The hareem, or harem, as it is often miscalled in England, is also often misunderstood. Its true meaning is the ‘prohibited,’ that is ‘sacred’ to the master of the house. It is that portion of the house which is confined to the women and children, and is not necessarily a kind of luxurious prison for a number of wives, which many unacquainted with the East often suppose. The ‘selamlik’ is that part of the house used by the male portion of the household. As the great majority of Egyptians have only one wife at a time, the hareem generally occupies less of the house than the ‘selamlik.’ The term ‘el hareem’ also applies to women collectively.
It would not have been proper to ask if the beautiful apartment we were in had ever been used as the Káá, for one must be on very intimate terms with a Moslem before alluding in any way to what concerns his women-folk. A feminine touch of lightness absent in the selamlik convinced me that we were being entertained in what at one time formed a part of the hareem.
The chief attraction was the grand display of beautiful old tiles which covered the walls. The design showed a Persian influence, and was not confined to the geometrical patterns of the more orthodox Saracenic work, and pretty as this is, it is the colour which gives it its great charm. Blues tending to green played with blues of a violet shade, touches of puce and emerald green joined in the revelry of colour. No ornaments were hung or bracketed on these wall spaces, for were they not ornament sufficient in themselves? The mattresses and cushions of the divan had richer coverings, were more elegant in pattern, and less sombre in hue than those of the divan we had first seen.
What a studio this would have made for any one desirous to paint eastern subjects! Better that it remain as it is—a dignified setting to a worthy Egyptian gentleman.
As the sun got more round to the west, the shadow of the mushrbiyeh patterned the floor, and gem-like touches of light crept slowly up the wall facing the great window. Above the turned wooden grating, which showed its design so beautifully in the shadow it cast, a second window admitted the light through numerous pieces of coloured glass set in deep mouldings of old plaster work.
Mr. Bowden Smith chatted with the Sheykh about mutual acquaintances and of affairs pertaining to the present day; but whether it was my insufficient knowledge of Arabic or whether my surroundings had carried my thoughts elsewhere, I lost the thread of their conversation. When appealed to about some point, I had, before I could answer, to disentangle my thoughts from ‘The story of the Humpback’ which I had pictured Shahrazad rehearsing to her sister in anticipation of one of the thousand and one nights. The two daughters of the Vizir had hardly settled the point as to the working of this story into the one of ‘Noor ed-Deen and Enees el Jelees,’ when the deep wail ‘Alláhu Akbar!’ from Beybar’s minaret announced the maghrib.
The patterned shadow had left the floor, and the touches of light from the stained glass, intensified in colour by the declining sun, crept from wall to ceiling as we rose to depart.
ENTRANCE TO THE HAREEM