MARGARET: What’s more, Sir, does the French word blonde really mean brunette? Our teacher, Râkım Efendi, translated that word as blond for us. I wonder if that is a mistake, too.
4. Pages 38 and 39 from the Ottoman publication of Felâtun Bey and Râkım Efendi. Published in 1875 by Mehmet Cevdet. Provided by the Atatürk Kitaplığı (Taksim, Istanbul).
BARON T: No, no, my dear! Your teacher translated it very nicely; blonde means blond in Turkish. Brunette can be translated to French as brun.
As these words were exchanged, Felâtun Bey grew increasingly embarrassed, so Râkım attempted to change the subject to shield him.
After dinner, at the guests’ request, Margaret and Jan played the “O morning breeze” song together on the piano and sang along to it. As they had sung it at least fifteen times in the last three days, they performed so well that even Felâtun Bey found himself enjoying it. Then they started playing a polka with some guests pairing up to dance. This kind of entertainment at such gatherings was common for those in the alafranga world. Mrs. Ziklas asked Râkım why he wasn’t dancing, to which Râkım apologized, saying that although he could do the quadrille and other dances, dancing the polka and the waltz made him dizzy. Felâtun Bey, on the other hand, had been begging Margaret for the last five minutes to dance with him just once. Margaret, unable to disoblige Felâtun Bey, somehow managed to get up from her seat. Even though Jan was left alone in front of the piano, she still maintained the tempo. To be honest, we can’t criticize Felâtun Bey’s dancing. His pants were so tight that he was forced to dance straight as a ramrod and couldn’t bend.
However, during the dance, he accidently tread on Margaret’s feet and panicked. While trying to handle this situation, he made a sudden move that was followed by a ripping sound that came from behind him.
Don’t get the wrong idea! That’s not what it was. It was nothing other than the thorough splitting of his very tight black pants. His jacket was so short that it didn’t cover the rip, so the hole in his pants was obvious. Thank heavens he was wearing underwear that night. Felâtun Bey had a habit of not wearing underwear when he attended such important gatherings, in order not to impede the smoothness of his pants, as he believed that this was the alafranga way. If he had adhered to this convention tonight, then the problem would have become even more obvious. Although it was tactless, nobody could refrain from laughing when they saw it. Felâtun ran off before he could even bid them adieu.
There is nothing else to report about that night’s incidents—only that when Râkım found his students Jan and Margaret alone in one corner, he asked them why they disliked Felâtun Bey. In addition to their mention of this in the note they had sent, Râkım also observed Margaret’s reluctance to dance with Felâtun that night.
JAN: Felâtun Bey is not a parlor gentleman.
MARGARET: He would be just right for a coffeehouse.
RKIM: Why do you think that Madame? He is young, smart, alert, and knowledgeable.
MARGARET: Come on now! What good is a young, handsome man if he doesn’t know his own alphabet and can’t even get the beginning of a song right?
JAN: That’s not the real problem, Sir. I said he’s not a parlor gentleman. What Margaret said explains it all. He’s a coffeehouse man, so he assumes that the girls he encounters in the parlor are the same as the girls he sees in the coffeehouses.
RKIM: He’s still young.
MARGARET: Surely he’s older than you.
Chapter 5
OH RKıM! He must have realized that Felâtun Bey had been trying to embarrass him, so one would expect that he’d enjoy seeing how Felâtun Bey ended up embarrassing himself; but to the contrary Râkım felt saddened by this as he made his way back home in a coach. He was preoccupied with thoughts concerning Felâtun’s embarrassment as he neared home. The sound of Janan playing the piano came from an open window and stirred him from this pensive state of mind. He dismissed the coachman and knocked on the door thinking, “This poor girl! She is still waiting. When I see her face now, my emotions will swell up again. I wonder why she has such an effect on me. I don’t know what kind of love I have for her. It’s not like what Josephine described. It is not the way I described it, I mean, she is neither like my sister nor my beloved! This is a whole different thing. Let this be another kind of love.” As soon as he knocked on the door, the sound of the piano ceased and he heard Janan’s footsteps coming toward him. She opened the door.
RKIM: So you haven’t gone to bed yet, Janan!
JANAN: I was waiting for you, Sir. Nanny is sleeping.
RKIM: Oh, so weren’t you disturbing her by playing the piano?
JANAN: She gave me permission, Sir. She wanted me to play.
RKIM: Your piano teacher sends her regards. I saw her tonight.
JANAN: Oh! I am very glad to hear it. She was a bit resentful.
RKIM: She won’t be anymore!
As he said these words, Râkım was filled with a thousand incompatible emotions including shame, regret, enthusiasm, affection, fear, and terror. Nevertheless, he suppressed all of these sentiments and went to his room. Janan helped him undress.
RKIM: So, do you like your teacher, Janan?
JANAN: To be honest Sir, I like her very much. She is such a smart and skillful woman.
RKIM: She likes you, too. In fact she is offering these lessons more for your sake than mine.
JANAN: God bless her.
After telling Janan a little more about his day, the conversation arrived at this point:
RKIM: Are you getting bored Janan?
JANAN: No, Sir! Why should I?
RKIM: No, I mean to say, would you like to go on an outing?
JANAN: How should I know, Sir? You know better. Nanny knows the world outside better.
RKIM: If you wanted to go out, wouldn’t Nanny take you if you asked her?
JANAN: She would, Sir. Why wouldn’t she? But I don’t really want that. There’s no need. I have thousands of things to amuse myself with here. I have my books, my writing, and my piano. I’m very comfortable, Sir. I have my garden, too. Nanny got me a little shovel and a small tin watering can from the market in Salıpazarı. I enjoy working in the garden.
RKIM (patting her on the back): Good for you, Janan!
What do you think about this? You know what, the girl was thunderstruck! It was evident in her blushing. It was obvious that Râkım didn’t want to send the girl to her room. Quite possibly, the girl didn’t want to go either. Yet, it was very late, so they retired to their rooms and went to sleep. Probably neither of them was able to fall asleep for quite a while.
As you might have realized from the way we’ve been telling this story, Râkım’s thoughts had never been stimulated by such emotions until now, when his emotions were awakened passionately by Josephine, to some degree by Janan, and to a degree that he couldn’t quite determine by the English girls. However, don’t think that he started neglecting his work. Râkım never grew tired of his various occupations. He’d still go to those grand houses to do their writing, and he continued earning the income God bestowed on him. Râkım was nowhere near to being tightfisted, so much so that he spent whatever he earned on his house, his nanny, and Janan, and when he had extra income, he considered wasting it inappropriate, so he gave it to his nanny, who put it aside.
If you really want to understand the way Râkım lived, look at the way Janan lived.
As we said from the beginning, whenever a new trend appeared in Istanbul, Janan was always one of the first to dress accordingly. Additionally, Janan’s closet had the best artificial flowers, and her jewelry box didn’t lack a couple of diamond brooches, earrings, and rings. Not a week went by when Râkım didn’t give Janan eighty or a hundred kuruş in the form of gold or silver coins. But what could Janan do with all this money? She didn’t go out, and she didn’t need anything else. She gave all the money to Nanny, who put it aside, and after accumulating a certain amount, she’d ask Râkım Efendi to buy a ring, a watch, or a
bracelet—in short, some kind of jewelry for Janan. Why should we mince words? We can’t call her a gentleman’s wife because she wasn’t married, but poor Janan was vouchsafed an even better life.
Given this, there’s no need to ask how Râkım lived. We’ve already established how he lived. He’d go to Beyoğlu twice a week, visit Josephine, and later teach the English girls with honor and decorum. In addition, if Josephine were to find Râkım at home on her weekly visits, they would spend time talking about this and that, making quips and jokes.
Here you are. This is how things continued until spring. However, there are some other stories that need to be told and we feel obliged to recount them.
In the meantime, Felâtun Bey’s father, Mustafa Meraki Efendi, died a natural death after suffering for about fifteen days from the sickness his son had mentioned. May he rest in peace. His son Felâtun Bey could fend for himself as he was after all a man, while Meraki’s poor daughter Mihriban Hanım was still very young.
Oh come on! You shouldn’t consider them orphans; their family had a monthly income of twenty thousand kuruş!
Don’t say such things, ladies and gentlemen. At the very least, one can’t help but feel pity for them.
There was also the fact that Felâtun Bey hadn’t been seen in the Ziklas household for some time. In fact, the French cook had been replaced. Why, you ask? Râkım Efendi learned the reason from the English girls. That is to say:
Râkım was chatting with the girls and their parents one night after the lesson. Somehow he led the conversation around to Felâtun Bey and said that he hadn’t seen Felâtun Bey for quite some time.
MRS. ZIKLAS: Râkım Efendi! I’d like to prohibit you and my children from uttering that man’s name. The children have already been prohibited anyway!
RKIM (very uneasily): May I ask the reason, Madame?
MR. ZIKLAS: No, Sir. You may not! In fact, I’m pleased that you haven’t seen him recently. This means that you were only accustomed to seeing him here.
RKIM: Yes, Sir!
MR. ZIKLAS: Well that’s that then! God knows, we are very content with your honor, decorum and morals and we are just as pleased with your teaching.
RKIM: I am grateful for your kindness, Sir.
As these words were exchanged between Râkım and the parents, the girls hung their heads and could not even raise their eyebrows. The conversation ended and it was time for Râkım to head home. He suspected from the cook’s disappearance that the problem must be related to the mayonnaise incident; however, there was no way to confirm this until the next lesson, which he therefore anticipated eagerly.
Finally, that day came. Râkım arrived at the Ziklas household earlier than usual and attempted to have the girls satisfy his curiosity before starting the lesson. They were even able to conduct the conversation in Turkish. The girls’ Turkish was sufficiently advanced to allow them to have this conversation.
RKIM: For God’s sake, ladies, I am about to burst with curiosity! What happened to Felâtun Bey?
JAN: Didn’t I tell you that he wasn’t a parlor man?
MARGARET: And didn’t I tell you that he was a coffeehouse man?
RKIM: Never mind! I’d like to know exactly what happened.
MARGARET: It’s so inappropriate that I can’t bring myself to say it.
JAN: Me neither.
RKIM: Oh, come on! Why not? That’s not possible. You can’t leave me in the dark about this. It would sadden me if you didn’t view me as a confidant after all this time.
MARGARET: This is not something that a polite person can talk about but since I can’t refuse your request, I will just say it despite my embarrassment. He came here a few nights ago and stayed for dinner. But he wasn’t received as a formal guest anymore and we don’t particularly enjoy his company, so we occupied ourselves with our studies. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but at some point when he was coming into the house, he ran into my mother in the corridor. He did not recognize her, or rather, he mistook her for our cook, so he hugged her and said, “Oh sweetie! Are you going to spill the mayonnaise all over me again? You almost made a fool of me in front of Râkım and the others!” Hearing this, my mother yelled “Oh my!” When Felâtun Bey realized what was going on, he ran into the living room, and without even having the chance to pick up his coat and fez, dashed out into the street in embarrassment. My mother immediately came into the living room. She threw his fez and coat out the window into the street. She then recounted the whole story to my father. Apparently that night when the mayonnaise was spilled . . .
RKIM: I got it, Madame, I got it! It was really disgraceful of him. Let’s cut this chitchat or your parents might have second thoughts about me.
JAN: No, Sir! They won’t have any suspicions concerning you. They have complete trust in you.
There, this is really how the whole mayonnaise issue came to a conclusion. As Jan said, both Mr. and Mrs. Ziklas indeed had complete trust in Râkım. Both of them loved Râkım like a son or a brother. This was because Râkım encountered all kinds of men and women in that household—in fact, he also met some very independent French ladies—but he still never lost any of his decorum in their presence.
It’s often said that the theater is the best place to discover the true personality of a young man. Those who saw Felâtun Bey at a theater never noticed him entering the married ladies’ box to greet them. He was always busy laughing in the boxes of unattended women or those who treated every man as their owner. Râkım, on the other hand, would buy his ticket, enter the theater, and survey the people in the boxes. Whenever he stopped by the boxes of nobles like G—— Bey to greet them, they would offer him a seat saying, “Our magnificent son, Râkım Efendi, here you are! There is always a place for you here.” He would typically accept the first offer of a seat and during intermission would ask permission to greet other families in other boxes. When he went around to pay his respects, the people he was seated with would say, “What a composed young man! He doesn’t have any bad habits like drinking or gambling! Honestly, he behaves as well as a girl.” In fact, for a few days afterwards, families continued to talk about Râkım this way. What we mean to say is that Mr. and Mrs. Ziklas were amongst those who both uttered and heard such compliments about Râkım.
Let us tell you about something that happened before the arrival of spring: One night, toward the end of the winter, Râkım went to visit Josephine before going to the English household. As they had been on familiar terms for quite some time, Josephine leapt for joy upon seeing him. They asked after each other’s well-being, and she broached a topic. Her face was crestfallen:
JOSEPHINE: Monsieur Râkım! Do you have any doubts about my friendship?
RKIM: How could I have any doubts?
JOSEPHINE: No, no, I’m not joking. Do you consider me to be your mistress?
RKIM: Why are you saying such things?
JOSEPHINE: I will explain why. To begin with, we should acknowledge that we don’t just love each other amorously; we love each other like true friends. And we care sincerely about each other.
RKIM: Okay, okay, I agree. Let’s see if I understand this correctly. That’s certainly how I feel about our friendship, and I’m pleased if that’s how you feel, too.
JOSEPHINE: Okay now, I have something to tell you . . . but wait a minute . . . let me put it this way; I want to see how you’ll react. Let’s say there was a customer interested in purchasing Janan.
RKIM: It could happen.
JOSEPHINE: But you don’t know the kind of customer I’m talking about.
RKIM: You are trying to say he’s rich, is that right?
JOSEPHINE: He is ready to pay 1,500 Ottoman liras immediately. As you know, this corresponds to 34,500 francs. That’s a lot of money.
RKIM: Yes! I have enough math to multiply 1,500 by twenty-three. But tell me . . . who is this customer?
JOSEPHINE: You know, that gentleman, —— Bey. What do you think? Would you accept that offer?
; RKIM: How did he learn about my female slave?
JOSEPHINE: From me. Although I have been teaching his female slaves for seven or eight months just like I’ve been teaching Janan, they haven’t learned anything. The other day their master started to reproach me on their lack of progress. I told him about Janan. I said, “You should be happy if your girls could learn as much Turkish, French, piano, reading, and writing in eight years as she learned in eight months.” So, he sent his treasurer the next morning to examine Janan surreptitiously. He even thought that what I said about Janan was an understatement. When I went there yesterday, he confirmed my thoughts and expressed great enthusiasm about her French and piano skills. What I mean is, he asked me to sound you out to see if you’d sell her for 1,500 liras.
RKIM: Not a bad deal, eh? Selling the female slave that I bought for a hundred gold coins for 1,500 liras.
JOSEPHINE: He was particularly taken with her beauty. In fact, his treasurer even said to him, “Sir, she’s not a female slave, she’s a dignified lady.” In any case, are you willing to sell Janan?
RKIM: It’s not for me to decide.
JOSEPHINE: Well, whose decision is it?
RKIM: Janan herself.
JOSEPHINE: What are you saying?
RKIM: What I’m saying is that I’ve never given Janan a reason to suppose that she might become my concubine or wife. She is a woman. Of course she will want a husband for herself one day. If she is hoping to get another master to accept her as a concubine in the future, then I’ll sell her. She’ll already have a sizeable fortune from her jewelry and possessions. Would it be so terrible if we added the 1,500 liras to that and made Janan a lady with 2,000 liras?
JOSEPHINE: My! Will you really let Janan keep the 1,500 liras as well?
RKIM: What, should I pocket the money myself? Do you think I’m that greedy and hardhearted? How could I pocket the price of her freedom?
JOSEPHINE: You mean, you’re not thinking of selling her?
RKIM: I already told you what I think!
Felâtun Bey and Râkim Efendi Page 7