Читать книгу The City of the Sultan (Vol.1&2) - Miss Pardoe - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Difficulty of Ingress to Turkish Houses—Steep Streets—The Harem—The Tandour—The Mangal—The Family—Female Costume—Luxurious Habits—The Ramazan—The Dining-room—The Widow—The Dinner—The Turks not Gastronomers—Oriental Hospitality—Ceremony of Ablution—The Massaldjhe—Alarm in the Harem—The Prayer—Evening Offering—Puerile Questions—Opium—Primitive Painting—Splendid Beds—Avocations of a Turkish Lady—Oriental Coquetry—Shopping—Commercial Flirtations—The Sultana Heybétoullah—A Turkish Carriage—The Charshees—Armenian Merchants—Greek Speculators—Perfumes and Embroidery.

I have already mentioned that we arrived at Constantinople during the Ramazan or Lent; and my first anxiety was to pass a day of Fast in the interior of a Turkish family.

This difficult, and in most cases impossible, achievement for an European was rendered easy to me by the fact that, shortly after our landing, I procured an introduction to a respectable Turkish merchant; and I had no sooner written to propose a visit to his harem than I received the most frank and cordial assurances of welcome.

A Greek lady of my acquaintance having offered to accompany me, and to act as my interpreter, we crossed over to Stamboul, and, after threading several steep and narrow streets, perfectly impassable for carriages, entered the spacious court of the house at which we were expected, and ascended a wide flight of stairs leading to the harem, or women’s apartments. The stairs terminated in a large landing-place, of about thirty feet square, into which several rooms opened on each side, screened with curtains of dark cloth embroidered with coloured worsted. An immense mirror filled up a space between two of the doors, and a long passage led from this point to the principal apartment of the harem, to which we were conducted by a black slave.

When I say “we,” I of course allude to Mrs. ---- and myself, as no men, save those of the family and the physician, are ever admitted within the walls of a Turkish harem.

The apartment into which we were ushered was large and warm, richly carpeted, and surrounded on three sides by a sofa, raised about a foot from the ground, and covered with crimson shag; while the cushions, that rested against the wall or were scattered at intervals along the couch, were gaily embroidered with gold thread and coloured silks. In one angle of the sofa stood the tandour: a piece of furniture so unlike any thing in Europe, that I cannot forbear giving a description of it.

The tandour is a wooden frame, covered with a couple of wadded coverlets, for such they literally are, that are in their turn overlaid by a third and considerably smaller one of rich silk: within the frame, which is of the height and dimensions of a moderately sized breakfast table, stands a copper vessel, filled with the embers of charcoal; and, on the two sides that do not touch against the sofa, piles of cushions are heaped upon the floor to nearly the same height, for the convenience of those whose rank in the family does not authorize them to take places on the couch.

The double windows, which were all at the upper end of the apartment, were closely latticed; and, at the lower extremity of the room, in an arched recess, stood a classically-shaped clay jar full of water, and a covered goblet in a glass saucer. Along a silken cord, on either side of this niche, were hung a number of napkins, richly worked and fringed with gold; and a large copy of the Koran was deposited beneath a handkerchief of gold gauze, on a carved rosewood bracket.

In the middle of the floor was placed the mangal, a large copper vessel of about a foot in height, resting upon a stand of the same material raised on castors, and filled, like that within the tandour, with charcoal.

The family consisted of the father and mother, the son and the son’s wife, the daughter and her husband, and a younger and adopted son. The ladies were lying upon cushions, buried up to their necks under the coverings of the tandour; and, as they flung them off to receive us, I was struck with the beauty of the daughter, whose deep blue eyes, and hair of a golden brown, were totally different from what I had expected to find in a Turkish harem. Two glances sufficed to satisfy me that the mother was a shrew, and I had no reason subsequently to revoke my judgment. The son’s wife had fine, large, brilliant, black eyes, but her other features were by no means pleasing, although she possessed, in common with all her countrywomen, that soft, white, velvety skin, for which they are indebted to the constant use of the bath. To this luxury, in which many of them daily indulge, must be, however, attributed the fact that their hair, in becoming bright and glossy, loses its strength, and compels them to the adoption of artificial tresses; and these they wear in profusion, wound amid the folds of the embroidered handkerchiefs that they twine about their heads in a most unbecoming manner, and secure by bodkins of diamonds or emeralds, of which ornaments they are inordinately fond.

They all wore chemisettes or under garments of silk gauze, trimmed with fringes of narrow ribbon, and wide trowsers of printed cotton falling to the ancle: their feet were bare, save that occasionally they thrust them into little yellow slippers, that scarcely covered their toes, and in which they moved over the floor with the greatest ease, dragging after them their anterys, or sweeping robes; but more frequently they dispensed with even these, and walked barefoot about the harem. Their upper dresses were of printed cotton of the brightest colours—that of the daughter had a blue ground, with a yellow pattern, and was trimmed with a fringe of pink and green. These robes, which are made in one piece, are divided at the hip on either side to their extreme length, and are girt about the waist with a cachemire shawl. The costume is completed in winter by a tight vest lined with fur, which is generally of light green or pink.

Their habits are, generally speaking, most luxurious and indolent, if I except their custom of early rising, which, did they occupy themselves in any useful manner, would be undoubtedly very commendable; but, as they only add, by these means, two or three hours of ennui to each day, I am at a loss how to classify it. Their time is spent in dressing themselves, and varying the position of their ornaments—in the bath—and in sleep, which they appear to have as entirely at their back as a draught of water; in winter, they have but to nestle under the coverings of the tandour, or in summer to bury themselves among their cushions, and in five minutes they are in the land of dreams. Indeed, so extraordinarily are they gifted in this respect, that they not unfrequently engage their guests to take a nap, with the same sang-froid with which a European lady would invite her friends to take a walk. Habits of industry have, however, made their way, in many instances, even into the harem; the changes without have influenced the pursuits and feelings of the women; and utter idleness has already ceased to be a necessary attribute to the high-bred Turkish female.

As it was the time of the Ramazan, neither coffee nor sweetmeats were handed to us, though the offer of refreshments was made, which we, however, declined, being resolved to keep Lent with them according to their own fashion. We fasted, therefore, until about half past six o’clock, when the cry of the muezzin from the minarets proclaimed that one of the outwatchers, of whom many are employed for the purpose, had caught a glimpse of the moon. Instantly all were in motion; their preliminary arrangements had been so zealously and carefully made that not another second was lost; and, as a slave announced dinner, we all followed her to a smaller apartment, where the table, if such I may call it, was already laid.

The room was a perfect square, totally unfurnished, save that in the centre of the floor was spread a carpet, on which stood a wooden frame, about two feet in height, supporting an immense round plated tray, with the edge slightly raised. In the centre of the tray was placed a capacious white basin, filled with a kind of cold bread soup; and around it were ranged a circle of small porcelain saucers, filled with sliced cheese, anchovies, caviare, and sweetmeats of every description: among these were scattered spoons of box-wood, and goblets of pink and white sherbet, whose rose-scented contents perfumed the apartment. The outer range of the tray was covered with fragments of unleavened bread, torn asunder; and portions of the Ramazan cake, a dry, close, sickly kind of paste, glazed with the whites of eggs, and strewed over with aniseeds.

Our party was a numerous one—the aged nurse, who had reared the children of the family—the orphan boy of a dead son, who, with his wife, had perished by plague during the previous twelve months—several neighbours who had chosen the hour of dinner to make their visits—a very pretty friend from Scutari—and a very plain acquaintance from the house of death—the widow of a day—whose husband had expired the previous morning, been buried the same evening, and, as it appeared, forgotten on the morrow; for the “disconsolate widow” had come forth in a pink vest, and sky blue trowsers, with rings on her fingers, and jewels in her turban, to seek the advice and assistance of the master of the house, in securing some valuable shawls, and sundry diamonds and baubles which she had possessed before her marriage, from the grasp of the deceased’s relatives.

As soon as the serious business of the repast really commenced, that is, when we had each possessed ourselves of a cushion, and squatted down with our feet under us round the dinner tray, having on our laps linen napkins of about two yards in length richly fringed; the room was literally filled with slaves, “black, white, and gray,” from nine years old to fifty.

Fish, embedded in rice, followed the side or rather circle saucers that I have already described; and of most of which I sparingly partook, as the only answer that I was capable of giving to the unceasing “Eat, eat, you are welcome,” of the lady of the house. With the fish, the spoons came into play, and all were immersed in the same dish; but I must not omit to add that this custom is rendered less revolting than it would otherwise be, by the fact that each individual is careful, should the plat be partaken of a second time, (a rare occurrence, however, from the rapidity with which they are changed), always to confine herself to one spot. The meat and poultry were eaten with the fingers; each individual fishing up, or breaking away, what pleased her eye; and several of them tearing a portion asunder, and handing one of the pieces to me as a courtesy, with which, be it remarked, par parenthèse, I should joyfully have dispensed. Nineteen dishes, of fish, flesh, fowl, pastry, and creams, succeeding each other in the most heterogeneous manner—the salt following the sweet, and the stew preceding the custard—were terminated by a pyramid of pillauf. I had the perseverance to sit out this elaborate culinary exhibition; an exertion which is, however, by no means required of any one, by the observance of Turkish courtesy.

Gastronomy is no science in the East, and gourmands are unknown; the Osmanlis only eat to live, they do not live to eat; and the variety of their dishes originates in a tacit care to provide against individual disgusts, while the extreme rapidity with which they are changed sufficiently demonstrates their want of inclination to indulge individual excess. The women drink only coffee, sherbet, or water; but some few among the men are adopting the vices of civilized nations, and becoming addicted to beverages of a more potent description. No person is expected to remain an instant longer at a Turkish table than suffices him to make his meal; the instant that an individual has satisfied his appetite, he rises without comment or apology, washes his hands, and resumes his pipe or his occupation. Nor must I pass over without comment the simple and beautiful hospitality of the Turks, who welcome to their board, be he rich or poor, every countryman who thinks proper to take a seat at it; the emphatic “You are welcome,” is never coldly nor grudgingly uttered; and the Mussulmauns extend this unostentatious greeting to each new comer, without reservation or limit, upon the same principle that they never permit them to find fault with any article of food which may be served up. They consider themselves only as the stewards of GOD, and consequently use the goods of life as a loan rather than a possession; while they consider themselves bound to give from their superfluity to those who have been less favoured.

As we rose from table, a slave presented herself, holding a basin and strainer of wrought metal, while a second poured tepid water over our hands, from an elegantly-formed vase of the same materials; and a third handed to us embroidered napkins of great beauty, of which I really availed myself with reluctance.

Having performed this agreeable ceremony, we returned to the principal apartment, where our party received an addition in the person of a very pretty old massaljhe, or tale-teller, who had been invited to relieve the tedium of the evening with some of her narrations. This custom is very general during the Ramazan, and is a great resource to the Turkish ladies, who can thus recline in luxurious inaction, and have their minds amused without any personal exertion. Coffee was prepared at the mangal, and handed round: after which the elder lady seated herself on a pile of cushions placed upon the floor, and smoked a couple of pipes in perfect silence, and with extreme gusto, flinging out volumes of smoke, that created a thick mist in the apartment.

I had just begun to indulge in a violent fit of coughing, induced by the density of this artificial atmosphere, when in walked a slave to announce the intended presence of the gentlemen of the family, and in an instant the whole scene was changed. The two Turkish ladies whom I have already mentioned as being on a visit in the house rushed from the room barefooted, in as little time as it would have required for me to disengage myself from the tandour; the less agile massaljhe covered her face with a thick veil, and concealed herself behind the door—the Juno-like daughter (one of the most majestic women I ever remember to have seen, although very far from one of the tallest) flung a handkerchief over her head, and fastened it beneath her chin: while the son’s wife caught up a feridjhe, or cloak, and withdrew, muffled amid its folds, to her own apartment. The elder lady was the only one of the party undisturbed by the intelligence: she never raised her eyes from the carpet, but continued inhaling the aroma of the “scented weed,” gravely grasping her long pipe, her lips pressed against its amber mouthpiece, and her brilliant rings and diamond-studded bracelet flashing in the light.

In a few minutes, the aged father of the family was squatted down immediately opposite to my seat, smothered in furs, and crowned with the most stately looking turban I had yet seen: on one side of him stood a slave with his chibouk, which his wife had just filled and lighted, and on the other his elder son, holding the little brass dish in which the pipe-bowl is deposited to protect the carpet. Near him, on another cushion, lay the tobacco-bag of gold-embroidered cachemire, from which the said son was about to regale himself, after having supplied the wants of his father: and a few paces nearer to the door reclined the handsome Soliman Effendi, the adopted son to whom I have already alluded.

While the party were refreshing themselves with coffee, which was shortly afterwards served to them, a cry from the minarets of a neighbouring mosque announced the hour of prayer; when the old man gravely laid aside his pipe, and, spreading a crimson rug above the carpet near the spot where he had been sitting, turned his face to the East, and began his devotions by stroking down his beard and falling upon his knees, or rather squatting himself in a doubled-up position which it were impossible to describe. For a while his lips moved rapidly, though not a sound escaped them, and then suddenly he prostrated himself three times, and pressed his forehead to the carpet, rose, and folding his arms upon his breast, continued his prayer—resumed after a brief space his original position, rocking his body slowly to and fro—again bent down—and, repeated the whole of these ceremonies three times, concluding his orison by extending his open palms towards Heaven; after which, he once more slowly and reverentially passed his hand down his beard, and, without uttering a syllable, returned to his seat and his pipe, while a slave folded the rug and laid it aside. I remarked that at intervals, during the prayer, he threw out a long respiration, as though he had been collecting his breath for several seconds ere he suffered it to escape, but throughout the whole time not a single word was audible. The rest of the party continued to laugh, chat, and smoke quite unconcernedly, however, during the devotions of the master of the house, who appeared so thoroughly absorbed as to be utterly unconscious of all that was going on around him.

I ought not to have omitted to mention that, on entering the harem, each of the gentlemen of the family had deposited on a table at the extremity of the apartment his evening offering; for no Turk, however high his rank, returns home for the night, when the avocations of the day are over, empty-handed: it signifies not how trifling may be the value of his burthen—a cluster of grapes—a paper of sweetmeats—or, among the lower orders, a few small fish, or a head of salad—every individual is bound to make an offering to the Dei Penates; and to fail in this duty is to imply that he is about to repudiate his wife.

The father of the eldest son, Usuf Effendi, had brought home Ramazan cakes, but Soliman Effendi deposited on the tandour a boksha, or handkerchief of clear muslin wrought with gold threads, and containing sweetmeats; among them were a quantity of Barcelona nuts, which, in Turkey, are shelled, slightly dried in the oven, and eaten with raisins, as almonds are in Europe. In the course of the evening, the elder lady resumed her place at the tandour; and, in the intervals of the conversation, she amused herself by burning one of the nuts at a candle, and, having reduced it to a black and oily substance with great care and patience, she took up a small round hand-mirror, set into a frame-work of purple velvet, embroidered in silver that was buried among her cushions, and began to stain her eyebrows, making them meet over the nose, and shaping them with an art which nothing but long practice could have enabled her to acquire.

Their questions were of the most puerile description—my age—why I did not marry—whether I liked Constantinople—if I could read and write, &c., &c.; but no impertinent comment on fashions and habits so different from their own escaped them: on the contrary, they were continually remarking how much I must find every thing in Turkey inferior to what I had been accustomed to in Europe: and they lost themselves in wonder at the resolution that had decided me to visit a part of the world where I must suffer so many privations. Of course, I replied as politely as I could to these complimentary comments; and my companion and myself being much fatigued with the exertions that we had made during the day, we determined to retire to our apartment, without waiting to partake of the second repast, which is served up between two and three o’clock in the morning.

From this period the Turks remain smoking, and sipping their coffee, detailing news, and telling stories, an amusement to which they are extremely partial, until there is sufficient light to enable them to distinguish between a black thread and a white one, when the fast is scrupulously resumed. But it may be curious to remark, that, as not even a draught of water can be taken until the evening meal, and, (still greater privation to the Osmanli,) not a pipe can be smoked, they have adopted a singular expedient for appeasing the cravings of re-awakening appetite. They cause opium pills to be prepared, enveloped in one, two, and three coatings of gold leaf; and these they swallow at the last moment when food is permitted to be taken; under the impression that each will produce its intended effect at a given time, which is determined by the number of envelopes that have to disengage themselves from the drug before it can act.

The apartment wherein we passed the night was spacious and lofty; and the ceiling was lined with canvass, on which a large tree in full leaf was painted in oils; and, as this was the great ornament of the room, and, moreover, considered as a model of ingenious invention, one of the slaves did not fail to point out to us that the canvass, instead of being tightly stretched, was mounted loosely on a slight frame, which, when the air entered from the open windows, permitted an undulation intended to give to the tree the effect of reality. I do not think that I was ever more amused—for the branches resembled huge boa constrictors much more than any thing connected with the vegetable kingdom: and every leaf was as large and as black as the crown of a man’s hat.

Our beds were composed of mattresses laid one above the other upon the floor, and these were of the most costly description; mine being yellow satin brocaded with gold, and that of my companion violet-coloured velvet, richly fringed. A Turkish bed is arranged in an instant—the mattresses are covered with a sheet of silk gauze, or striped muslin, (my own on this occasion was of the former material)—half a dozen pillows of various forms and sizes are heaped up at the head, all in richly embroidered muslin cases, through which the satin containing the down is distinctly seen—and a couple of wadded coverlets are laid at the feet, carefully folded: no second sheet is considered necessary, as the coverlets are lined with fine white linen. Those which were provided for us were of pale blue silk, worked with rose-coloured flowers.

At the lower end of every Turkish room are large closets for the reception of the bedding; and the slaves no sooner ascertain that you have risen, than half a dozen of them enter the apartment, and in five minutes every vestige of your couch has disappeared—you hurry from the bed to the bath, whence you cannot possibly escape in less than two hours—and the business of the day is then generally terminated for a Turkish lady. All that remains to be done is to sit under the covering of the tandour, passing the beads of a perfumed chaplet rapidly through the fingers fingers—arranging and re-arranging the head-dress and ornaments—or to put on the yashmac and feridjhe, and sally forth, accompanied by two or three slaves, to pay visits to favourite friends; either on foot, in yellow boots reaching up to the swell of the leg, over which a slipper of the same colour is worn; or in an araba, or carriage of the country, all paint, gilding, and crimson cloth, nestled among cushions, and making more use of her eyes than any being on earth save a Turkish woman would, with the best inclination in the world, be able to accomplish; such finished coquetry I never before witnessed as that of the Turkish ladies in the street. As the araba moves slowly along, the feridjhe is flung back to display its white silk lining and bullion tassels; and, should a group of handsome men be clustered on the pathway, that instant is accidentally chosen for arranging the yashmac. The dark-eyed dames of Spain, accomplished as they are in the art, never made more use of the graceful veil than do the orientals of the jealous yashmac.

The taste for “shopping”—what an excellent essay might the “piquante and spirituelle” Lady Morgan write on this universal feminine mania!—is as great among the eastern ladies as with their fair European sisters; but it is indulged in a totally different manner. Constantinople boasts no commercial palace like those of Howell and James, or Storr and Mortimer; and still less a Maradan Carson: no carriage draws up at the door of an Ebers or a Sams for “the last new novel;” nor does a well-warmed and well-floored bazar tempt the satin-slippered dame to wander among avenues of glittering gewgaws and elaborated trifles: the carriage of the veiled Osmanli stops at the door of some merchant who has a handsome shopman; and the name of the latter, having been previously ascertained, Sadak or Mustapha, as the case may be, is ordered by the arabajhe, or coachman, to exhibit to his mistress some article of merchandize, which he brings accordingly, and, while the lady affects to examine its quality and to decide on its value, she enters into conversation with the youth, playing upon him meanwhile the whole artillery of her fine eyes. The questioning generally runs nearly thus:—“What is your name?”—“How old are you?”—“Are you married?”—“Were you ever in love?”—and similar misplaced and childish questions. Should the replies of the interrogated person amuse her, and his beauty appear as great on a nearer view as when seen from a distance, the merchandize is objected to, and the visit repeated frequently, ere the fastidious taste of the purchaser can be satisfied.

Nor are women of high rank exempt from this indelicate fancy, which can only be accounted for by the belief that, like caged birds occasionally set free, they do not know how to use their liberty: the Sultana Haybétoullah, sister to his Sublime Highness, the Light of the Ottoman Empire, is particularly attached to this extraordinary passe-temps.

The following morning we started on an exploring expedition, accompanied by the closely-veiled and heavily-draped “Juno,” and attended by her nurse and child, and her quaintly-habited footman; and, as the carriage could not approach the house by a considerable distance, owing to the narrowness and steepness of the streets in that quarter of the city, (which, built upon the crest and down the slope of one of the “seven hills,” overlooks the glittering and craft-clustered port), we were obliged to walk to it through the frozen snow, upon the same principle that, as the mountain would not go to Mahomet, Mahomet was compelled to go to the mountain.

Directly I cast my eyes on the carriage, I had an excellent idea of that which the fairy godmother of Cinderella created for her favourite out of a pumpkin. Its form was that of a small covered waggon; its exterior was all crimson cloth, blue silk fringe, and tassels; and its inside precisely resembled a cake of gilt gingerbread. Four round looking-glasses, just sufficiently large to reflect the features, were impannelled on either side of the doors; and in the place of windows we had gilt lattices, so closely made that our position was the very reverse of cheerful; and, as I found it, moreover, quite impossible to breathe freely, these lattices were flung back despite the cold, and this arrangement being made, I established myself very comfortably on the satin cushions, with my feet doubled under me à la Turque, amid the piled-up luxuries of duvet and embroidery.

Our first visit was to the charshees, or, as Europeans for some inexplicable reason have the habit of calling them, the “bazars”—the word bazar literally signifying market—and, as the carriage rattled under the heavy portal, my first feeling was that of extreme disappointment. The great attraction of these establishments is undeniably their vast extent, for in tenue and richness they are as inferior to our own miniature bazars in London as possible. Rudely paved—disagreeably dirty—plentifully furnished with égouts, of which both the sight and the scent are unpleasing—badly lighted—clumsily built—and so constructed as to afford no idea of the space they cover, until you have wandered through the whole of their mazes, your involuntary impression is one of wonder at the hyperboles which have been lavished on them by travellers, and the uncalled-for extacies of tour-writers.

The charshees are like a little commercial town, roofed in; each street being appropriated to one particular trade or calling; and presenting relative degrees of attraction and luxury, from the diamond-merchant’s counter to the cushions of the shawl and fur-menders.

The Beizensteen is wonderfully rich in jewels, but in order to witness the display of these you must be, or be likely to become, a purchaser, as only a few, and those of comparatively small value, are exposed in the glass cases which ornament the counters. Nearly the whole of the jewellers are Armenians; as well as the money-changers, who transact business in their immediate vicinity. Indeed, all the steady commerce on a great scale in the capital may be said to be, with very slight exceptions, in the hands of the Armenians, who have the true, patient, plodding, calculating spirit of trade; while the wilder speculations of hazardous and ambitious enterprise are grasped with avidity by the more daring and adventurous Greeks; and hence arises the fact, for which it is at first sight difficult to account, that the most wealthy and the most needy of the merchants of Stamboul are alike of that nation: while you rarely see an Armenian either limited in his means, or obtrusive in his style.

In the street of the embroiderers, whose stalls make a very gay appearance, being hung all over with tobacco-bags, purses, and coiffures, wrought in gold and silver, we purchased a couple of richly-worked handkerchiefs, used by the ladies of the country for binding up the hair after the bath, and which are embroidered with a taste and skill truly admirable.

Thence we drove to the shoe bazar, where slippers worked with seed-pearls, and silver and gold thread, upon velvets of every shade and colour, make a very handsome and tempting appearance; and among these are ranged circular looking-glasses, of which the frames, backs, and handles are similarly ornamented. The scent-dealers next claimed our attention, and their quarter is indeed a miniature embodiment of “Araby the Blest,” for the atmosphere is one cloud of perfume. Here we were fully enabled to understand l’embarras des richesses, for all the sweets of the East and West tempted us at once, from the long and slender flacon of Eau de Cologne, to the small, gilded, closely-enveloped bottle of attar-gul. Nor less luxurious was the atmosphere of the spice bazar, with its pyramids of cloves, its piles of cinnamon, and its bags of mace—and, while the porcelain dealers allured us into their neighbourhood by a dazzling display, comprising every variety of ancient and modern china; silks, velvets, Broussa satins, and gold gauze in their turn invited us in another direction—and, in short, I left the charshees with aching eyes, and a very confused impression of this great mart of luxury and expence.

It was a most fatiguing day; and I was scarcely sorry when, having bade farewell to the hospitable family, who had so kindly and courteously received us as guests, we hastened to embark on board our caïque, and in ten minutes found ourselves at Topphannè, whence we slowly mounted the steep ascent which terminates in the high-street of Pera, within a hundred yards of our temporary residence.