the beast he rides, and in his saddle; and he is not to ride a horse; he is not to work at his work with arms on; he shall not ride on a saddle like a pillion; nor shall he ride even on a saddle except as a matter of necessity, and even then he shall dismount in places of public resort; he shall not wear clothes worn by men of learning, piety, and nobility. His women shall be distinguished in the street and at the baths, and he shall place in his house a sign and mark so that people may not pray for him or salute him. And the street shall be narrowed for him, and he shall pay his tribute standing, the receiver being seated, and he shall be seized by the collar and shall be shaken, and it shall be said to him, "Pay the tribute, O tributary! O thou enemy of God."
This is the moral atmosphere in which, according to Mr. Palgrave, the Turk "lives, and moves, and has his being." This is the teaching which the softa, before he is fit to be a full-blown teacher or a judge, is, according to Mr. Palgrave, obliged to digest for fifteen laborious years. Need we wonder that the Mussulman is what he is — brutal, sensual, savage, deceitful at the core of his nature, though possibly with an outward varnish of Parisian polish? Need we wonder that he cannot recognize in his non-Mussulman fellow-subject a being who has any rights at all — not even that of life except at the discretion of his Mahometan neighbor? The following extracts illustrate in a vivid manner the Mussulman's habitual frame of mind towards the rayah. The first is from an occasional correspondent of the Times in Bosnia,[1] the second is from the correspondent of the Daily Telegraph[2] at the headquarters of the Turkish army in Servia: —
- What Dr. Kohut, with whom, and a cavalry escort, I travelled along this road from Belina to Ratcha and back, told me he had himself seen will illustrate the feelings of the Bashi-Bazouks of these parts towards all with whom they cannot exchange the brotherly "Salaam aleiboum." On this road one day lately Dr. Kohut saw a Bashi-Bazouk fire on a Christian. The fellow missed, and the Christian, though armed, did not return the fire, but came forward and on his knees begged his life. Scarcely deigning to listen to him, the Bashi-Bazouk took him by the throat, and stabbed him to the heart. The doctor coming up remonstrated. "But why," said the Bashi-Bazouk, "should I have spared him! He is one of those who have brought all this disturbance and misery on the country. After this, when I had him in my power, he begs his life; and, think you, I should have granted it? No, by Allah!"
- It may perhaps be asked why, if little or no animosity exists between Moslem and Giaour, the country of the Turk is in such perpetual disorder? The answer is a simple one. All the troubles of the nation are the result not of the mixture of different peoples of different religions, but of the perpetual system of misrule which has diligently and persistently proclaimed that the Moslem is a superior being to the Christian, and that if he treat him on the principle of equality it is an immense condescension. The idea is inbred even in the best of the lower orders. I will take as an instance a zaptieh who accompanied me in many of my wanderings. Here was a man whose nature was kind and gentle beyond a doubt. My daily experience of him extended over some months, and I constantly had evidence of his goodness of heart. I watched him closely and frequently, and saw many a kindly act of his while he was with me; yet it never appeared to occur to him that it was wrong to plunder a Bulgarian when an opportunity offered. The bare idea of a Christian peasant having a right to property never seemed to possess him for a moment. Had the Chelleby Effendi (meaning myself) expressed a wish for a melon? When presently we chanced to meet a Bulgarian who happened to have one, the zaptieh would cheerfully ride up and demand the fruit as a matter of course. In vain I endeavored, by invariably making him pay for the article in question, to show him that it was as much a theft to take the Christian's goods as it would have been to plunder a Mussulman. He would hand the piastres to the Giaour, smile pityingly, as though moved to compassion at my innocence, and ride on in silence for a mile or so, wondering what manner of man I could be to have any regard for the feelings of a Bulgar. One hot day particularly, after a long and dusty ride, we found ourselves on the top or a hill in Turkey, the sides of which were vineyards full of fruit. I had not observed the vines, and was sitting on the ground resting for a while when I found that my zaptieh and both our horses had disappeared. In vain I called; there was no response for some minutes. At length he returned and beckoned me to follow him. To my amazement, he had turned the horses loose among the little vines, had picked thirty or forty great bunches of grapes, which he was carefully stowing away in his saddle-bags, having reserved the most tempting for me, and was now preparing to ascend a peach-tree with a view to stripping that also. My dragoman being absent, I had considerable difficulty in speaking, but at last contrived to ask whether he knew to whom the vineyard belonged. He did. The owner was a Bulgarian. Upon which I refused to eat the grapes, and told him I should pay for the damage he had done. With a look of amazement which I never shall forget, he held up the raisins I had refused, gazed at them for a minute, then calmly putting them in his saddle-bag, mounted in silence and rode down the hill. It was nearly an hour before he spoke
