On the eve of the Baïram which terminates the Ramazan, we passed over to Constantinople with some friends to visit Mustafa Effendi, the Egyptian Chargé d’Affaires, whose magnificent mansion is situated near the gate of the Seraglio. Having passed the portal, we found ourselves in a spacious and covered court, having on our right hand a marble fountain, into whose capacious basin the water fell murmuringly from a group of lion’s heads; and, beyond it, the entrance to the women’s apartments, with the conventuallooking wheel, by means of which food is introduced into the harem; and on our left a stately staircase leading to the main body of the building. Here our party were compelled to separate; the gentlemen put off their boots, and followed the two black slaves who awaited them, to the suite of rooms occupied by the master of the house, while my companion and myself were consigned to the guidance of a third attendant, who beat upon the door of the harem, and we entered a large hall paved with marble, and were immediately surrounded by half a dozen female slaves, who took our shoes, shawls, and bonnets, and led us over the fine Indian matting of the centre saloon, to the richly-furnished apartment of the lady of the house.
A soft twilight reigned in the room, of which all the curtains were closely drawn to exclude the sun; and the wife of the minister and her daughter-in-law were seated at the tandour, engaged in conversation with several of their attendants, who stood before them in a half circle, with their arms folded upon their breasts. The elder lady was the most high-bred person whom I had yet seen in the country; the younger one was pale and delicate, with eyes like jet, and a very sweet and gentle expression; she spoke but seldom, and always in monosyllables, being evidently overawed by the presence of her companion.
There are probably few nations in the world that observe with such severity as the Turks that domestic precedence and etiquette, which, while it may certainly prevent any disrespectful familiarity, has a tendency to annihilate all ease. Thus, the other ladies of the family are each inferior to the first wife, who takes the upper seat on the sofa, and regulates all the internal economy of the women’s apartments: and, although they may be greatly preferred by the husband, they are, nevertheless, bound to obey her commands, and to treat her with the respect due to a superior. In the Salemliek, when she is desired by her lord to be seated, (without which gracious intimation she must continue standing before him), she is privileged to place herself on the same sofa, but on its extreme edge, and at a considerable distance; while the other ladies are only permitted to fold their feet under them on a cushion spread upon the carpet, and thence look up to the great and gracious ruler of their destinies! The ceremonies of the Salemliek are neither forgotten nor neglected in the harem, and it is customary for all the slaves to bend down and kiss the hem of their mistress’s garment on her first appearance in the morning.
These heart-shutting observances cannot fail to heighten the jealousy which their relative position must naturally excite in the bosoms of the other inmates of the harem, although such a circumstance as rebellion against the supreme power is never heard of, nor imagined.
During the day we were summoned to the apartment of the minister; whither, as the invitation was not extended to his wife, we went, accompanied only by three or four black slaves. After traversing several long galleries and halls, covered so closely with matting that not a footfall could be heard, we passed under the tapestry-hanging that veiled the door of the Effendi’s apartment, and found ourselves in an atmosphere so heavy with perfume that for a moment it was almost suffocating.
The venerable Chargé d’Affaires, who had been long an invalid, was sitting upon his sofa, surrounded by cushions of every possible size and shape, wrapped in furs, and inhaling the odour of a bunch of musk lemons, the most sickly and sating of all savours—a magnificent mangal, upheaped with fire, occupied the centre of the apartment; the divan was almost covered with inlaid boxes, articles of bijouterie, books, and papers; a large silver tray resting upon a tripod was piled pyramidically with fine winter fruits; and within a recess on one side of the room were ranged a splendid coffee service of French porcelain, and a pair of tall and exquisitely-wrought essence-vases of fillagreed silver—in short, the whole aspect of the apartment would have satisfied the most boudoir-loving petite-maitresse of Paris or London. Near the mangal stood the four attendants of the master of the house, two fine boys of twelve or fourteen years of age, and two pretty little girls, one or two years younger, gorgeously dressed, and wearing magnificent brilliant ornaments on their heads and bosoms.
The rage for diamonds is excessive among both the Turks and the Greeks; but, while the Greek ladies delight in heaping upon their persons every ornament for which they can find space, many of the fair Osmanlis, with a pretty exclusive scorn of adventitious attraction, content themselves with a clasp or two, a bracelet, or some similar bagatelle; and decorate their favourite slaves with their more costly and ponderous jewels.
A most venerable-looking person was Mustafa Effendi, with his lofty turban, and his snow-white beard; and he received us so kindly, and discoursed with us so good-humouredly, that I was delighted with him. A chair was brought for the Greek lady who had accompanied me, but he motioned to me to place myself on a pile of cushions at his side, where I remained very comfortably during the whole of our visit. He took a great quantity of snuff from a box whose lid was richly set with precious stones; and, on my admiring it, showed me another containing his opium pills, which was exquisitely inlaid with fine large brilliants.
My attention being attracted to the rosy, happy-looking little slave-girl who stood near me, with her chubby arms crossed before her, her large pink trowsers completely concealing her naked feet, and her long blue antery richly trimmed with yellow floss-silk fringe, lying upon the carpet; he beckoned her to him, called her a good child, who had wit enough to anticipate his wants, and affection enough to supply them without bidding, and bade me remark the henna with which the tips of her toes and fingers were deeply tinged. She was, he said, a Georgian, whom he had purchased of her mother for six thousand piastres; she had already been in his house two years; and he hoped some day to give her a marriage portion, and to see her comfortably established, as she was a good girl, and he was much attached to her. The other, he added, was also obedient and willing, but she did not possess the vivacity and quickness of his little favourite—she had cost him seven thousand piastres, as she was a year older, and considerably stronger than her companion; and was a Circassian, brought to Constantinople, and sold, at her own request, by her parents.
When I remembered that these children were slaves, I felt inclined to pity them—when the very price which had been paid for them was stated to me, a sickness crept over my heart—but, as I looked upon the pleased and happy countenances of the two little girls, and remembered that slavery, in Turkey at least, is a mere name, and in nine cases out of ten even voluntary, I felt that here my commiseration would be misplaced.
Soon after we had taken leave of the gentle and gracious old Effendi, a basket of delicious fruit was sent into the harem for our use, with an injunction that we should dine alone, lest we should be inconvenienced by the national habits. An embroidered carpet was consequently spread, beside which were placed a couple of cushions; and the dinner tray, such as I have before described it, was lifted into the apartment of the younger lady, at her earnest request: nine slaves, forming a line from the table to the door, waited upon us: and we partook of an endless variety of boiled, stewed, roasted, and baked—delicious cinnamon soup—chickens, farcied with fine herbs and olives—anchovy cakes—lemon-tinted pillauf—chopped meat and spiced rice, rolled in preserved vine-leaves-the most delicate of pastry, and the most costly of conserves. Many-coloured sherbets, and lemonade, completed the repast; and when I laid aside my gold-embroidered napkin, and wiped the rose-water from my hands, I could but marvel at the hyper-fastidiousness of those travellers who have affected to quarrel with the Turkish kitchen; or infer that they had only “assisted” at the tables of hotels and eating-houses.
From the windows of the apartment, we had an excellent view, when the evening