Felâtun Bey and Râkim Efendi

by Ahmet Mithat Efendi

  Believe me when I say that this poor fellow accepted his son’s ideas as pure wisdom. After some pleading and entreating, Meraki Efendi even had Felâtun write an essay on the subject, which he took to the printing house of one of the scientific magazines and returned enraged when it was rejected.

  Chapter 2

  THE PREVIOUS SECTION informed us pretty well about the specific personality of one of the two individuals we named our story after. Now, here briefly once again, we need to take a look at Râkım Efendi’s situation.

  Twenty-four years ago when the young man we call Râkım Efendi was one year old, he lost his father, one of the security guards of the vizier in Tophane, and was left in his mother’s care. What can a security guard possibly bequeath to his child? Our Râkım Efendi’s father handed down nothing that could be considered property except for a decrepit three-room henhouse near the famous Tuesday market of Salıpazarı, and an Arab slave.

  His mother was a good woman, and her Arab female slave, Fedayi, was maybe even a better woman, so when his mother collected herself and recovered from the grief of her husband’s death, she said, “Fedayi! Let’s leave this lady and slave business aside. We have no choice but to work together to feed ourselves and this poor little boy.” Yet Fedayi offered to take the entire burden on herself, replying, “Oh, my lady! Why should you work? I will work. I’ll feed you, and my little master, my child.” But Râkım Efendi’s mother didn’t leave all the work to Fedayi. She stitched and sewed embroidery, which she had Fedayi sell in the Salıpazarı market. On other days she sent Fedayi to grand houses to do laundry and clean, and sometimes even went herself. In short, they made their living through their own labors without relying on anyone else.

  Râkım grew up. He was sent to the Taş Elementary School in Salıpazarı when he was five and transferred to the Valide Secondary School when he was eleven. At sixteen he left that school and managed to get accepted at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

  My, how that young man worked! You know how they say, “He works day and night”? He actually did work day and night. Can you believe that his mother died just after he achieved this success?

  But even this was a kind of blessing. She always used to say, “Oh! My dear Râkım! I would die satisfied if I could see you achieve some standing in this world,” and she did attain this longed-for blessing.

  At this point, Râkım still didn’t earn a regular salary. Loyal Fedayi continued to sew, embroider napkins, stitch coffee bags, do laundry, and mop floors. She kept enough of her earnings to cover household expenses and gave the remainder to Râkım, thinking, “He is a young man and shouldn’t want for money.” Except that Râkım didn’t need very much pocket money. What would a boy like him need money for anyway? Every morning he went to school in Süleymaniye, and in the afternoon went to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, then took French lessons at the ministry, proceeded to practice his French at a doctor’s office in Galata, arrived home in the evening, and after dinner went to Beyoğlu by way of the Kazancılar neighborhood to help his Armenian friend from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs read Turkish. In exchange for this service, he was permitted to browse through his Armenian friend’s many French books.

  It was said that even on Fridays Râkım spent the entire day in his Armenian friend’s library. So it was that on Sundays, too, when the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was closed, Râkım would go to his friend’s library. The members of the household developed such confidence in Râkım that they trusted him with their library, even when they were not at home. How pleasant those days were for Râkım!

  Our Râkım Efendi pursued his education this way for four full years. His nanny, Fedayi, worked herself to the bone in the public kitchens to provide a proper upbringing for Râkım, the light of her mistress’ life. Far from leaving this young man, who had been entrusted to her, in need, Fedayi managed to allow him to live in comfortable circumstances.

  Even children from well-to-do families aren’t vouchsafed the sort of education and training that Râkım Efendi received. Thanks to his own aspirations and his nanny’s guidance and encouragement, in addition to Arabic grammar and syntax, he thoroughly learned the fourth annotated Arabic textbook. He was especially well trained in logic. He acquired a substantial knowledge of Hadith and Quranic exegesis. He even dipped into Islamic jurisprudence. Quite apart from finishing the Persian works of Saadi’s Gulistan and Bustan, Jami’s Baharistan, Attar’s Pandnameh, and the poetry of Hafez and Saib, he memorized the most famous selections of these works. Now, about French: he achieved a good grasp of the language. Later, thanks to his good friend in Galata, he mastered the basics of physics, chemistry, and biology; in his Armenian friend’s library in Beyoğlu he accumulated additional knowledge of geography, history, law, and international agreements. He never stopped reading French novels, plays, poems, and literature. Given the permission to take a book home for two nights, he wouldn’t be content with only reading it, but would also copy out its best parts. This is how Râkım Efendi used to live. Narrow financial circumstances persisted until he was twenty. Even though the salary he was receiving from the ministry had reached 150 kuruş by that time, everyone knew that this was insufficient for a minister in the Foreign Affairs office.

  One day a publisher friend of Râkım Efendi’s brought him a French book. He offered to pay him approximately twenty gold coins if he agreed to translate the book into Turkish. Though the book numbered almost two hundred sizable pages, Râkım courageously agreed to translate it within a week. It ended up taking more like twelve days before Râkım delivered the translation to the press. The publisher promptly gave him twenty liras.

  How about that? Who could estimate Râkım Efendi’s happiness when he received this money!

  No one. No one could estimate it. Poor Râkım had never seen that much money in any one place besides the moneylenders’ coffers in Galata. Although he had long desired it, he couldn’t even have imagined the possibility of making that much money from his own labors. Now when he saw this fortune, this treasure in his palm, he still couldn’t believe that it belonged to him. Only after contemplating it for a while was he able to accept that it was indeed his, and he couldn’t hold back his tears.

  Does this surprise you? Look, honorable readers! If there’s anyone among you who grew up like Râkım, think back on the first money you made through your own efforts, and how happy this made you feel. Remember that? Now it’s out of place to ask, “What is so extraordinary about a man having twenty liras?” Well, it’s not just any person. It is our very own Râkım Efendi, who always endeavored to be a decent man and had never seen twenty liras in one place before in his life.

  After receiving the money, this poor young man ran straight back to his house and showed it to his loyal nanny. Guess what? When this good woman saw the money, she was appalled. “My Goodness! Sir, where did you find this? You didn’t . . .” She came very close to translating her wicked thought into words but Râkım quickly explained how he made the money whereupon she was delighted. She said, “Oh! If only your mother was alive to see that you’ve earned these four pouches all at once! God bless her soul!” She couldn’t keep herself from crying, and so Râkım also broke into tears once again.

  Later they started thinking about how to spend their fortune. For even though we told you that Râkım had never had this much money, we never said he was greedy. On the contrary, since Râkım had grown up poor but contented, when he finally had this much money in his hands, he thought hording it was inappropriate. Instead, money was a means to happiness. He enjoyed earning money to spend it on their well-being. And when his nanny declared, “Sir! I think we could spend this money on a new set of clothes for you,” Râkım said, “No, my dear Nanny! What I have is enough. Our first priority is to save you from serving others. For you are getting older.” So they put half of the money aside and agreed to spend 150 kuruş every two weeks to supplement their expenditures over the next four months. They used the other half to repair their
house, which had started to fall into ruins.

  Anyone who knows anything at all knows that the first sale of the day, just as with every new beginning, comes with a blessing. And that’s exactly what happened with Râkım. Using what he had learned from studying the foreign newspapers that were always available at the Porte, he developed a broad understanding of diplomacy and occasionally wrote articles for some newspapers. Although he submitted these with no expectation of payment, the publisher started pressing one or two liras into his hands every week or so to encourage him. In fact, later on these payments grew more substantial. So much so that when it came to the point when he was making two liras a week, he decided to quit his job at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

  We were saddened by his departure from the ministry because if he had stayed there, there was no doubt that he would have excelled.

  Meanwhile, Râkım added to the number of his European friends. This provided him with more opportunities for translation and petition-writing in European languages. The foreigners who needed to write things like Turkish memorandums, documents, protests, or petitions would hand the work over to Râkım.

  Why become verbose? After pursuing this path for a couple years, he was making as much as twenty or thirty liras a month. However, in order to earn this money, the poor young man had to work seventeen hours a day, and only spent seven hours sleeping, resting, eating, and drinking.

  He renovated his house in Salıpazarı and furnished it nicely according to his own tastes. He began to accumulate books for a library by collecting the most distinguished books in Turkish and French. Despite all these expenditures, Râkım still had plenty of money left over.

  His nanny tried to get Râkım married several times. Râkım always said he had no need to marry. Loyal Fedayi didn’t want Râkım to take a bride only for his sake; she also needed a helpmate in her old age. Râkım recognized that she needed help and decided to purchase a female slave for the household.

  His nanny ordered some Arab female slaves from a couple of slave traders to come to the house for inspection. Fedayi tried them out for a day or two but found that she always disliked them and ended up returning them. One day Râkım Efendi took a shortcut through Karabaş to go from Tophane up to Beyoğlu to get to Kumbaracı Yokuşu Street. On his way, he saw a lovely Circassian girl and an elderly, white-bearded Circassian man knocking on a door. When he looked more carefully at the girl, something about her spoke to him. As he continued on his way, he thought to himself, “Why bother? My nanny doesn’t want a white slave, she wants an Arab; this girl won’t do.”

  Râkım began walking away but found himself rooted to the spot! Why, you ask? Even Râkım himself didn’t know why. Saying, “What if I simply inquire about this girl? No one can force me to buy her anyway!” he turned back and knocked on the door that had now closed behind the Circassian girl and the elderly man.

  Somebody opened the door. Râkım asked for the elderly man; he came. Râkım inquired whether the girl was a slave and if so, whether she was for sale. She was for sale. He wanted to see her. They showed him. She was a tall, dark-eyed girl with a little mouth, a fine nose, and a pleasant body, yet because she was very thin, diseased, and only fourteen, she wasn’t something that would appeal to everyone. But those languid looks! That melancholy smile!

  How did Râkım come to be holding her hand? Probably because he had taken it in astonishment and it hadn’t crossed his mind to let it go. He asked the elderly man for her price. Did he say, “one hundred gold coins?”

  The man mentioned her price. And what did Râkım do? He cried like a child. And what did the girl do? She started crying, too!

  The elderly man didn’t know what to make of it. He asked Râkım if she reminded him of someone he knew but received no reply.

  No, she didn’t resemble anyone he knew.

  Here is some news: Râkım was crying tears of joy and thanking God for giving an orphan like him the opportunity to buy such a beautiful white slave. Indeed! This was the kind of sensitive and emotional young man Râkım was. He said to the elderly man, “I’m not asking whether this girl has a price or not. We are talking about her freedom here. I admit that freedom is priceless. However, I don’t have more than eighty liras. If you agree to this amount, I’ll take her.” Seeing Râkım cry, the elderly man regretted not asking for 150 gold coins, and when he said that he couldn’t reduce the price, Râkım replied, “In that case, if you give me a month to collect twenty gold coins, I’ll take her.” They agreed on it and the elderly man handed the slave girl over to Râkım immediately since he wanted to dispose of the girl as soon as possible, suspecting that she might have tuberculosis.

  What do you think? Remember that we told you how Râkım was holding the girl’s hand? Well, now that she was his property, he let it go!

  Râkım abandoned his trip to Beyoğlu and went back home to Salıpazarı, accompanied by the elderly man. He took the girl into his house and asked his nanny to go get the money. He counted out eighty gold coins and handed them over to the slave trader. Râkım then collected four or five people that he knew from Tophane to witness his signing a promissory note for the remaining twenty gold coins, before sending the slave trader on his way.

  While walking back home after this transaction, he was plagued by regret and anxiety. “I wonder what my nanny will say about this. I acted just like a child! I should have asked for my nanny’s opinion. She is like a mother to me, after all.” When he came home, his nanny welcomed him saying, “Oh, Sir! You got a great deal! What a warmhearted girl! Did you buy her for me as a helpmate? Well, let’s name her Janan then.” Poor Râkım was so glad that he had pleased his nanny and agreed to the name.

  You should know that Râkım wasn’t the type of man to neglect his job just because he bought a female slave. On that same day, he had two important jobs in Beyoğlu, so he got up and went off to Beyoğlu by way of Kazancılar. One of the two jobs was to see the Armenian Mr. G——. In fact, just the night before, Mr. G—— sent his manservant to tell Râkım that he expected to see him no matter what. His house was in Ağahamamı. Râkım got there and found Mr. G—— home. Mr. G—— wanted Râkım to compose a letter to the governor of Silistra, which would then be delivered along with the sheep taxes by one of his men.

  In just fifteen minutes, Râkım drafted and made a fair copy of this letter, had Mr. G—— seal it, sealed it again himself and left it on a cabinet next to Mr. G——. While Râkım was waiting to see if there were any other requests, Mr. G—— called for his pay clerk and had him settle accounts with Râkım. Mortified that his continued presence might have been misunderstood as a request for payment, Râkım explained, “I was only waiting to see if you have any other orders.” Mr. G——, being an Ottoman gentleman, joked, “Isn’t what I ordered also an order? I would like to see this order carried out as well.” A short while later, the pay clerk entered with an account of all the documents Râkım had written for him in the last three months.

  Mr. G—— picked up the account and began reading:

  “For writing the letter to the governor of Bursa, requesting permission to collect the remaining sheep taxes from the Bursa province . . . ten liras . . . For writing the response to the response . . . ten liras . . . For writing that impressive six-page document to the Ministry of Finance concerning the yearly examination of the attached written accounting of the Varna district tithe and sheep taxes . . . and pieces of related letters . . . eight liras.”

  After going through this list, Mr. G—— smoothly proposed, “I won’t pay for any of this. But I have to concede that the Bursa taxes, which I had completely given up on, were only paid due to the eloquence of your letter. And for that reason, I’ll pay you something.” Having said that, he ordered his pay clerk to give Râkım thirty liras.

  Oh! What joy! Oh, what gratitude! He was so grateful that tears welled up in his eyes. But grateful for what exactly? Well, of God’s generosity for offering such opportunities to an orphan like himse
lf!

  After receiving his payment, he went onto his second job. This second job involved a fairly aristocratic English family that had just arrived from England and settled into a house on Asmalımescit Street. Râkım didn’t know what the job was; he went there because one of his friends told him there was a job to be had. When he arrived, his friend was already there. Apparently the job entailed tutoring the English family’s two daughters in Turkish once a week.

  How could Râkım possibly reject a job like this? A workhorse like him! He happily accepted it. He didn’t bother inquiring about the salary but his friend suggested that the family pay him one British lira per lesson. Râkım blushed with modesty and gratitude for God’s grace. After accepting the job, he strolled down the Kumbaracı Yokuşu Street without feeling his feet touch the ground. He arrived at Karabaş in the Tophane neighborhood, and when he came across the elderly Circassian man in the Slave Traders’ Coffeehouse, he said, “Come here my dear Sir, come here, I don’t like to have debts. I collected the money. Thank God a thousand times for sending the money from such an unexpected place!” He paid the twenty-gold-coin debt off and freed himself of it. Although unnecessary, he even contacted the witnesses of the promissory note to let them know it had been paid off. He then put the remaining fortune of ten gold coins into his pocket and headed home.

  How happy his loyal nanny was after Râkım delivered the good news! Fedayi’s fondness for the girl multiplied! In addition to the name Janan, she gave her the nickname “Blessed.”

  Now we’ve told you about the second person whose name adorns our story.

  Chapter 3

  RKıM AND HIS NANNY started educating and refining Janan, whom they considered to be God’s blessing and generous gift. The poor girl really was ill. On the second day after Janan’s arrival, Râkım went to see a physician friend in order to ensure personalized attention, rather than simply summoning a doctor. He described Janan’s desperate medical condition. They got on a coach together and came back to the house. After examining the girl in great detail and asking her about her symptoms, the physician assured them: “There’s nothing to worry about. She probably contracted the illness in the Caucasus. Now that she has moved from the Caucasus to Istanbul’s warm climate, she will recover on her own. I will prescribe a medicine for her. You should boil around five hundred grams of pure cow’s milk and have her drink it very hot every morning after she wakes up. She shouldn’t wander around dusty places or injure her chest by singing. Make sure that she breathes fresh air from time to time, so take her to wide-open areas and to the sea. You shouldn’t tire her out to the point where she has to gasp for breath. God willing, she will be just fine. It’s really nothing anyway! I’m suggesting that you take these measures merely as a precaution. She is a beautiful girl, may God protect her.”