The Turk has the misfortune to be an anachronism in power. His present methods were those of every European Government some five hundred years ago; but European consciences have developed in the interval, and his has not. Modern civilization, though willing enough to shut its eyes to a good deal that is ugly, cannot avoid seeing what the Turk does. He happens to occupy lands which must attract the religious and antiquarian interest of the world, and which are the nearest unexploited field for European capital besides. He is then, and must be, in the limelight. Still, you cannot do in the limelight what sentiment will allow you to do in the dark; and the trouble is, that the Turk knows no other way of doing his business than the habits he learnt when everything was dark. You can give an old dog a new collar, but you cannot teach him new tricks; and even calling the Government of Turkey “constitutional,” has not altered its methods. Bribery is more costly now than under the old regime, in that you have to insure against risk; but it is not less prevalent: and the Turk has been given an excellent additional reason for disregarding the advice of foreign Consuls; for what locus standi have they in a Civilized and Constitutional country like the Ottoman Empire? These facts appear to a European resident to be the two principal results of the “new régime” after five years. What can Dame Europe say or do to the grim old mastiff, who can still bite enough to make her very nervous about handling him, and who[{261}] says “What my enemies have left me of the kennel is mine; and while it remains mine I will manage it as I like.”
Note. It is one of the consolations of life in Turkey that the more tragically serious a thing is in reality, the more certain it is to present a comic aspect in practice.
A good instance of this was provided for the foreigner in Van, shortly after the proclamation of the Constitution in that city.
The position of women in the East is a great and important question enough, in all conscience; and on its right solution depends probably the future of those lands; yet the problem presented itself in Van in the guise of a battle between old and young which had all the elements of absurdity in it.
A caravan load of what professed to be the latest Paris fashion in hats arrived at Van; and the younger female population (who had been previously obliged to veil themselves for several reasons) took to the innovation very kindly. They discovered, however, that by doing so they had roused the wrath of conservative mamma, and of even more conservative grandmamma, who declared that “nobody will ever marry you if you go about with your face naked in that fashion.”
As a matter of fact, the Armenian Pyramus had no more objection to looking on Thisbe’s uncovered face than has his European cousin. The real objection lay deeper. Hitherto marriages have been arranged, as is right and proper, between the mothers and grandmothers on each side; and the bridegroom never sees his bride till the knot has been tied. If, however, damsels took to going about “with their faces naked in that fashion,” there obviously might be difficulties in getting the consent of the young man to the marriage arranged by his seniors; and it was even possible that young people might take to settling things between themselves. In this case, the rule of grandmamma over the house totters to its very foundations—which is a catastrophe too terrible to be contemplated for an instant. Hence obsta principiis was the order, and the hats were confiscated. Picture the feelings of those scores of damsels who, having acquired European hats for the first time, found themselves deprived of them; and condemned—not to a transparent veil or becoming mantilla—but to a thick knitted shawl drawn over the face whenever there was a male animal about.
Conservatism triumphed on this occasion; but had the new régime been a success, we fancy that feminine youth would have put up a better fight for it. As things were, the old conditions persisted, which had made it none too safe for any young girl to allow her face to be seen in the streets; and they gave way. No doubt the battle will be renewed at a later date, and possibly with better fortune!
CHAPTER XIII
THE LAND OF PRESTER JOHN
(QUDSHANIS)
MOST of us have some recollection of the legend of “Prester John,” particularly in the version given in “Ariosto”; the legend of a Christian king ruling his people in the midst of infidels; a king who was yet a priest and who celebrated Mass regularly; who had a kingdom in the midst of wild inaccessible mountains, girdled by cloud and storm; and who was tormented by the harpies that came daily and snatched the food from his table. We read, too, how he was visited by the wandering English knight Astolpho, and how that hero drove away the harpies by the blast of his magic horn.