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.