My uncle is going to send for another of my aunts to come to Paris.
Well! what of that?--My uncle is a Mussulman, you know; and, being a man
of principle, his duties are more onerous than yours, that's all!
My services were required to take a little house at Passy, where she is
to live. I wonder whether it is my aunt Gretchen, my aunt Euphrosine, or
my aunt Cora? He has not given me the slightest hint on this point.
While awaiting this addition to our family, Barbassou-Pasha pursues his
eccentric career in a manner that beats description. This visit to Paris
has brought out more than ever the quaint independence of his
character. One is reminded of a man who stands on a bridge watching the
river flow by, but now and then takes a header into it to cool himself.
The other day at the club, he lost sixty-three thousand francs to me at
baccarat, just for a little distraction. The evening after, he was
entertaining at our house his late Lieutenant Rabassu, whom he always
speaks of as "the cause of his death," and who has come here upon some
business. He won eleven francs from him at piquet, playing for a franc
the hundred points. For the moment I felt quite alarmed for the poor
victim! But my mind was soon set at ease; for Rabassu, who is used to
his captain's play, knows how to cheat as cleverly as his master. Their
losses soon balanced each other.
Putting aside little dissipations of this kind, I should add that "the
late Barbassou" is really very steady-going for a man of his
temperament. He takes everything which comes in the routine of our
fashionable life so naturally, that nobody would imagine he had spent
several years at the hulks in Turkey.
My aunt Eudoxia, of whom he stands in wholesome awe, and who keeps him
in check, forces him to cultivate the vanities of this world. He escorts
her to balls and fêtes with all that ceremony with which you are
familiar; and quitting the lofty regions of his own philosophical
existence, without however permitting anything to disturb his
self-possession, he goes forth into the gay and hurried throngs of Paris
with as little concern as he would into any village street. In short, he
is in exquisite form, and--but for the legal disabilities which deprive
him of his rights of citizenship--you would find him still exactly what
he was when you knew him five years ago.
However, the other day he received a little shock in connection with a
very simple incident, which might have been perfectly anticipated.
We were in my aunt's box at the Opera. The pasha, seated by her side,
was listening to a singer who was rather more buxom than elegant; and he
appeared to be calculating what her nett weight would be, after making
deduction for her queen's crown and robes of state. After a minute or
so, he seemed to have solved this equation and lost all further interest
in the problem, for he began to examine the audience. All of a sudden he
shouted out, quite forgetting himself, in his Provençal brogue:
"_Té!_ What's that I see?"
"Hush!" said my aunt, nudging him with her elbow, without turning round.
"But, _bagasse!_ it's Mohammed!" he added, in a lower tone.
It was indeed Mohammed, who attracted some attention as he walked with
my houris into their famous box.
"Well, you're right," replied my aunt. "I recognise his charming
daughters."
You may be sure my uncle put up his glasses. When all my people were
settled down in their box, he surveyed them carefully, interrupting his
examination occasionally in order to take a furtive scowl at me. But my
aunt's presence kept him quiet. His composure was perfect for that
matter, except that he seemed extremely puzzled. There were only three
of them--that evidently was not the right number for him. As for me,
prudence dictated that I should get out of the way as quickly as
possible, leaving him to make what observations he pleased.
As I was slipping away quietly to the back of the box, I heard my aunt
saying:
"Are you going to speak to him?"
"No; we have had a quarrel!" he growled, looking again for me at his
side.
But slam went the door, and I was out in the passage, whence I escaped
to the back of the scenes and to the green-room. There he joined me
during the _entr'acte_. But, as you are aware, "Turks do not discuss
harem matters." All I could see clearly was that he was in a fury with
me.
To turn, however, to other things, my perseverance on behalf of
Kondjé-Gul is at last rewarded with complete success.
After I had spent a whole week in looking about, I found, in the Beaujou
district, an institution for young ladies presided over by a Madame
Montier, a kind woman of polished manners. She had suffered a reverse of
fortune, which seems to have prepared her for the express purpose of
civilizing my Kondjé-Gul. There are never more than three or four
boarders in the house: at the present moment two American girls,
daughters of a commodore who is on a mission to the King of Siam, are
finishing their education there. Nothing could suit my purpose better.
When the time arrived, however, for putting my plan into execution, I
must confess that I could not help feeling considerable embarrassment. I
could certainly have introduced Kondjé-Gul as a young foreign lady,
prematurely widowed, who was anxious to qualify herself for French
society; but I soon found that this would create an unnecessary
complication. Decidedly the better course would be for Mahommed to
introduce her either as his ward or his daughter. Under any
circumstances it was desirable that I should explain to her the
necessity of extreme prudence.
At last, one evening, when I thought she was about to revert to this
great object of her ambition, I started the subject myself.
"I am going to announce an important piece of news," I said to her; "I
have found a convent for you where you can stay pending your mother's
arrival."
"Really!" she exclaimed, kissing me. "Oh, my dear André, how kind you
are!"
"Yes; but I must warn you. This realisation of your dream is only
possible at the cost of sacrifices, which will perhaps be hard for you
to make."
"What sacrifices? Tell me, quick!"
"First, assiduous work, and next, the sacrifice of your liberty; for
during the whole time you remain at this establishment, you won't be
able to leave the place."
"What does that matter?" she exclaimed, "provided I can see you every
day!"
"But that's exactly what will be impossible."
"Why?" she asked, in her simplicity.
"Because, according to our customs, bachelors are never admitted into
young ladies' schools," I replied, with a laugh.
"But as I belong to you," she continued, with an astonished look, "they
will not be surprised at your coming; are not you my master?"
"This reason, my dear, although a convincing one for you, would
constitute the greatest obstacle; for they must not be allowed on any
account to suspect that you are my wife. Mohammed alone will introduce
you either as his daughter or as a young lady under his charge, and, for
conventional reasons, which you will understand later on, this period of
study will be a period of separation for us."
I then let her know the whole truth about certain of our social
conventionalities, concerning which she was still in ignorance. When she
learned that our laws declared her free, and the equal of any
Frenchwoman, and that I had no longer any rights over her, she looked
inexpressibly pained.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into my arms, "what do
you mean? Am I free, and my own mistress, and not yours for ever?"
"You are mine, because I love you," I said to her very quickly, seeing
her agitation; "and so long as you do not _want_ to leave me--"
"Leave you! But what would become of me, then, without you?"
And her eyes filled with tears.
"What a foolish girl you are!" I replied, quite touched at her evident
pain; "you are exaggerating the significance of my words: your liberty
will make no difference in our relations."
"Why did you tell me this cruel truth, then? I was so happy in the
belief that I was your slave, and in obeying and loving you at the same
time."
"Still it was necessary for me to tell you, as you wish to learn our
ideas and customs. Your ignorance was a source of danger, for even your
questions might lead to the betrayal of relations which must remain a
mystery for the rest of the world, and, above all, in the 'pension,'
where you are about to live with companions."
I had some difficulty in consoling her for this terrible discovery that
our laws do not recognise slavery. Nevertheless, her desire for further
instruction remained very keen.
Finally, two days afterwards, Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul entered Madame
Montier's institution, having been presented by her guardian, the worthy
Omer-Rashid-Effendi, who made all the necessary arrangements with the
majestic dignity which he displays on every occasion.
Although I have kept myself carefully in the background in all this
matter, I watch its progress just the same, and superintend everything.
Every evening Kondjé-Gul writes to her guardian, and I get her letters
at once: I can assure you they constitute quite an interesting romance.
For a whole week Kondjé-Gul, who had been rather overawed at first and
astonished at all her new surroundings, seemed to live like one dazed.
She would not trust herself to speak, fearing to appear uncultivated;
but she observed, and the results of her observations were most curious.
After that I perceived that she was gradually trying her wings; for when
she had been initiated a few days into her new life, she soon abandoned
her reserve, and has by this time passed the first step in her
emancipation. Her simplicity of character, and her quaint Oriental
manners, have secured her some very cordial friendships; and nothing can
be more charming than the accounts she gives me of her devotion for her
friends, Maud and Suzannah Montague, who are the realisation of
perfection in her eyes.
Of course Kondjé-Gul's educational programme, as fixed by me, is
confined within very modest limits. It consists of music, history, and a
slight and general acquaintance with literature. But above all she is
expected to acquire that indispensable familiarity with our ideas, and
those feminine graces and refinements which can only be learnt by
contact with women and girls brought up in good society. A few months at
Madame Montier's will be sufficient for this purpose, and the
cultivation of her mind can be completed later on by private lessons.
My harem in the Faubourg St. Germain retains its Oriental aspect; it is
a corner of the world described in the "Arabian Nights," where I indulge
from time to time, in the midst of Paris, in the distractions of a
vizier of Samarcand or Bagdad. There, when the shutters are closed, in
my _gynæceum_ (or women's apartment), illuminated by lamps which shed a
soft lustre upon us, while the bluish-grey smoke from my narguilé
perfumes the atmosphere, my houris lull me to sleep to the music of
their taraboucks.
With all this I am not quite so satisfied, as I would have liked to
describe myself, with certain incidents which have occurred in
connection with my harem. Certainly, they are all the natural
consequences of our life in Paris; for I don't suppose you imagine that
I had not foreseen the psychological effect which entirely new ideas
would unavoidably produce upon the profoundly ignorant minds of my
houris. Besides, a progressive and judicious emancipation from their
previous restraints formed part of my programme for them. But the
introduction into the harem of certain high-class lady's-maids,
indispensable for initiating my little animals into the subtle mysteries
of Parisian toilets, has of necessity led to their making a number of
discoveries, which have contributed in a remarkable degree to their
civilization:--hardly, however, in those elements which I could have
most desired. They have all of them got to know a great deal more than
was necessary for them about those famous "customs of our harems in
France," the principles of which I had endeavoured to teach them. Thus I
even noticed the other day that I set Zouhra and Nazli laughing when I
reminded them of some point of etiquette. Although they are still imbued
with the good principles of their native education, it is evident they
are being corrupted by the poison of Liberalism. This I am convinced of
by certain airs of assurance which they have put on, by their
coquetries, and by novel and unexpected caprices which they now display.
The "Rights of Woman" have clearly been divulged to them. They talk of
walking out by themselves, of visiting the popular theatres and
music-halls, and even Mabille, the illuminations of which struck their
fancy very much the other night, as we were passing the Avenue Montaigne
in the carriage, on our way back from the Bois. One little instance will
illustrate the situation for you. Mohammed's rank and titles have ceased
to impress them with any respect; and the day before yesterday Zouhra
actually had the impudence to say "Chut!" to him.
This expression will clearly indicate to you an astonishing progress in
the refinements of our language; but it will also, no doubt, afford you
a text upon which to declaim in that cruelly sarcastic style which your
Philistine genius revels in. I will, therefore, anticipate you by
replying:
In the first place, that Mohammed does not understand French--a fact
which considerably diminishes the gravity of Zouhra's disrespect;
In the second, that I never doubted but what their stay in Paris would
open my houris' minds to new ideas;
And in the third, that neither did I doubt but what they would acquire,
in consequence, more precise notions upon the extent of their rights.
Woman, like any other animal susceptible of education, possesses the
most subtle faculties of imitation. Now if, her weak nature being
overcome by those impulses towards mischief and malice with which she is
peculiarly endowed, she is tempted to commit trivial derelictions of
conduct--derelictions which, after all, are but faults of
discernment--is there any reason why we should make such a fuss about
it?
In the midst of the supremely refined existence which my sultanas lead,
I seem to discover in these innocent little vagaries a frank simplicity
of character, more nearly related to purity of conscience than are the
accomplished manners of our most polished coquettes.
While on this subject I must reply to the sarcasms contained in your
last letter.
Let me tell you first of all that I have never laid claim to the
character of a superior being inaccessible to human vanities, as you are
trying to make out. I am quite willing to admit with you that I, like
any other man, am possessed by "the stupid satisfaction which every man
experiences in watching the success of the woman he loves." It is quite
possible that the effect produced by my odalisques upon the idle crowd
(or as you term it _la haute badauderie_) of Paris, has suddenly
invested them with new charms in my eyes. You say that the mystery with
which they are enshrouded, and the silly conjectures which I hear people
make about them as they pass by, have excited me and turned my head like
that of a simpleton.
Well, I suppose you will hardly expect me to account for the human
weakness which leads us to measure our own happiness by the degree of
envy which it excites in others? Besides, what is the good of sifting
my passion or testing my love in a crucible in order to estimate its
value?
In the midst of my pagan indulgences, you ask me if I really love, in
the usual sense of that word. This very reasonable question was at any
rate worth asking, however simple it may seem. It is concerned with the
great problem in psychology which I undertook to solve, namely, as to
which predominates in love, the heart or the senses, and whether true
love is possible when one loves four women at the same time?
It is clear that in the restricted limits of our ideas, and under the
yoke of our customs and prejudices, we can only conceive of passion as
concentrated upon a single object. Too far removed from our primitive
origin and from the patriarchal age, and moulded by the influences of
more refined customs, our minds have been stimulated to the
contemplation of a certain recognized ideal. Still, as moralists and
philosophers, we must admit that among Orientals there is, doubtless,
another conception and another ideal of love, the character of which we
cannot grasp. It is only by divesting ourselves of our moral clogs, or
the restraints of our social conventionalities, that we can attain to
the understanding of this lofty psychological problem. Indeed, no one
has ever been able to say what love consists in. "Attraction of two
hearts," say some, and "mutual exchange of fancies;" but these are
nothing but words depending upon the particular instance in which they
are employed.
The truth is that we are full of inconsistencies in all our
definitions. From a purely sentimental point of view, we start by laying
down, as an absolute axiom, that the human heart can only embrace one
object of love, and that man can only fall truly in love once in his
life. Yet if we abstract from love the distinct element which our senses
contribute to it, it is seen to consist of nothing but a form of
affection--an expansion of the soul analogous to friendship and to
paternal or filial love, sentiments equally powerful, but which we
recognize the duty of distributing between several objects.
Whence arises this strange contradiction?
Do not declare that it is a paradox, for our ideas on the subject
proceed entirely from our education and from the influence of custom
upon our minds. If we had been bred on the banks of the Ganges, of the
Nile, or of the Hellespont, our school of æsthetics would have been
different. The most romantic Turkish or Persian poet could not
understand the vain subtleties of our emotions. Since his laws permit
him several wives, it is his duty to love them all, and his heart rises
to the occasion. Do you mean to tell me that his is a different love to
ours? Upon what grounds? What do you know about it? Cannot you
understand the charms of the obligation he is under to protect them all,
in this equal distribution of his affections? It comes to this, in fact,
that our ideas on the point are simply and always a question of latitude
and of climate. We love like poor helpless creatures of circumstances.
It is these very psychological considerations which form the basis of
the social argument which I intend to demonstrate in the important work
which I am preparing for the Academy of Science, and which I introduce
as follows:--
"Revered Mother,
"Among the learned and celebrated members of whom your illustrious
Society so justly boasts, the most competent have already determined to
their satisfaction the general principles which should regulate the
study of biology. It would be the height of presumption on my part to
set up my unworthy opinion against theirs, were it not for the fact that
I can adduce, as a justification for doing so, certain data in my own
possession which very few, probably, of these highly-respected
authorities could have procured under such favourable conditions as I
have been enabled to do. As the nephew of a Pasha I have, &c."
As you perceive, this modest preface is well calculated to soothe the
delicate susceptibilities of the Institute.
The civilization of my Kondjé-Gul has become quite the most delightful
subject of study for me. It presents a complete romance in itself, and
the denial which I have imposed upon myself adds a certain charm to it.
I must tell you that her stay with Madame Montier has gradually produced
a number of unforeseen complications. Commodore Montague has returned;
one of the consequences of which is that the intimacy between the Misses
Maud and Suzannah Montague and the ward of worthy Omer-Rashid-Effendi,
which has seemed to him a most desirable one, has been so much
encouraged that they have become inseparable, and Kondjé-Gul has of
course been invited by her young friends to entertainments given by
their father--invitations which she has been unable to decline for fear,
thereby, of arousing suspicions.
Discretion on my part, you will thus perceive, has become more than ever
necessary, so long as Kondjé-Gul remains with Madame Montier. Our
amorous relations are absolutely reduced to epistolary effusions, and to
clandestine meetings, to bring about which we have recourse to all the
stratagems employed by separated lovers. There is a certain piquancy in
these adventures which affords us much delight--so true is it that the
deprivation of a pleasure enhances its value. In the morning Kondjé-Gul
takes riding-lessons in the Bois with Maud and Suzannah, who are
accompanied by their father. I sometimes take a canter that way, in
order to watch their party ride by. She looks charming in her
riding-habit, and the Montague girls are really very pretty, especially
Maud, who has a pert little playful expression which is very
fascinating.
I forgot to tell you that Kondjé-Gul's mother, Murrah-Hanum, has
arrived. She is a woman of forty-five, tall, with a distinguished
bearing, and rather handsome still. Yet although she has been
Europeanized by her residence at the French consul's at Smyrna, and
speaks our language almost with fluency, she retains in her manners all
the peculiarities of the Circassian and the Asiatic; she has an
easy-going and indolent temperament, and in her large dark eyes you can
read the stern resignation of the fatalist races. When she appeared
before me, she lavished upon me, in Oriental fashion, the most ardent
expressions of devotion. I assured her of my desire to secure to her a
share in all the advantages which I wished to confer upon Kondjé-Gul.
She expressed her gratitude with calmness and dignity, and swore to
observe towards me the submissive obedience which she owed to her
daughter's husband. In short, you can picture the interview for
yourself; it was characterized by all the florid effusiveness of
Mahommedan greetings.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]