Читать книгу The Sultan and His People - C. Oscanyan - Страница 5

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Besides the Koran, there are other sacred and traditional books called the Sonnah, the productions of Abubekir, Omer, and Osman, the successors of the Prophet. The ancient caliphs of Egypt and Babylon have also added their own. These books have numerous commentaries upon them, which constitute the principal part of the Mohammedan literature, and have been the source of much dissension. Sectarianism, therefore, prevails among the Mussulmans as in every part of the world. We will only mention those sects with whom the traveller in the East is apt to come in contact.

The principal schism which divides the Mohammedan nation is that of the Sünnees and the Sheyees.

The Sünnees are the orthodox party, and believe in the traditions attributed to the Prophet and his successors, and are strict in all their observances. Whereas the Sheyees reject all traditions and are strict legitimists, adhering to Aali, who married the Prophet’s daughter, as the rightful successor, and rendering their homage to his descendants.

The Turks are all Sünnees, and the Persians Sheyees, the one is more fanatical, the other more superstitious, and as the difference between them is small, so is their mutual hatred proportionably intense.

The Sünnees repudiate Aali, the infallible director of the Sheyees, who, in their turn, decapitate the representatives of the Prophet, Abubekir, Omer, and Osman in effigy. For they erect these persons in sugar at their festivals, and when merry over their wine, cut the respected friends of Mohammed into pieces and actually drink them in solution.

The Turks elevate the sacred color, green, to their heads and turbans with the greatest respect, but in contradistinction, the Persians choose this hue for their shoes, trowsers, and every other disrespectful use their ingenuity can devise. When the one shaves, the other does not, and scorns the thorough ablutions of his rival. Indeed no matter how or what, so it be vice versâ.

Most ingenious and vituperative are their mutual curses. “May your fatigued and hated soul, when damned to Berzak (purgatory), find no more rest than a Giavour’s hat enjoys upon earth.” Doubtless alluding to the peculiar custom of the Franks in uncovering their head in saluting, and the wear and tear that head-gear has to undergo. “May your transmuted soul become in hell a hackney ass, for the Jews themselves to ride about on,” and many such emphatic compliments are the height of fashion among the zealous adherents of each adverse party.

Not only in the West, but in the East,

“’Tis strange there should such difference be,

’Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee.”

Apart from the foregoing, the very meaning of the word Islam, or resignation to the service and commands of God, has been a source of much dissertation and dissension, and has produced a variety of sects, of which the Hanefees, Mevlevees, Rifayees, and Abdals, are the most noted in Turkey. The Hanefees are the contemplative philosophers, Oriental spiritualists or transcendentalists; and to this class the sultan and the principal part of the people belong. The Mevlevees are the dancing or whirling dervishes, and they may therefore be considered as the Oriental Shakers. Their object is practical resignation to God, which state of mind they think they attain, by whirling round and round until their senses are lost in the dizzy motion.

They conform to the general tenets and observances, but their form of worship is peculiar.

Their religious edifices are called Tekkés, which are open every Tuesday and Friday, and are frequently visited by the sultan and Europeans in general.

A large square space, which is surrounded by a circular railing, constitutes the scene of their ritual, or ceremonies. A gallery occupies three sides of the building, in which is the latticed apartment of the sultan, and the place for the Turkish ladies.

In every mosque, and here also, there is a niche opposite the entrance, called the Mihrab, which indicates the direction of Mecca. The walls are adorned with entablatures, ornamented with verses from the Koran, and with ciphers of sultans, and mottos in memory of other benevolent individuals, who have endowed the Tekké.

The Sheikh, or leader of the community, sits in front of the Mihrab, on an Angora goat-skin, or a carpet, attended by two of his disciples.

An attenuated old man, with a visage furrowed and withered by time, bronzed by many successive suns, his long and grizzly beard witnessing to the ravages of age, while his prominent eyes sparkling like lightnings amid the surrounding darkness, are the only symbols of animation or life, in his worn-out frame.

The dervishes, as they enter, make a low obeisance with folded hands to this patron saint, with an air of mystic veneration, and take their stand with their faces towards Mecca. The old sheikh arises, and presiding over the assembly commences the services.

Their peculiar head-gear, called sikké, of thick brown felt, in the shape of a sugar loaf, and long and flowing robes of varied hues, make them seem like fantastic representations of some other sphere, particularly, when they commence the slow and measured prostrations of Mussulman worship.

Prayers being over, each dervish doffs his mantle, and appears in a long white fustanella, trailing the polished floor, and of innumerable folds, with a tightly fitting vest of the same pure color.

They now defile two by two before the sheikh, who extending his hand towards them, seems to diffuse a sort of magnetism, which irradiates every countenance.

As they stand immovable, the wild and thrilling music slowly pervades every sense, until suddenly one of the number extends his arms, and begins to revolve noiselessly, with slow and measured step. The folds of his ample skirt now gradually open like the wings of a bird, and with the swiftness of his motion, expand, until the dervish only appears like the centre of a whirlwind. The rest are all alike in motion, arms extended, eyes half closed as in a dream, the head inclined on one side, they move round and round to the measured time of the music, as if floating in ecstasy.

The calm and unimpassioned chief, with slow and stealthy step, wanders among their evolutions. Suddenly they cease, and march around the circle. The music increases its measure, and the dervishes again commence their giddy motions; old and young seem to be in a visionary rhapsody. Perhaps transported in the bewildering whirl to the regions of the blest, they languish with rapture in the arms of the houris of Paradise; or lose their earthly senses amid the glories which surround the throne of Allah; till suddenly they stand transfixed, their outspread and snowy drapery folding around them like the marble investment of an antique statue.

They are all prostrated, exhausted by their ecstasies, and immovable, until the sheikh recalls them to the realities of time by his holy benediction, when they slowly rise again, compass the building, and enveloping themselves with their cast-off mantles, silently disappear.