Imperial Gratitude—The Freed Woman—A Female Cœlebs—Hussein
the Watchmaker—Golden Dreams—Arabas and Arabajhes—Maternal
Regrets—A Matrimonial Excursion—Difficult Position—The
_Sèkèljhes_—A Young Husband—The Emir—The Officer of the
Guard—The Emir’s Daughter—First Love—Ballad Singing—A
Salutation—Moonlight—Rejected Addresses—Ruse de Guerre—The
Arrest—A Lover’s Defence—Munificence of the Seraskier Pasha.
The Sultan occasionally recompenses the faithful services of the slaves
of the Imperial Seraï by giving them their liberty, accompanied by a
donation sufficiently liberal to enable them to establish themselves in
an eligible manner. On a late occasion, he emancipated an elderly woman,
who had secured his favour by her unremitted attentions to one of his
wives during a protracted illness; and, being light of heart at the
moment, and perhaps curious to learn how she would act on such an
emergency, he desired her to put on her yashmac, and to take a boat to
Stamboul, where she was to hire an araba, and drive slowly about the
city, until she saw an individual whom she desired for a husband; when,
if he could be identified, she should be his wife within the week.
His Imperial Highness was obeyed on the instant. One of the Palace
caïques rowed to the door of the harem; and the freed slave, accompanied
by an aged companion, stepped in, and was rapidly conveyed to Stamboul.
On landing at “the Gate of the Garden,” she walked into the house of
Hussein the watchmaker, with whose wife she was acquainted; and while
the stripling son of the worthy Musselmaun was despatched for an araba,
she took her place upon the sofa, and partook of the grape-jelly and
coffee which were handed to her by her officious hostess. These were
succeeded by the _kadeun-chibouk_, or woman’s pipe; and she had not
flung out half a dozen volumes of smoke from her nostrils, ere all the
harem of Hussein the watchmaker knew that she was free, and about to
chuse a helpmeet from among the tradesmen of the city.
At every “Mashallàh!” uttered by her auditors, the self-gratulation of
the visitor increased; and she, who a day previously had not wasted a
thought on matrimony, smoked on in silence, absorbed in dreams of
tenderness and ambition.
The araba was, of course, a full hour ere it appeared, for the arabajhe
had to smoke his _narghïlè_, or water-pipe; and the arabajhe’s assistant
had to repair the damages which the last day’s journey had done to the
harness, and to wash away the mud that yet clung about the wheels; and
after that there were comments to be made upon the horses, as they were
slowly attached to the vehicle; and on the unusual circumstance of a
Turkish woman hiring a carriage, without previously bargaining with the
owner for the sum to be paid.
But Yusuf, the son of Hussein, who found more amusement in watching the
slow motions of the arabajhe than in keeping guard over his father’s
chronometers, put an end to the astonishment of the party by informing
them that the person who had engaged the vehicle was a slave of the
Imperial Seraï; a piece of information which tended considerably to
expedite the preparations of the coachman, and to excite the curiosity
of his companions.
The female Cœlebs, meanwhile, had emptied three chibouks; and as the
ashes of each was deposited in the little brass dish that rested on the
carpet, brighter, and fairer visions rose before her; and on each
occasion that she drew from amid the folds of the shawl which bound her
waist, the cachemire purse that contained her tobacco, and replenished
her pipe, she indulged in a more flattering augury of her day’s
speculation.
To render the circumstance more intelligible to the European reader, it
may be as well to state that there are few tradesmen in Stamboul who
would hesitate to marry an Imperial slave, whatever might be her age or
personal infirmities, as she is sure to bring with her a golden apology
for all her defects: and thus it was not astonishing that the wife of
Hussein sighed as she remembered that her son Yusuf was yet a child, and
that, consequently, she could not offer his hand to her visiter; and the
more sincerely that the worthy watchmaker did not stand high in the
favour of fortune; the “accursed Giaours,” as the angry Hanoum did not
hesitate to declare, selling for the same price demanded by the Turkish
artisan for his inferior ware, watches that were as true as the muezzin,
and as enduring as the Koràn.
At length the araba drew up beneath the latticed windows; and the two
friends, resuming their slippers, shuffled across the matted floor of
the harem, followed by the compliments and _teminas_ of their hostess;
mattresses and cushions were arranged in the vehicle by the hands of
Hussein himself; and their yashmacs having been re-arranged, they were
ere long jolting over the rough pavement of the city of Constantine.
They first bent their course to the Charshees; and the confidant pointed
out many a grave-looking, middle-aged Mussulmaun to the admiration of
her companion; but the freed-woman only shrugged her shoulders, uttered
a contemptuous “Mashallàh!” and turned away her eyes.
The stream of life flowed on beside their path. Turbans of green, of
white, and of yellow passed along; but none of the wearers found favour
in the sight of the husband-seeking fair one. Hours were wasted in vain;
she was as far removed from a decision as when she stepped into the
caïque at Beglierbey; and the patience of her companion was worn
threadbare; she became silent, sullen, and sleepy—and still the araba
groaned and drawled along the narrow streets—Human nature could endure
no more; and after having been jolted out of a quiet slumber three
several times, the confidant digressed from weariness to expostulation.
“May the Prophet receive me into paradise! Is there not a True Believer
in Stamboul worthy to become the husband of a woman whose hair is gray;
and who has long ceased to pour out the scented sherbet in the garden of
roses? Had it been my _kismet_[7] to come hunting through the
thoroughfares of the city on the same errand, I should have chosen long
ago.”
The freed-woman only replied by desiring the arabajhe to drive to the
quarter inhabited by the _sèkèljhes_, or sweetmeat-makers; the finest
race of men in Constantinople. When they entered it, she began to look
about her with more earnestness than she had hitherto exhibited; but
even here she was in no haste to come to a decision; and although she
passed many a stately Musselmaun whom she would not have refused in the
brightest days of her youth, she “made no sign” until she arrived
opposite to the shop of a manufacturer of _alva_, a sweet composition
much esteemed in the East; where half a dozen youths, bare-legged, and
with their shirt sleeves rolled up to their shoulders, were employed in
kneading the paste, previously to its being put into the oven.
“_Inshallàh_—I trust in God! He is here—” said the lady, as she
stopped the carriage; “See you not that tall stripling, with arms like
the blossom of the seringa, and eyes as black as the dye of Khorasan?”
“He who is looking towards us?” exclaimed her companion in astonishment;
“The Prophet have pity on him! Why, he is young enough to be your son.”
The answer of the freed-woman was an angry pull at her yashmac, as she
drew more closely together the folds of her feridjhe. The young and
handsome sèkèljhe was summoned to the side of the araba, and found to
improve upon acquaintance; upon which he was informed of the happiness
that awaited him, and received the tidings with true Turkish philosophy;
and in a few days the bride removed into a comfortable harem, of which
the ground-floor was a handsome shop, fitted up with a select stock of
sweetmeats at the expence of the Sultan; and those who desire to see
one of the principal actors in this little comedy, need only enter the
gaily-painted establishment at the left-hand corner of the principal
street leading into the Atmeidan, to form an acquaintance with Suleiman
the sèkèljhe.
Another occurrence, equally authentic, and still more recent, is
deserving of record, as being peculiarly characteristic of the rapid
progress of enlightenment and liberality. An Emir of the city,
celebrated for his sanctity and rigid observance of all the laws of
Mahomet, had a fair daughter who sometimes indulged, in the solitude of
the harem, in softer dreams than those of her austere father.
Unfortunately for the stately priest, a guard-house, tenanted by a dozen
armed men, under the command of an officer whose personal merits
exceeded his years, was established not a hundred yards from his house;
and, as the youthful commander paced slowly to and fro the street to
dispel his ennui, it so chanced that he generally terminated his walk
beneath the windows of the Emir’s harem.
The first time that the pretty Yasumi[8] Hanoum peeped through her
lattice at the handsome soldier, the blood rushed to her brow, and her
heart beat quick, though she knew not wherefore. The young beauty
led a lonely life, for she was motherless, and her father was a stern
man, who had no sympathy with womanly tastes; and, satisfied with
providing for her daily necessities, never troubled himself further.
It was by no means extraordinary, therefore, that she amused her
idleness with watching the motions of the stranger; nor that, by
dint of observing him, she ere long discovered that he was rapidly
becoming an object of interest to her heart.
Then followed all the manœuvres of an Eastern beauty, who has no means
of communication with the other sex, save those which her woman-wit
enables her to invent. A shower of lavender buds, flung from the narrow
opening of the lattice upon his head, first attracted the attention of
the gallant Moslem to the Emir’s harem; nor was it diminished by a
glimpse of one of the whitest little hands in the world, which, ere it
closed the aperture, waved a graceful salutation that could be meant
only for himself.
But the youth knew that he was playing a dangerous game, and he
consequently moved away without making any answering gesture; and
resolved to stroll in the other direction, rather than encourage the
advances which had been made to him. Once or twice, he accordingly
walked as far as the slipper-stall of a Jew merchant; but this
uninteresting individual squinted hideously, and smoked tobacco of so
odious a quality that it half suffocated the more fastidious Osmanli. Of
course there was no persevering in such an encounter, and he was
consequently compelled to resume his original line of march; being the
more readily induced to do so by importunate memories of the little
white hand which had showered down upon him the sweet-scented lavender
buds; although he did not suffer himself to suspect that such was the
case; and lest he should be addressed from the dangerous lattice, and
thus become more deeply involved in the adventure, he amused himself by
singing one of Sultan Mahmoud’s ballads in his best style.
But, unfortunately for the success of this laudable intention, the
Imperial poet has written none but love-ditties; and the young soldier
chanced inadvertently to fix upon one in which an anxious suitor calls
upon his mistress to reveal to him the beauty that he has hitherto
beheld only in his dreams—he invokes the moon from behind the clouds
that veil it—the hidden leaf from the heart of the rose where it is
folded—and loses himself in hyperbole on the subject of the concealed
loveliness on which he longs to look.
No wonder that the imprisoned Yasumi Hanoum listened until she believed
that the Prophet’s paradise was opening about her—No wonder that on
the morrow a lock of hair as black as midnight fell at the feet of the
minstrel, as he paced his accustomed beat;—and still less wonder that
the white hand and the dark tress began to trouble the dreams of the
gallant Moslem, and to bewilder his imagination.
He was smoking his evening chibouk seated on a low wicker stool at the
door of the guard-room, when chancing to look up, he perceived a female
rapidly approaching from the direction of the Emir’s house. There was
nothing remarkable in such a circumstance, for the street was a great
thoroughfare, and many women had traversed it during the day; and yet
his attention was irresistibly attracted to the stranger; and as she
reached his side, their eyes met:—“_Shekiur Allah!_—Praise be to God!
I may speak to you at last;” murmured a low soft voice; “Perhaps I
should not tell you that I love you, but who can war against fate?”
The deep dark eyes were averted—the light figure moved away—He had
looked upon the Emir’s Daughter!
Prudence was at an end; and many a midnight hour did the young soldier
spend beneath the latticed casement of the enamoured beauty. At length
her adventurous hand raised the envious jalousie; and as the moonlight
fell bright upon her, the lover looked upon the fair face which was
destined never more to be forgotten; and from that moment he vowed that
death alone should make him relinquish his suit.
But, alas! what hope could be indulged that a saintly Emir would bestow
his daughter upon a soldier—upon an individual doubly obnoxious both
from his profession, and from the fact that it had grown to power upon
the ruin of the Janissaries? The youth asked, supplicated, and was
answered with contempt and loathing.
But the tears of the fair girl when she learnt from his own lips the
failure of his suit, only strengthened him in his determination of
success; and having confided his adventure to a friend who was devoted
to his interests, he resolved either to compel the consent of the Emir,
or to incur the penalty of exile, rather than exist near the woman whom
he loved without a hope that she could be his. Accordingly, having
summoned half a dozen of his men, he informed them that he had a quarrel
with the Emir which he was determined to decide; and instructed them to
loiter about the house of the Priest, and should they hear any
disturbance, to enter as if by accident; and, in the event of the Emir
desiring them to seize their officer, and carry them before the
Seraskier, to obey without hesitation.
This arrangement made, the lover once more intruded on the seclusion of
the Priest, and with all the eloquence inspired by sincere affection,
besought him to revoke his resolution, and to give him his daughter. But
the haughty Emir only added insult to refusal; and the enraged suitor,
casting back the injuries which were addressed to him, sprang towards
the door that communicated with the harem, and vowed that he would force
his way, and carry off his bride despite every Priest in Stamboul. The
affrighted father, shrieking forth sacrilege and murder, clapped his
hands, and a couple of stout slaves entered, to whom he issued orders to
seize the madman, and put him forth; but the suitor was young and
vigorous, and he had already beaten down one of his antagonists, when
the soldiers, perceiving from the clamour that was going on above, that
the critical moment had arrived, rushed up stairs, and demanded the
occasion of the outcry.
The Emir, breathless with terror, and trembling with rage, only pointed
to the lover, as he exclaimed; “To the Seraskier! To the Seraskier!
_Inshallàh!_ I will have justice.”
He was instantly obeyed. The soldiers surrounded their commander, and
hurried him off, followed by the panting Priest; and in ten minutes more
the whole party stood before the Seraskier.
The fateful moment had arrived; and the heart of the young man beat high
with a thousand conflicting feelings as the Emir told his tale, and
implored vengeance on the miscreant who had dared to beard him beneath
his own roof, and to attempt a violation of his harem; but he was
re-assured by the tone of the Pasha, as he turned towards him, when the
angry father had ceased speaking, and bade him explain his motives for
such unheard-of violence.
“Noble Pasha,” said the lover, “may your days be many!—I will hide
nothing from you. I love this old man’s daughter; and I have asked her
of him for a wife. I have won her heart, no matter where nor how; but
may my hours be numbered if I pollute your ears with falsehood. He has
spurned me with insult because I am a soldier—He has declared the
uniform of the glorious Sultan (May his shadow ever lie long upon the
earth!) to be the brand of obloquy and disgrace; and had I not loved the
girl more than perhaps it is altogether seemly for a True Believer to
love a woman, I should have given him back scorn for scorn. But I could
not do this without regret; and it is through my own agency that I now
stand before your Excellency, to plead my cause, and to teach this hoary
Priest that the soldier of the Sultan is not to be taunted to his teeth,
even by a white-turbaned Emir. I could not force myself into your
presence, noble Pasha, to talk to you of a woman; and thus I played the
part of a madman in order that I might be dragged hither as a culprit,
and learn from your own lips whether the crescent upon my breast is to
make me an outcast from society.”
“Did he indeed demand your daughter for his wife?” asked the Seraskier,
as he removed the chibouk from his lips, and glanced towards the Priest.
He was answered doggedly in the affirmative.
“Take heed, then, Emir”—pursued the Pasha, “This looks like
disaffection to his Highness: (May his end be glorious!) See that the
girl become the wife of this young man ere many days roll over your
head, or the holy turban that you wear shall not protect you. What? is
it for you, and such as you, to sow divisions among the subjects of the
most gracious Sultan? Look to this ere it be too late.”
And as the baffled Emir turned away, the Seraskier bade one of his
officers take steps to secure to the victorious suitor the rank of
Captain; and to pay to him five thousand piastres from his (the Pasha’s)
own purse, as a marriage present.
The step was a bold one, for it was the first instance in which an
Emir’s daughter had ever been permitted to become the wife of a soldier.
A thousand long-existing prejudices had hitherto rendered such an
alliance impossible; and it was a great stroke of policy to break down
the strong barrier of habit and fanaticism, and to create a bond of
union between two jarring and jealous portions of the population.