Читать книгу The City of the Sultan - Miss Pardoe - Страница 12

Table of Contents

The Harem of Mustafa Effendi—The Ladies of the Harem—Etiquettical Observances of the Harem—Ceremonies of the Salemliek—Jealousy of Precedence among the Turkish Women—Apartment of the Effendi—Eastern Passion for Diamonds—Personal Appearance of Mustafa Effendi—The little Slave-girl—Slavery in Turkey—Gallant Present—The Dinner—Turkish Cookery—Illuminated Mosques—The Bokshaliks—The Toilet after the Bath—History of an Odalique—Stupid Husbands—Reciprocal Commiseration—Errors of a Modern French Traveller—Privacy of the Women’s Apartments—Anecdote of the Wife of the Kïara Bey—The Baïram Bokshalik—My Sleeping-room—Forethought of Turkish Hospitality—Farewell to Fatma Hanoum—Dense Crowd—Turkish Mob—Turkish Officers—Military Difficulty—The “Lower Orders”—Tolerance of the Orientals towards Foreigners—Satisfactory Expedient.

On the eve of the Baïram which terminates the Ramazan, we passed over to Constantinople with some friends to visit Mustafa Effendi, the Egyptian Chargé d’Affaires, whose magnificent mansion is situated near the gate of the Seraglio. Having passed the portal, we found ourselves in a spacious and covered court, having on our right hand a marble fountain, into whose capacious basin the water fell murmuringly from a group of lion’s heads; and, beyond it, the entrance to the women’s apartments, with the conventuallooking wheel, by means of which food is introduced into the harem; and on our left a stately staircase leading to the main body of the building. Here our party were compelled to separate; the gentlemen put off their boots, and followed the two black slaves who awaited them, to the suite of rooms occupied by the master of the house, while my companion and myself were consigned to the guidance of a third attendant, who beat upon the door of the harem, and we entered a large hall paved with marble, and were immediately surrounded by half a dozen female slaves, who took our shoes, shawls, and bonnets, and led us over the fine Indian matting of the centre saloon, to the richly-furnished apartment of the lady of the house.

A soft twilight reigned in the room, of which all the curtains were closely drawn to exclude the sun; and the wife of the minister and her daughter-in-law were seated at the tandour, engaged in conversation with several of their attendants, who stood before them in a half circle, with their arms folded upon their breasts. The elder lady was the most high-bred person whom I had yet seen in the country; the younger one was pale and delicate, with eyes like jet, and a very sweet and gentle expression; she spoke but seldom, and always in monosyllables, being evidently overawed by the presence of her companion.

There are probably few nations in the world that observe with such severity as the Turks that domestic precedence and etiquette, which, while it may certainly prevent any disrespectful familiarity, has a tendency to annihilate all ease. Thus, the other ladies of the family are each inferior to the first wife, who takes the upper seat on the sofa, and regulates all the internal economy of the women’s apartments: and, although they may be greatly preferred by the husband, they are, nevertheless, bound to obey her commands, and to treat her with the respect due to a superior. In the Salemliek, when she is desired by her lord to be seated, (without which gracious intimation she must continue standing before him), she is privileged to place herself on the same sofa, but on its extreme edge, and at a considerable distance; while the other ladies are only permitted to fold their feet under them on a cushion spread upon the carpet, and thence look up to the great and gracious ruler of their destinies! The ceremonies of the Salemliek are neither forgotten nor neglected in the harem, and it is customary for all the slaves to bend down and kiss the hem of their mistress’s garment on her first appearance in the morning.

These heart-shutting observances cannot fail to heighten the jealousy which their relative position must naturally excite in the bosoms of the other inmates of the harem, although such a circumstance as rebellion against the supreme power is never heard of, nor imagined.

During the day we were summoned to the apartment of the minister; whither, as the invitation was not extended to his wife, we went, accompanied only by three or four black slaves. After traversing several long galleries and halls, covered so closely with matting that not a footfall could be heard, we passed under the tapestry-hanging that veiled the door of the Effendi’s apartment, and found ourselves in an atmosphere so heavy with perfume that for a moment it was almost suffocating.

The venerable Chargé d’Affaires, who had been long an invalid, was sitting upon his sofa, surrounded by cushions of every possible size and shape, wrapped in furs, and inhaling the odour of a bunch of musk lemons, the most sickly and sating of all savours—a magnificent mangal, upheaped with fire, occupied the centre of the apartment; the divan was almost covered with inlaid boxes, articles of bijouterie, books, and papers; a large silver tray resting upon a tripod was piled pyramidically with fine winter fruits; and within a recess on one side of the room were ranged a splendid coffee service of French porcelain, and a pair of tall and exquisitely-wrought essence-vases of fillagreed silver—in short, the whole aspect of the apartment would have satisfied the most boudoir-loving petite-maitresse of Paris or London. Near the mangal stood the four attendants of the master of the house, two fine boys of twelve or fourteen years of age, and two pretty little girls, one or two years younger, gorgeously dressed, and wearing magnificent brilliant ornaments on their heads and bosoms.

The rage for diamonds is excessive among both the Turks and the Greeks; but, while the Greek ladies delight in heaping upon their persons every ornament for which they can find space, many of the fair Osmanlis, with a pretty exclusive scorn of adventitious attraction, content themselves with a clasp or two, a bracelet, or some similar bagatelle; and decorate their favourite slaves with their more costly and ponderous jewels.

A most venerable-looking person was Mustafa Effendi, with his lofty turban, and his snow-white beard; and he received us so kindly, and discoursed with us so good-humouredly, that I was delighted with him. A chair was brought for the Greek lady who had accompanied me, but he motioned to me to place myself on a pile of cushions at his side, where I remained very comfortably during the whole of our visit. He took a great quantity of snuff from a box whose lid was richly set with precious stones; and, on my admiring it, showed me another containing his opium pills, which was exquisitely inlaid with fine large brilliants.

My attention being attracted to the rosy, happy-looking little slave-girl who stood near me, with her chubby arms crossed before her, her large pink trowsers completely concealing her naked feet, and her long blue antery richly trimmed with yellow floss-silk fringe, lying upon the carpet; he beckoned her to him, called her a good child, who had wit enough to anticipate his wants, and affection enough to supply them without bidding, and bade me remark the henna with which the tips of her toes and fingers were deeply tinged. She was, he said, a Georgian, whom he had purchased of her mother for six thousand piastres; she had already been in his house two years; and he hoped some day to give her a marriage portion, and to see her comfortably established, as she was a good girl, and he was much attached to her. The other, he added, was also obedient and willing, but she did not possess the vivacity and quickness of his little favourite—she had cost him seven thousand piastres, as she was a year older, and considerably stronger than her companion; and was a Circassian, brought to Constantinople, and sold, at her own request, by her parents.

When I remembered that these children were slaves, I felt inclined to pity them—when the very price which had been paid for them was stated to me, a sickness crept over my heart—but, as I looked upon the pleased and happy countenances of the two little girls, and remembered that slavery, in Turkey at least, is a mere name, and in nine cases out of ten even voluntary, I felt that here my commiseration would be misplaced.

Soon after we had taken leave of the gentle and gracious old Effendi, a basket of delicious fruit was sent into the harem for our use, with an injunction that we should dine alone, lest we should be inconvenienced by the national habits. An embroidered carpet was consequently spread, beside which were placed a couple of cushions; and the dinner tray, such as I have before described it, was lifted into the apartment of the younger lady, at her earnest request: nine slaves, forming a line from the table to the door, waited upon us: and we partook of an endless variety of boiled, stewed, roasted, and baked—delicious cinnamon soup—chickens, farcied with fine herbs and olives—anchovy cakes—lemon-tinted pillauf—chopped meat and spiced rice, rolled in preserved vine-leaves-the most delicate of pastry, and the most costly of conserves. Many-coloured sherbets, and lemonade, completed the repast; and when I laid aside my gold-embroidered napkin, and wiped the rose-water from my hands, I could but marvel at the hyper-fastidiousness of those travellers who have affected to quarrel with the Turkish kitchen; or infer that they had only “assisted” at the tables of hotels and eating-houses.

From the windows of the apartment, we had an excellent view, when the evening had closed in, of the illuminated mosques of the city, and the lines of light that hung like threads of fire from minaret to minaret. The casements quivered beneath the shock of the rattling cannon; and all the sounds which came to us from without spoke of festivity and rejoicing; and, meanwhile, we were a happy party within. Fatma Hanoum smoked her pipe, and overlooked the distribution of the bokshaliks that her daughter was preparing for the morrow—every member of the household, on the occasion of the Baïram, being entitled to a present, more or less valuable according to their deserts, the length and difficulty of their services, or the degree of favour in which they are held.

We, meanwhile, amused ourselves with watching the slaves, who, having left the bath, had seated themselves in groups at the lower end of the apartment, combing, tressing, and banding their dark, glossy hair; the younger ones forming it into one long, thick plait, hanging down the centre of the back, and twisting above it the painted handkerchief, so popular in the harem that it is worn equally by the Sultana and the slave; the others binding their tresses tightly about their heads, and replacing the locks which they hid from view with a profusion of false hair, braided in twenty or thirty little plaits, and reaching round the whole width of the shoulders.

All were busily engaged in preparing for the festival of the morrow, though many of them were aware that they should not leave the harem; it was sufficient that it was a festival, an excitement, a topic of conversation, something, in short, to engross their thoughts; and no belle ever prepared for a birthday with more alacrity than did the females of the harem of Mustafa Effendi, black and white, for the Baïram.

In the course of the evening, the Bayuk Hanoum was summoned to her husband, and then the timid wife of her son joined us at the tandour, and related to us the little history of her life, which, although by no means remarkable in Turkey, is so characteristic, and will, moreover, appear so extraordinary to European readers, that I shall give it, as nearly as my memory will serve me, in her own words.

“I am but nineteen,” she said, “a Circassian by birth, and was brought by my parents to Constantinople, and sold, at the age of nine years, to a friend of Fatma Hanoum’s. I was very happy, for she was kind to me, and I thought to pass my life in her harem; but about a year ago I accompanied her hither on a visit to the wife of Mustafa Effendi, at a moment when her son was beside her. I was one of four; and I do not yet understand why nor how I attracted his attention as I stood beside my companions; but a few days afterwards my mistress called me to her, and asked me if I had remarked the young Ismaël Bey when we had visited his mother. I told her that I had seen him; and she then informed me that the Hanoum desired to purchase me, in obedience to his wish; and demanded of me if I was willing to accede to the arrangement. Of course, I consented, and the Bey, having considered me as agreeable when I had withdrawn my yashmac as he had anticipated, he purchased me for ten thousand piastres, and I became an inmate of the harem of Mustafa Effendi—I am still happy,” she added plaintively, “very happy, for I am sure he loves me; but I nevertheless hope to be more so; for ere long I shall be a mother, and should my child prove to be a boy, from his Odalique I may perhaps become his wife.”

I pitied the poor young creature as I listened to her narrative, through the medium of my companion, who spoke the Turkish language fluently; and I breathed a silent prayer that her visions of happiness might be realized. She was not pretty; but she was so childlike, so graceful, and so gentle, that she inspired an interest which, when I had heard her story, was even painful; nor was the feeling lessened by an introduction to her husband, who, during the evening, sent to desire that all the women, save his mother and wife, should retire, as he intended to visit the harem; doubtlessly as much to satisfy his curiosity, as to exhibit his courtesy, by paying his respects to the European guests of his mother. Sallow and sickly-looking, inanimate, even for a Turk, and apparently bête comme une bûche, he seated himself, and listened to the conversation that was going forward, with one unvaried and inexpressive smile—

Pleased, he knew not why, and cared not wherefore;

dividing his admiration between the Frank ladies, and the brilliancy of a large diamond that he wore on his finger.

How comparative is happiness! I never lay my head upon my pillow, but I am grateful to Providence that I was not born in Turkey; while the fair Osmanlis in their turn pity the Frank women with a depth of sentiment almost ludicrous. They can imagine no slavery comparable with our’s—we take so much trouble to attain such slight ends—we run about from country to country, to see sights which we must regret when we leave them—we are so blent with all the anxieties and cares of our male relations—we expose ourselves to danger, and brave difficulties suited only to men—we have to contend with such trials and temptations, from our constant contact with the opposite sex—in short, they regard us as slaves, buying our comparative liberty at a price so mighty, that they are unable to estimate its extent—and then, the hardship of wearing our faces uncovered, and exposing them to the sun and wind, when we might veil them comfortably with a yashmac! Not a day passes in which they have commerce with a Frank, but they return thanks to Allah that they are not European women!

A modern French traveller, whose amusing work has, in one moderate volume, contrived to treat of about a dozen countries and localities; and to detail, respecting each, such a mass of fallacies as assuredly were never before collected together: informs his readers that the jealousies of the harem are carried to such a pitch as to entail poison, or, at the least, humiliating and severe labour on the victim of the disappointed rival! This assertion, like many others in which he has indulged, would be comic were it not wicked—for the very arrangements of the harem render it impossible: each lady has her private apartment, which, should she desire to remain secluded, no one has the privilege to invade; and, from the moment that she becomes a member of the family, her life, should she so will it, is one of the most monotonous idleness. The very slaves, as I believe I have elsewhere remarked, are so numerous in every handsome establishment, that three-fourths of their time is unemployed; and as, in the less distinguished ranks, no Turk indulges in the expensive luxury of a second wife, there is little opportunity afforded for female tyranny.

The Kiära Bey, or Minister of the Interior, despite his exalted station and his immense wealth, has declined to avail himself of his polygamical privilege; and, although his wife is both plain and elderly, she has such a supreme hold, if not upon his heart, at least upon his actions, that, a short time since, having discovered that her lord had suddenly become more than necessarily attentive to a fair Circassian, her own peculiar favourite, whom she had reared from a child, and whose beauty was of no ordinary character, she very quietly placed her in an araba, sent her to the slave-market, and disposed of her to the highest bidder. The ingratitude of the protégée had loosened her hold on the affections of her patroness; nor did the husband venture to utter a reproach to his outraged helpmate, when he discovered the absence of the too-fascinating Circassian.

Had the unhappy girl been the Odalique of the lord, instead of the slave of the lady, the evil would have been irremediable, however; as in that case, the Bayuk Hanoum would have possessed no power to displace her.

Early in the morning, the stately Fatma Hanoum presented to my companion and myself a bokshalik from the venerable Effendi, which consisted of the material for a dress, neatly folded in a handkerchief of clear muslin, fringed with gold-coloured silk; and, as I made my hasty toilette, in the hope of witnessing the procession of the Baïram, and seeing Mahmoud “the Powerful” in all the splendour of his greatness, I glanced with considerable interest round the apartment in which I had passed the night. In the domed recess, which I soon discovered to be common to every handsome Turkish apartment, stood a French clock, that “discoursed,” if not “eloquent,” at least fairy-like, music—a piece of furniture, by the way, universally popular among the natives of the East, who usually have one or more in every room occupied by the family—two noble porcelain vases—a china plate containing an enamelled snuff-box, and a carved ebony chaplet—and a tray on which were placed cut crystal goblets of water, covered glass bowls filled with delicate conserves, a silver caïque, whose oars were small spoons, and a beautifully worked wicker basket, shaped like a dish, and upheaped with crystallized fruits, sparkling beneath a veil of pale pink gauze, knotted together with bunches of artificial flowers.

Turkish hospitality and prévoyance provide even for the refreshment of a sleepless night!

The divan was of flesh-coloured satin, and the carpet as delicately wrought and patterned as a cachemire shawl. The cushions which had been piled about my bed were of velvet, satin, and embroidered muslin, and the coverlets, of rich Broussa silk, powdered with silver leaves.

I made my libations with perfumed water—swallowed my coffee from a china cup so minute that a fairy might have drained it—tied on my bonnet—an object of unvarying amusement to the Turkish ladies, who consider this stiff head-dress as one of the most frightful and ridiculous of European inventions—and bade adieu to Fatma Hanoum and her dark-eyed daughter, with a regret which their unbounded courtesy and kindness were well calculated to inspire.

A wealthy Armenian diamond-merchant, who held a high situation in the Mint, had offered us a window, whence we might witness the whole ceremony of the Imperial procession, and towards this point we bent our steps. But, alas for our curiosity! our leave-taking had been so thoughtlessly prolonged, that the subjects of his Sublime Highness had blocked up every avenue bearing upon the point by which he was to pass; and, despite all the efforts of our European cavaliers and native attendants, to proceed was impossible. We accordingly took up our station a little apart from the crowd, in order to contemplate at our ease the novel and picturesque spectacle of a Turkish mob.

In the distance rose the gigantic dome and arrowy minarets of Saint Sophia; and beneath them, far as the eye could reach, stretched a sea of capped and turbaned heads, heaving and sinking like billows after a storm. Every house-roof, every mouldering wall, every heap of rubbish, was covered with eager spectators; while the windows of the surrounding dwellings were crowded with veiled women and laughing children.

What groups were wedged together in the narrow space immediately before us! The pale, bent, submissive-looking Jew was folding his greasy mantle closer about him, as he elbowed aside the green-turbaned Emir, and the grave and solemn Hadje who had knelt beside the grave of the Prophet: the bustling Frank was striding along, jostling alike the serious Armenian, whose furred and flowing habit formed a strange contrast to the short blue jacket and tight pantaloons of the tall, strong-limbed, Circassian—and the bustling and noisy Greek, whose shrill voice and vociferous utterance would have suited a woman—parties of Turkish officers were forcing a passage as best they could, with their caps pulled down upon their eyebrows, their sword-belts hanging at least a quarter of a yard below their waists, and their diamond stars, (the symbols of their military rank) glittering in the clear sunshine—patroles of Turkish soldiers were endeavouring in vain to clear a passage along the centre of the street for the convenience of the Sultanas, and the wives of the different Pashas, whose arabas were momently expected; the mob closing rapidly in their rear as they slowly moved on—and clouds of doves at intervals filled the air, the tenants of the giant mosque before us, scared from the usual quiet of their resting-places by the unwonted stir and excitement beneath them.

As the birds which domesticate themselves about the mosques are held sacred, and regarded with almost superstitious reverence, their numbers necessarily increase to a wonderful extent; and on this occasion they hovered round the stupendous edifice of Saint Sophia, to the amount of several thousands.

A strange military difficulty had been started a short time previously to the occasion of the Baïram, which had been overcome in so extraordinary and even humorous a manner, that it deserves especial mention; and it was to convince myself of the actual existence of the laughable custom engendered by Turkish jealousy, that I remained longer than I should have otherwise been induced to do, in the immediate vicinity of a Constantinopolitan mob. Be it, however, avowed, en passant, that the—what shall I call them? for our European term of “lower orders” is by no means applicable to a people who acknowledge no difference of rank—no aristocracy save that of office—the great mass of the population of the capital—assimilate on no one point with our own turbulent, vociferous, uncompromising, and unaccommodating mobs in Europe. Among above five thousand boatmen, artisans, and soldiers, not a blow was struck, not a voice was raised in menace—among the conflicting interests, feelings, and prejudices, of Christians, Musselmauns, and Jews, not a word was uttered calculated to excite angry or unpleasant feeling; while I am bound to confess that a female, however fastidious, would have found less to offend her amid the crush and confusion of that mighty mass of commonly called semi-civilized human beings, than in a walk of ten minutes through the streets of London or Paris.

The natives of the East have yet to learn that there can be either wit or amusement in annoying others for the mere sake of creating annoyance; that there can be humour in raising a blush on the cheek of the timid, or calling a pang to the heart of the innocent. They are utilitarians; to torment for the mere love of mischief they do not comprehend; and they, consequently, never attempt extraneous evil unless to secure, or at least to strive for, some immediate personal benefit. Thus no rude or impertinent comment is made upon the Frank stranger, and above all, upon the Frank woman, whose habits, manners, and costume, differ so widely, and, doubtlessly to them so absurdly, from those of their own country; while towards each other they are as staid, as solemn, and as courteous, as though each were jealous to preserve the good order of the community, and considered it as his individual concern.

To revert to the military ceremony, from which, in order to render justice to the Turkish population, I have unavoidably digressed; I shall mention, without further preface, that it arose from the reluctance of the Sultan and his ministers, that the troops, in presenting arms to the female members of the Imperial family, should have the opportunity afforded them of a momentary gaze at their veiled and sacred countenances. The difficulty was, how to retain the “pomp and circumstance” of the ceremonial, and at the same time to render this passing privilege impossible. A most original and satisfactory expedient was at length fortunately discovered; and we were lucky enough to witness the effect of the new arrangement.

The slow and noisy rattle of the arabas was heard—the word was passed along the line that the Sultanas were approaching—and suddenly the troops faced about, with their backs to the open space along which the princesses were expected, and, extending their arms to their full length, the manœuvre was performed behind them, producing the most extraordinary and ludicrous scene that was perhaps ever enacted by a body of soldiers! In this uncomfortable, and I should also imagine difficult, position, they remained until the four carriages had passed, when they resumed their original order, and stood leaning negligently on their muskets until the return of the Imperial cortège.

George Cruikshank would have immortalized himself had he been by to note it!