Through Bosnia and the Herzegóvina on foot during the insurrection, August and September 1875Evans, Arthur, Sir
History
Through Bosnia and the Herzegóvina on foot during the insurrection, August and September 1875
Evans, Arthur, Sir
Bosnia and Herzegovina -- Description and travel; Bosnia and Herzegovina -- History -- Rebellion of 1875
This approach towards natural relations between the two sexes is
doubtless, as much else among the Bosniac Mussulmans, a survival of the
old Sclavonic family life. The Mahometan house in Bosnia more nearly
approaches our idea of _home_ than in any other part of Turkey. We
learnt that polygamy was almost non-existent throughout the province. It
has been dying out, it is true, in other parts of Turkey, but here it
appears never to have taken. What is still perhaps exceptional among the
wealthier Turks, the richest Bosniacs have only one wife. Some of them
are said to have concubines, but public opinion here denounces the Moslem
who concludes more than one marriage. A few years ago a representative of
the old feudal nobility, Ali-Beg Dzinić, one of the richest landholders
in the country, set all Bosnia in an uproar by taking a second wife in
the lifetime of the first.[207] Another peculiarity of these Mussulman
Sclaves, illustrating the vitality of the family tie, is to be found
in their names. Mahometans elsewhere, with the exception of Persians
and Arabs, have no family name; but here, after the orthodox personal
appellation, as in the instance above, to the Ali, or Méhchmet, or
Selim, these descendants of the old Bosnian nobles add their ancestral
patronymic. This, however, is confined to the grandees, and is rather an
instance of the tenacity with which the Bosnian aristocracy has clung to
its old feudal attributes.
After all, one ought rather perhaps to wonder that these Sclavonic
renegades have received so much of the impress of Islâm. Considering
the difference of race—how strange it is to see a bevy of blue-eyed
light-haired Mahometans!—it is curious what thorough Turks these
Travnik burghers make. Towards evening many of these grave merchants
seated themselves in the gardens of a café just outside the town, and,
while alternately purring their narghilés and sipping their coffee,
contemplated, without uttering a syllable, the beautiful scene before
them—the mountains, the green valley, the foaming mill-stream murmuring
at their feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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