In 1864 Russia, the present champion of the subject races of Turkey, was busy in her own vast dominions giving the coup de grâce to the unruly and only half-subjugated Circassians. These people, during a period of eighty years, resisted Russian aggression, defending their homes and liberties at the point of the sword, until the consequences of war, famine, and misery compelled them to yield to the superior power of the Czar. They were offered the choice of migrating to the lower steppes of that land, where Russian discipline alone could tame them, or of quitting the country. Some accepted the former alternative, while a large portion, consisting of about 300,000 souls, preferred to accept the hospitality of Turkey. Before leaving the shores of their beloved native land, collected on the beach like a herd of wild animals caught in a storm, they raised their voices and cried aloud against the injustice and cruelty they, with their wives and children, had received at the hands of the Muscovites. That voice reached Turkey, who, whatever her sins are, has never been known to refuse shelter and assistance to the homeless and the refugee. A proof of this may be found in the harbor offered within my recollection to the exiled Prince of Persia, Kouli Mirza, subsequently a pensioner of Great Britain; the famous Syrian chieftain, the Emir Beshir and his party; the Polish, Wallachian, and Hungarian refugees, and Abdul Kadir; the Algerine captive chief, who obtained permission from Napoleon to reside in Turkey. All these with their followers were received with hospitality, treated with kindness, and, in some cases, allowed pensions while they remained in the country.

This gift of Russia to Turkey was, as far as the female portion of it was concerned, as irresistible as the beauteous Pandora is said to have been to Epimetheus; and the Circassian ladies certainly brought with them the equivalent for Pandora’s famous box, in the shape of their kith and kin, who dispersed themselves all over the country, and, from that moment, have never ceased to do mischief, and justify Russia’s treatment of them. I have had opportunities of seeing these people since their arrival in Turkey, of watching them in the different stages through which they have passed, and noting the irreparable harm they have done to the country that offered them an asylum. On landing, about 2000 were quartered in a little wood. Emaciated by the long sufferings of the journey, covered with vermin, and half famished, they encamped on the damp soil in the early spring, some sheltering themselves under the trees, others under such tattered tents as they possessed, all closely packed together, the sick lying face to face with the dead, and the living moving, gaunt and ghostlike, among them, careless of everything except, getting money. As we neared the infected camp, bands of men and women came forward, holding their children by the hand and offering to sell them to any who would buy. The little wretches themselves seemed anxious to be separated from their unnatural parents, in the hope of getting food and better shelter. These Circassians were divided into two classes, the chieftains and the slaves. Each regarded the other with distrust; the one expecting from his slave the abject obedience he had been accustomed to receive in his native land; the other, aware of the change in his condition, ready to dispute this right with his former master.

Rations and clothes were distributed by the Turkish authorities, but the master took his slave’s portion and sold it for profit. The slave, on his side, stole what he could, and stripped even the dead of his last covering, leaving the corpse to be devoured by dogs. The sight of these bodies by the townspeople and others originated the idea that these people were cannibals, and this reputation preceding the Circassians, on their march further into the country, caused a panic on their route. Children ran away on their approach, and even the peasants themselves, instinctively aware of the pernicious nature of the element introduced among them, did their best to avoid giving them offence in refusing assistance.

The majority of the Circassians distributed in European Turkey are settled in the Dobrudcha; the rest were allotted patches of ground in all parts of Bulgaria and in other provinces, where the peasants were called upon to supplement the Government in providing them with cattle, grain, and all other requisites necessary to start them as settlers. The Bulgarian peasants stoically made it a point of duty to render every assistance in their power to the destitute and helpless creatures so strangely brought among them, and Circassian settlements soon started up like weeds by the side of the peaceful and thriving villages.

Four years later I had again occasion to pass through these settlements, and was much surprised at the transformation in the appearance of the Circassians. The men, dressed in their picturesque costume, wearing their arms, some of which were curious and rich pieces of Eastern workmanship, were lazily lounging about the commons of their villages; while the women, arrayed in their dress of red silk braided with gold, presided over their household duties. Some well-conditioned cattle, driven by Circassian youths, were grazing in the surrounding meadows. I stopped at a Bulgarian village opposite one of these settlements. It was a prasnik, or feast-day, and the Bulgarian youth and beauty, dressed in their best, were dancing the hora. As our party approached, the dance stopped, and the women, saluting me with a cheerful smile, regarded me with great curiosity. The headman of the village came forward, and, with a hearty welcome, offered me hospitality for the night. I had a long and interesting conversation with him and the elders of the little community upon the Circassian settlements. The Bulgarian peasants even at that early date had a long list of grievances against their new neighbors. Pointing to the opposite village, they assured me that its very foundation and prosperity was due to Bulgarian labor and money. “The Circassians,” said they, “lounge about the whole day, as you see them doing now. Their industry does not extend beyond the sowing of a few bushels of millet for the use of their families. Their cattle, as well as most of their belongings, are not for work, but are stolen property that they are freely allowed to appropriate to themselves to the prejudice of the peasants.” The poor men seemed much concerned at this new evil that had befallen them. “We never get redress for the wrongs done by our neighbors,” said they; “and if the Government functionaries continue to disregard our complaints, and to allow the depredations of these marauders to go unpunished as they have hitherto done, not only our property but our lives will be at their mercy.”

A Circassian girl from the village on seeing me came forward, and with tears in her eyes implored me to take her with me and keep her in my service. She was about eighteen years of age, a beautiful creature, dark complexioned, with sparkling eyes, which overflowed when I refused her request. “I am perishing with ennui here,” she said, “in this dreadful outlandish place, without a hope or chance of getting away by being sold or rescued by some charitable person who might take me to Stamboul!” Surprised at her statement, I asked why she did not do as others of her nation, and insist upon being sold. With a look of hopeless despondency she replied: “None now dares to buy the Cherkess girls belonging to the emigrants.” She would give me no further information, but through subsequent inquiry I learnt that the Turkish Government, among the laws it had made relating to the Circassians, had deprived them of the right of selling their children as they formerly did in their native country, and had also decreed the liberation of the slaves held by them. But this law, like many others, was disregarded, and the chieftains continued to treat their subjects as slaves, a cause of constant quarrelling and bloodshed among them. Some broke out into open rebellion and refused to obey their master as such, while the chiefs, strong in the close alliance that existed among them, could at all times, notwithstanding the interference of the authorities, bring their subjects to terms by taking the law into their own hands.

With regard to selling their children, it was neither the law prohibiting the practice nor the want of purchasers that put a stop to it, but the abuse made of it by the Circassians themselves. For instance, two brothers would agree to sell a sister to some Mohammedan, who, after having paid the money and obtained possession of the girl, was suddenly called before the local courts to answer the charge brought by her father, without whose consent it was pretended the daughter had been ravished and illegally sold. The purchaser thus losing his prize without receiving back the money he had paid to the dishonest Circassians, and being condemned for the proceeding by the law, made known the undesirability of such purchases among his friends, and deprived them of any wish to participate in such troublesome business.

The depredations of the Circassians became so extensive that from one farm alone in the district of Adrianople three hundred and fifty head of cattle were stolen and never recovered.

A systematic company of cattle-stealers was established all over Bulgaria; the stolen animals taken from the villages found their way to Rodosto and Gallipoli, where they were shipped to Asia Minor and exchanged with stolen cattle from that coast. The dexterity with which a Circassian, introducing himself into a stud, takes possession of the best horse is the terror and wonder of the farmer. He uses a kind of lasso which, cast over the head of the animal, enables him to mount it and stick to it as if horse and rider were one. The wildest animal is soon cowed under the iron sway of the rider, and disappears, to be seen no more.

A gentleman, wishing to procure a good horse from a Circassian, asked the owner if the animal was a good trotter. The Circassian, with a malicious smile, answered, “Sir, he will take you to the world’s end, so long as you are careful not to turn his head in the direction of Philippopolis, but in that case I do not guarantee him!”

Another incident, illustrative of the thievish propensities of these people, was related to me of a carter who, driving his wagon from town, fell asleep in it, and was met by a band of Circassians, who thought the prize too tempting to be allowed to escape. Some of the party, therefore, took to unharnessing the oxen, and two of them, taking the place of the captured animals, kept the cart going while the others went off with the oxen. When these were at a fair distance, their substitutes gave the cart a strong jerk to arouse the poor unsuspecting driver, and heartily saluting him, disappeared across country.

So long as Circassian marauding was limited to incidents of this nature the peasants put up with it, and in many cases abstained even from complaining to the authorities; but gradually the proceedings of this dangerous race assumed a character the gravity of which only escaped public notice because of the general disorganization that followed.

Becoming prosperous and wealthy through their continual depredations and robberies, the youthful portion of the community that had escaped sickness on first landing formed a lawless hostile faction in the land, having as little respect for the authority of the Porte as for the life and property of the natives. When the Government tried some years ago to bring a portion of them under military discipline, they rebelled and gave much trouble to the authorities in the capital itself, where it was found necessary to seize, exile, and otherwise punish some of the chiefs for insubordination.

I happened to be travelling in a Turkish steamer with thirty of these rebellious subjects. Their chief was said to have been an influential person, holding the rank of aide-de-camp to a member of the Imperial family, perhaps the famous Cherkess Hasan, who nearly two years ago murdered the Ministers. The Turkish officer who had charge of these troublesome prisoners told me that for two months he and his men had given chase to this band, who had escaped into Asia Minor, where they had continued their depredations, and were only secured at last by being surrounded in a forest. They appeared a dreadful set of cut-throats—not at all pleasant fellow-passengers—and their guards had to keep good watch over them. This officer further stated that the Sultan, out of kindness, had invited them into his dominions, giving them land, and every opportunity of settling down and becoming useful members of society; but it was a sad mistake, for they would neither work nor yield to discipline, neither would they make any efforts to requite the Government for the benefit they had received, but in every instance proved their reputation for lawlessness and depredation. It is an important fact that before the Bulgarian troubles the peasants of the districts where the Circassians were in force dared no longer circulate except in companies of fifty or sixty, and that murderous attacks had become every-day occurrences.

Although protected in some high quarters in consequence of their close connection through family ties, the Circassians are generally disliked and distrusted, especially by the people, who have no such strong reasons for protecting them. In physical features they often present splendid specimens of the famed Circassian type, though not unfrequently bearing a great resemblance to the Mongolian. In manner they are haughty and even insulting, with an air of disdain and braggadocio such as no really brave man assumes. In character the Cherkess is undoubtedly cowardly, cruel, and false. Education he has none, so that all the evil passions of his nature, unchecked by any notion of moral, religious, or civil obligation, have developed themselves with irresistible force, and prompted him to acts that during the last two years have placed the name of the Circassian below that of the gypsy.

It is said that they are to be expelled from European Turkey. If this is the case, the unfortunate population of Asia Minor, both Mohammedan and Christian, among whom they will be quartered, are most deeply to be pitied, as well as the Government, whose duty it will be to re-establish and discipline these ruffians now rendered desperate and doubly hardened by the crimes and horrors of every description into which they have lately plunged with impunity.

The best and wisest plan would be to request Russia, if she really and earnestly desires the welfare of the Christians in Turkey, to take the Circassians back and reinstate them in their native land. Should this be impracticable, the Turkish Government would do well to send them to colonize some of the fertile but waste lands in the heart of Asia Minor, in the vicinity of half-savage tribes like themselves, in whom they might find their match, and cease to become a perpetual source of trouble and injury both to the Government and its peaceful subjects.

The migration of the Tatars into Turkey preceded that of the Circassians by half a century. When their country passed into the hands of Russia, the Tatars, unwilling to remain under her dominion, removed, at a great sacrifice of life and property, into Bessarabia, where, scarcely had they begun to feel settled and to forget their wrongs and sufferings, than the Muscovite eagle again clouded the horizon, and the emigrants, fluttering at its approach like a flock of frightened birds, collected their families and belongings, and took to flight. Weary and exhausted, they alighted on the Ottoman soil, and settled in the Dobrudcha. They were a quiet and industrious people, and before long, through toil and exertion, they made themselves homes, and peopled the Dobrudcha with their increasing numbers. Some of the Tatar princes migrated with their subjects, and took up their abode in the vicinity of Zaghra, where they retained their title of Sultanlar, or “the princes.” They became in time wealthy landowners, but, unlike their less exalted brethren, they were hard, unjust, and oppressive masters to the Bulgarian peasants, and by their cruel treatment of these people were among the causes of their being cited as rebels before the authorities.

A second emigration of Tatars took place after the Crimean War, when these unfortunate people, in a similar plight to the Circassians, came to join their kinsmen in the Dobrudcha and other parts of European Turkey. They were poor, and for the most part destitute of every requisite of life. The Turkish Government did its best to help them by giving grants of land, etc., but those who settled as agriculturists were unfortunate, for a series of bad seasons crushed their first efforts, and, unassisted by further relief, they remained in a stationary condition of poverty, notwithstanding many praiseworthy efforts to better their condition. Those who settled in towns fared better; all who were acquainted with some handicraft at once set to work and executed their different branches of industry with so much activity, neatness, and honesty that they soon reached prosperity and comfort.

Their religion is Mohammedan, but they are by no means strict or fanatical. Their women do not cover their faces when among their own community, but when abroad are veiled like the Turkish women. They are very thrifty in their habits, and some are pretty and sweet-looking, but as a rule they are the dirtiest subjects in the Sultan’s dominions. Their uncleanliness with regard to dress, dwellings, and food is so great as to shock and horrify the Turks, who certainly have that virtue which is said to come next to godliness.

The principal ingredient in their cookery seems to be tallow; as candle-makers they are greatly superior to the natives, and the preference given to this article of their manufacture has induced them to take the principal portion of this branch of industry into their hands.

When a colony settled in the town of A—, one of my friends took a great interest in the efforts made by these estimable artisans to earn a livelihood as shoe-makers, tailors, tallow-chandlers, etc. Some opened small shops for the sale of different articles, while those who had no distinct calling or possessed no capital became wood-cutters, or hawkers of vegetables, fruits, etc. In this business, however, they met with shrewd and knowing professionals—the Jews, who were far more able and practised hands at it, and at first gave very little chance to the poor Tatars. It became a race between Jew and Tatar who should get up earliest in the morning and go furthest to meet the peasants bringing their produce to market. In this the Tatar was most successful, as he was the better walker of the two, and less afraid than the Jew of venturing some distance from the town; but the latter contented himself with the reflection that there are many roads that lead to the same goal, and many ways of making profit which are not dreamt of in Tatar philosophy.

The Gypsies in Turkey, numbering about 200,000 souls, profess outwardly Mohammedanism, but keep so few of its tenets that the true believers, holding them in execration, deny their right to worship in the mosques or bury their dead in the same cemetery. Although not persecuted, the antipathy and disdain felt for them evinces itself in many ways, and appears to be founded upon a strange legend current in the country. This legend says that when the gypsy nation were driven out of their country and arrived at Mekran, they constructed a wonderful machine, to which a wheel was attached. Nobody appeared able to turn this wheel till, in the midst of their vain efforts, some evil spirit presented himself under the disguise of a sage and informed the chief (whose name was Chen) that the wheel would be made to turn only when he had married his sister Guin. The chief accepted the advice, the wheel turned round, and the name of the tribe after this incident became that of the combined names of the brother and sister, Chenguin, the appellation of all the gypsies of Turkey at the present day.

This unnatural marriage, coming to the knowledge of one of the Moslem saints, was forthwith, together with the whole tribe, soundly cursed; they were placed beyond the pale of mankind, and sent out of the country under the following malediction: “May you never more enter or belong to the seventy-seven and a half races that people the earth, but as outcasts be scattered to the four corners of the earth, homeless, wretched, and poor; ever wandering and toiling, never realizing wealth, enjoying the fruits of your labor, or acquiring the esteem of mankind!”[4]

I have related this legend because it represents in a very striking manner the condition of the gypsies of Turkey as well as the belief placed in it by people of all creeds, who not only put them beyond the pale of humankind, but also deny to them what would be granted to animals—their alms. Last year during the Ramazan, a popular Hodja, preaching on charity to a large congregation of Mohammedans, thus addressed them—“O true believers, open your purses every one of you, and give largely to the poor and needy! Refuse not charity either to Mohammedans or Christians, for they are separated from us only by the thickness of the skin of an onion, but give none to the Chenguins, lest part of the curse that rests upon their heads should fall upon yours!”

Mohammedanism and the Christian rites also practised by a few of the gypsies can only be a mask to hide the heathen superstition handed down among them from generation to generation, together with their native language, and some other observances, such as keeping a fire continually burning in their camp. On the first of May all go in a body to the sea-coast or the banks of a river, where they throw water three times on their temples, invoking the invisible genii loci to grant their special wishes.

Another custom, observed with equal constancy, is that of annually drinking some potion, the secret of whose preparation is known only to the oldest and wisest of the tribe. This draught is partaken of by the whole community as a charm or preventive against snake-bites. It is certain that, owing to some agency, the gypsies can catch snakes and handle them with the greatest impunity, but are never known to kill or hurt these animals.

The habits of these people are essentially nomadic. Sultan Murad IV. tried to check their roving disposition by ordering that they should be permanently settled in the vicinity of the Balkans, and obliged to live a regular life; but disregarding the imperial decree, they dispersed all over the country, now pitching their tents in one place and now in another, like evil spirits bent on mischief, or birds of prey ready to pounce upon any game that offers itself. Their pilfering propensities are entirely directed to supplying the common wants of nature; they never grow rich on their plunder.

The tribe is divided into two classes—those who live in the towns for short periods, and those, the wildest and vilest, who wander about all the year round; during the summer pitching their tents in the open country or on the roadside, men, women, and children all huddled together under the tattered rags that form their only shelter. The men and women are miserably clad, and the children walk about in their original nakedness. The Chenguins are muscular, thin, and of middle size; with dark skins, bright sparkling eyes, low undeveloped brows, and well-defined nose, wide at the nostril; the lower part of the face is ill-formed and sensual. When quite young, some of the women are very pretty and much appreciated by the Turkish community as dancing girls, in which calling their utter want of decency and morality makes them adepts. When the gypsy woman is advanced in years she becomes perfectly hideous; her brown skin shrivels up through privation and exposure, her body gets thin and emaciated, and her uncombed elf locks, half concealing her features, give her the appearance of a witch. The cunning creature, aware of the effect she produces, makes capital out of it, by impressing the credulous with a belief in her uncanny powers of predicting the future, casting or removing the evil eye, or other magic spells, invoking benefits or bringing evil upon those who refuse charity or provoke her anger; thus extorting from fear the alms that pity refused.

In winter they quarter themselves in the vicinity of towns or villages, where they have a better chance of carrying on their trade of petty thieving. The nuisance they become to a neighborhood is increased by the hopelessness of obtaining any recovery of property stolen by them. The gypsy is by no means particular as to the nature of the object he covets, but will condescendingly possess himself of an old horse found conveniently in his neighborhood, or venture further and lay hands on anything from a useful article of dress to a stray ox.

The following incidents that came under my personal observation were attributed to an encampment of gypsies in the vicinity of the town of M—, and will give an idea how these people, called by the peasants Taoukjis, set about business, and the precautions they take to avoid detection and escape punishment.

In our stable were three fine and valuable horses, much admired in the town, which had evidently awakened the cupidity of some gypsies encamped opposite the house on the other side of the river. On one occasion, when the two best were away from home together with the groom, the third horse disappeared during the night. In the morning I sent to give notice of the occurrence to the sub-governor and request his aid in discovering the thief or thieves. This functionary, a kind and civil man, at once called upon me and gave me the assurance that the horse would be recovered, as none but the gypsies encamped opposite could have stolen it. The police were sent to the camp to request about a dozen to come to the Konak to answer for the robbery.

On arriving, the gypsies were placed under close examination by the Kaimakam and Medjliss; they naturally denied all knowledge of the robbery and protested against the accusation. Finding them obstinate, the Kaimakam ordered them to be placed under the pressure of the whip, but this appearing to produce no effect, made the governor suspect that some trick had been resorted to, in order to prevent the culprits feeling the smart of the punishment they had anticipated. They were ordered to undress, upon which, looking very crestfallen, they began to pray for mercy, but their prayers were soon drowned in the sounds of general hilarity that followed the discovery of the successive layers of sheepskin in which they had taken the precaution of enveloping their bodies. The first few blows that fell upon their now unprotected backs, drew forth screams of “Aman, Effendi!” followed by sundry revelations on the disappearance of the horse. “Last night,” said one, “it came quite unexpectedly into our camp; we tried to secure it but it escaped again, we will endeavor to find and bring it back, but, oh, Aman! Effendi! beat us no more! we will pay the value of the horse for the honor of the Chenguin tribe!” When these proceedings came to my knowledge, I begged the Kaimakam not to be too hard on the poor rogues, but set them free after the severe punishment they had received. I may add that the horse was never found.

On the shapeless, ill-paved, mud-pooled space which usually occupies the centre of small Turkish towns, the peasants collect from all parts of the surrounding country with their carts and beasts of burden, laden with goods for sale or barter. On one occasion an industrious Bulgarian cloth-weaver took up his habitual post at the corner of a narrow street, where he exhibited his stock of goods and invited purchasers. Shortly afterwards, a ragged, thievish-looking Chenguin, with a couple of sieves of his own manufacture, came and seated himself opposite, apparently with the object of selling his stock in trade. No customer appeared, and the gypsy began to show signs of weariness and sleepiness; he yawned desperately, stretched his limbs, looked at his neighbor, yawned again and again, until he succeeded in infecting him with a sympathetic drowsiness. Gradually passing into the second stage of somnolence, he closed his eyes and nodded. The Bulgarian, following his example, was soon fast asleep, and the gypsy, quickly springing to his feet, seized a fine piece of shayak, and walked away with it. The Bulgarian unsuspectingly slept on until roused by his head coming in contact with the wall, against which he was leaning; his bewildered gaze instinctively turned to the spot which the other slumberer had occupied, and, finding that it was empty, he looked at his merchandise and discovered that his best piece of cloth had disappeared also. Much troubled, he packed up the rest of his goods, and proceeded to the house of the Chorbadji, who advised him to find the gypsy, and point him out to the police, who might succeed in recovering his property. To this he responded, “All the gypsies have the same wild, tattered, and cunning appearance, and follow the trade of taoukjis; if I call the attention of the police to my case, I shall be made responsible for the imprisonment of the whole band, and incur expenses greater than the value of my cloth. I must therefore forego it; but never again shall this stupid ‘Bulgarski glava’ be outdone by gypsy cunning!”

The other callings followed by the Chenguins are those of tinkers, blacksmiths, leaders of bears and monkeys, and musicians of a primitive kind. The women keep up the Nautch dance of the East with an excruciating kind of accompaniment, consisting of a drum, bagpipe, tambourine, and pipe, with which they make the round of the towns and villages on feast-days, when they are hired by the people, and dance and shout to their hearts’ content.

The gypsies are idle, false, and treacherous. They have none of the manly virtues; and on account of their known cowardice, they were never pressed into military service by the Turks until last year, when a certain number of those settled in towns and villages were sent off as recruits. It was a picture worth seeing, when a band of these wild creatures was embarked at the town of S—. Guarded by a detachment of soldiers headed by a drum and clarionet, and followed by the whole tribe of old men, women, and children, screaming, crying, and dragging their rags after them, these doubtful warriors marched through the town. I asked an old crone how it was that the Chenguins had to go to war. “God knows,” was her reply; “it is the Sultan’s command and must be obeyed.”

The hatred shown by the Turks to the invaders of their country was so great, and their patriotism and bravery in defending her so conspicuous, that even this degenerate race became infected with a certain degree of the same devotion, and evinced a desire to go and fight for Allah and the Sultan, although at the last moment their natural cowardice proved too strong for them. Some mutilated their hands, others feigned sickness or insanity as an excuse for remaining behind, whilst those who actually reached the seat of war gave great trouble to their officers, did no service whatever, and deserted whenever a chance presented itself.

The class of gypsies living in towns is slightly better and more respectable as a community. They generally occupy hovels built round a court, in which they take shelter during the night; but during the day, in winter or summer, they live out of doors. A great part of their time is spent lounging about the court, hammering at their forges, smoking or quarrelling, while the girls listlessly parade the streets, and the children beg or fall into any mischief that presents itself. They are never sent to school, and I do not think there is a single person of either sex who is able to write a word of any language.

The gypsies settled in the villages take to field work as far as their roving habits and thievish propensities allow them. These are either chiftjis, who work regularly, or ailikjis, who do odd jobs. They present a strong contrast to the rest of the rural population in their thriftlessness and want of care for the morrow. They are so careless of health that an aged gypsy is rarely met with. As laborers they are very unsatisfactory, and require much supervision from their employers. No gypsy ever becomes wealthy or respectable; as a class they are always in debt.

The whole tribe is a curious mixture of the human and the animal: it is endowed with the scent of the dog, the cunning of the monkey, and the form and vices, but none of the virtues apparently, of mankind.