These veiled women, the closed carriages, the elaborate wooden or wrought-iron screens that mask the windows, and the air of reserve about the houses, all hint at a strange life within. The very doors open in such a way as to reveal nothing of the inner court, and the gay flowers in the windows alone show visible signs of a woman’s care. The closed doors are the symbol of secrecy as impenetrable as the women’s veils. When, as occasionally happens, some story of the life of the harem is allowed to leak out, the tale is always of terror, cruelty, and persecution. Not that a visit to a harem is at all tragic—quite the reverse; for though it is no new thing to be amused, it is rather unusual to find oneself so amusing, to see that no detail escapes criticism, to hear endless comments, and understand nothing but the smiles, the gestures, and the stroking of soft fingers. It is all guesswork from the moment that the beautiful being, who acts as Cavass to the Consulate, hands over his charges to a smiling woman, with a great horn on her head, covered by a haÏck, the dress of a Jewess, who is to act as escort. With becks and nods and many smiles, for she knew only two words of French, she dived down street after street and along narrow passages, which we could never find again, till at last she stood at a door and knocked. Almost noiselessly it opened, and we found ourselves exchanging solemn greetings with our host, who sat on a divan in the entrance. Having welcomed us, he allowed our guide to lead us into the covered court filled with a gay throng. Such a hubbub! Music and singing and long drawn-out trilling cries of joy, for this was a party after a wedding. A group of women with musical instruments sat on a mattress in one corner, and sang and played at intervals, while the rest of the company formed a circle on chairs and divans. As soon as we entered every one crowded round us, and we were stroked and patted, given coffee and chairs, before the serious business of examining all our possessions began. Our first breach of etiquette was that we forgot to unveil. Our hostesses frowned and pointed till the objectionable bit of net was removed. Hats were of no consequence, as head-dresses were worn, handsome kerchiefs of all colours with fringes, and many jewels on the forehead. The dress consisted of sleeveless embroidered coats over lace jackets or ordinary low bodices, full trousers of rich brocades and satins, or, in the case of visitors, of white cotton with stripes of insertion and ribbon down the front, white stockings and smart shoes. Beneath all this finery their necks and arms were covered by ugly striped vests, so, decidedly, the inherent good taste of their lords is not shared by the ladies of the harem. They were all short and generally stout, handsome in a rather heavy way, with thick, painted eyebrows, darkened eyelashes, and henna-stained hands. They peered into our faces to try and discover paint and powder, took off our gloves to see our hands, admired some real old lace, and, having got over their first fear, fell absolutely in love with a fur stole with little tails and claws. Our simple gold chains and watches and our lack of other ornaments evidently surprised them, as they were adorned with golden cables and plaques of gold and brilliant blue enamel. It was most embarrassing to talk by signs, and our few words of Arabic were soon exhausted. All their treasures were displayed: the mother-of-pearl coffers, the great divans, the French bedsteads hidden in alcoves. On one divan, two pretty imps of children were lying with their faces buried in the cushions. The women explained that they were in terror at our great height; they had never seen such monsters. By force of contrast our slender, dark figures may have appeared gigantic, but what would they have thought of some of our six-foot friends? Before we left we had the pleasure of watching some of them dress to go away. Some changed their socks into commoner ones for the street, then the black veils went on, and after that, with deft grace and subtle twist, the haÏcks were arranged. Then they were ready to face anyone, even their host in exile at his own front door.

There was nothing remarkable about the house, but the interior of many of the old buildings is very fine. The rooms, opening out of the usual courts, have carved ceilings and delicate stucco work, after the fashion of the Alhambra. The effect is generally spoilt by European hangings, carpets and furniture of the worst period of the nineteenth century.

The Bey has some beautiful rooms in his town palace of Dar el Bey, where fine old work is, with the same want of knowledge, marred by the addition of gilt clocks, glass chandeliers, and poor carpets, so that it is a relief to escape to the roof and look out over the city, and try to trace the whereabouts of streets and bazaars hidden in the mass of white.

The Bardo, or show palace, in the country suffers even more from the same want of artistic feeling. Built mostly of marble, an imposing staircase, flanked by lions couchant, four on each side, leads to an open loggia and a fine court with horse-shoe arches, slender columns, and the usual fountain. Other halls and courts, beautiful in Moorish style, have the exquisite lace-like stucco that is almost a lost art nowadays, and wonderful ceilings; but each hall contains gilt chairs, the inevitable clocks, glass chandeliers, terrible portraits, even cheap lace curtains and Brussels carpets with glaring patterns, for which there is no possible excuse, as the bazaars are full of splendid native carpets and hangings of harmonious colourings and suitable designs. However, the guardians are prouder of the enormities in the way of portraits than they are of the place itself.

In the rich quarter the only other buildings of note are the many white domes of the Marabouts, or tombs of the Saints, and the yet more attractive green domes that cover the burying-places of the Beys. These can only be admired from the outside, as they share the sacred character of the mosques. Green tiles also appear as roofs for fountains, and are sometimes supported by antique columns. Numbers of these columns may be found all over the city embedded in the walls and covered with whitewash.

The Hara, the old Jewish quarter, no longer holds the enormous population. The old rules are things of the past, the gates are no longer closed at night, so the overflow fills the surrounding streets and gives its own indescribable touch to the whole district. The old men still wear the dark turbans and blue or grey clothes, but the younger imitate the Moors if poor, and if rich the Europeans. Driving is now a favourite amusement, possibly because formerly those who possessed donkeys might only ride them outside the city walls, and horses were entirely forbidden.

Now every peculiarity of Eastern life seems intensified if not doubled. Twice as many people as in the Arab quarter crowd into still narrower streets. Noise and confusion never ceases. There are certainly fewer shops, but the dirt is more than double, and as for the smells, the variety is greater and twice as strong. Even the name of the main street, Souk el Hout, or “Fried Fish Street,” suggests this.