THE TURKS.
Turkish Peasants—Decrease in Numbers—Taxation
and Recruiting—Relations with the
Christians—Appearance—Amusements—House and
Family—Townspeople—Guilds—Moslems and Christians—The
Turk as an Artisan—Objection to Innovations—Life in the
Town—The Military Class—Government Officials—Pashas—Grand
Vizirs—Receptions—A Turkish Lady’s Life—The Princes—The
Sultan—Mahmoud—His Reforms—Abdul-Medjid—Abdul-Aziz—Character
and Fate—Murad—Abdul-Hamid—Slavery in Turkey.
The Turkish peasants inhabiting the rural districts of Bulgaria,
Macedonia, Epirus, and Thessaly, although the best, most industrious,
and useful of the Sultan’s Mohammedan subjects, everywhere evince
signs of poverty, decrease in numbers, and general deterioration. This
fact is evident even to the mere traveller, from the wretchedness and
poverty-stricken appearance of Turkish villages, with their houses mostly
tumbling to pieces. The inhabitants, unable to resist the drain upon them
in time of war when the youngest and most vigorous men are taken away
for military service, often abandon their dwellings and retire to more
populous villages or towns: the property thus abandoned goes to ruin,
and the fields in the same manner become waste. This evil, which has
increased since the more regular enforcement of the conscription, may
be traced to three principal sources: the first is the unequal manner
in which the conscription laws are carried out upon this submissive
portion of the people; the second is the want of laborers, the inevitable
consequence of the recruiting system, whereby the best hands are drawn
away annually at the busiest and most profitable time of the year, to
the great and sometimes irreparable injury of industry; the third is the
irregular and often unjust manner in which the taxes are levied. Under
these unencouraging circumstances the disabled old men, the wild boys,
and the women (who are never trained to work and are consequently unfit
for it), are left behind to continue the labor of the conscripts, and
struggle on as well as indolent habits and natural incapacity for hard
work will allow them. The large villages will soon share the fate of
the small ones and be engulfed in the same ruin, unless radical changes
are introduced for the benefit of the Turkish peasants. Their condition
requires careful and continued attention at the hands of a good and
equitable administration.
The Turkish peasant is a good, quiet, and submissive subject, who refuses
neither to furnish his Sultan with troops nor to pay his taxes, so far
as in him lies; but he is poor, ignorant, helpless, and improvident to
an almost incredible degree. At the time of recruiting he will complain
bitterly of his hard lot, but go all the same to serve his time; he
groans under the heavy load of taxation, gets imprisoned, and is not
released until he manages to pay his dues.
He is generally discontented with his government, of which he openly
complains, and still more with its agents, with whom he is brought
into closer contact; but still the idea of rebelling against either,
giving any signs of disaffection, or attempting to resist the law, never
gets any hold upon him. His relations with his Christian neighbors
vary greatly with the locality and the personal character of both. In
some places Christian and Turkish peasants, in times of peace, live in
tolerable harmony, in others a continual warfare of complaints on one
side and acts of oppression on the other is kept up. The only means of
securing peace to both is to separate the two parties, and compel each to
rest solely upon its own exertions and resources, and to prove its worth
in the school of necessity. An English gentleman owning a large estate in
Macedonia used to assert that until the Christian peasant adopts a diet
of beer and beef, nothing will be made of him; in the same manner I think
that until the Turk is cured of his bad habit of employing by hook or by
crook Petcho and Yancho to do his work for him, he will never be able to
do it himself.
The Turkish peasant is well built and strong, and possesses extraordinary
power of endurance. His mode of living is simple, his habits sober;
unlike the Christians of his class he has no dance, no village feast, and
no music but a kind of drum or tambourine, to vary the monotony of his
life. His cup of coffee and his chibouk contain for him all the sweets of
existence. The coffee is taken before the labors of the day are begun,
and again in the evening at the _cafiné_. His work is often interrupted
in order to enjoy the chibouk, which he smokes crouched under a tree
or wall. His house is clean but badly built, cold in winter and hot in
summer, possessing little in the way of furniture but bedding, mats,
rugs, and kitchen utensils. He is worse clad than the Christian peasant,
and his wife and children still worse; yet the women are content with
their lot, and in their ignorance and helplessness do not try, like the
Christian women, to better their condition by their individual exertions;
they are irreproachable and honest in their conduct, and capable of
enduring great trials. Some are very pretty; they keep much at home,
the young girls seldom gather together for fun and enjoyment except at
a wedding or circumcision ceremony, when they sing and play together,
while the matrons gossip over their private affairs and those of their
neighbors. The girls are married young to peasants of their own or some
neighboring village. Polygamy is rare among Turkish peasants, and they do
not often indulge in the luxury of divorce.
On the whole the Turkish peasant, though not a model of virtue, is a good
sort of man, and would be much better if he had not the habit in times
of national trouble to take upon him the name of Bashi-Bazouk, and to
transform himself into a ruffian.
Turks, generally speaking, prefer town to country life; for in towns
they enjoy more frequent opportunities of indulging in that _dolce far
niente_ which has become an integral part of the Turkish character and
has entirely routed his original nomadic disposition.
The tradespeople of the towns are ranged into _esnafs_, or guilds, and
form separate corporations, some of which include Christians when they
happen to be engaged in the same pursuits. Thus there are the _esnafs_
of barbers, linen-drapers, greengrocers, grooms, etc. These bodies,
strange to say, in the midst of general disunion and disorganization, are
governed by fixed laws and regulations faithfully observed by Christians
and Turks alike, and the rival worshippers, bound only by the obligation
of good faith and honor towards each other, pull together much better and
show a greater regard for justice and impartiality than is evinced by
any other portion of the community. Every corporation elects one or two
chiefs, who regulate all disputes and settle any difficulties that may
arise among the members. These _Oustas_, or chiefs, are master-workmen in
their different trades. The apprentices are called _Chiraks_, and obtain
promotion, according to their ability, after a certain number of years.
When considered sufficiently advanced in their business, the master,
with the consent and approval of the corporation, admits them into the
fraternity, and gives them the choice of entering into partnership with
him or beginning business on their own account.
The grooms yearly elect a chief in each town, called _Seis Bashi_,
through whom, for a small fee, grooms may be obtained with greater
security than otherwise for their good behavior and capability. The
meetings, or _lonjas_, of this _esnaf_, are held pretty frequently in
coffee-houses, where the affairs of the corporation are regulated, and
the meeting generally terminates in an orgy; after which the grooms
retire to their stables, much the worse for the wine and _raki_ they have
drunk.
Once a year each of the associations gives a picnic, either on the
feast of the patron saint or at the promotion of an apprentice. On such
occasions a certain sum is collected from the members, or taken from
the reserve fund which some of the _esnafs_ possess, for the purchase
of all kinds of provisions needed for a substantial and sometimes even
sumptuous meal, to which not only all the members of the guild are
invited, irrespective of creed and nationality, but also all strangers
who may happen to pass the place where the feast is held. The amusements
include music and dancing for the Christians, and a variety of other
entertainments, always harmless and quite within the bounds of decorum,
and joined in with the spirit of joviality that characterizes these
gatherings; disputes are of rare occurrence, and the greatest harmony
is displayed throughout the day between Christian and Mussulman. When
the interests of the Mohammedans are closely connected with those of the
Christians, both willingly forego something of their usual intolerance
in order to further the cause of business. It is strange and regrettable
that this spirit of association among the lower orders should receive so
little encouragement from the Government and the higher classes.
Though the Mohammedans in certain localities and under such circumstances
as those I have mentioned are just in their dealings with the Christians,
and maintain a friendly feeling towards them; in others, especially in
inland towns, the growing prosperity of the Christians excites a bitter
feeling among their Turkish neighbors, who often offer open hostility and
inflict irreparable injury on their business and property. Many incidents
of this nature have come under my notice, and lead me to the conclusion
that the non-progressiveness of the Turks and the rapid decline of
their empire is partly due to the unfortunate and insurmountable
incongeniality existing between the Turks and Christians. The Turks, as
the dominant race, assumed total ascendancy over the Christians, got
into the habit of using them as tools who acted, worked, and thought for
them in an irresponsible fashion, and thus lost the power of doing for
themselves, together with the sense of seeing the necessity of dealing
with justice, generosity, and impartiality, which alone could have
guaranteed enterprise or secured confidence and sympathy between the two
classes. Unfortunately for the Turks this has brought about a state of
permanent antipathy between the two that can never be corrected; nor can
any reconciliation be arrived at unless these classes become entirely
independent of one another. Any arrangement short of this, as any person
well informed as to the actual relations of Turks and Christians, be they
Greeks or Bulgarians, will admit, must be of short duration, and before
long there could not fail to come a recurrence of outbreaks, revolutions,
and the usual atrocities that accompany disorder among these races.
The Turks, generally speaking, are not active or intelligent in business,
and do not venture much into speculation or commercial transactions of
any great importance. For example, one never hears of their undertaking
banking, or forming companies for the purpose of working mines,
making railways, or any other enterprise involving risk and requiring
intelligence, activity, system, and honesty to insure success. The first
reason for this strange neglect in a people who possess one of the finest
and most productive countries in the world is a naturally stagnant
and lethargic disposition; another is the want of the support of the
Government, which has never shown itself earnestly desirous of aiding
private enterprise or guaranteeing its success by affording disinterested
protection. Until very recent times no pains have been taken either by
individuals or by the Government to introduce those innovations and
improvements which the times demand. The consequence is that the Turkish
tradespeople gradually find the number of their customers decrease, while
the Greeks, Franks, and others successfully supply the public with the
new articles, or the old ones improved and better fashioned. To give an
instance of this I will repeat an incident related to me by a Turkish bey
of “La Jeune Turquie” as a lamentable proof of the non-progressiveness
of the masses. “When at Stamboul,” said he, “I had during some time to
pass by the shop of a Turkish basket-maker who, with two of his sons,
one grown up and the other a boy, might be seen working at the wicker
hampers and common baskets which have been used in the country from
time immemorial, but are now less used by reason of the superiority of
those brought from Europe or made in the school for mechanical arts in
Stamboul, an institution not much appreciated by the artisans who enjoy
the liberty of going themselves or sending their children to learn the
innovations in their different branches of industry. The basket-maker
and his sons were evidently a steady-going set, representing the honest
Turks of olden time, but seemed to be struggling for a livelihood.
Feeling an interest in them, I one day stopped and asked the old man what
he realized per diem by the sale of his baskets. He heaved a deep sigh,
glanced round his dismal shop, ornamented only with dust-covered baskets,
and said, ‘Very little, from three to six piastres (6_d._ to 1_s._); for
my business, once a thriving one, is now cast into the shade, and few
customers come to buy the old Turkish baskets.’ ‘Why then do you not give
it up and take to something else?’
“‘No, it did very well for my father, who at his death recommended me to
continue it and leave it to my sons and grandsons, who should also be
brought up to the trade. I have done so, but it is a hard struggle for
three of us to live by it.’
“I then suggested that one or more of his sons should learn the new
method of basket-making, which would improve his business at once.
This idea did not seem to be received favorably by the old man and the
eldest son; but the boy caught at it and asked if he could go and learn.
Encouraged by his evident willingness, I prevailed upon the father to
allow me to place his son in the Industrial School, where I hear he has
made certain progress in his art.” The Turkish mechanic has no power of
invention, and his work lacks finish; but he is capable of imitating with
some success any design shown to him.
The life led by the Turkish tradespeople is extremely monotonous and
brightened by no intellectual pleasures. The shopkeeper, on leaving
his house at dawn, goes to the coffee-house, takes his small cup of
coffee, smokes his pipe, chats with the _habitués_ of the place, and
then proceeds to his business, which is carried on with Oriental languor
throughout the day. At sunset he again resorts to the coffee-house to
take the same refreshment and enjoy the innovation of having a newspaper
read to him—a novelty now much appreciated by the lower classes. He then
returns to the bosom of his family in time for the evening meal. His
home is clean though very simple; his wife and daughters are ignorant
and never taught a trade by which they might earn anything. Embroidery,
indispensable in a number of useless articles that serve to figure in
the _trousseau_ of every Turkish girl, and latterly coarse needle and
crochet work, fill up part of the time, while the mothers attend to their
household affairs. The young children are sent to the elementary school,
and the boys either go to school or are apprenticed to some trade.
A considerable proportion of the Turks belong to the army. The officers,
however, unlike those of their class in Europe, do not enjoy the prestige
or rank to which the merits of the profession entitle them. It follows
that the individuality of the officer is not taken into account: if he
possesses any special ability, it is overlooked so long as superiority of
rank does not enforce it and obtain for him proper respect from soldiers
and civilians. A Turkish captain does not receive much more consideration
from his senior officer than does a common private; and in a moment of
anger his colonel or general may strike and use foul and abusive language
to him: a major is barely secure from such treatment. There are certainly
men of merit and education among the officers of the Turkish army,
whose behavior, like that of the soldiers, is much praised by those who
have had the opportunity of seeing the admirable manner in which they
conducted themselves in the late war. Unfortunately it is principally in
individual cases that this can be admitted, and it can by no means apply
to the whole body of officers.
When not in active service Turkish officers generally have their wives
and families in the towns in which they are stationed. The pay of an
officer under the rank of a general is very inadequate and is irregularly
received—a fact sadly evident in their neglected and disordered
appearance. With boots down at heel and coats minus half the buttons,
they may often be seen purchasing their own food in the market and
carrying it home in their hands.
The young officers who have pursued their studies in the military schools
present a marked contrast to these. They are well dressed and have an
air of smartness, and in military science they are said to be far more
advanced than those who have preceded them. The training they receive,
however, is by no means a perfect one, and much will be needed before the
Turkish officer can rise to a level with the European.
Their wives are women from the towns; as they generally follow their
husbands to the different stations allotted to them, they obtain some
knowledge of the world by travelling in various parts of the country, and
are conversable and pleasant to associate with.
The sons of all good and wealthy families in the capital are either
placed in the military schools or sent to the _Kalem_ (Chancellerie
d’État), where the majority of the upper class Turkish youth are
initiated into official routine and receive different grades as they
proceed, the highest rank accorded corresponding with that of _Serik_
(general of division). The officials who pass through this school are
generally more polished in manner, more liberal in their ideas, and
superior in many respects to the mean creatures who in former times were
intrusted with offices for which they were quite unfit. This practice of
appointing _Chiboukjis_ (pipe-bearers) and other persons of low origin
as _Mudirs_ (governors of large villages) and _Kaimakams_ (governors of
districts), is now less in force, and is limited to Governors-general,
who sometimes send their servants to occupy these positions. A Mudir
may become a Kaimakam, and a Kaimakam a Pasha, but the top ranks can be
obtained without passing through the lower grades. The inferior official
placed over each village is the _Mukhtar_. He may be Christian or Moslem,
according to the population; in mixed villages two are generally chosen
to represent the respective creeds. These functionaries are intrusted
with the administration of the village; they collect the taxes, and
adjust the differences that arise among the peasants. They are too
insignificant to do much good or much harm, unless they are very vicious.
The Mudirs are at the head of the administration of their villages and
of the medjliss or council, in which members chosen by the people take
part. _Mutessarifs_ are sub-governors of _Kazas_ or large districts, and
_Valis_, Governors-general of vilayets.
All this body of officials, together with the _Defterdars_ (treasurers),
_Mektebjis_ (secretaries of the Pashalik), _politico memours_ (political
agents), etc., taken as a whole, are seldom fitted for their posts: they
are ignorant and unscrupulous and much more bent upon securing their
personal interests than the welfare of their country.
It must, however, in justice be said that, owing to the large sums the
higher officials have to disburse in order to obtain their appointments,
the great expense entailed in frequently moving themselves and their
families from one extremity of the empire to the other, and the irregular
and meagre pay the minor officials receive, it is impossible for them to
live without resorting to some illicit means of increasing their incomes.
And it must be admitted that praiseworthy exceptions are to be found here
and there among both the higher and the lower officials.
The case is very simple. A man has to pay a vast sum of money to various
influential people in order to get a certain post. His pay is nothing
much to speak of. He is liable to be ejected by some one’s caprice at any
moment. If he is to repay his “election expenses” and collect a small
reserve fund, he must give up all idea of honesty. An honest official in
Turkey means a bankrupt. Under the system of favoritism and bribery no
course but that of corruption and extortion is open to the official. _Il
faut bien vivre_; and so long as the old system exists one must do in
Turkey as the rest of the Turks do. It is utterly corrupt; but it must be
reformed from the top downwards.
People in the East never think of asking what was the origin of pashas or
in what manner they have attained their high station. Genealogical trees
in Turkey are not cultivated; most of the old stems (as explained in Part
II., Chap. I.) were uprooted at the beginning of the present century;
their branches, lopped off and scattered in all directions, have in some
instances taken fresh root and started into a new existence; but they no
longer represent the strength of the ancient trunk. The important body
of beys, pashas, etc., thus abolished, had to be replaced by a new body
selected without much scrutiny from the crowd of adventurers who were
always awaiting some turn of fortune whereby they might be put into some
official position and mend their finances.
Yusbashi A., one of the chief leaders of the Bashi-Bazouks, who performed
the work of destruction at the beginning of the Bulgarian troubles,
was subsequently sent to Constantinople by the military authorities to
be hung; but being reprieved and pardoned, he was promoted to the rank
of Pasha. He had come, when a boy, to the town of T⸺ as an apprentice
in a miserable barber’s shop; later on he left his master and entered
the service of a native bey. During the Crimean war he joined the
Bashi-Bazouks, and when peace was made returned to the town with the rank
of captain and a certain amount of money, which he invested in land. By
extortion and oppression of every kind exercised upon his peasants, he
soon became a person of consequence in the town. Later on this man found
his way to the Konak, was appointed member of the council, and was placed
upon some commission by which he was enabled, through a series of illegal
proceedings, to double and triple his fortune at the expense of the
Government revenues. The misdeeds of this man and some of his associates
becoming too flagrant to be longer overlooked, the Porte sent a
commission to examine the Government _defters_ or accounts. The captain,
by no means frightened, but determined to avoid further trouble in the
matter, is said to have set fire to the Konak in several places, so that
all the documents that would have compromised him were destroyed and the
Pasha and commission who came to inspect his doings barely escaped with
their lives. Knowing the desperate character of the man they had to deal
with, they were alarmed, and unfeignedly glad to get away and hush the
matter up.
Thus the illustrious line of Pashas and Grand Vizirs, like the Kiprilis,
was put aside and replaced by a long list of nonentities who, with the
exception of a few such as Ali and Fuad Pashas, cannot be said to have
benefited their country in any remarkable degree, or to have shown any
special qualifications as statesmen.
The title of Grand Vizir, now nominally abolished, was one of the oldest
and the highest given to a civil functionary. His appointment, being
of a temporal nature, depended entirely upon the will of the Sultan,
who might at his pleasure load the Vizir with honors, or relieve him
of his head. This unpleasant uncertainty as to the future attached
to the Vizir’s office gradually almost disappeared as the Sultans
began to recognize the indispensable services rendered to them by
an able Grand Vizir. They began to appreciate the comfort of having
ministers to think for them, make laws, and scheme reforms in their
name; and this confidence, so agreeable to an indolent Sultan, and
so convenient to an irresponsible minister, was the ruling principle
of the constitution during the reign of Sultan Abdul-Medjid, who
was affable to his ministers, changed them less frequently than his
ancestors did, and loaded them indiscriminately with decorations
and gifts. Not so his wayward and capricious brother and successor
Abdul-Aziz, who scrupled not, on the slightest pretext, to dismiss his
Grand Vizir. A trifling change in his personal appearance, a divergence
of opinion, timidly expressed by the humble minister—who stood with
hands crossed, dervish-fashion, on his shoulders, in the attitude of an
obedient slave—just as much as a more serious fault, such as casting
difficulties in the way of his Imperial Majesty with regard to his
exorbitant demands on the treasury, were sufficient to seal the fate of
the daring _Sadrazam_. But in spite of the difficulties and drawbacks
and humiliations of the post, a Grand Vizir continued to be, after the
Sultan, the most influential person in the country. The gates of his
Konak were at once thrown open, and the other ministers and functionaries
flocked to pay their respects to him. The governors of districts
telegraphed their felicitations, while the ante-chamber and courts of his
house and office were rarely free from the presence of a regular army of
office-hunters, petitioners, dervishes, old women, and beggars, waiting
for an audience or a chance glimpse of the minister on his exit, when
each individual pressed forward to bring his or her claim to his notice.
_Pek aye, bakalum olour_,[3] were the words that generally dropped from
the mouths even of the least amiable Vizirs on such occasions—words of
hope that were eagerly caught by the interested parties, as well as by
the numerous _cortége_ of _kyatibs_, servants, and favorites of the
great man who, according to the importance of the affairs or the station
of the applicant, willingly undertook to be the advocate of the cause,
guaranteeing its success by the counter-guarantee of receiving the
_rushvets_ or bribes needed in all stages of the affair. This method of
transacting business, very general in Turkey, is called _hatir_, or by
favor; its extent is unlimited, and its application varied and undefined;
it can pardon the crime of murder, imprison an innocent person, liberate
a condemned criminal, take away the property of one minister to present
it to another, remove governors from their posts just as you change
places in a quadrille, or simply turn out one set, as in the cotillon,
to make room for another. Anything and everything can in fact be brought
about by this system, except a divorce when the plea is not brought by
the husband.
I have particularized the Grand Vizir as doing business in this way
merely because it was he who was more appealed to in this manner than
the other ministers, not because the others do not follow closely
in his steps. Their duties are extensive and important, and demand
for their proper and exact performance not only intelligence, but
also high educational qualifications, which, with rare exceptions,
Turkish officials do not possess—a capital defect, which, added to the
uncertainty of the period they are likely to remain in office, and the
systematic practice, pursued by each successive minister, of trying to
undo what his predecessor had done for the country, and of dismissing
most of the civil officials and provincial governors to replace them by
some from his own set, greatly contributes to increase maladministration,
and to create the disorder that has long prevailed in Turkey.
About honesty I need not speak, for no business of any kind is undertaken
without bribery; even if the minister should be above this, there are
plenty of people surrounding him who would not be so scrupulous. Kibrizli
Mehemet Pasha was one of the few high officials against whom no charge
of the kind could be brought, but his _Kavass-Bashi_ condescended to
take even so small a sum as five piastres as a bribe. This Pasha was a
thorough gentleman, high-minded both in his administrative affairs and
family life. After he lost his position as Grand Vizir, I had occasion
to see a great deal of him; he took the reverses of fortune with great
calmness and _sang-froid_; so do all Turks meet “the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune.”
The fall of a minister was generally rumored some time before it took
place, during which period he and those around him tried to make the
most of the opportunities left to them, while the opposition continued
their intrigues until the blow finally fell. When this happened the
_Sadrazam_ remained at home, the gates of his Konak were closed, and the
world, including his best friends, would pass without venturing to enter;
the only visitors would be his banker, doctor, and creditors, who in
prosperity and adversity never neglect this duty.
During the administration of a Grand Vizir, his harem was also called
upon to play its part and take the lead in the female society of
Stamboul. The _salon_ of the chief wife, like that of her husband,
would be thrown open, and crowds of visitors, including the wives
of the other ministers, would arrive to offer their respects and
felicitations, and demand favors and promotions for their sons or posts
for their husbands. All these visitors, on their arrival, were ushered
into the ante-chamber according to their respective stations, where
they took off their _feridjés_ and refreshed themselves with sweets,
coffee, sherbets, etc. The interval between this and their reception,
sometimes of several hours’ duration, was spent in conversation among
the visitors, in which some of the ladies of the household, or some
visitors staying in the house, would join, until they were requested
to proceed to the drawing-room. When the hostess appeared all would
rise from their seats, walk towards the door, make _temenlas_ and deep
obeisances, and endeavor to kiss her foot or the hem of her garment,
an act of homage which she would accept, but gracefully and with much
dignity try to prevent in those of high rank by saying _Istafourla_
(Excuse me—don’t do it). The conversation, started afresh, would depend
for subjects upon the disposition and tact of the mistress of the house;
but would chiefly consist in flattery and adulation, carried sometimes
to a ridiculous extent. The manner of the _hanoum effendi_ would be
smooth and friendly towards the partisans of her husband, curt towards
those of the opposition, but patronizing and protecting in its general
tone towards all. Should the Vizir’s lady be of the unprincipled type,
the conversation would bear a different _cachet_. I was told by some
distinguished Turkish ladies that when they paid a visit to the wife of a
short-lived Vizir, the lady, both old and ugly, entertained them with a
recital of the follies and weaknesses of her husband and exposed some of
her own not more select proceedings into the bargain.
The wife of a Grand Vizir also played a great part with regard to the
changes, appointments, and dismissions which followed each new Vizirate,
by the influence she exercised both over him and also in high quarters,
where she often found means to make herself as influential as at home.
I have often been asked what a Turkish lady does all day long? Does
she sleep or eat sugar-plums, and is she kept under lock and key by a
Blue-Beard of a husband, who allows her only the liberty of waiting upon
him? A Turkish lady is certainly shut up in a harem, and there can be no
doubt that she is at liberty to indulge in the above-mentioned luxuries,
should she feel so disposed; she has possibly, at times, to submit to
being locked up, but the key is applied to the outer gates, and is left
in the keeping of the friendly eunuch. Besides, woman is said to have a
will of her own, and “where there is a will there is a way” is a proverb
to which Turkish ladies are no strangers. I have seldom met with one who
did not make use of her liberty; in one sense she may not have so much
freedom as Englishwomen have, but in many others she possesses more.
In her home she is perfect mistress of her time and of her property,
which she can dispose of as she thinks proper. Should she have cause of
complaint against any one, she is allowed to be very open spoken, holds
her ground, and fights her own battles with astonishing coolness and
decision.
Turkish ladies appreciate to the full as much as their husbands the
virtues of the indispensable cup of coffee and cigarette; this is their
first item in the day’s programme. The _hanoums_ may next take a bath;
the young ladies wash at the _abtest_ hours; the slaves when they can
find time. The _hanoum_ will then attend to her husband’s wants, bring
him his pipe and coffee, his slippers and pelisse. While smoking he will
sit on the sofa, whilst his wife occupies a lower position near him, and
the slaves roll up the bedding from the floor. If the gentleman be a
government functionary the official bag will be brought in, and he will
look over his documents, examining some, affixing his seal to others,
saying a few words in the intervals to his wife, who always addresses
him in a ceremonious manner with great deference and respect. The
children will then trot in in their _gedjliks_ with the hair uncombed,
to be caressed, and ask for money with which to buy sweets and cakes.
The custom of giving pence to children daily is so prevalent that it is
practised even by the poor.
The children, after an irregular breakfast, are sent to school or
allowed to roam about the house; the _effendi_ proceeds to perform his
out-of-door toilet and leaves the _haremlik_, when the female portion of
the establishment, freed from the pleasure or obligation of attending to
his wants, begin the day’s occupation. If this should include any special
or unusual household work, such as preserve-making, washing or ironing,
or general house-cleaning, the lady, be she of the highest position, will
take part in it with the slaves. This is certainly not necessary, for
she has plenty of menials, but is done in order to fill up the day, many
hours of which necessarily hang heavily on her hands when not enlivened
by visiting or being visited. In the capital, however, less of this kind
of employment is indulged in by the fashionable _hanoums_, who are trying
to create a taste for European occupations by learning music, foreign
languages, and fine needlework. The time for dressing is irregular. A
lady may think proper to do her hair and make herself tidy for luncheon,
or she may remain in her _gedjlik_ and slippers all day. This fashion of
receiving visitors _en négligé_ is not considered at all peculiar unless
the visit has been announced beforehand.
Visiting and promenading, the principal amusements of Turkish ladies,
are both affairs of very great importance. Permission has previously to
be asked from the husband, who, if liberally disposed, freely grants
it; but if jealous and strict, he will disapprove of seeing his family
often out of doors. When a walk or drive is projected the children all
begin to clamor to go with their mother. Scarcely is this question
settled by coaxing or giving them money, than another arises as to which
of the slaves are to be allowed to go. Tears, prayers, and even little
quarrels and disturbances follow, until the mistress finally selects her
party. The details of the toilette are very numerous; the face has to
be blanched, then rouged, the eyebrows and lashes to be blackened with
_surmé_, and a variety of other little coquetries resorted to requiring
time and patience before the final adjustment of the _yashmak_ and
_feridgé_.
Then comes the scramble for places in the carriage, the _hanoums_
naturally seat themselves first, the rest squeeze themselves in, and sit
upon each other’s knees. It is wonderful to see how well they manage this
close packing, and how long they can endure the uncomfortable postures in
which they are fixed.
If the excursion is solely for visiting, the occupants of the carriages
make the best of the time and liberty by coquetting with the grooms and
_agas_ in attendance, should these be young and handsome, and sending
salaams to the passers-by, mingled with laughter and frolic. But when the
excursion has a picnic in prospective, or a long drive into the country,
the gayety and fun indulged in is bewildering; and the _hanoums_ can
only be compared to a flock of strange birds suddenly let loose from
their cages, not knowing what to make of their new freedom. Flirting,
smoking, eating fruits and sweets, walking about, running, or lounging
on the carpets they bring with them, varied by music and singing, fill
the day. They usually set out early and return before sunset in time
to receive their master on his visit to the harem before dinner. When
this meal is over, the company, comfortably dressed in their _négligé_
costume, indulge in coffee and cigarettes, and the events of the day are
discussed. The ladies then retire to rest at an early hour, and rise the
next day to go through the same routine.
At the foot of the imperial throne we see the princes, who, like children
at dessert, are to be seen, not heard. They now enjoy a degree of freedom
before unknown, and their wants and caprices are to a certain extent
satisfied by allowances from the Sultan. In childhood and youth they are
masters of their own time, and employ it as they please. On emerging
from boyhood they are furnished with harems; some more distantly related
to the reigning Sultan are allowed to have children; but the others
are denied that privilege. All these members of the imperial family
live a very secluded life. They are not allowed to take any part in the
administrative, hold commissions in the army or navy, or enter the civil
service. The only exception to this rule was the son of the late Sultan
Abdul-Aziz, who, at the age of ten, was, I believe, a captain in the
army, and a few years later was made a general. This is said to have
given the occasion for a reproach made to the prince by his father, who
at the moment of his deposition turned to him and said, “My son, I placed
you in the military school where you remained three years without making
a single friend; see what this has now led to!”
This reproach of being friendless addressed to any of the princes is
unjust, as they are not allowed to make friendships. Friends for a prince
mean a party, and a party means cabals and conspiracies, so all such
dangerous connections are carefully suppressed, and the prince, under the
influence of the suspicion and espionage by which he is surrounded, is as
little disposed to have any friends among the influential classes and men
of rank as they are to court his friendship or approach him too closely.
A personal friend of the ex-Sultan Murad told me that in early youth that
prince and he had been very much thrown together, and a sincere affection
had sprung up between them, which, however, on Sultan Abdul-Medjid’s
death, had to be entirely given up. Rare meetings between them could only
be arranged when the prince went to Pera on shopping expeditions. Thus
the Ottoman princes, spoilt in childhood, secluded from active public
life, are left to vegetate in their respective homes.
The Princes of the Blood and all relations of the late Sultan used always
to be cleared out of the way on the accession of a new Padishah; but the
custom has fallen into disuse since the time of Mahmoud II., who found it
necessary to order the strangulation of the deposed Sultan, the drowning
in sacks of 174 of his wives and odalisks, and also the decapitation of a
great number of other persons. This measure, considered needful to insure
the inviolability of his person, as the only remaining representative of
the house of Othman, soon put an end to the rebellion that had occasioned
his ascension to the throne. On the day of his proclamation as Sultan,
thirty-three heads were exposed at the gate of the Seraglio to bear
evidence to the fact. Rebellion, fire, and murder, it was said, could not
be otherwise put down than by counter-violence, and the extreme measures
adopted by the new sovereign ended in the restoration of order in the
capital.
Notwithstanding this black page in the history of Mahmoud, this Sultan,
to whom history has not yet done justice, was one of the best, most
enlightened, and powerful of Ottoman sovereigns.
Unlike most of his predecessors, he had not wasted the long years of
captivity in idleness and frivolous occupations, but had seriously
employed them in study. He originated the material changes that have
since been made in the life of seraglio inmates, and also endeavored to
better the condition of his Christian subjects. Whatever progress has
been made by the Turkish Mohammedans in the road of civilization must
also be attributed to his efforts. Amid wars without and revolts within,
the discontent of the Moslems at the attempted innovations, the clamoring
of the Christians for the amelioration of their condition, the Sultan
struggled on for thirty years with a perseverance worthy of the cause,
till death put an end to his work. He was succeeded by his son, the
liberal but weak-minded Abdul-Medjid.
The young Sultan was well imbued with the ideas of his father, but less
capable of carrying them out; yet he showed himself liberal and sincerely
desirous of improving the degraded condition into which the country had
fallen.
The security of life and property became greater under his rule.
Executions and confiscation of property became less frequent, and a
general change for the better in the material existence of the people
was decreed; but unfortunately the Sultan could not insure the carrying
out of his decrees. The exchequer, impoverished by the extravagance of
the palace and the corruption of the officials, was on the brink of
bankruptcy, which was only postponed by the foreign loans obtained in the
succeeding reign.
Had the Sultan’s perseverance in seeing these changes enforced been equal
to his good-will in ordaining them, Turkey might have been spared many of
its present miseries.
He was beloved by his subjects, who, in the midst of their misery,
forgave his weakness in remembering his gentleness and benevolence to
those who appealed to his mercy. His aversion to bloodshed was so great
that he was never known to decree a single execution. This was, of
course, a serious hindrance to carrying on the judicial arrangements
of the country. In cases of urgent necessity his signature had to be
obtained by subterfuge.
A lover of pleasure and ease, Abdul-Medjid, on coming to the throne, soon
plunged into that life of self-indulgence, luxury, and excess, which at
once began to tell upon his delicate constitution and by degrees affected
in a most fatal manner his moral and physical faculties; and he died of
exhaustion on June 25th, 1861.
His successor, Abdul-Aziz, had been the first to profit by the indulgence
and liberality of his brother, who from the beginning to the end of his
reign showed him genuine brotherly affection, allowed him uncontrolled
freedom as heir-apparent, and furnished him with a very liberal income,
making a point of never getting any object of value for himself, without
offering its equivalent to his brother.
Abdul-Aziz, however, did not make any good use of the liberty he enjoyed
before coming to the throne. Sensual, extravagant, and narrow-minded,
his occupations and pleasures were anything but imperial: his wasteful
habits were ruinous to his country, whilst his want of judgment and
foresight prevented his realizing the fatal effects of his conduct.
This may, however, be accounted for, to a great extent, by the fact
that he was subject at times to _merak_ (aberration of mind). From an
early age he began to give signs of that whimsical, suspicious, and
morose disposition which during the latter part of his reign became the
principal characteristic of his nature.
Unlike his brother, Abdul-Medjid, he was strongly built, and his personal
appearance was singularly unattractive. His tastes and amusements, very
much in harmony with his exterior, showed themselves in all kinds of
extravagant and odd fancies. Cock-fighting was a spectacle in which he
greatly delighted, by turns decorating or exiling the combatants.
In his moments of good-humor he often imposed a wrestling match upon his
ministers and favorites, at times taking an active part in the sport. The
celebrated Nevrez Pasha, half knave, half fool, who from the lowest stage
of seraglio functions had been raised to a ministerial position, was the
one generally chosen by the Sultan with whom to measure his strength.
The corpulent Pasha never failed to be the beaten party; the ludicrous
attitudes into which he fell and his jokes gave him a higher grade
whenever they were called into play, and caused him to say that every
kick he received from the imperial foot was worth to him a _Nishan_ (a
decoration), a konak, or a vizirlik.
It would, however, be unfair not to acknowledge in this Sultan some good
services rendered to his country.
One of these is the purchase of the fine fleet of iron-clads the Porte
now possesses; another, his untiring efforts in placing the army on the,
comparatively speaking, improved and high footing on which it stood at
the beginning of the war; and a third, the construction of the railways
now existing in the country. Some will perhaps reckon among his merits
the shrewdness he and his ministers displayed in accomplishing these
undertakings with funds that were not exactly theirs.
The details of the dethronement, short captivity and death of Sultan
Abdul-Aziz, though extremely curious and interesting, are as yet but
little known to the public. One of the ladies of his seraglio related
some of the incidents connected with these events to me, but she said,
“We cannot now divulge all, for fear of prejudicing the living, but
in course of time, when history reveals unknown facts, all doubts and
mystery on his untimely death will be removed.” Upon which she burst into
tears, and repeatedly uttered the Turkish exclamation of distress, “Aman!
Aman!”
She then recited to me in Arabic the verse which the unfortunate Sultan,
on entering his prison, traced on the dust that covered the table. The
following is a translation:—
Man’s destiny is Allah’s will,
Sceptres and power are His alone,
My fate is written on my brow,
Lowly I bend before His Throne.
Turning towards the window the Sultan noticed that one of his much-prized
iron-clads had been placed in front of the _Yahli_ which served as his
prison, with the guns pointed towards him. But a still more appalling
sight met his gaze. A sailor was seized by a few of his comrades, who,
pointing him out to the Sultan, passed a crimson _kushak_ or girdle
round his neck and led him three times round the deck, signifying to
the unfortunate captive that in three days he would undergo the same
operation. Pointing this out to the Validé Sultana, he exclaimed,
with emotion, “Mother! see to what use the force I have created for
the preservation and aggrandizement of my empire is applied! This is
evidently the death reserved for me.” A belt containing some of the most
valuable crown-jewels, which the Sultan had placed on his person when
leaving the palace, disappeared the day he was found dead, and has never
since been heard of. The Sultan had to ask for food repeatedly before he
was supplied with it, and even then what he obtained was given him on the
_sofra_ of a common soldier. On my further questioning this lady on the
cause of the Sultan’s untimely end, she passed her hand over her lips,
meaning they were sealed, and muttering a “_Turbé Istafourla_,” said, “It
is not in my power to reveal more!—the justification of the dead must be
withheld so long as it endangers the living. The duty of the devoted is
to keep silence until history can divulge secrets that will then harm
none.”
Soon after the death of Abdul-Aziz, I had occasion to discuss it with a
Turkish general. Expressing his opinion of the equally unfortunate Sultan
Murad, the Pasha, with smiling urbanity, said, “I cannot tell as yet; but
with us, Sultans are now so numerous, that we can afford to sweep them
away successively with a broom, if they do not suit us.”
Every one is acquainted with the quiet and peaceable manner in which
Sultan Abdul-Aziz was dethroned in 1876, to make room for his nephew
Murad. This unfortunate prince was as little acquainted with the changes
that were being planned as was his uncle, and his sensitive nature,
unprepared for the shock that placed him on the throne, caused him
to receive the messenger who came to inform him of the change in his
position more as the bearer of his sentence to death than the herald of
sovereignty. Taken by surprise at the moment he was about to retire,
the prince hastily put on his coat and met the vizir at the door of the
Mabeyn. Deathly pale, but calm and resigned, he looked in his face, and
said, “What is my offence, and whom have I ever harmed that I should thus
be doomed to an untimely death?”
Entirely ignorant of the conspiracy that opened a path for him to the
throne, and severely grieved for his uncle’s misfortunes, the news of
his tragical end is said to have given the first shock to the young
sovereign’s intellect, and, followed by the murder of the ministers, with
its equally distressing details, determined the bent of his vacillating
mind. One of the first symptoms of his insanity was a habit he fell
into of spanning with his hand the distance between the wrist and elbow
joint, striking the bend of the arm with his hand, then starting, and
reflecting. I have never heard of his having broken out into acts of
violence, except upon one occasion, when he raised a stick and struck
his brother-in-law. On one occasion he made his escape into the garden,
where he was found sitting on a marble slab, making grimaces at those
who approached him. He is said to have experienced some lucid intervals;
one of these chanced to be at the moment the salutes were being fired
on the occasion of his brother Abdul-Hamid’s ascension to the throne.
Looking at his son, a promising youth of fourteen, he said, “My boy, what
is the reason of this firing?” “Oh!” said the boy, wishing to spare his
father’s feelings, “it is the fête of a foreign monarch.” “No,” said the
unhappy monarch, “it is the proclamation of my own dethronement, and the
accession of thy uncle to the throne; God’s will be done!” Heaving a deep
sigh, he shed a few tears, and, happily for him, under the circumstances,
relapsed into his former state.
Sultan Murad was said to possess many of the virtues of his father, a
kind and gentle disposition, and intelligence and liberality of ideas.
During his short reign, the affability of his manners, and the desire
he showed to please all parties, irrespective of race or religion, and
to abolish the burdens that weighed upon them, had gained for him the
respect and affection of his subjects, which is evinced even to the
present day by sorrow and sympathy for his misfortunes.
The present Sultan at first declined the imperial throne, from feelings
of affection and delicacy towards his brother, and could only be
prevailed upon to accept it when all the physicians, called in for
advice, pronounced Murad’s case quite hopeless. Sultan Abdul-Hamid is
much esteemed and highly spoken of by persons who have had the honor
of conversing with his Imperial Majesty. He is, moreover, said to be
qualified for his position, being liberal in his ideas, and possessed
of many of the qualities of a good sovereign, and desirous of carrying
out the reforms that alone can insure the happiness of his people and
restore prosperity to the country. Unfortunately, he came to the throne
at a moment when the best and most gifted of sovereigns could do little
single-handed. When affairs are settled, much will naturally be expected
from him, which his friends and the well-wishers of Turkey feel confident
he will realize.
I have not yet mentioned an important section of the Turkish
community—the slaves. Slavery in Turkey is now reduced mainly to one
sex. Male slaves, except in the capacity of eunuchs, are now rare,
though every now and then a cargo of them is smuggled into some port
and privately disposed of, since the Government professes to share the
anti-slavery views of England. But female slavery is a necessary part of
the seraglio and of the Turkish harem system. The seraglio is of course
recruited from its numbers; and few Turks can afford to keep more than
one free wife. A second wife insists upon a separate establishment, and
causes endless jealousy to the first wife and trouble to the husband.
But a slave is no cause of jealousy, lives in the same house as the
wife, and costs much less to keep than a free woman. Female slaves,
too, are generally given by fathers to their sons, to avoid the expense
of a marriage; and daughters, on marrying, are always supplied with a
slave as lady’s-maid. Moreover, slaves are in much request as servants,
and do their work excellently, besides presenting many advantages and
conveniences that are not found in free women.
The condition of slaves in Turkey is not a hard one. The principle is of
course radically wrong, and the initial stage is full of cruelty. But the
women are not often ill-treated; and when an occasional case of violence
and ill-usage occurs, it excites general indignation among the Moslems.
A slave is entitled to her liberty after seven years of bondage, and
she generally gets it, and is dowered and married to a freeman, though
sometimes a bad master will evade the law by selling her before the seven
years have quite expired. But this is a rare case, and the slave system
in Turkey is, as a whole, a widely different thing from American slavery.
The only class who suffer much are the negresses. When they are freed
and married off it not seldom happens that from their native wildness
or other causes they quarrel with their husbands and are turned off to
earn their own living as best they may. Their condition then becomes very
wretched, and the quarter in which they live is a dismal group of rickety
houses, inhabited by a miserable and ragged set of women and children.
This is by no means the case with the Abyssinians or the half-castes,
who rank higher, and never have to appeal to public charity. But the
negresses are hardly worse off than the disabled slaves. If a woman of
this class by some accident or age becomes unfit for work, she is looked
upon as a burden and very badly cared for.
Turkish slavery is not so bad as it might be: the system is softened by
many humane laws, and is marked by a kindly paternal character. Yet it is
a blot on the country, and so soon as the harem system and polygamy can
be got rid of, it too must go.