Besides, the official Turk is already too civilized to put up readily
with the real hardships of the Haj. In spite of the alleviations
effected by the steam navigation of the Red Sea, pilgrimage is still no
small matter, and once landed at Jeddah, all things are much as they
were a hundred years ago, while the Turk has changed. With his modern
notion of dress and comfort he may indeed be excused for shrinking from
the quaint nakedness of the pilgrim garb and the bare-headed march to
Arafat under a tropical sun. Besides, there is the land journey still of
three hundred miles to make before he can reach Medina, and what to some
would be worse hardship, a wearisome waiting afterwards in the unhealthy
ports of Hejaz. The Turkish official, too, has learned to dispense with
so many of the forms of his religion that he finds no difficulty in
making himself excuses here. In fact, he seldom or never now performs
the pilgrimage.

The mass of the Ottoman Haj is made up of Kurds, Syrians, Albanians,
Circassians, Lazis, and Tartars from Russia and the Khanates, of
everything rather than real Turks. Nor are those that come distinguished
greatly for their piety or learning. The school of St. Sophia at
Constantinople has lost its old reputation as a seat of religious
knowledge; and its Ulema are known to be more occupied with the pursuit
of Court patronage than with any other science. So much indeed is this
the case that serious students often prefer a residence at Bokhara, or
even in the heretical schools of Persia, as a more real road to
learning. Turkey proper boasts at the present day few theologians of
note, and still fewer independent thinkers.

The Egyptian Haj is far more flourishing. Speaking the language of
Arabia, the citizen of Cairo is more at home in the holy places than any