Facts and Fictions—Female Execution at Constantinople—Crime of the Condemned—Tale of the Merchant’s Wife—The Call to Prayer—The Discovery—The Mother and Son—The Hiding-Place—The Capture—The Trial—A Night Scene in the Harem—The Morrow—Mercifulness of the Turks towards their Women.
A vastdeal of very romantic and affecting sentiment has been from time to time committed to paper, on the subject of the Turkish females drowned in the Bosphorus; and some tale-writers have even gone so far as to describe, in the character of witnesses, the extreme beauty and the heart-rending tears of the victims.
The subject is assuredly one which lends itself to florid phrases and highly wrought periods; but it is unfortunate that in this case, as in many others, the imagination far outruns the fact. I say unfortunate, because those readers who love to “sup full of horrors,” when they have wept over the affecting image of beauty struggling against the grasp of the executioner, and dark eyes looking reproach upon their murderer from amid the deep waters whichare so soon to quench their light for ever, do not like to descend to the sober assurance that none of these things can be; and that the veracious chroniclers who have excited their sensibilities, and misled their reason, have only built up a pathetic sketch upon inference, and in reality know nothing at all about the matter.
There is no romance in one of these frightful executions—all is harsh unmitigated horror! The victim may, or may not, be young and beautiful; her executioners have no opportunity of judging. She may be the impersonation of grace, and they must remain equally ignorant of the fact; for she has neither power nor opportunity to excite sympathy, were she the loveliest houri who ever escaped from the paradise of Mahomet.
I have a friend, a man in place and power, who, during the time of the Janissaries, and but a few months previous to the annihilation of their body, had been detained in the Palace of one of the Ministers until three hours past midnight; and who, on passing across the deep bay near the Castle of Europe, was startled by perceiving two caïques bearing lights, lying upon their oars in the centre of the stream. His curiosity being excited, he desired his boatmen to pull towards them, when at the instant that he came alongside, he discovered that they were filled by police officers; and at the samemoment, a female closely shrouded in a yashmac, and with the mouth of a sack, into which her whole body had been thrust, tied about her throat, was lifted in the arms of two men from the bottom of the furthest caïque, and flung into the deep waters of the bay. As no weight had been appended to the sack, the miserable woman almost instantly re-appeared upon the surface, when she was beaten down by the oars of the boatmen; and this ruthless and revolting ceremony was repeated several times ere the body finally sank.
My friend, heart-sick at the spectacle to which he had so unexpectedly become a witness, demanded of the principal officer, by whom he had been instantly recognized, the crime of the wretched victim who had just perished; and learnt that she was the wife of a Janissary whom the Sultan had caused to be strangled some weeks previously; and who, in her anguish at the fate of her husband, had since rashly permitted herself to speak in terms of hatred and disgust of the government by whose agency she had been widowed.
On that fatal morning she had paid the price of her indiscretion.
The ministers of death lingered yet awhile to convince themselves that the body would not reappear; and my friend lingered also from a feeling which he could not explain even to himself. The dawn was just breaking in the sky, and streaks of faint yellow were traced above the crests of the dark mountains of the Asian coast. One long ray of light touched the summits of the tall cypresses above the grave-yard of Isari, and revealed the castellated outline of the topmost tower of the Janissaries’ prison: there was not a breath of wind to scatter the ripple; and all around looked so calm and peaceful, that he could scarcely persuade himself that he had just looked on death, when the deep voices of the men in the caïques beside him, as they once more plunged their oars into the stream, and prepared to depart, aroused him from his reverie; and, motioning to his boatmen to proceed, he found himself ere long on the terrace of his own palace.
While I am on the subject of executions, I may as well relate “an o’er true tale,” communicated to me by the same individual. Nearly four years have elapsed since the occurrence took place, but it is so characteristic of Turkish manners, that it will not be misplaced here.
An eminent merchant of Stamboul, extremely wealthy, and considerably past the middle age, became the husband of a very young and lovely woman. As Turkish females never see the individuals whom they marry previously to the ceremony, but are chosen by some matronly relation of the person who finds it expedient to bestowhimself on a wife, and who, having seen and approved the lady, arranges all preliminaries with her parents; so it may well be imagined that the bride is frequently far from congratulating herself on her change of position; and such, as it would appear from the result, was the case with the young wife to whom I have just referred, and who was destined to become the heroine of a frightful tragedy.
Two years passed over Fatma Hanoum, and she became the mother of a son; but her heart was not with its father, and, unhappily for the weak victim of passion and disappointment, it had found a resting-place elsewhere.
The merchant’s house was situated near a mosque, from the gallery of whose minaret all the windows of the harem were overlooked. The sun was setting on a glorious summer evening, when the Imaum ascended to this gallery, to utter the shrill cry of the muezzin which summons the faithful to prayer. Ere he commenced the invocation, he chanced to glance downwards, and he started as he beheld a man, clinging to a shawl which had been flung from above, and making his way into the harem of the merchant through an open window. Nor was this all, for the quick and jealous eye of the Imaum at once assured him that the delinquent was a Greek—that the wife of a Musselmaun had stooped to accept the love of a Christian—and he wellknew that, in such a case, there was no mercy for the culprit.
The Imaum was a stern man; for one moment only he wavered; and during that moment he raised the ample turban from his brow, and suffered the cool evening breeze to breathe lovingly upon his temples: in the next, he bent over the gallery and spat upon the earth, as he murmured to himself, “The dog of an Infidel,”—“May his father’s grave be defiled!—May his mother eat dirt!”—and having so testified his contempt and abhorrence of the ill-fated lover, he lifted his gaze to the clear sky, and the ringing cry pealed out:—
“La Allah, illa Allah! Muhammed Resoul Allah!”
His duty done, the Imaum descended the dark and narrow stair of the minaret, and left the mosque; and in another instant he had put off his slippers at the entrance of the salemliek, and stood before the sofa, at the upper end of which sat the merchant smoking his chibouk of jasmine wood, and attended by two slaves.
The Turks are not fond husbands, but they are jealous ones. They are watchful of their women, not because they love them, but because they are anxious for their own honour; and no instance can be adduced in which an Osmanli is wilfully blind to the errors of his wife.
Here “the offence was rank, it smelt toHeaven.” The young and beautiful Fatma Hanoum had wronged him with a Greek! The gray-bearded merchant, trembling between rage and grief, rose from his seat and rushed into the harem—The tale was true—for one moment the aged and outraged husband looked upon the young and handsome lover; and in the next the agile Greek had flung up the lattice, and sprung from the open window. Ere long the house was filled with the relatives of the wife, and its spacious apartments were loud with anguish and invective; but Fatma Hanoum answered neither to the sobbing of grief, nor to the reproach of scorn; she sat doubled up upon her cushions, with her eyes riveted on the casement by which her lover had escaped.
The merchant, stung to the heart by the stain that had been cast upon his honour; embittered in spirit by the knowledge that it was a Christian by whom he had been wronged; and not altogether forgetful, it may be, of the grace and beauty of the mother of his child, sat moodily apart; and all the reasonings and beseechings of his wife’s anxious family only wrung from him the cold and unyielding answer that he would never see her more.
And the heretic lover, where was he?
Like an arrow shot by a strong arm, he had sped to the home of his widowed mother, and had hurriedly imparted to her the fearful jeopardy in which he stood. There was not a moment to be lost; and, hastily snatching up some food that had been prepared for his evening meal, he flung himself upon the neck of his weeping parent; and then, disengaging himself from her clinging arms, rushed from the house, no one knew whither.
But the Imaum, meanwhile, was not idle. He had aroused the neighbourhood—he had raised the cry of sacrilege—he had bruited abroad the dishonour of the Moslem—and ere long a Turkish guard was on the track of the young Greek. But no trace of him could be discovered; and the fair and frail Hanoum was removed to the harem of one of her husband’s relatives, where her every look and action were subjected to the most rigorous observance, before the faintest hope had been entertained of securing her miserable lover.
Three wretched days were past, and on the morning of the fourth the pangs of hunger became too mighty for the youth to support. He stole from his concealment, he looked around him, and he was alone! He ventured a few paces forward; rich fruits were pendent from the branches of the tall trees beneath which he moved, and he seized them with avidity; but, as he raised; his hand a second time to the laden boughs, he heard near him the deep breathing of one who wept—He glared towards the spot whence the sound came, and his heart melted within him—it was his mother—the guardian of his youth—the friend of his manhood—the mourner over his blighted hopes. He rushed towards her—he murmured her name—and for a moment the parent and the child forgot all save each other! It was the watchful love of the mother which first awoke to fear: and in a few seconds the secret of her son was confided to her, and she was comparatively happy. She could steal to his hiding-place at midnight; she could ensure him against hunger; she could hear his voice, and convince herself that he yet lived; and with this conviction she hurried from his side, and bade him wait patiently yet a few hours, when she would bring him food.
The young Greek stole back to his hiding-place, and slept—The sleep of the wretched is heavy—slow to come, and weighed down with wild and bitter dreams; and thus slumbered the criminal. The night was yet dark when he awoke, and heard footsteps, and then he doubted not that his watchful parent was indeed come to solace the moments of his trembling solitude. Had he paused an instant, and afforded time for the perfect waking of all his senses, he would have discovered at once that the sounds of many feet were on the earth; but he had already passed several days without cause of alarm, and hispast safety betrayed him into a false feeling of security.
The unhappy youth had not wandered beyond the spacious gardens of his home, which, rising the height behind the house, were divided into terraces, along whose whole extent had been placed avenues of orange and lemon trees, planted in immense vases of red clay. Several of these, in which the plants had failed or perished, had been reversed to protect them from the weather; and one of them, dragged in the first paroxysm of terror to the mouth of an exhausted well, had served to screen the culprit from the gaze of his pursuers. But on this night, when by some extraordinary fatality, he forgot for an instant the caution which had hitherto been his protection, he clambered to the mouth of the pit as he heard the coming footsteps, and, pushing aside the vase, sprang out upon the path.
The moonlight fell on him as he emerged from his concealment, pale, and haggard; his dark locks dank with the heavy atmosphere of his hiding-place, and his frame weakened by exhaustion. As he gained his feet and looked around him, his arms fell listlessly at his sides, and his head drooped upon his breast—He had no longer either strength or energy to wrestle with his fate; and he put his hands into the grasp of the armed men among whom he stood, and suffered himself to be led away from thehome of his boyhood, and the clasp of his shrieking mother, with the docility of a child.
The trial followed close upon the discovery of the lover. There was no hope for the wretched pair! Against them appeared the Imaum, stern, uncompromising, and circumstantial—the outraged husband, wrought to madness by the memory of his dishonour; and callous as marble—the faith which had been disgraced—society which had been scandalized. For them there were none to plead, save the grey-haired and widowed mother who wept and knelt to save her only son; but who asked his life in mercy, and not in justice. Did their youth sue for them? Did the soft loveliness of the guilty wife, or the manly beauty of the lover, raise them up advocates? Alas! these were their direst condemnation; and thus it only remained for them to die!
It was at this period that my friend, the ——, first became connected with the affair. The family of the condemned woman, knowing his influence with the government, flung themselves at his feet, and implored his interference. They expatiated on the beauty of the misguided Fatma—on the personal qualifications of him by whose love she had fallen—they left no theme untouched; and he became deeply interested in her fate, and resolved that while a hope remained he would not abandon her cause. Buthe was fated to plead in vain; the crime had increased in the country; every Turkish breast heaved high with indignation; my friend urged, supplicated, and besought unheeded; and at length found himself unable to adduce another argument in her behalf.
When reluctantly convinced of the fact, he discovered that through his exertions to save her life, his feelings had become so deeply enthralled by the idea of the miserable woman, that he resolved to endeavour to see her ere she died; and he was startled by the ready acquiescence that followed his request, as well as by the terms in which it was couched. “We shall visit her at midnight, to acquaint her officially with the result of the trial;“ was the answer; “and should you think proper you may accompany us; for you will have no future opportunity of indulging your curiosity.”
Under these circumstances he did not hesitate; and a few minutes before midnight he was at the door of the harem in which she had resided since her removal from her husband’s house. The officers of justice followed almost immediately: and it struck him as they passed the threshold, that they were in greater number than so simple an errand appeared to exact; but as he instantly remembered that others might feel the same curiosity as himself, and profit by the same means of gratifying it, he did not dwell upon the circumstance.
All was hushed in the harem; and the fall of their unslippered feet awoke no echo on the matted floors. One solitary slave awaited them at the head of the stairs, and he moved slowly before the party with a small lamp in his hand, to the apartment of the condemned woman.
She was sleeping when they entered—Her cheek was pillowed upon her arm; and a quantity of rich dark hair which had escaped from beneath the painted handkerchief that was twisted about her head, lay scattered over the pillow. She was deadly pale, but her eyebrows and the long silken lashes which fringed her closed eyes were intensely black, and relieved the pallor of her complexion; while her fine and delicate features completed as lovely a face as ever the gaze of man had lingered on. At times a shuddering spasm contracted for an instant the muscles of her countenance—the terrors of the day had tinged her midnight dreams: and at times she smiled a fleeting smile, which was succeeded by a sigh, as if, even in sleep, the memory of past happiness was clouded by a pang.
But her slumber was not destined to be of long continuance; for the principal individual of the party, suddenly bending over her, grasped her arm, and exclaimed, “Wake, Fatma, wake; we have tidings for you!”
The unhappy woman started, and looked up;and then hurriedly concealing her face in the coverlets, she gasped out, “Mashallah! What means this? What would you with me that you steal thus upon me in the night? Am I not a Turkish woman? And am I not uncovered?”
“Fear nothing, Hanoum;” pursued the official; “we have tidings for you which we would not delay.”
“God is great!” shrieked the guilty one, raising herself upon her pillows. “You have pardoned him—”
But the generous, self-forgetting prophecy was false. In the energy of her sudden hope she had sprang into a sitting posture; and ere the words had left her lips, the fatal bowstring was about her throat.
It was the horror of a moment—Two of the executioners flung themselves upon her, and held her down—a couple more grasped her hands—a heavy knee pressed down her heaving chest—there was a low gurgling sound, hushed as soon as it was heard—a frightful spasm which almost hurled the strong men from above the convulsed frame—and all was over!
At day-dawn on the morrow, the young Greek was led from his prison. For several days he had refused food, and he was scarcely able to drag his fainting limbs along the uneven streets. Two men supported him, and atlength he reached the termination of his painful pilgrimage. For a moment he stood rooted to the earth; he gasped for breath—he tore away his turban—and clenched his hands until the blood sprang beneath the nails. She whom he had loved was before him—her once fair face was swollen and livid, and exposed to the profane gaze of a countless multitude. She was before him—and the handkerchief from which she was suspended, beside the spot marked out for himself, was one which he had given her in an hour of passion, when they looked not to perish thus!
I have pursued the tale until I am heart-sick, and can follow it up no further. Yet, revolting as it is, it nevertheless affords a proof of that which I have already adduced elsewhere; that even in their severity the Turks are merciful to their women; and carefully shield them from the shame, even when they cannot exempt them from the suffering, of their own vices.
Political Position of the Turks—Religion of the Osmanlis—Absence of Vice among the Lower Orders—Defect of Turkish Character—European Supineness—Policy of Russia—England and France—A Turkish Comment on England—The Government and the People—Common Virtue—Great Men—Turks of the Provinces—European Misconceptions.
Themore I see of the Turks, the more I am led to regret their melancholy political position. Enabled, by the introductions which I had secured, to look more closely into their actual condition from the commencement of my sojourn among them, than falls to the lot of most travellers, I have been compelled from day to day to admit the justice of their indignation against those European powers, which, after deluding them with promises that they have failed to fulfil, and pledges that they have falsified, have reduced them to anchor their hopes, and to fasten their trust, upon a government whose interests can be served only by the ruin of the Ottoman Empire, and the subjugation of its liberties. Take them for all in all, there probably exist no people upon earth more worthy of national prosperity than the great mass of the Turkish population; nor better qualified, alike by nature and by social feeling, to earn it for themselves.
The Osmanli is unostentatiously religious. He makes the great principles of his belief the rule of his conduct, and refers every thing to a higher power than that of man. I am aware that it is the fashion to decry the creed of the Turk, and to place it almost on a level with paganism: but surely this is an error unworthy of the nineteenth century, and of the liberality of Englishmen. The practice of a religion which enforces the necessity of prayer and charity—which is tolerant of all opposing modes of worship—and which enjoins universal brotherhood, can scarcely be contemptible. And while the Christian, enlightened on the great truths that are hidden from the Mahomeddan, is compelled to pity the darkness of a faith which admits not the light of the Gospel, he must nevertheless admire the votary who, acting according to his ideas of duty, follows up the injunctions of his religion with a devout zeal, and an unwearied observance that influence all his social relations; and this is a merit which even their enemies have never, I believe, denied to the Turks.
From this great first principle emanates the philosophy both of feeling and action that distinguishes the Osmanli from the native of all other countries; and this philosophy renders him comparatively inaccessible to those petty, but myriad excitements of selfishness and political bigotry which keep the more active and ambitious spirit of European society for ever on thequi vive. I am by no means prepared to deny, that from this very quality arises the extreme intellectual and moral inertness which induces the Turks to rely more on extraneous assistance than on their own efforts, in all cases of emergency: I am merely endeavouring to prove that they possess within themselves the necessary elements of social order, and national prosperity.
The absence of all glaring vices, even among the lowest ranks of the community; save indeed such as they have inherited from their more civilized allies, and appropriated with the same awkwardness as they have done their costume, speaks volumes for the Turkish people. A Turk never games, never fights, never blasphemes; is guiltless of murder; is innocent of theft; and has yet to learn that poverty is a crime, or even a reproach; or that the rich man can shut his doors against the mendicant who asks to share his meal.
Were I desired to point out the most glaring defect of the Turkish character, I should unhesitatingly specify the want of sincerity and goodfaith. I am obliged to concede that the Turk is habitually false—that he sacrifices his truth to fine phrases, and to set terms—that he is profuse of promises, and magnificent in words. But it is nevertheless certain that he himself looks upon all these splendid pledges as mere compliment; and scarcely appears to reflect that a Frank may be induced to lend to them a more weighty meaning. I had not been long in the country ere I learnt to estimate all this hyperbole at its just value; and once having done so, I found reason to feel grateful for many unexpected and unsought courtesies. Profit by the first kindly impulses of a Turk, and you will be his debtor; but trust nothing to his memory, for he will fail you.
Let not individual bad faith, however, be too harshly blamed in a people who have suffered so severely as the Turks from the same vice, in their best and dearest interests; on the part, not only of individuals, but of nations—of those civilized and enlightened nations, to which they looked alike for precept and example; and which they have found wanting.
Naturally haughty and self-centered, the Osmanli placed his honour and his liberty in the hands of his European allies. They were pledged to preserve both—and it was not until the Banner of the Crescent was trailing in the dust; and a half-barbarous power bearding the Sultanin his very halls of state, that the unwelcome truth burst upon him that his trust had been misplaced. The discovery was made too late—made when he had no alternative—the supineness of the Turk was no match for the subtlety of the Russian; it was a combat unequal in all its bearings; and dangerous to the Osmanli in all its relations. The natural result followed: Turkey was bowed beneath a force too mighty for her to resist; the partial civilization of the North produced its effect on the comparative barbarism of the East; and the Turk, dazzled and deluded, bewildered by the speciousness of a policy that he could not fathom, and consequently did not suspect; abandoned by the European powers on whose assistance he had relied; and unable singly either to resist the covert threats, or to reject the proffered friendship of this voluntary ally, fell into the snare which had been laid for him, and betrayed his want of internal strength to his most dangerous enemy.
The policy of Russia has been as steady and consistent as it is ambitious. What a prophet was the Empress Catherine! How perfectly she foretold the fate of Turkey. While all the other nations have suffered their interest in the Ottoman Empire to evaporate in words, and have flaunted their oratory in the eye of day, Russia has never betrayed herself by studied phrases to the crowd; but like the giant in the fable,she has drawn on her seven-league boots, and strode silently over land and sea to her object. She has set all her engines to work; and they have wrought well. She has spared neither gold nor flattery. She has enlisted in her favour all the social feelings of the Turks. And the little presents of the Empress to the children of certain popular Pashas; and the embroidery said to have been wrought by her own Imperial hand, and sent to the ladies of their harems, are as efficacious in their way as the diamonds, the horses, and the carriages presented to the Sultan; or the pensions paid to half a dozen influential individuals of the court.
Alas for Turkey! Her relative position with her specious ally resembles that of a huge animal in the coil of a Boa Constrictor, which must be smoothed down gently and gradually, ere it can be safely gorged. Its fate is but protracted; the moment of ingurgitation will come at last; and when the serpent-folds are uncoiled, and the sated monster lies luxuriously down to digest its prey, those who have looked on, and pledged themselves to the impossibility of the feat, will find too late that it is not only perfectly practicable, but actually accomplished.
And yet France has her countless soldiery—and England her unrivalled navy—both eager to earn new glory. England and France, on whom the Osmanlis leaned with a perfect faith, andby both of whom they have been abandoned—Where is the chivalry of the one, and the philanthropy of the other?
A Turk of high rank and considerable abilities; who had an understanding to observe, and a heart to feel the position of his country, was one day conversing with me on her foreign political relations, when he exclaimed with a sudden burst of unaffected energy:—“France has failed us, it is true; but France has been at least comparatively honest in her supineness. She has never affected a wish to become the foster-mother of the world—But England—England, Madam, which has boasted of her universal philanthropy—which has knocked away the fetters of millions of the blacks—England, not contented while among her Nobles, in her House of Commons, and even at the very meetings of her lower classes, she was making a vaunt of her all-embracing love, and of her sympathy with the oppressed—not contented with seeing Poland weep tears of blood, and only cease to exist when the last nerves of her heart had been wrung asunder—Your own happy England; secure in her prosperity and in her power, is now standing tamely by, while the vast Ottoman Empire—the gorgeous East, which seems to have been made for glory and for greatness—is trampled by a power like Russia! She might have saved us—She might save us yet—Whereis her gallant navy? Where are her floating fortresses? But, above all, where is the heart which has so many hands to work its will?—Is it the expence of a war from which she shrinks? Surely her policy is not so shallow; for she cannot require to be told how deeply her commercial interests must be compromised by the success of Russia.—But I will not pursue so painful a subject.—As individuals we respect the English; but their political character is lost in the East—we have no longer faith in England.”
These were not, at all events, the arguments of a “barbarian:” and the more closely and unprejudicedly that Europeans permit themselves to examine the Turkish character, the more they will find that justice has never yet been done to it; and that Turkey merits their support as fully by her moral attributes, as by her geographical position.
It is not by her Nobles, by her Ministers, nor by her Government, that she should be judged—Her court and her people are as distinct as though they were of two different nations. They have, however, one common virtue, which is carried to an extent that must be witnessed by the natives of the West, ere it can be understood. Every one who has visited Turkey will perceive at once that I allude to their unbounded hospitality. The table of the greatest man in Constantinople is open to the poorest, whenever hechooses to avail himself of it. As he salutes the master of the house on entering, he is received with the simple wordBouroum—You are welcome,—and he takes his place without further ceremony. In the villages the same beautiful principle remains unaltered; and it signifies not how little an individual may have to give, he always gives it cheerfully, and as a matter of course; without appearing conscious that he is exercising a virtue, practised scantily and reservedly in more civilized countries.
If a Turk wishes to shew a courtesy to his guest, or to a stranger with whom he may have accidentally come in contact, he does so in a manner which revolts the more refined ideas of a Frank; but which is nevertheless induced by this same feeling of brotherhood and fellowship. His chibouk is his greatest luxury; and when he is not engaged in an employment that renders the indulgence difficult or impossible, it is for ever between his lips: and his first act of friendliness is to withdraw it thence, and offer it to his companion.—He estimates its enjoyment, and he immediately wishes to communicate it. These are perhaps slight traits—details that appear unimportant—but human character is composed of details—fine shades, which however faint in themselves, are nevertheless necessary to the perfect effect of the whole. It is easy to seize a prominent object. Glaring vices and strikingvirtues force themselves upon the notice; and are consequently ever the ready subject of comment. And it is from this fact that the Turks have suffered in European estimation. They are singularly unobtrusive in their social relations: they do not seek to exhibit their moral attributes; and they practice daily those domestic virtues which grow out of the tolerance and kindliness of their nature without troubling themselves to consider whether they do so at moments when they may become subject of comment. Thus it is that they have never been supposed to feel, or feeling to encourage, those minute but multitudinous social courtesies, which, if each amount not in itself to a positive virtue, at least is part and parcel of one, and lends itself to the completion of an aggregate that well deserves the name.
Those who have only made an acquaintance with the Turkish character in the persons of the great men of the Capital, have not possessed the means of witnessing the daily practice of these endearing qualities. It is not among the haughty, the selfish, and the ambitious of any nation, that the bland and beautiful features of human nature can be contemplated. Nothing atrophises the heart like luxury—nothing deadens the feelings like the strife and struggle for power:—and in the East, where a man’s fortune is ever built up upon the ruin of his neighbour, and where hesprings into his seat with his foot upon the neck of a worsted rival, it were worse than folly to expect that the social virtues can be encouraged and exhibited among the great. But the Turk of the provinces is a being of a different order: a creature of calm temperament, and philosophic content; who labours in his vocation with a placid brow and a quiet heart; who honours his mother, protects his wife, and idolizes his children; is just in his dealings, sober in his habits, and unpretendingly pious; and whose board and hearth are alike free to those who desire to share them.
Such, if I have read them aright, (and, above all, if I may rely on the judgment of unbiassed and impartial individuals, more competent than myself to form a correct estimate of their general character) are the great mass of the Turkish people. Their defective government is the incubus that weighs them down; while the luxurious habits of their nobles induce extortion which withers their exertions, and in a great degree negatives the benefit of their industry. But these are evils which are not beyond remedy; “the schoolmaster” who has been so long abroad in Europe, has already given hints of travelling to the far East; and there are now several individuals connected with the Ottoman Government who comprehend the vice of the system, and are anxious to eradicate themischief. The outcry of corruption and venality has been raised, and the correctness of the implication has been admitted; while few have discovered that attempts are already making to overcome the long-standing reproach; and all must acknowledge that this Sisyphus-like task will require time and patience, and moreover opportunity and encouragement, to secure its completion.
It is not, I repeat, by the members of a government, driven to unworthy acts on the one hand, and deceived by smiling sophistries on the other, that the people of Turkey should be estimated; and it is comparatively unfortunate for them as a nation, that it is precisely upon these persons that the attention is first fixed. The natural consequence ensues, that, where Europeans, rather glancing at the country than seeing it, possess neither time, opportunity, nor it may be even inclination, to look deeper; they carry away with them an erroneous impression of the mass, as unjust as it is unfortunate; an impression which they propagate at home, and in which they become strengthened by the very repetition of their own assertions; nor is it difficult to account in this way for the very erroneous, contradictory, and absurd notions, entertained in Europe on the subject of the Turks. Individuals have been cited as examples of a body, with which they probably possessed notone common feature, save that of country; and the vices that were seared into the spirit of one degenerate Osmanli have, by the heedless chroniclers who may have suffered from his delinquencies, been branded on the brow of a whole nation; as though the stream which had polluted itself for an instant by its passage over some impure substance, had power to taint the source from whence it flowed.
Death in a Princely Harem—The Fair Georgian—Distinction of Circassian and Georgian Beauty—The Saloon—Sentiment of the Harem—Courteous Reception—Domestic Economy of the Establishment—The Young Circassian—Emin Bey—Singular Custom of the Turks—The Buyuk Hanoum—The Female Dwarf—Naïvetéof the Turkish Ladies—The Forbidden Door—The Sultan’s Chamber—The Female Renegade—Penalty of Apostacy—Musical Ceremony—Frank Ladies and True Believers—A Turkish Luncheon—Devlehäi Hanoum—Old WivesversusYoung Ones—The Parting Gift—The Araba—The Public Walk—Fondness of the Orientals for Fine Scenery—The Oak Wood.
Theillness and subsequent death of the Buyuk Hanoum had long delayed the visit which I had been requested to make to the harem of the Reiss Effendi, or Minister for Foreign Affairs; and it may be remembered that this was the lady to whom I alluded in a former portion of my work, as having failed to find favour in the eyes of the Sultan on the occasion of the Princess Salihè’s marriage; and whom he had been graciously pleased to excuse from all further attendance at court, in favour of a fair Georgian, whom he had himself provided as her successor. The aged Minister had received with all proper gratitude the gift of his Imperial master; and had not failed to make thelovely slave his wife with all possible speed. And the anticipation of seeing this far-famed beauty added no little to the desire which I felt to avail myself of the very kind and flattering invitation of the family.
Having, therefore, suffered a sufficient time to elapse after the death of the Buyuk Hanoum to testify my sympathy for her loss, I prepared for this long-promised visit, and made it in company with some Greek ladies, friends of my own, and well known in the harem of the Minister. On passing the Salemliek I was much disappointed by the discovery that the Reiss Effendi himself was from home; but on reaching the harem we were more fortunate, and having delivered our cloaks, veils, and shoes to a group of slaves who received us in the marble entrance-hall, we followed one who led the way up a noble flight of stairs to a vast saloon; and in the next instant I found myself standing beside Devlehäi Hanoum, the beautiful Georgian.
And shewasbeautiful—magnificent!—Tall, and dark, and queenly in her proud loveliness; with such a form as is not looked on above half a dozen times during a long life.
The character of Georgian beauty is perfectly dissimilar from that of Circassia; it is more stately and dazzling; the whole of its attributes are different. With the Circassian, you find the clearest and fairest skin, the most delicatelyrounded limbs, the softest, sleepiest expression—the lowest voice—and the most indolently-graceful movements. There is no soul in a Circassian beauty; and as she pillows her pure, pale cheek upon her small dimpled hand, you feel no inclination to arouse her into exertion—you are contented to look upon her, and to contemplate her loveliness. But the Georgian is a creature of another stamp: with eyes like meteors, and teeth almost as dazzling as her eyes. Her mouth does not wear the sweet and unceasing smile of her less vivacious rival, but the proud expression that sits upon her finely arched lips accords so well with her stately form, and her high, calm brow, that you do not seek to change its character.
There is a revelation of intellect, an air of majesty, about the Georgian women, which seems so utterly at variance with their condition, that you involuntarily ask yourself if they can indeed ever be slaves; and you have some difficulty in admitting the fact, even to your own reason.
Nearly all the ladies of the Princess Azmè’s household are Georgians: and I have already had occasion to remark that her harem is celebrated for the beauty of its fair inhabitants.
But Devlehäi Hanoum left every individual of the Imperial Seraï of Ortakeuÿ immeasurably behind her. And as she welcomed us withoutrising from her sofa, I felt, woman though I was, as though I could have knelt in homage to such surpassing loveliness!
The sofa on which she was seated, occupied the deep bay of a window overlooking the Bosphorus, at the upper end of a saloon which terminated in a flight of steps leading upwards to a second apartment, that, in its turn, afforded similar access to a third: and this long perspective was bounded by the distant view of a vine-o’ercanopied kiosk, beneath which a fine fountain of white marble was flinging its cool waters on the air, from the midst of clustering vases, filled with rare and beautiful flowering plants.
Groups of slaves were standing about the sofa; and gilded cages, filled with birds, were arranged in its immediate vicinity. I was much amused by a superb parrot, evidently the favourite of the harem, which had become so imbued with its high-bred tranquillity, as to speak almost in a whisper: and which kept up a perpetual murmur of such phrases as the following: “My heart!—My life!—My Sultan, the light of my eyes!—Am I pretty?—Do you love to look upon me?” and similar sentimentalities.
Devlehäi Hanoum was dressed in an antery of white silk, embroidered all over with groups of flowers in pale green; her salva, or trowsers, were of satin of the Stuart tartan, and her jacketlight blue; the gauze that composed her chemisette was almost impalpable, and the cachemire about her waist was of a rich crimson. Her hair, of which several tresses had been allowed to escape from beneath the embroidered handkerchief, was as black as the plumage of a raven; and her complexion was a clear, transparent brown. But the great charm of the beautiful Georgian was her figure. I never beheld any thing more lovely; to the smoothly-moulded graces of eighteen she joined the majesty and stateliness of middle life; and you forgot as you looked upon her, that she had ever been bought at a price, to remember only that she was the wife of one of the great officers of the Empire.
Nothing could exceed the courtesy of her welcome, except, perhaps, its gracefulness; and the charming smile with which she told me how anxious were the Buyuk Hanoum, herself, and Conjefèm Hanoum, to testify by every means in their power, the delight they felt in having me for a guest. For a moment I was bewildered; I had made no inquiries relatively to the domestic economy of the harem previous to my visit, and had imagined that, as a matter of course, the lovely Georgian had become Buyuk Hanoum by the death of the children’s mother. But this was far from being the case; the Pasha having married in early life a Constantinopolitan lady of high family,who had retained her supremacy in the harem, although the affections of the Reiss Effendi had been transferred to the parent of his sons. The fair Georgian proving also childless, the fortunate mother had never forfeited her hold upon his heart, and had continued until the hour of her death to be the first object of his favour. But my astonishment did not end even here; for, when all this had been explained to me, another question yet remained to be answered:—Who was Conjefèm Hanoum?
Conjefèm Hanoum, who was in the bath when we arrived, was a beautiful young Circassian, who had been purchased twelve months previously by the Minister, in the excess of his disappointment that the Georgian did not make him a father; and whom, in the first rush of his delight on discovering that she was likely to become a mother, he had also married. Unfortunately for her, the child died in the hour of its birth, and once more the anxious husband found himself disappointed in his hopes.
These domestic details, which were given with asang froidand composure evincing how little the heart of Devlehäi Hanoum was interested in the recital, were succeeded by coffee, which was served with great ceremony by about a dozen slaves; the salver being overlaid with gold tissue, as on occasions of state. A stroll in the garden followed, where we wandered upand down the shady walks, among the flowers and fountains; and where we encountered the three sons of the Minister.
Emin Bey, the elder of the brothers, was barely eleven years of age; and had I not seen him, I should never have been able to picture to myself any thing at all like the object on which I then looked. So extraordinary and unwieldy a being as this unhappy boy I never before met with: and I am moderate in declaring that he must have measured at least two yards round the body. His jacket of Broussa silk striped with gold, lay in large folds about his shoulders and waist; his head appeared to have been attached to his chest without the intervention of a throat; his hands, his feet, all were proportionably bulky; and when I looked at the unfortunate child, I could not help thinking how much he was to be pitied, despite the rank and riches which surrounded him. The younger boys were fine, noble-looking youths, without the slightest tendency to corpulency; but Emin Bey is the favourite of the Minister, who gratifies his every whim; and from the extreme amiability of his disposition, he is generally popular in the harem.
The sons of Turkish families always inhabit the women’s apartments until they marry; when, however young they may be, they are immediately shut out; but, by an extraordinaryand apparently inexplicable arrangement, they are not permitted, as soon as they have ceased to be children, to intrude themselves on the Buyuk Hanoum without her express permission, although they have free access to every other apartment in the harem. Thus Emin Bey, unless summoned by her express desire, could not visit the elder wife of his father, a venerable old person of at least seventy years of age, although he was constantly in the society of the two younger and lovelier ladies; while the other boys, yet mere children, came and went as they listed, unchidden and almost unnoticed.
As soon as the Buyuk Hanoum had left the bath, we were invited to her apartment; and as I looked from the withered and feeble woman who lay stretched on the sofa before me, propped with cushions, glittering with diamonds, and busied with her chibouk, to the stately and gorgeous Georgian in all the glow of her proud youth, I had difficulty in believing that they could indeed be the wives of one man!
When I had returned her salutation, and seated myself beside her, I had time to look round upon the arrangement of her apartment. On a cushion near her sofa crouched a frightful female dwarf, old, and wrinkled, and mis-shapen, with a Sycorax expression of face that made me shudder; and immediately beside her sat Devlehäi Hanoum, in a high-backed chair of crimsonvelvet and gilding, looking like the haughty mother of Vathek with one of her attendant spirits grovelling at her feet. A line of female slaves extended from the sofa to the door, and several others were grouped at the lower end of the saloon, which was most magnificently fitted up.
The never-failing hospitality of the East prompted the first question of the venerable hostess. She inquired if I had been satisfied with my reception; and assured me of the gratification she derived from seeing me in the Palace of her husband: she then thanked me for the careful toilette which I had made to visit her, and in the most courtly manner admired every thing that I wore. The usual extraordinary queries ensued:—Was I married? Had I ever been affianced? Did I intend to marry? Could I embroider? How old was I? Which was the prettiest, Stamboul or London?—and many others of the like kind; but they were all put so good-humouredly, and so perfectly as a matter of course, that it was impossible not to be amused, although I had answered them a dozen times before.
There is a great charm in the gracefulnaïvetéof a well-born Turkish lady. She tells you directly what she thinks of you, without harbouring an idea that even truth may sometimes prove unpalatable. If you do not please her,you are never left in doubt upon the subject; while if, on the contrary, she considers you well-looking or agreeable, she lavishes on you the most endearing epithets, and always terminates her address by imploring you to love her. From the moment that you find yourself beneath her roof, you are as completely unfettered as though you were in your own house. Are you hungry? In five minutes, by merely desiring the first slave with whom you come in contact to bring you food, you may seat yourself at table. Are you weary? Select the sofa you prefer, surround yourself with cushions, and should you wish to remain undisturbed, close the door of the apartment; and when you are refreshed, you will be greeted on your re-appearance with a second smile of welcome. If you are restless, you may wander over the whole house; there is neither indiscretion nor impertinence in so doing. In short, from the first instant of your domestication in a Turkish family, it is your own fault if you are not as much at your ease as your hostess herself.
On quitting the apartment of the Buyuk Hanoum, which was oppressive from its closed windows and the extreme heat of the weather, we strolled all over the Palace, which is very extensive, and splendid in its arrangements. One room only was closed against us. It was that in which the mother of the Pasha’s childrenhad breathed her last; and into which he had desired every article, however trifling, of her personal property, to be removed and locked up, until he causes them to be disposed of by public sale, and the proceeds secured to her sons.
Turning away from this forbidden door, we proceeded to an apartment in which the Sultan passed a night about three years ago, and which has only just been re-opened, at his express desire, for the use of the family. The Imperial bedstead yet remains, but the golden hangings have been removed, and have probably since figured in anterys and salvas on the fair forms of the ladies of the harem. The room is now appropriated to the master of the house; and on a sofa-cushion lay his watch, his hand-mirror, and a small agate box containing opium pills.
Having understood that there was a young Greek girl on the establishment, who had been induced, by the representations of interested and treacherous advisers, to embrace Mohameddanism, I expressed a wish to see her, when she was immediately summoned; but made her appearance with great reluctance, being evidently most heartily ashamed of her apostacy.
She told us that she was very unhappy; for, although she was treated with great kindness, she could not reconcile herself to the sin whichshe had committed; and that, had she been left to her own free will, she never should have thought of taking such a step. A few weeks only had elapsed since she had become a Turk, but she already felt that, although no taunt was uttered by her companions, they never lost sight of the fact of her being a renegade; and, had she not known the penalty which must be paid, she declared that she should at once have uttered her second recantation.
Well might she pause as she remembered it; for that penalty is death! When once a Christian female has been induced to utter the simple prayer which is the only necessary ceremony—the few brief words which declare that “There is butOne God, and Mahomet is the Prophet ofGod”—she is a Mahomeddan; and, should she afterwards repent her apostacy, and resolve on returning to the bosom of the Christian Church, and her determination become suspected before she has time or opportunity to escape from the power of the Turks, the waters of the Bosphorus terminate at once her project and her life.
Nor is a male renegade placed in a more secure position. The Mahomeddans tolerate no off-falling from their faith. They are bound by their law twice during their lives toinvitea Christian to embrace the religion of the Prophet; but they never outrun the spirit oftheir instructions: they simply suggest the conversion, and use no endeavour to enforce it; while, on the other hand, they permit no apostacy—death is the instant penalty for the bare idea. Few Missionaries, however talented, or however zealous, ever made a Turkish convert—and no renegade Christian, unless by some rare chance he succeeded in escaping at the critical moment ere his resolution became suspected, ever survived the intention.
As the Buyuk Hanoum had been particular in her injunctions that every attention should be paid to me; all the musical clocks and watches throughout the Palace (and they were not few,) were put into requisition, and the orchestra, completed by a very harsh barrel-organ, awoke into discord by the fair hands of Devlehäi Hanoum. This confusion of sweet sounds is one of the highest courtesies which can be exhibited in the Harem: and it was quite laughable to stroll through the long galleries, and to escape from the Sultan’s March on the left hand, to find yourself in the midst of the Barcarole in Massaniello on the right; and, leaving both behind you, to catch a fine cadence ofDi Piacer, as you were beginning to imagine that all was over.
Having at length reached a spacious saloon, whose cool-looking white sofas occupied recesses in each of which a window afforded the hope of a little air, I not only threw up the sash but thejalousies also, to the great terror of a couple of slaves who were looking on. Seeing their alarm, I explained to them that they were not compelled to approach the forbidden opening, but they still continued in such a state of anxiety that I begged them to explain what troubled them: whereupon the elder of the two, a plain, clumsy-looking woman of five or six and thirty, and as unattractive a person as can well be imagined, told me that, as the Buyuk Hanoum loved me so much, she could not bear to see me commit so heinous a sin. I requested to know in what my transgression consisted, when she exclaimed with great energy:—“Suppose a Turk passing under the window should look up, and love you, would you become a Musselmaun, and marry him?”
“Certainly not.”
“Imagine then the sin for which you will be accountable, if you continue seated in front of that open casement. Some unhappy True Believer will look upon you—he will desire to have you for his wife—and when you continue deaf to his passion, he will grow sick, keep his bed, and probably die; and how will you be able to appear in Paradise with such a sin upon your soul?”
I have related this little anecdote, because it proves two distinct facts; first, that the Turkish women thoroughly believe that a happy immortality awaits them, if they do not forfeit itby their own misdeeds; and that they are moreover tolerant enough to consider it sure that even the Giaours, who have no share in the mysteries of Mahomet, have nevertheless the same hope.
I put an end to the generous fears of the woman by telling her that such an occurrence could not take place with the Frank females, who did not possess sufficient attraction to peril the peace of a True Believer, and that this was the reason they walked about unveiled; while the great beauty of the fair Turks had rendered it incumbent on the Prophet to make them cover their faces, in order to prevent such misfortunes to his followers as that to which she had just alluded; and she was so well satisfied with my explanation that she suffered me to remain peacefully in my corner, breathed upon by the cool air which swept over the Bosphorus, only taking extreme care to remain at such a distance from the window herself, as to ensure the heart-ease of every worthy and susceptible Musselmaun who might chance to pass that way.
From this pleasant position we were summoned to an apartment in which refreshments had been provided for us; and as we had expressed no inclination to eat, these consisted only of fruits, conserves, and similar trifles. Pyramids of pears and grapes; saucers of olives and cream-cheese; vases of preserves; and dishesof cucumber neatly arranged, and cut into minute portions, formed the staple of the repast; and were interspersed with goblets of rose-scented sherbet. To myself alone another luxury was added, in the shape of a small cake of extremely delicate bread, made for the exclusive use of the Minister.
The fair Georgian could by no means be persuaded to seat herself at table; and although the apartment was filled with attendants, she persisted in waiting upon me herself; and during a considerable time found amusement in decorating my hair with bunches of small pears, which had been gathered with great care, in order to preserve the leaves that grew about them.
While we were thus agreeably employed, Conjefèm Hanoum entered from the bath. She was a fair, languishing beauty of sixteen, exquisitely dressed, and extremely fascinating; with a slight expression of melancholy about her, that seemed as much the effect of a quiet coquetry as the result of her natural temperament.
When our primitive repast was concluded, the beautiful Georgian inquired of my friends whether they could suggest any thing likely to give me pleasure which it was in her power to offer. As the day was lovely, and the sun beginning to decline, we availed ourselves ofher politeness, and decided on a drive, when the carriage was immediately ordered, amid the regrets of the two younger ladies that they could not accompany us, which from their not having previously obtained the permission of the Pasha, it was impossible for them to do. Had the Buyuk Hanoum desired to be of the party, she would have been at perfect liberty to indulge the inclination, as from her advanced age no cause for jealousy could possibly exist on the part of the husband; but the other wives were too young and too pretty to be trusted to their own discretion by a worthy old gentleman of nearly four score; and they were consequently compelled, much to their annoyance, to see us depart alone.
When we had taken leave of the Buyuk Hanoum in her apartment, where she still lay pillowed upon her cushions; and that I had promised to avail myself of her earnest invitation that I would repeat my visit; we returned to the great centre saloon where the other ladies awaited us, surrounded by a crowd of slaves, one of whom carried upon a salver a pile of embroidered handkerchiefs, worked by the fair fingers of the two younger Hanoums, with gold thread and coloured silks. This gift, which had been prepared for me, was accompanied by a thousand kindly comments. I was desired to examine one piece of needlework, and to remarkthat I carried away with me the heart of the donor—upon another I was told that I should find a bouquet of flowers, and discover that they had presented me with the portrait which they should retain of me in their own memories; and I at length bade them farewell, amid a thousand admonitions neither to forget nor to neglect the promise that I had made to renew my visit.
The araba awaited us in the court of the palace, and ere long we were all comfortably established in a roomy and commodious waggon, (for that is the correct name of the carriage) drawn by two oxen blazing with gilt foil and spangles; upon a mattress of crimson shag, embroidered and fringed with gold, amid cushions of similar material, and beneath a canopy of purple decorated in the same rich style. Two attendants, in the livery of the Minister, ran beside the carriage; and, although our progress, from the nature of the animals who drew us, was not so rapid as many travellers might desire, we nevertheless contrived to spend a couple of delicious hours in driving up and down a public walk, overshadowed with fine old oaks, beneath whose gnarled and far-spreading boughs parties of shade-loving individuals had spread their mats, and were smoking their pipes, or eating their pic-nic dinners, within reach of a fine fountain and a commodious coffee-kiosk; and in the full enjoyment of as glorious a view as ever taughtthe eye of man to linger lovingly on the fair face of nature.
Assuredly no race of men ever enjoyed a beautiful country more thoroughly than the Orientals. Every pretty spot is sure to be discovered, and appropriated on each occasion of festival. Those who can possess themselves of commanding points, and who have the means of doing so, build kiosks, and plant vineyards about them, amid which they spend the long summer day; while the poorer classes carry their mats and their pipes to their favourite nooks; and enjoy, if not as exclusively, at least as heartily, as their more fortunate neighbours, the bright prospect and the balmy air.
The Turk, especially, finds his happiness in this most simple and most natural of all pleasures. Hour after hour he will sit with his chibouk between his lips, gazing about him unweariedly, and communing with his own thoughts in all the peacefulness and luxury engendered by the beauty of the locality; and the exterior appearance of his dwelling is never considered, if he can contrive an angle, or throw out a bay, which will enable him to command a striking feature in the landscape, or a longer stretch of the lake-like Bosphorus.
On the present occasion the oak-wood was dotted all over with little groups of holyday-makers. Children ran in and out among thetrees, making the breeze glad with laughter; the oxen which had been unyoked from the different carriages, were browsing on the young leaves; merry voices called to each other from amid the underwood; the fountain was surrounded by servants; the coffee-kiosk thronged with guests; and the scene was altogether so lively, so cool, and so delightful, that it was not without regret that we ultimately drove down to the shore, where our caïque awaited us, and found ourselves once more gliding smoothly and swiftly over the sunny waters of the channel.