WHERE ADAM AND EVE LIVED 



673 



lolled, as in the toilet-soap advertise- 

 ments. I thought of precious perfumes 

 and beveled mirrors 30 feet high, of 

 priceless jewels blazing on beautiful 

 breasts, and of bronze eunuchs waving 

 peacock fans, while sinuous serving- 

 maids gentl} brushed the soft tresses of 

 some harem favorite; but these dreams 

 , did not last long. 



Almost before I knew it we had passed 

 the great bolt-studded gate, stepped from 

 behind a tall screen of hideous Persian 

 tapestry, and were within the sacred pre- 

 cincts of the harem itself. 



The interor was a great square court, 

 surrounded on three sides by small 

 rooms — the individual rooms of the 

 Pasha wives and women folk. On the 

 tiled floor of the court was strewn a 

 variegated lot of cheap Oriental rugs and 

 passats. A few red, plush-covered chairs 

 and divans completed the meager fur- 

 nishings. 



THE WOMEN OF THE HAREM 



Scarcely were we within when my host 

 called out, and women began pouring 

 from the tiny rooms. Fourteen females, 

 of various size, shape, hue, and dress, 

 emerged — each from her own little 

 room. I looked at their faces — and their 

 clothes — and I knew suddenly that all 

 my life I had been deceived ; it came over 

 me that an amazing amount of rubbish 

 has been written around the hidden life 

 of harem women. And before I left that 

 strange institution I felt that even Pierre 

 Loti had juggled lightly with the truth in 

 his harem romance, "Disenchanted." 



The women before me were not beau- 

 tiful — at least they were not to be com- 

 pared with any type of feminine face 

 and figure commonly thought attractive 

 by men in our Western world. Two or 

 three were exceptions ; light of complex- 

 ion, large-eyed, and not too fat, they 

 resembled very much the Circassian 

 maids — and possibly they were. Any 

 one familiar with Turkey knows to what 

 extent these girls — often very beautiful — 

 have figured in the harem life, especially 

 about the Bosphorus. Most of the wo- 

 men who stood before me in that Bag- 

 dad harem, however, were absolutely 

 commonplace; some of them even stupid- 

 lookinsf. 



COSTUMES OE THE WOMEN 



A few wore bright-colored scarfs about 

 their necks, with more or less jewelry on 

 their ankles and wrists. The popular 

 item of dress seemed a shapeless sort of 

 baggy "mother-hubbard" like garment, 

 worn over yellow trousers. Gilt or 

 beaded slippers adorned the feet of the 

 younger and better-looking women ; the 

 older ones were barefooted. None of 

 them seemed to have made much of an 

 effort at hair-dressing; two or three wore 

 their hair loose, hanging in tangled wisps 

 about their faces. 



However, the old Pasha beamed with 

 pride as he looked them over ; and after 

 all, if he was pleased, nothing else mat- 

 tered. He introduced me all around and 

 bowed himself out, leaving me alone with 

 the fourteen. Two girlish youngsters — 

 in their early 'teens — he had told me were 

 his daughters ; but to this day 1 do not 

 know which of the several wives shared 

 their ownership with him. 



A MUTUAL SURPRISE 



Hardly had the old Pasha withdrawn 

 when the women were up and about me. 

 And such chattering, giggling, exclaim- 

 ing, pulling, and pushing as followed ! 

 It was a great day — a day long to be re- 

 membered — in that Bagdad harem. So 

 far as I could learn, I was the first wo- 

 man from the Western world who had 

 ever visited there ; I was the first white 

 woman that some of the inmates had 

 ever seen. 



Think what a sensation would ensue 

 in any American sitting-room if an Arab 

 woman, her nails, lips, and eyelashes 

 dyed, her limbs tattooed, rings in hef 

 nose, and anklets jangling, might sud- 

 denly appear — silk bloomers and all — in 

 the midst of a crowd of Yankee women ! 

 Our own composure and self-restraint 

 might not be any greater than that 

 showed by these Arab women at Bagdad 

 when I, an American girl in street clothes, 

 appeared among them. They crowded 

 about, feeling my hands and face, get- 

 ting down on their knees to admire my 

 high-heel shoes, stroking the skirt of my 

 blue tailored suit, behaving like excited 

 children with a new toy. My hat-pins 

 were a source of great wonder, and my 



