TURKISH HAREMS
&
CIRCASSIAN HOMES
BY
MRS. HARVEY.
OF ICKWELL BURY.
LONDON
HURST & BLACKETT.
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET
1871.
TO THE
LADY ELIZABETH RUSSELL,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
PREFACE.
It is hoped by the Authoress that this little record of a past
summer may recall some pleasant recollections to those who have
already visited the sunny lands she attempts to describe; and that
her accounts, though they inadequately express the beauty and charm
of these distant countries, may interest those who prefer travelling
for half-an-hour when seated in their arm-chairs.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
THE CITY OF THE SUN 1
CHAPTER II.
THE HOUR OF PRAYER 21
CHAPTER III.
SECTS 40
CHAPTER IV.
THE HAREM 54
CHAPTER V.
THE HAPPY VALLEY 82
CHAPTER VI.
AN EASTERN BANQUET 99
CHAPTER VII.
EUPATORIA 111
CHAPTER VIII.
SEVASTOPOL 125
CHAPTER IX.
TRACES OF WAR 138
CHAPTER X.
VALLEY OF TCHERNAIA 157
CHAPTER XI.
A RUSSIAN INTERIOR 172
CHAPTER XII.
CIRCASSIA 200
CHAPTER XIII.
SOUKOUM 214
CHAPTER XIV.
CIRCASSIAN MEN AND WOMEN 239
CHAPTER XV.
A LAST RIDE 259
CHAPTER XVI.
SINOPE 271
CHAPTER XVII.
STORM-CLOUDS 289
TURKISH HAREMS
AND
CIRCASSIAN HOMES.
CHAPTER I.
THE CITY OF THE SUN.
It was on a sunny summer morning that an English schooner yacht,
that had been tossing about all night on the stormy waves of the
Sea of Marmora, rounded the point opposite Scutari, and, gracefully
spreading her wings like a white bird, came rapidly on under the
influence of the fresh morning breeze, and cast anchor at the entrance
of the Golden Horn.
The rattle of the chain had scarcely ceased when up came all the
poor sea-sick folk from below, for yachting people can be sea-sick
sometimes, whatever may be the popular belief to the contrary.
Never, perhaps, was a greater Babel of tongues heard on board any
little vessel. The owner of the yacht, his wife and sister, were
English; but there was an Italian governess, a French maid, a German
bonne, a Neapolitan captain, a Maltese mate, two children speaking
indifferently well most of these languages, and a crew comprising
every nation bordering the Mediterranean.
(This little explanation has been given in excuse for the desultory
nature of the few pages that are offered, with much diffidence,
to a kind public, as they consist principally of extracts from the
journals and letters of the various dwellers on board the Claymore.)
Besides these many tongues that were pouring forth expressions of joy
and admiration with a vehemence of gesticulation and an energy of
tone unknown in northern lands, two canaries, gifted with the most
vigorous lungs and the most indefatigable throats, lifted up their
shrill voices to add to the general clamour.
All this uproar, however, was but to express the delight every one
felt at the unequalled beauty of the scene before them.
"Veder Napoli, e poi morir!" is a well-known saying. Put Constantinople
instead of Naples, and the flattering words are equally applicable.
Constantinople has been so often written about that it is useless
to describe its lovely aspect in detail. Every one knows that there
are minarets and towers rising up, in fairy-like grace, from amid
gardens and cypress groves; but "he who would see it aright" should
have his first view in all the bright unreality of a sunny summer
morning. Soon after dawn, in the tender duskiness of the early hours,
when the light steals down shyly from the veiled east, and before
the business and noise of a great city begin, Constantinople is like
the sleeping beauty in the wood. A great hush is over everything,
broken only when the sun comes up in a blaze of light, flooding sea,
earth, and city with a "glory" of life and colour.
Then from each minaret is heard the voice of the muezzins, as they
summon the faithful to prayers. The fairy-like caïques skim in every
direction across the waters; and the beautifully-named but dirty and
somewhat ugly Golden Horn is all astir with moving vessels.
Nearly opposite the yacht was a very handsome building of white Greek
marble, with an immense frontage to the sea. This is the Sultan's
palace of Dolmé-Batché. The wing on the right, where the windows are
closely barred and jealously latticed, contains the apartments of
the ladies of the Imperial harem.
Behind the palace, stretching up the hill and crowning its summit,
are seen the white, handsome houses that form the fashionable suburb
of Pera. Here ambassadors and bankers have large, comfortable hotels;
here, too, are the European shops, and the promenade for the Christian
world. But the part to see--the part that interests--is, of course, the
old Turkish quarter, Stamboul; for in Stamboul are Turks in turbans,
and in Stamboul are real Turkish houses.
More tumble-down places it would be difficult to find. A man had
need to be a fatalist to live in a house of which all the four walls
lean at different angles. A fire, instead of a misfortune, must be a
real blessing, were it only to bring some air into the dirty, narrow,
ill-savoured streets.
The dirt, the narrowness, and the wretchedly bad pavement, combined
with another trouble, the multitude of dogs lying about, make walking,
pain and grief to the newly-arrived foreigner.
Besides these disagreeables, there is the danger of being crushed
flat against a wall by human beasts of burden called "hamals" or
porters. It is really frightful to see men so laden.
As they come staggering along, bent double beneath their loads, at
every few steps they utter a loud cry, to warn passers-by to get out
of their way. It is, however, by no means an easy matter to avoid
them. The streets are so narrow and tortuous that, after jumping
hastily aside to escape one monstrous package coming up the road, the
unhappy stranger is nearly knocked over by another huge load coming
down. Dogs' tails, too, are always lying where dogs' tails should not
be; and in the agitation and anxiety caused by incessantly darting
from side to side of the street to avoid the groaning "hamals," it
is exceedingly difficult to avoid treading occasionally on one of
these inconvenient tails, and then the whole quarter resounds with
hideous howlings.
The bazaars have been so well and so fully described that it is
needless to say much about them. Our first sensation on seeing them
was, perhaps, that of a little disappointment; but after a time we
better appreciated the picturesque beauty and richness of colouring
that the long dark lanes of little shops presented.
As a rule, few pretty things, excepting shoes and slippers, are exposed
on the stalls. Rugs, carpets, shawls, and jewels are generally kept
behind the shops in cupboards and warehouses.
Turquoises were very abundant and low in price, but all we saw were
of inferior quality, and the large stones had some flaw. Pretty
melon-shaped caskets are made in silver to hold cakes, and
the silver rose-water bottles are charming both in design and
workmanship. Foreigners are speedily attracted to the drug bazaar
by the odd mixture of pungent, pleasant, and disagreeable odours
that proceed from it. Here the scene is like a living picture of
the "Arabian Nights' Tales." Like Amine in the story of "The Three
Calenders," many a veiled figure attended by her black slave may
be seen making her purchases of drugs and spices of the venerable
old doctors, who, with spectacles on nose, and huge musty folios at
their side, look the very personification of wisdom, equally able to
administer medicines and to draw the horoscopes of their patients.
The arms bazaar is also attractive, not only for the magnificence and
value of its contents, but from the picturesque beauty of the quaint,
dark, lofty old building in which the richly-decorated weapons are
displayed.
At first, the immense amount of bargaining that is required before
any purchase can be effected is very amusing; but after some weeks it
becomes tiresome, even to people who have had many years' experience
in Italy.
If anything of importance has to be bought, many hours, sometimes many
days, elapse between the opening of the business and its conclusion.
The friends of both parties cordially assist in the affair with the
utmost force of their lungs, and an amount of falsehood is told
by Christians as well as Turks that ought to lie heavily on the
consciences of all; but "do in Turkey as the Turks do," is a maxim
which all appear to accept, and so no one dreams of speaking the
truth in a Constantinople bazaar.
When the struggle is at its height, coffee is brought, which materially
recruits the strength of all concerned, and should the affair be
very important, a friendly pipe is smoked; then everyone sets to
work again, vowing, protesting, denying. The seller asserts by all
that is holy that he will lose money, but that such is the love he
feels for the stranger and the Frank, that he will sell the article
to him for such and such a price (probably four times as much as the
sum he means to take), and at length, after an exhausting afternoon,
the foreigner retires triumphant, bearing away with him the coveted
shawls or carpets, and not having paid perhaps more than double the
money they are worth.
As we remained on the Bosphorus for a considerable part of the summer,
we were enabled not only to see at our ease the many objects of
interest to be found in Constantinople and the lovely country that
surrounds it, but also to gratify the great wish we had of becoming
somewhat acquainted with Turkish life, and of learning something of
the realities of Turkish homes.
Every year it is more difficult for passing travellers to gain
admittance to the harems. Of course the members of the principal
families object to be made a show of, and equally of course the
wives of the diplomatists residing in Constantinople are unwilling to
intrude too frequently upon the privacy of these ladies. A Turkish
visit also entails a somewhat serious loss of time, as it generally
lasts from mid-day to sunset.
When royal and other very great ladies arrive at Constantinople,
certain grand fêtes are given to them in different official houses,
but these magnificent breakfasts and dinners do not give Europeans a
better knowledge of Turkish homes than a dinner or ball at Buckingham
Palace or the Tuileries would give a Turk respecting the nature of
domestic life in England or France.
The wives of several diplomats had given us letters of introduction
to many of their friends at Constantinople, and so kindly were these
responded to by the Turkish ladies that we found ourselves received
at once with the greatest cordiality, and before we left the shores
of the Bosphorus had made friendships that we heartily trust we may
be fortunate enough to renew at some future day.
After a stay of several months, our conviction was that it would be
difficult to find people more kind-hearted, more simple-mannered,
or more sweet-tempered than the Turkish women.
The servants, or slaves, are treated with a kindness and consideration
that many Christian households would do well to imitate. They seem
quite part of the family, and in fact a woman slave does belong to
it should she have a child, as she then is entitled to her freedom,
and her master is bound to accord her certain privileges which give
her a position higher than that of a servant, though she does not
attain the dignity of being a wife.
The greatest punishment we have heard of, and which is only inflicted
on viragos whose tongues set the whole harem in a flame, is to sell (or
what is still worse) to give them away to a family of inferior rank.
This is considered a frightful indignity, and one which, when seriously
threatened, usually suffices to still the veriest shrew.
Of course a jealous and perhaps neglected wife may occasionally make a
pretty young odalisk's life somewhat uncomfortable, but harsh usage and
cruelty are almost unknown; and in general the wife (for now there is
seldom more than one) is quite satisfied if her authority is upheld,
and if she remain the supreme head of the household. If content on
these matters, she rarely troubles herself about the amusements of
her husband.
A Turkish woman also rapidly becomes old, and after a few years of
youth finds her principal happiness in the care of her children,
in eating, in the gossip at the bath, and in the weekly drive to the
Valley of the Sweet Waters.
A Turkish wife, whatever her rank, is always at home at sunset to
receive her husband, and to present him with his pipe and slippers
when, his daily work over, he comes to enjoy the repose of his harem.
In most households also the wife superintends her husband's dinner,
and has the entire control over all domestic affairs.
The greatest charm of the Turkish ladies consists in the perfect
simplicity of their manners, and in the total absence of all pretence.
When we knew them better, the childlike frankness with which they
talked was both amusing and pleasant; but many of them nevertheless
were shrewd and intelligent, and had they received anything like
adequate education, would have been able to compete with some of the
most talented of their European sisters.
As mothers, their tenderness is unequalled, but their fault here is
over-indulgence of the children, who, until ten or twelve years of age,
are permitted to do everything they like.
Many of the ladies whose acquaintance we made showed a remarkably
quick ear, and great facility in learning various songs and pieces
of music that we gave them. Their voices were sweet and melodious,
and it was surprising with what rapidity they caught the Italian and
Neapolitan airs that they heard us sing.
The great bar to any real progress being made towards their due
education, and the enlargement of their minds, is the seclusion in
which they live.
Men and women are evidently not intended to live socially apart, for
each deteriorates by the separation. Men who live only with other men
become rough, selfish, and coarse; whilst women, when entirely limited
to the conversation of their own sex, grow indolent, narrow-minded,
and scandal-loving. Like flint and steel, the brilliant spark only
comes forth when the necessary amount of friction has been applied.
Whatever degree of intimacy may be attained, it is rare that foreigners
obtain a knowledge of more than the surface of Turkish life and
manners. Strangers, therefore, should speak with much caution
and reserve; but still, even a casual observer must perceive that
polygamy and the singular laws regarding succession are productive
of innumerable evils amongst the Turks.
The men, it is said, have but little, if any, love for their
offspring. Not only do they dislike the expense of bringing up
children, but fathers dread having sons who in time may become their
most dangerous enemies.
In quiet families who live apart from public life the boys have a
better chance of being spared. In families of very high rank but
few are to be seen, whilst in the households of the relatives of the
Sultan they are still more rare.
Infanticide, therefore, prevails extensively; it is hinted at without
scruple; in fact, the Turks, both men and women, do not hesitate
to express their surprise that Europeans encumber themselves with
large families.
In the Imperial House, the throne descends in succession to each son of
a deceased Sultan before any grandson can inherit. This regulation was
made in order that the monarch should be the nearest living relative
of the Prophet.
In olden times, therefore, the first act of a Sultan on ascending the
throne was to get rid of all his brothers by imprisonment or death,
not only for the purpose of securing the crown for his own children,
but to prevent the risk that might accrue to himself by there being
a grown-up successor ready to usurp his place.
Personal merit used to be a matter of comparative indifference to
the Turks, provided the Sultan were a member of the great imperial
family. Occasionally therefore monarchs, who had reason to believe
themselves much hated by their subjects, have not hesitated to
sacrifice their own offspring to their fears.
The late Sultan, Abd-ul-Medjid, was thought a wonder of liberality
because he permitted his brother, the present Sultan, to live. But
Abd-ul-Medjid's heart had been softened by a sorrow he had had in early
life. Shortly before he came to the throne he had a favourite odalisk,
to whom he was much attached. In those days none of the royal princes
were permitted to become fathers, and the poor girl fell a sacrifice
to the State policy which forbade her becoming the mother of a living
child. Within a week of her death Sultan Mahmoud died, and his son
ascended the throne. Had the odalisk lived and had a son, she would
have enjoyed the rank of first "Kadun" to the reigning monarch.
The Sultan's rank is so elevated--his position is so far above that of
every other mortal--that there is no woman on earth sufficiently his
equal to enable him to marry her. He has, therefore, no legal wife,
but his ladies are called "Kaduns," or companions, and the mother
of his eldest son is always chief kadun, a position that gives her
many advantages. These ladies are not called sultanas, for only the
princesses of the blood-royal enjoy that title, but the mother of
the reigning sovereign is named Sultan-Validé.
Occasionally, when there is a subject whom the Sultan wishes especially
to honour, the favoured pasha has one of the monarch's daughters
or sisters given to him in marriage; but this great distinction
is sometimes the cause of much sorrow, and uproots much domestic
happiness, as all other wives must be sent away, and the children of
such marriages equally banished, before the royal bride will condescend
to enter the pasha's harem. Even after marriage, the royal lady
will sometimes insist upon retaining all the privileges of her rank,
and in that case the husband becomes the veriest slave imaginable,
never daring to enter the harem unless summoned by the princess,
and when there often obliged to remain standing while receiving the
orders of his imperial and imperious wife. F---- Pasha, though his
ambition was gratified by becoming the brother-in-law of the Sultan,
paid somewhat dearly, if reports be true, for the honour of this royal
alliance, as the princess was said to be a lady of uncertain temper,
or rather of a very certain temper, as Charles Dickens described it. At
any rate F---- Pasha's heart clung to the forsaken wife and children
of his humbler and perhaps happier days; and sometimes in the dusk
of the evening a small, undecorated caïque, containing a man closely
muffled up, might be seen darting swiftly across the Bosphorus from
the palace of the lordly pasha to the remote quarter of Scutari,
where, in a humble house in a back street, were hid away the poor
deserted wife and her little children.
All, therefore, is not gold that glitters in the lives of the members
of the imperial family, and the State policy that ordains there
shall not be too many heirs near the throne often wrings the heart
and embitters the existence of many of the tender-hearted princesses.
Although the men probably accept the necessities of this policy
with comparative indifference, the mothers do not so easily resign
themselves to the loss of their infants, and many a sad story gets
whispered about of the grievous struggles some of the poor creatures
have made to preserve their little ones from the impending doom.
The death of one royal lady that took place while we were at
Constantinople, was hastened by the grief she had gone through by
thus losing her only boy.
When her marriage took place, she had obtained the promise that all her
children were to be spared. In due time a boy was born, and the father
received an intimation that the child had better "cease to be." The
Sultana, however, claimed the fulfilment of the promise that had been
made her, and watched and guarded the little fellow most rigorously.
The Sultan's word being inviolable, it was not possible to break it
openly, but the mother was aware of the jealousy that was created by
the privilege accorded to her, and knew that the child's life was in
constant peril. It is said that attempts were made both to poison and
to drown him, but these cruel designs were frustrated by the vigilance
of his mother, who never suffered the child to be absent from her.
When the boy was between two and three years old, two more of the
Sultan's daughters married, and many magnificent fêtes were given on
the occasion. The elder sister was of course present, accompanied
as usual by her little son; but one day in the crowd the child
disappeared, and has never since been heard of.
Although the poor mother had another child, a girl, she never held
up her head again after the disappearance of her boy, and actually
pined away and died from grief at his loss.
This is not a solitary instance of the sorrows of royal Turkish ladies.
As we became more intimate with the inhabitants of the harem,
and were able to understand and express ourselves a little better,
our friends made themselves very merry at the expense of some of our
Frank customs. Few of our habits appeared to them more ludicrous than
that of the men so incessantly raising their hats.
When quarrelling, it is a common mode of abuse to say, "May your
fatigued and hated soul, when it arrives in purgatory, find no more
rest than a Giaour's hat enjoys on earth!"
The Turkish language is rich and euphonious, and is capable of so
much variety of expression that it is remarkably well adapted to
poetry. The verses we occasionally heard recited had a rhythm that
was exceedingly agreeable to the ear.
Though improvements do not march on in Turkey with giant strides,
still progress is being made surely, though slowly; and many of
the Turks, besides being well educated in other respects, now speak
Italian, English, and French with much fluency. Some of the ladies,
also, are beginning to learn these languages, although most of them,
excepting those very few who have been abroad, are too shy to venture
to speak in a foreign tongue.
The Sultan's mother--the Sultan-Validé--was a very superior woman,
and did much good service towards promoting education. Amongst other
of her excellent deeds, she founded a college for the instruction of
young candidates for public offices.
There are now in Constantinople medical, naval, and agricultural
schools, all well attended, and fairly well looked after.
For the women, private tuition is of course their only means of
learning, and not only is the supply of governesses very limited,
but their abilities are in general of a very mediocre description.
Unless in very superior families, a little--a very little Arabic, to
enable them to read, though not to understand, the Koran, working,
knitting, and perhaps a slight acquaintance with French and music,
is deemed amply sufficient knowledge for daughters to acquire.