This week, we continue with the narrative of Elizabeth Marsh, who was captured by corsairs from Salé in the summer of 1756. In last week’s post, Ms. Marsh successfully survived her first meeting with the Moroccan Sultan. In this week’s installment, she is once again called into the Sultan’s presence—but this time with a less successful result.
When I arrived at the Sultan’s apartments, the Slave who had conducted me there was dismissed. Then a French Lad, who could be admitted into the Women’s Apartments, was sent for to interpret between us, for the same ladies whom I had seen before were at the other end of the room.
The Sultan demanded that a cushion be placed near him, and I was ordered to be seated thereon.
The Sultan was tall, finely shaped, of a good complexion, and he appeared to be about five and twenty. He was dressed in a loose robe of fine muslin, with a train of at least two yards on the floor. Under that was a pink satin vest, buttoned with diamonds: He had a small Cap of the same satin as his vest, with a diamond button. He wore bracelets on his legs and slippers wrought with gold. Taken all together, his figure was rather agreeable and his address polite and easy.
A low table, covered with a piece of muslin edged with silver, was placed before him, and on that was an elegant serving tray containing a small tea kettle and lamp and two cups and saucers that were as light as tin and curiously japanned with green and gold. These, I was told, were presents from the Dutch.
The Tea was made in the kettle, and he presented me a cup of it, which, as it came from his hand, I ventured to drink, though I should have refused it from the Ladies, for very substantial reasons. When the Table was removed, I was introduced to a young Prince and Princes and had the honor to kiss their tawny hands, after which they retired. A slave then brought a great collection of rarities, which were the produce of different nations, and showed them to me.
I greatly admired everything I saw, which pleased the Sultan exceedingly, and he told me, by means of the interpreter, that he did not doubt of my preferring, in time, his palace to the confined way of life I was then in. He also assured me that I might always depend on his favor and protection, and that the curiosities I had seen should be my own property.
I thanked him for the honor he did me, but I explained that, as I was very happy with a husband who was my equal in rank and fortune, I did not wish to change my situation in that respect and, whenever it was agreeable to him, I would take my leave.
He looked very stern at my answer and made no response. Instead, he conversed in Morisco a little while with those in the room. Eventually, one of the ladies guided me to the other end of the room and seated me before them.
One of them in particular observed me very closely and seemed to be out of temper. She was a large woman but low in stature, of a sallow complexion, thick lipped, with a broad, flat face and black eyes, the lashes whereof were painted a deep red. Her hair was black, combed back from her forehead, and hung down a great length in various ringlets. She wore a large piece of muslin, edged with silver, round her head, raised high at the top. Her earrings were extremely large, and the part that went through the ears was made hollow for lightness. She wore a loose dress much like that of the wife of the Captain of the Port back at Salé, only with the difference of a diamond button at the collar and its being made of the finest muslin. Her slippers were of blue satin worked with silver, and she had bracelets on her arms and legs.
The Lady, whose Father (as I have already remarked) was an Englishman, talked to me in Morisco and was seemingly fond of me. By her gestures, I imagined she was urging me to learn their language.
I asked the French boy what she was saying. He answered, “Rien de consequence” [“Nothing of consequence”]. I therefore, concluding that what she said related to nothing more than common conversation, and being desirous to oblige her in trifles, I imprudently repeated some words she had said.
Too late, I discovered that I had renounced (completely innocently) the Christian religion by saying in Morisco: “There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.”
The Palace was immediately plunged into the utmost confusion, and there was joy on every face.
I was surprised and frightened, for I knew not the cause of the commotion. Perceiving this, the Sultan ordered the noise to cease and, at the same time, spoke to the ladies, who instantly left the room, taking me with them to an apartment remote from that wherein we had been, adjoining to the garden. It was a large room, much longer than broad, and crowded with women, most of them black.
One of them spoke French and inquired very civilly after my health. I asked her if the place we were in was the Seraglio. She said it was a small part of it and offered to show me around. I, however, would not venture myself out of sight of the door through which I had entered.
The Ladies who had conducted me thither left me as soon as the black women were in conversation with me, and I saw them no more.
An old slave brought me a cup of chocolate, but its appearance did not please me, and I declined taking it. Indeed, I had been cautioned by my friends against drinking anything that might be offered to me. After some time, I began to be impatient and extremely uneasy at my being detained in that place, and I entreated them to permit my departure. Instead of granting my request, they endeavored to assuage my anxiety by assuring me that I should not remain there much longer.
I nevertheless continued my entreaties.
Eventually, a young lad came in. He was one of those who attended the women. I immediately addressed him in French, which, fortunately for me, he understood. I asked him to convey my respects to His Imperial Highness and inform him that I besought him, as I was very ill, to give me leave to depart.
The boy cheerfully complied, and in less than a quarter of an hour, I had an answer from an English renegade: that I must attend the Sultan in a private apartment.
I was shocked at the oddity of this message, but, as it appeared to be my fate to be reduced to passive obedience and non-resistance, I had little choice but to follow the man.
For those who may be interested, the above excerpt comes from pages 17 – 34 of Volume 2 of the 1766 edition of Elisabeth Marsh’s The Female Captive: A Narrative of Facts Which Happened in Barbary in the Year 1756, Written by Herself.
As with previous weeks’ excerpts, I have taken some editorial license and revised Marsh’s original text to make it more accessible for modern casual readers.
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