His first rejection was treated by the Sultan as the wayward whim of a spoiled beauty, and he even condescended to expostulate with Nazip Hanoum; but his advice had no more effect upon her than his preference; and for the first time in his life, the “Brother of the Sun” and “Emperor of the Earth” found himself slighted by a mere girl.
The evil was, however, without remedy, for, as the adopted daughter of an Imperial Princess, the liberty of the young Hanoum was sacred; and his Sublime Highness was fain to content himself with the anticipation of future success; but, when a second solicitation brought with it only a second repulse, despite all the costly gifts and lover-like courtesies of the preceding twelve months, the enraged Sultan took up the affair in another tone, and accused the Princess of having instigated her favourite to this unheard-of rebellion against his sacred will.
The Sultana defended herself with all the energy of innocence, and even consented to further his suit by her counsels and persuasion, but no success followed her efforts. Nazip Hanoum preferred the partial liberty of the harem of her protectress, and the comparative independence of her present position, to the gilded captivity of the Imperial Seraglio, and the fleeting favour of its lord; and she consequently continued firm.
The Sultan, enraged beyond endurance at this unexpected perseverance, left the palace in displeasure, and even refused to see his sister, whom he still persisted in believing to be the principal cause of his defeat. But monarchs are mere men where blighted feeling or wounded vanity make themselves felt: and Mahmoud, when he retreated to his gilded saloons at Beglierbey, shared the fate of his kind. He became convinced that he really loved Nazip Hanoum, and that her possession was necessary to his happiness; and, determined not to be thwarted a third time, he continued deaf to the earnest and humble prayers of the Princess that he would restore to her the light of his favour, and the glory of his presence; and actually refused during three long weeks to be accessible to her entreaties; when, feeling convinced that this display of his sublime wrath must have produced a powerful effect on the refractory beauty, he once more bent his course to the palace of the Princess.
A rich gift to Nazip Hanoum announced her pardon; and when she had played and sung, seated on a cushion at his feet, and he had witnessed the graceful movements of the dancing girls, and partaken of the perfumed sherbet of his Imperial Sister, he led the young beauty into the gardens of the palace, where she was compelled to listen for the third time to his thriftless suit. But, alas! for the lordly lover—the reflections of the past year had only strengthened her resolution, and she continued as unmoved by his protestations as she had been by his displeasure; and thus, Mahmoud returned once more to his Seraglio as unsuccessful as ever.
Such is the sacredness of adoption among the Turks.
I have already mentioned that the Palace of Ortakeuÿ fronts the Bosphorus, from which it is only separated by a broad path or terrace of marble, extending along a considerable portion of the channel, and only broken at intervals by the projection of the different palaces and dwellings that are built against the edge of the stream. While we were conversing with Nazip Hanoum, my attention was attracted by a peculiar signal rising from this terrace, and evidently intended for the ear of some fair inhabitant of the Seraï. As no answer was returned, the shrill wild sound was repeated, when Nazip Hanoum rose quietly from her cushions, and throwing back a small door which opened in the midst of the lattice-work of one of the windows, demanded, in a tone of pretty peevishness, why she was thus persecuted, when she had announced her resolution not to receive another letter. The reply to this appeal, brief as it was, was conclusive, for, shrugging her shoulders with a coquettish gesture of impatience, she flung from the casement a painted handkerchief secured by a silken cord attached to the window-frame, and after the delay of a moment, drew it back, and took a letter from amid its folds, which, having read with a blush and a smile, she thrust into the shawl that was bound about her waist, with all the composure of a person to whom such an occurrence was no novelty.
We shortly afterwards proceeded to wait upon all the principal ladies of the household, who occupied apartments opening from the same gallery as that of Nazip Hanoum. The first whom we visited was the mother of the slaves, a serious, stately woman, of about fifty years of age, dressed in an antery and trowsers of black cashmere, very silent, and even sad-looking, whom we quitted as soon as we had satisfied her curiosity; for the atmosphere of her stateliness did not appear congenial to our light-hearted conductress.
We were next introduced to Peroussè Hanoum, the private secretary of the Princess, who had been a favourite Odalique of Sultan Selim; a woman remarkable for her talents both natural and acquired; and a celebrated poet. She was seated upon her sofa, surrounded by papers; lying confusedly in heaps, or tied up in squares of clear muslin; and engaged in writing on the lid of a chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She was still handsome, with delicate features, and fine eyes, but disfigured by the dye with which she had made her eyebrows meet across her nose. Had I been able to converse with her, without the interposition of a third person, I am sure that I should have been delighted, for she was all energy and enthusiasm. Her room was crowded with Turkish and Greek women, squatted on cushions all over the floor; and close beside her, with her pale cheek resting upon her knees, sat one of the ladies of the Imperial Seraglio, who having suffered severely from a protracted indisposition, had asked and obtained permission to spend a few weeks in the harem of the Princess, by whom she had been brought up. She was a lovely girl of eighteen or nineteen, very richly dressed, but evidently broken-hearted. Whenever she was addressed, the tears rushed into her large dark eyes, and every reply appeared to be an effort. The gilded Palace of her Imperial Master had evidently been a mere prison to her; and you read a tale of blighted hope and spirit-sickness upon every line of her pallid face.
While we were in the apartment of the secretary, Nazip Hanoum, at the request of the fair and faded visitor, sent a slave for her zebec, and played and sang with considerable sweetness and execution: after which the gifted Peroussè Hanoum read one of her poems, which elicited such rapturous applause, that I asked and obtained a transcript of it, and having caused it to be translated into French by one of the Professors of the Military College, I have since rendered it into English verse for the gratification of my readers.