CHAPTER IX--FASTING AND FEASTING--THE SULTAN AND HIS COURT.

_The Great Moslem Fast--Nights of Feasting and Days of Fasting--The Injunction of Mahomet--The Ravenous Mussulman--An Hotel Swindle--A Stranger and They Took Him In--“Too Thin, too Thin”--Greek Wine--Going Out in a Blaze of Glory--Thunder, Smoke, and Flame--The Approach of the Sultan--How He Looked--A Peep at the Ladies of the Harem--The Veiled Queens--The Sultan’s Mother--The Empress Eugenie at the Seraglio--Insult Offered to Eugenie--A Queen in Tears--A Question of Court Etiquette--Murdering Christians._

WHEN the month of Ramadan falls in winter, and the days are short and cool, the fast is not very severe, especially for the wealthier class who are not obliged to work.

But in summer, with heat and long days, the fast becomes a serious matter for all parties, especially for the poorer class who must attend to their daily avocations. The rich Moslems lie around their houses in a semi-comatose condition; some of them sit up all night eating, drinking, and smoking, and devote the day to digestion and sleep; thus they rob the fast of its terrors, and I am told that many of them do not hesitate to take an occasional bite during the day, but they take it very privately and in the strictest confidence.

The fast comes heaviest on the poorer classes, and especially the abstinence from drinking. Think of being at work out of doors in a July day fourteen hours or so, and not a drop of water or any other liquid passing your lips! Men frequently faint under such circumstances, and sometimes their health is seriously impaired. {146}Should a Turk faint from fasting and you endeavored to revive him by pouring coffee or water down his throat, it is an even chance that he would berate you soundly when he came to himself, for attempting to make him abandon the faith of his childhood, and embrace that of the Christian dog.

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 {147}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.

Should I visit that hotel a decade hence, I expect to find the same decanter of wine, that stood by my plate during my stay. {148}The day I left I grasped the decanter affectionately and gave it a farewell kiss.

“Good bye, my friend, good bye,” I gently murmured, “we shall meet again some time, let us fervently hope. I am a frail mortal and may not last many years, but you have enduring qualities that should preserve you a century or two Don’t ‘sour on me’ when I am far away; if anything, you are too sour already.”

The decanter was too full for utterance.

A tear stood in its eye, though it may have been a drop remaining from the effort of the waiter to tone the wine down with water, so that the stuff would be drinkable.

Ramadan closed in a blaze of glory. The ships of the Turkish squadron were gorgeously dressed in flags, and many English and French residents hung out their national standards.

From the ships and the forts all round came the booming of artillery--not in occasional spattering shots, but in a salvo that seemed to shake the city, and check the flow of the waters through the Bosphorus.

The fast was over and the Moslem was happy. Next day was the feast of Bairam, and the Sultan was to pray in the mosque of Saint Sophia. Of course we went to see him arrive at the mosque, and we had to rise disagreeably early in order to be promptly on the ground.

From the Stamboul end of the bridge over the Golden Horn, there was a double hedge of infantry and cavalry all the way to the mosque. We took positions near the entrance to the Seraglio Park, where we could have a front view of the carriages as they {149}approached, and then a side view as they turned to enter the gate. The aphorism that great minds think alike was well verified on that occasion, as we found some two or three thousand people holding similar views to ours, and a front place seemed hopeless.

The police were very civil, and the “cavass,” or police officer on duty in front of our party, kept the population from crowding us in conveniently close. The “cavass” was arrayed in gorgeous style, and a franc slipped into his hand proved a good investment; where he had before used words he now used a stick, and soon {150}convinced the multitude that it had no rights which he or we were bound to respect. We had front places, and the fellow even brought a couple of bricks on which the lady of our party could stand and thus preserve her feet from the dampness of the earth.

We were close to the gate and had a good position. On the opposite side of the gate there was a crowd of women, principally Turkish; we intimated that we would like to stand there, but the force of politeness and “backsheesh” could no farther go. Our lady might join the feminine group, but as for the rest of us it was out of the question. No man was allowed to intrude there; to Christian and Moslem, Jew and Pagan, the place was forbidden, and two policemen were there to enforce obedience.

By and by there was a commotion, and a squadron of cavalry came trotting up the street and into the gate. Close behind them came carriages containing officers of the Sultan’s cabinet, and, behind them in the most gorgeous carriage of all, was the Sultan Abdul-Aziz, the head of the Ottoman Empire.

He rode alone, etiquette forbidding that he should be accompanied by any one, even by a minister of State. He is a stout, in fact more than stout, individual, with a heavy face, rather devoid of expression. I saw him seven years before in Paris; then his cropped and full beard was black; but as I looked at it, on that morning of Bairam I found that it was well sprinkled with grey. Unless the Sultan renews his youth at some Ponce de Leon fount of hair dye he will be a respectable old grey-beard before many years, provided he is not gathered too soon to his Osmanli Fathers. He was born on the 9th of February, 1830, and so you can easily calculate his age--just as easily as he can do it.

He sits erect and with an air of dignity; evidently he knows that people are looking at him, and he ought to be on his good behavior. He is in a gaudy uniform, which my hasty glance does not allow me to include in detail, and his fez is bright, and has evidently been sent out that morning and freshly ironed.

He is evidently proud of his fez and gives his whole mind to it.

The Sultan is a devout Moslem, and goes to church, or mosque, with exemplary regularity. Every Friday he leaves his palace about eleven o’clock and goes to one of the mosques, never to {151}the same one twice his mind an hour or so before he sets out. He generally goes on horseback, and sometimes in a caique, and rarely in a carriage. He never goes back by the way he came, and he never returns on the horse that brought him, a second horse being sent, for his homeward ride.

The same plan is followed when he goes in caique or carriage, a second being taken for his return journey. I asked the reason of this, and was told that it was the custom, and that the Sultan had certain superstitions which those around him found it well to humor.

Before the Sultan’s cortege came in sight several carriages containing women were driven rapidly through the gate, and others came after His Majesty had entered. These were the ladies of the Imperial Harem, all dressed in their best clothes, and all wearing the _yashmak_, or veil. They were all pretty, or, at any rate, their veils made them appear so, if they were not.

The Turkish veil is very thin,--so much so that it distinctly reveals the outline of the face and softens any tendency to harshness. It appears more like a slice cut from a cumulus cloud than like a real tangible substance that costs money.

The Sultan’s mother was in one of the carriages; a dignified old lady, whose beauty has evidently gone back on her, as she wears a veil thicker than those of the Sultan’s wives, either full rank or brevet. She is a true believer of the old school; she believes most emphatically in the impurity of the Christian dogs, though she is open to reason sometimes when her son takes her in hand.

When Eugenie, Empress of the French, visited Constantinople, she was received by the Sultan with high honor as the representative of His (then) Majesty, Louis Napoleon. She was presented to the Sultan’s mother, and when the introduction was pronounced Eugenie stepped gracefully forward and kissed the old lady.

The O. L. was taken by surprise, and did not know what was coming till the smack of affection had touched her forehead, She was on her ear instantly, and with a howl of anger and contempt pushed Eugenie from her, and then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

{152}The situation was an awful one. Eugenie’s Spanish blood rose to about 211° Fahrenheit, and it was a struggle for her to keep it from passing the boiling point. But as Empress of the French, she had a position to sustain and she managed to keep her temper till she reached her apartments in the palace assigned to her. It is said that she had a good cry when she got there, and, moreover made it lively for her attendants.

Next day there was an attempt to patch up the row; Eugenie was informed of the cause of the strange conduct of the Sultan’s mother, and assured that it was not at all personal, but a matter of religion. They wanted her to be introduced again, and it was stipulated that the Turkish lady should kiss the French one, and try in a general way to make herself agreeable. But Eugenie had had enough and declined another interview.

The fanaticism of the Moslems concerning the touch or presence of the infidel has largely disappeared in Constantinople. Down to the Crimean war there was much of it, and many places were forbidden to the Occidental. But the British and French soldiers went where they pleased, and when the barriers were thus broken they were not likely to be restored. The Janizaries used to consider it rather meritorious than otherwise to stab Christians, while peaceably walking the streets, and other Moslems followed their example. But that is a thing of the past, as the Sultan Mahmoud, in the interest of civilization and humanity, butchered the Janizaries and thus opened the way to progress and reform. There are still some parts of Islam, where the life of an infidel would not be safe, but their limits are narrowing every year.

The Bairam festival after Ramadan lasts three days, and is not unlike our Christmas. The master of a house gives each servant a suit of clothes or some other presents, and the working people generally go round to call on those from whom they may hope to extract gifts. Everybody goes to the mosque to say his prayers, and friends who meet there indulge in a good deal of embracing and kissing. They visit each others’ houses and have a good time generally, and altogether the festival of Bairam puts the city in a very picturesque condition.

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