Janizaries -- Fiction; Turkey -- History -- Mahmud I, 1730-1754 -- Fiction
On the evening before, it is announced by the blowing of horns that the
morrow will be the Feast of Halwet. On that day no man, of whatever
rank, may come forth in the streets, or appear on the roof of a house,
or show himself at a window, for death would be the penalty of his
curiosity. The black and white eunuchs keeping order in the streets
decapitate without mercy every man who does not remain indoors. Notices
that this will be done are posted up on all the boundary-posts in the
suburbs of the city, that strangers may regulate their conduct
accordingly.
On the day of the feast of Halwet all the damsels discard their veils,
without which at all other times they are not permitted to walk about
the streets. Then it is that the odalisks of one harem go forth to call
upon the odalisks of another. Rows upon rows of brightly variegated
tents appear in the midst of the streets and market-places, in which
sherbet and other beverages made of violets, cane-sugar, rose-water,
pressed raisins, and citron juice, together with sweetmeats,
honey-cakes, and such-like delicacies, to which women are so partial,
are sold openly, and all the sellers are also women.
Ah! what a spectacle that would be for the eyes of a man! Every street
is swarming with thousands and thousands of bewitching shapes. These
women, released from their prisons, are like so many gay and thoughtless
children. Group after group, singing to the notes of the cithern,
saunter along the public ways, decked out in gorgeous butterfly apparel,
which flutter around their limbs like gaily coloured wings. The suns and
stars of every climate flash and sparkle in those eyes. The whole
gigantic city resounds with merry songs and musical chatter, and any man
who could have seen them tripping along in whole lines might have
exclaimed in despair: "Why have I not a hundred, why have I not a
thousand hearts to give away!"
And then when the harem of the Sultan proudly paces forth! Half a
thousand odalisks, the lovelinesses of every province in the Empire, for
whom the youths of whole districts have raved in vain, in garments
radiant with pearls and precious stones, mounted on splendid prancing
steeds gaily caparisoned. And in the midst of them all the beautiful
Sultana, with the silver heron's plume in her turban, whose stem flashes
with sparkling diamonds. Her glorious figure is protected by a garment
of fine lace, scarce concealing the snowy shimmer of her well-rounded
arms. She sits upon the tiger-skin saddle of her haughty steed like an
Amazon. The regard of her flashing eyes seems to proclaim her the tyrant
of two Sultans, who has the right to say: "I am indeed my husband's
consort!"
In front and on each side of the fairy band march four hundred black
eunuchs, with naked broadswords across their shoulders, looking up at
the windows of the houses before which they march to see whether,
perchance, any inquisitive Peeping-Toms are lurking there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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