A TURK'S HAREM
As we neared the water's edge, my companion started and turned perfectly
livid, as if labouring under some fearfully strong emotion. True to his
self-command, however, he allowed no other outward sign to betray his
feelings. In front of us walked a Turkish lady, closely veiled, of
course, and accompanied by a female negro slave. Following the
Beloochee's gaze, I observed by the lady's dress and demeanour that she
was of high rank, and in all probability the property of some great man,
a Pasha at least. At that time a black attendant argued no inferiority
on the part of the mistress as it does now. It is only since the peace
of '56 that the negro woman has been at such a discount in Stamboul as
to fill every corner of the streets with her lamentations, looking in
vain for a purchaser, a master, and a home.
The cause of this sudden fall in the value of a strong, serviceable
article, which had hitherto commanded a fair and remunerative price, is
to be found as usual in the enterprise of speculators, and the luxurious
tendencies of an unfeeling public. The far-seeing slave-dealers who
provide the Turkish market with Circassian wares had no difficulty in
foretelling that the Treaty of Paris would abandon to their fate those
gallant mountaineers of the Caucasus who have so long and so manfully
struggled for independence from the Russian yoke, and that soon they
must bid an eternal farewell to their lucrative traffic in Circassian
beauty, and their judicious supply of wives for the Pashas of
Constantinople. Accordingly, ere the treaty came into operation, and
the Government of the Czar was authorised to forbid the export of its
new subjects, they proceeded to buy up, far and near, every eligible
young lady of Circassian origin, and forward her as speedily as possible
to the Emporium of Matrimony at Constantinople. Nor was this so hard a
lot for these mountain-daisies as it may at first sight appear. They
are taught to look upon the slave-market of the Turkish capital as the
arena in which they are to contend for the prizes of life--namely,
comfortable quarters, luxurious baths, a house full of slaves, and a
rich master. To be deprived of her season at Stamboul is a bitter
disappointment to a Circassian belle. We in England cannot understand
this. Our fair Anglo-Saxons broil in London through the dog-days simply
and entirely for the exquisite delights of its amusements and its
society. Who ever heard of an English girl going to a ball with any
ulterior view but that of dancing? Who ever detected her paying her
modest court to an elderly Pasha (of the Upper House) for the sake of
having jewels and amber, and gilded arabas and slaves, at her disposal?
Who ever knew a blooming rose of June, that would have made the treasure
of his life to Lazarus, and changed his gloomy dwelling to a bower of
Paradise, transplanted by her own desire to the hothouses of Dives,
there to queen it for a day among all his plants and exotics, and then
pine neglected and withering away? No, no, we know nothing of such
doings, but the trade flourishes handsomely in the East, and
consequently the spring and summer of '56 saw Constantinople literally
_smothered_ in beauty. I use the word advisedly, for an Oriental
enslaver, in the language of Burns, is "a lass who has acres of charms,"
and a Pasha purchases his wife as he does his mutton, by the pound. Now,
demand and supply, like action and reaction, are "equal and contrary,"
nor is woman more than any other marketable commodity exempt from the
immutable law; so when this invasion of beauty came pouring into
Constantinople, the value even of a Circassian decreased steadily in an
alarming ratio, till a damsel that, in the golden days of gallantry,
would have fetched a hundred and fifty pounds sterling, was now to be
bought "warranted" for five! Mark the sequel. Luxury crept in amongst
the lower classes. The poor Turkish artisan, ambitioning a Circassian
bride, sold his tools, his all--nay, his faithful black wives--to
purchase the unheard-of blessing. The poor negro women were turned
adrift into the streets. Who was to bid for them? During the worst
period of the panic, black women were selling in Constantinople at a
shilling a dozen!
The Beloochee griped my arm hard. "It is Zuleika!" he whispered between
his set teeth. "She has not seen me--she does not know I am here.
Perhaps she has forgotten me!"
"Let us follow her," said I, for in truth I sympathised with poor Ali,
and my English blood boiled at the manner in which he had been deprived
of his bride.
The Beloochee loosened his dagger in its sheath, and drew the folds of
his shawl tighter round his waist. "Effendi," said he, "you are a true
comrade--Bismillah! the end is yet to come."
The lady and her attendant walked provokingly slow, looking at every
object of curiosity on their way, and making it exceedingly difficult
for us to adapt our pace to theirs without exciting observation in the
passers-by. At length they reached the waterside, and summoning a
caique, pushed out into the Bosphorus. We were speedily embarked in
another, and following in their wake, our caigee, or boatman, at once
penetrating our intentions, and entering into the spirit of the thing
with all the fondness for mischief and intrigue so characteristic of his
class. As we glided along over the rippling waters we had ample time to
dispose our plans, the object of which was to give the Beloochee an
opportunity of communicating with his lost love, to learn, and, if
possible, to rescue her from her fate. "Keep close to that caique,"
said I to our sympathising waterman, "and when we are secure from
observation go up alongside." The rascal showed all his white teeth, as
he grinned intelligence and approval.
So we glided down the beautiful Bosphorus, past marble palaces and
glittering kiosks, till we came under the very walls of a building, more
magnificent than any we had yet passed, with a wide frontage towards the
water, supported on shafts as of smoothest alabaster, the closed
lattices of which, with its air of carefully-guarded seclusion, denoted
the harem of some great dignitary of the empire, who was in the habit of
retiring hither to solace himself after the labours of government and
the cares of state. Through a gate of iron trellis-work, beautifully
designed and wrought, we caught a glimpse of a lovely garden, rich in
gorgeous hues, and sparkling with fountains murmuring soothingly on the
ear, whilst from the lofty doors, securely clamped and barred, wide
steps of marble reached down to the water's edge, lipped and polished by
the lazy ripple of the waves.
Here we brought our bark alongside the object of our chase, but we had
reckoned without our host in counting on the imperturbability of a
lady's nerves, for no sooner had the Beloochee turned his face towards
Zuleika, and whispered a few short syllables straight from his heart,
than with a loud shriek she tossed her hands wildly above her head, and
fainted dead away in the bottom of the caique.
At that instant the boat's nose touched the lower step of the palace,
and the negro woman, almost as helpless as her mistress, began screaming
loudly for assistance, whilst a guard of blacks opening the huge double
doors came swarming down to the water's edge, scowling ominously at the
Beloochee and myself, who with our mischievous boatman had now shoved
off and remained at some distance from the shore.
There was but one thing to be done, and that quickly. "_Hakim!_" I
shouted to the blacks, who were bearing the lifeless form of the girl up
the palace steps; "I am a doctor, do you want my assistance?" and at the
same time I handed my pencil-case and the back of a letter to my
comrade. Alas! he could not write, but in a hurried whisper entreated
me, if possible, to communicate with Zuleika, and bear her the message
which he confided to me from his old and faithful love.
By dint of threats and a kick or two, I prevailed on my friend the
caigee, who began to think the fun was getting too hot for him, to pull
ashore; and boldly mounting the steps, I informed the chief of the
harem-guard authoritatively that I was a physician, and that if the
Khanum's (lady's) life was to be saved, not a moment must be lost. She
was evidently a favourite wife of her lord, for her fainting-fit seemed
to have caused much commotion in the household, and during his absence
the major-domo of the harem took upon himself, not without many
misgivings and much hesitation, to admit me, a Giaour and a _man_,
within the sacred and forbidden precincts.
The Turks have a superstitious reverence for the science of medicine,
which they believe, and not without reason, to be practised by the
Franks more successfully than by themselves. To my adoption of the
character of a _Hakim_ I owed my present immunity and my entrance into
that sanctum of a Turk's house, which it is considered indecorous even
to _mention_ in conversation with its master.
I do not lay claim to more courage than my neighbours, and I confess it
was with a beating heart that I followed the helpless form of Zuleika
borne by her swarthy attendants up the palace steps, through the massive
doors which swung and closed behind me, as if to shut out all chance of
escape, to find myself at the top of a handsome staircase, on the very
threshold of the women's apartment. What confusion my entrance created!
Shrieks and jeers and stifled laughter resounded on all sides, whilst
black eyes flashed inquiring glances at the Frankish doctor, veiled,
indeed, but scarcely dimmed by the transparent folds of the _yashmak_,
and loosely-clad forms, in all the colours of the rainbow, flitted
hither and thither, with more demonstration of activity than the
occasion seemed to warrant.
I had heard much of the discipline of these caged birds, and pictured to
myself, with sympathising pity, their isolated condition, cut off from
friends and relatives, weighed down by all the fetters of wedlock, but
denied the consolations of domestic happiness, and had imagined that the
Turkish woman was probably the most unhappy of all the daughters of Eve.
What a deal of commiseration thrown away! Perhaps no woman in the world
is more completely her own mistress in her own way than is the wife of a
Turkish dignitary. Habit reconciles her to the veil, which indeed is of
the thinnest material, and is almost her only restriction. She can walk
abroad for business or pleasure, attended by only one female slave, and
with such a convoy comes and goes unquestioned. It is only of very late
years that an English lady could walk through the streets of London
without at least as efficient a guard. The Oriental beauty, too, has
her own hours, and her own apartments. Even her lord himself, he whom
we picture as a turbaned Blue-beard, despotic in his own household, the
terror of his wives and servants, preserves a chivalrous etiquette
towards the lady that adorns his harem. He does not venture to cross
the threshold of her apartment should he find her slippers placed
outside. It is a signal that he is not wanted, and nothing would induce
him to be guilty of such an act of rudeness as to go in. He comes at
stated times, and his visits are always preceded by due notice. He
lavishes handsome presents on his departure, and when he is unable to
sun himself in the sight of her beauty, in consequence of his other
engagements, and the rest of the suns in whose rays it is his duty to
bask, he provides her with caiques and _arabas_ to take her abroad, and
furnishes her with plenty of pin-money to spend in the delightful
occupation of shopping.
The chief of the negro-guard looked wistfully at me as I accompanied
him, rolling the whites of his eyes in evident uncertainty and
perturbation. As, however, Zuleika was still senseless, it seemed
absolutely necessary that I should prescribe for her before my
departure, and, accordingly, he motioned me to follow the stout blacks
who were carrying her into the very inner recesses of the harem.
As I passed through those luxuriously-furnished apartments, I could not
refrain from casting many a curious glance around at the diverse
implements and accessories of the Turkish toilette, the many devices
practised here, as in all lands, by the ladies, to "keep them beautiful
or leave them neat." Costly shawls, silks from India, muslins like the
web of a gossamer, and brocades stiff and gorgeous as cloth of gold,
were scattered about in unlimited profusion, mixed with amber beads,
massive gold chains, necklaces, bracelets, and anklets, French watches
set to Turkish time, precious stones of every value and hue, sandal-wood
fans, and other rare knick-knacks, mixed up with the most insignificant
articles one can imagine, such as card-racks, envelope-cases of
papier-mache, small brushes with oval mirrors at the back, and all sorts
of trifles sent out from Paris, and bought in Pera, to amuse those
grown-up children. The rooms were lofty and spacious, but the
casements, even those that overlooked the gardens, jealously closed, and
the lattices almost impervious even to the cool northern breeze.
Bath-rooms opened from either side of the apartments, and every
appliance for that Turkish luxury was of the most complete kind. At
length we reached the room appropriated to Zuleika's especial use, and
as her bearers laid her on the divan I observed that in this, more than
in any other apartment of the palace, luxury reigned supreme. I argued
Zuleika must be, at least for the present, the reigning favourite and
queen of the seraglio.