s horse bearing saddle bags, proceeded to the spot. The Imam commenced operations by surrounding himself and his companion with as many magical observances as he could invent. Telling him to remove the first spadeful of earth, they went on digging alternately until a hollow sound told the sharp ear of the Imam that the distance between them and the coveted wealth was not great. He threw down his spade, and again resorting to magical mummeries declared that the danger was imminent, as the spell foretold resistance on the part of the spirits, and a refusal to yield possession unless a goat were at once sacrificed to them. “Go,” said he, earnestly, “back to the mosque, and in the small chamber you will find three goats; take the milk-white one and bring it here. Do not hurry it much, but lead it gently, as becomes the virtue of the offering.” The old man, nothing doubting, with Turkish nonchalance went quietly back to the village, which lay about three miles distant. The Imam once rid of him, and when in no danger of being seen or heard, set actively to work, got out the treasure, placed it in his saddle-bags, mounted, and rode off, and was never seen or heard of in the village again. The old man returned in due time, accompanied by the goat, to find nothing but his spades, the pile of earth, and the gaping hole. Disgusted, disappointed, and enraged, he came back to the village, and early next morning made his appearance at the farm. Inquiring for my mother, he acquainted her with the pitiable results of his attempt. This time the curiosity of the whole family was roused, and we all proceeded in a body to the spot. The old man’s assertions proved to be perfectly correct, and my brother, upsetting part of the upturned earth, discovered a handsome silver dish and cup, which we took home with us as trophies of the strange adventure.
The following strange incident happened at Broussa when I was a child. Incredible as it may appear, its authenticity cannot be disputed, and a statement of the fact may be found in the Consular Reports made at the time to the Foreign Office:
The monotonous life of the inhabitants of this romantic old city, which a French improvisateur justly designated as un tombeau couvert de roses, was one morning startled by the arrival of a band of fifty or sixty wild-looking people—men, women, and a few children. None knew whence they came or what they wanted. Some of them, dressed as Fakirs, spoke bad Turkish; the rest used a guttural dialect unintelligible to any but themselves. Their costume, composed of a sheet or wrapper, left their arms, legs, and tattooed breasts bare; white turbans, from under which a quantity of matted hair hung, covered the heads of the men. The women, whose arms and breasts were bare, wore brass and bead ornaments, large rings in their ears, and a sheet over their heads. They were fine, strongly-built people, with regular features and bronzed skins. This nomad band, which was conjectured to have come from some distant part of Central Asia, took up its quarters at Bournabashi, a beautiful spot outside the walls of the town, where a grove of cypress trees shelter a fine mausoleum containing the saintly remains of one of the first chieftains who accompanied Sultan Orkhan and settled in the city after the conquest. His shrine, much venerated by the Mohammedans, is a resort for pilgrims, who may often be seen performing their ablutions at the cool fountains by the side of the vale, or devoutly bending to say their namaz under the shade of the imposing trees, having lighted tapers on the tomb.
It must have been some mysterious legend connected with the life and deeds of this reputed saint, mixed up, as most Oriental legends are, with the supernatural, that, finding its way back to his native land, and discovered or expounded centuries later by his savage kindred, led them to undertake this long journey and do homage at the tomb of the Emir. Their actions seem, however, to have been prompted partly by interested motives, for their legend seems mysteriously to have stated that great riches had been buried with him, whose possession was only attainable by human sacrifice. The easy consciences of the fanatics do not appear to have felt any scruples with regard to the means they were to use, and in their zeal, stimulated by their greed for gain and by superstition, they undertook the long journey that, after perhaps months of hardship and toil, led them to their goal.
The day after their arrival they were seen in twos and threes scouring the town, crossing and recrossing all its streets under the pretext of begging, but, as subsequently discovered, with the real object of kidnapping children. According to their confession, forty was the number needed, whose fat boiled down was to be moulded into tapers, which, burning day and night on the tomb of the Emir, were to soften the spirits into complaisance and induce them to give up the treasure they guarded in its original state, and not in charcoal, as would be the case if this all-important part of the operation were omitted by the searchers. The news of the appearance of the kidnappers, with some inkling of their object, soon spread through the town and began to terrorize the inhabitants of the Christian quarters, where they were principally seen loitering, when palpable evidence of their operations was brought before the English Consul by the timely rescue of two Armenian children, who had been half strangled, one being brought in insensible and the other having on its throat the deep and bleeding nail-marks of the two ruffians from whose hands the children had been rescued by some passers-by, who interrupted the murderous work as it was being executed in the sombre archway of a ruined old Roman bridge crossing the ravine that intersects the town. The Consul at once proceeded to the Governor and requested that the case should at once be looked into. But the sacred character of Fakir protecting some of these men made public investigation difficult, and the authorities hushed up the matter, and only signified to the band that they must renounce their project and leave the country. They did so, expressing their deep regret at the want of faith of the authorities, and bitterly reproaching them with their refusal to co-operate tacitly with their desire.
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.
The religion of the Turks is properly the orthodox or Sunni form 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 an esprit de corps and 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 the coup d’état was 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 the subject, had the satisfaction of seeing it submerged in the vortex of succeeding events.