Twenty Years' Residence among the People of Turkey: Bulgarians, Greeks, Albanians, Turks, and Armenians

by Fanny Janet Sandison Blunt

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 their namaz in 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 of La 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 an Iftar, or Ramazan dinner. It is very curious to observe the physiognomy of the Terriakis, 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 a Bismillah and 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 the sofra; 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 the Terravi—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 and mauvais sujets indulge 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 indiscriminate mêlée, 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 the sahor, 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. The Government facilitates this departure by giving free passages and other grants. Those pilgrims that go viâ Damascus 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 mean Kismet. 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.