Felâtun Bey and Râkim Efendi

by Ahmet Mithat Efendi

  It was late afternoon when they woke up from their nap. They made another trip up into the meadows while Nanny placed their things on the boat. When they returned an hour later, the boat was ready to depart.

  They got onto the boat. After rowing slowly for half an hour, they arrived at Azapkapısı and dropped Josephine off. Although Râkım requested that she stay with them again that night, Josephine excused herself, saying that she had work to do the next day. The rest of the group went to the Tophane waterfront, where they watched all the mosques in Üsküdar drowning in the golden light of the last rays of the sun. Still watching this beautiful sight, they reached their house fifteen minutes after the evening call to prayer.

  Chapter 8

  DID YOU ENJOY hearing about Râkım’s outing to Kağıthane? Don’t think our question silly. Not many people enjoy these sorts of outings. If you’ve ever examined the particular conditions of human beings, you would agree with us. The human condition dictates that a person cannot be satisfied if he’s the only one to know about his happiness. He wants to let everybody else know about it. In fact, even when a person isn’t actually happy, he resorts to trickery and deception to make others believe that he is happy. This human need is so common that we don’t notice it. Yet, a common example of this need is showing off by paying twenty-five liras or more for diamonds to adorn a watch chain that only cost five liras in the first place. All right then, let us consider this:

  It’s true that people need watches. But what is the function of the chain? Since all it does is hold the watch, a simple cord would do. Well, no, it’s not quite like that. People want the entire world to see what a great fortune they have, and that even the cord used to hold the watch is worth twenty-five gold coins. But what is the purpose of such showing off?

  We already told you. It gives pleasure! Now, there are different degrees of duplicity, this one being the lowest all the way up to where people deem it necessary to come up with all sorts of meaningless lies to go around like Croesus. Let’s look at this from another angle: The purpose of going on public outings isn’t simply to enjoy the countryside, wilderness, fields, meadows, and flowers, but rather to see the public—or, more precisely—to show off in public. Isn’t this, in a way, dictated by human nature? It’s for this reason that we find at least twenty thousand people at excursion spots. If one were to think thoroughly about the kind of pleasure that one derives from suffocating in the dust and dirt of five, six hundred, or maybe even a thousand carriages—instead of sitting under a tree—and from presenting himself to those who are only ten steps away, he’d come to hate these excursion spots. However, the habitués of these outings don’t think this way. When they go to excursion spots, they don’t think about the beauty of the location and when they converse about the excursion, they don’t mention it. They are only concerned with whether there is a crowd or not. When they like an excursion spot, they display their enthusiasm by saying, “Good heavens, one should have seen Kağıthane the other day. What a crowd, my God! Everybody, everybody! Was there anyone who wasn’t there, anyone?”

  Knowing that’s how it generally is, we asked whether or not the readers enjoyed hearing about Râkım’s Kağıthane outing. If not, then would you enjoy hearing about another Kağıthane outing?

  It was a Friday, and in fact, one of those Fridays when Kağıthane was really crowded. And on that day in the meadows of Kağıthane, the bright gazes of a couple thousand eyes were all fixed on one spot.

  What was there on that spot?

  A perfectly adorned two-horse carriage. In it was a perfectly adorned madame. But the reader needs to pay attention when we say, “perfectly adorned.” She wasn’t adorned the way other madames typically are. Such ornaments as diamonds and pearls are observed on other madames only rarely. This madame was drowning in diamonds and pearls. In front of the carriage were two bands, one playing classical and the other popular instruments. Each of these bands was made up of two or three teams and each of these teams was composed of fifteen or twenty people.

  To one side of this spectacle, five or six gentlemen were sitting on stools. Ice cream, cookies, and whatnot arrived on numerous trays and made their first stop at the carriage. After offering the wares to the carriage, the sellers would then serve the gentlemen. If the bands were playing alaturka tunes, then the gentlemen would request the songs, and if they were playing alafranga tunes, then the people in the carriage would be the ones to request them. If the tunes requested were performed as desired, then one lira would come flying into the air and fall in the middle of the musicians; the glances of those close by would move in an arch in conformity with the curving motion of the coin in the air.

  In return for the giggles radiating their sparkle from the carriage, sighs from the gentlemen’s side would fly about, and in this way, reputation and fame were dropped onto the stage of this world. This situation continued for one and a half to two hours, and then the madame ordered her carriage to move along. A very handsome, young, and fashionable man on a beautiful horse set off after it. All glances remained on them until they’d gone quite a distance, when the remaining gentlemen said, “Well done, this fellow is throwing money away hand over fist but he is certainly entertaining himself like a prince!”

  How about that? Did this outing conform to our readers’ expectations? See, the “prince” we’ve just described was our very own Felâtun Bey. Shall we tell you about how this outing came about?

  One night, Felâtun Bey’s throw of the dice somehow didn’t serve him well in the game. But this hadn’t been the case for the last fifteen days. Maybe he would have taken a break from the game for a few days if his lover, Mademoiselle Pauline, hadn’t compelled him to play. Mademoiselle Pauline insisted on appearing in the casino and—as she put it herself—wanted to show off how proud she was to be Felâtun Bey’s mistress. Because of her insistence, Felâtun Bey found himself obliged to continue playing. On that night when his dice didn’t serve him well, and they really didn’t, Pauline still insisted that he not hold back from putting a handful of gold coins on the table.

  In short, that night he incurred a loss of about 700 liras. The pain of this loss clearly ate at his heart, and when they arrived back in their private room, Felâtun pulled a long face. He even suggested that Pauline was to blame for his loss.

  PAULINE: Just look at this monkey! You annoying baboon! It’s fine when you win but now that you lose, it’s somehow my fault?

  FELTUN: Fine my dear, but now I’ve lost 2,000 liras in the past week.

  PAULINE: Look at this avaricious, greedy creature! The money you lost didn’t go into my pockets, did it? What would you do if you were gambling in the famous German resort of Baden-Baden? Loss and gain go together. You lose one day, you win the next.

  FELTUN: I am not saying that I can’t win. But you’re the one who ruins my concentration. You should leave me to my own devices. I know how the game works.

  PAULINE (enraged): Oh, really? So, now I am misleading you! All right then, all right! From now on, such a deceptive woman as I shall not mislead you. Find another partner for yourself, Sir. And I shall find one for myself, a partner whom I won’t mislead.

  After saying these words, the woman turned her head toward the window. Felâtun, who came close to going mad with love for her, regretted what he had done, fell on his knees, and begged for her forgiveness. Although he confessed to being mistaken and at fault, as well as impudent, impertinent, and asinine, he couldn’t win Her Majesty Mademoiselle Pauline’s mercy and compassion.

  How strange! Enough is enough, eh?

  Well, this is how the game is played in the alafranga world. If you aren’t familiar with it, let us inform you:

  Esteemed readers, when an alafranga man burns with love for a European girl, and when she sees that she has thoroughly hooked him, she adds a dash of resentment to the relationship. This is how she inflames his love and as a consequence ensures that she gets what she wants. Mademoiselle Pauline had gotten Felâtun to this po
int, and even if the issue of losing money gambling hadn’t come up, she would have created another opportunity to stir up conflict.

  What if she couldn’t create one? What would she do then?

  You are asking too many questions! If there were no reason, is it so difficult to make something up? Can’t one simply cause resentment by declaring, “I hear that you love another woman. I should have known. Go live with her from now on. Leave me alone!” We know an alafranga gentleman who wasn’t only abandoned on a similar pretext but even got slapped!

  Poor Felâtun! After realizing that it wasn’t possible to conciliate the woman, he went out of the room with his head lowered in humility, rented another room, and spent the night there. The next day, although he went to her room to beg for forgiveness again, Pauline refused to admit him, and he returned in even greater despair and weariness. For an instant, the appropriate course of action crossed his mind and he thought, “Why, why do I keep begging this slut? Isn’t this my own money? I pleased this wicked woman, drowned her in diamonds but I can’t seem to ingratiate myself with her. There are a thousand other women just like her.” However, his thoughts immediately shifted. “But oh, where else can I find those eyes? That beauty, those jokes, that coquetry! I can’t bear this! I will do whatever I can; I must succeed! And . . . what will people say if they hear? I would be disgraced in front of my friends and enemies!” These thoughts threw him for a loop and on the second day of their fight, he succeeded in making up with her by begging her like a dog, throwing himself at her feet and agreeing to buy her a fair amount of diamonds.

  So there! Now you know how the Kağıthane outing came about. It was Felâtun’s expression of gratitude to Pauline for having reconciled with her.

  Do you recall Mihriban? Mihriban ended up getting married! What? She’s married? After her father’s death, when Felâtun Bey stopped showing up at his father’s house, the neighbors began giving her advice, and she married a thirty-year-old level-headed and educated captain who’d been all over the place. At first her husband found the poor girl flighty and didn’t like her much; however, after recognizing her potential to become cultured, he thought that abandoning her wouldn’t be as chivalrous as trying to educate her. Hence, he offered the girl much fatherly advice, brotherly suggestions, husbandly warnings, and cured her of her flightiness, thus making her love him as a loyal friend. Now Mihriban lives like a proper lady possessing a whole fortune made up of her husband’s money and her own inheritance.

  Yes! It’s different with women. Flighty wives can often pull themselves together if they accept the discipline offered by their sensible husbands. The problem is that flighty men usually can’t accept advice given by sensible wives and end up making their wives miserable.

  Now compare this to Felâtun Bey’s situation. Felâtun Bey, in addition to his utter flightiness, fell into Pauline’s hands. She was the type to benefit from his destruction. But do you think that the advice of a loyal friend would make any difference? Not a chance! How many young men like him, men who devoured the fortune they inherited from their fathers, do we need to show you? Do you know how much advice was given to each of them? Did any of it make a difference? To the contrary, it only served to increase their profligacy.

  No need for other examples. Felâtun Bey received his share of advice. When Râkım learned about Felâtun’s adventure with Pauline in Kağı-thane, he thought, “There! It’s turning out as I predicted! He has taken pleasure from insulting me over and over. However, if I get stuck on such inconsequential matters, I might consent to the destruction of an acquaintance. And that would be contemptible. I should go and warn him.” Accordingly, one day he found Felâtun and talked with him in person. “My friend! I couldn’t bring myself to keep you from pleasure and joy. I am not in a position to give you advice. You know the far corners of this alafranga world better than I do. You’ve read so many French novels. Have you ever read about someone who was enlightened after forming a romantic attachment to a theater actress? It isn’t necessary for these stories to have taken place in real life. Writers always talk about possibilities. One should enjoy reading them but also take lessons from them. Is it possible for a foreign slut to make a lover of you?” Although Râkım spoke in a friendly and decent way, and said everything he could think of, Felâtun still somehow didn’t believe that these words were coming from a loyal friend. He thought, “Râkım is certainly jealous of my well-being,” and didn’t take any of Râkım’s advice to heart. Moreover, he countered Râkım’s arguments with his own evidence and refuted Râkım’s fatherly advice bit by bit. Supposedly, Pauline had abandoned her career in the theater for him! She had given up her nightly income of thirty or forty liras solely out of love for Felâtun. And apparently Râkım didn’t know every nook and cranny of the world of love and affection! What pleasure could one derive in this world if one lived like a piece of wood anyway? One isn’t young forever! And so on, and so forth . . .

  This is how people are. Especially the young ones. They insist on experiencing everything for themselves and refuse to be guided by others’ experiences. So they learn life’s lessons the hard way.

  Our lives are so short that we can’t experience all of life’s lessons firsthand. If we recognize and learn from other’s experiences, then maybe we can manage to live more comfortably, freely, and honorably.

  Anyhow, we’re not here to give the esteemed readers lessons in wisdom, are we? Let’s attend to the delights of our story: It’s been quite some time since we last heard about the Ziklas family.

  It goes without saying that Râkım continued going to the English household to fulfill his duty of teaching the girls twice a week. Râkım, whose poetic and amorous sensibilities were heightened by Janan’s love, never felt like leaving the Ziklas household, where he experienced an indescribable symphony from the way the girls spoke their now very competent Turkish in their own unique accent and intonation. Likewise, Mr. and Mrs. Ziklas appreciated Râkım more and more every day. But at the same time, it came to the point where the girls almost stopped going out of their house for they couldn’t enjoy entertainments like balls and the theater anymore. If their parents were invited to some gathering, they would make their apologies and not attend. When people inquired about Jan and Margaret at the gatherings, their parents would say, “They are solely occupied with their teacher. If you give them a Turkish or Persian book, they won’t even want to eat or drink.” There were more people who understood this situation and appreciated it than those who couldn’t. Once, a person belonging to the latter group asked Mr. Ziklas:

  — My dear friend, are you going to convert these girls to Islam?

  MR. ZIKLAS: No!

  — Then, what’s the purpose of forcing them to study this much Turkish?

  MR. ZIKLAS: Nobody is forcing them. They are compelling themselves to do it.

  — Fine. But it has come to the point where these girls no longer appear at any gatherings. If you were going to marry them to a Persian or a Turk tomorrow, then I’d understand . . .

  MR. ZIKLAS: To be honest, I’ll tell you this. I hope that our girls don’t end up spinsters like Catholic nuns.

  — You see what I mean!

  MR. ZIKLAS: But it’s fine, they’re still young. They have a few cousins on their uncle’s side and some cousins on their aunt’s side of the family; surely the girls will marry one of them. Some of them are in India, some in Arabia; in short, they are all in eastern countries. They’ll be pleased to know that the girls are learning Turkish.

  — I’m also concerned about two young girls being left alone at home with a young teacher while you are at such gatherings.

  MR. ZIKLAS: No, see, I can’t entertain such concerns. God knows, Râkım Efendi is better mannered than our girls. And I’m not the only one who thinks that. All of Beyoğlu trusts him.

  Our purpose in recounting these conversations is to show you the degree to which the Ziklas family loved and trusted Râkım more and more every day. Especially the gir
ls. They didn’t think about anyone but Râkım and were never without their Turkish books.

  Ever since he’d first introduced the girls to one of Hafez’s poems, they begged him to recite a couple more from his collected works at the end of each session, and they copied their favorite couplets along with their translations into their journals. Finally, at their request, Râkım promised to teach them Hafez’s collected works from beginning to end. We want to explain to you the way he carried out this promise but since our intention is not to quote the entirety of Hafez’s collected works here, we’ll only show the esteemed readers how they read Hafez for the first time. If we show this, and if the esteemed readers pay attention to which couplets the girls chose to study and how Râkım paraphrased those couplets, then my readers will derive a very clear understanding of their relationship. It went as follows:

  When Râkım read the first poem that begins with “You there, O Saqi (cupbearer) / fill a goblet and send it around,” and paraphrased it, the girls didn’t find a single couplet worth recording in their notebooks. As they didn’t have a grain of mysticism in their nature, their minds were unable to access the delights of the spiritual world. They continued with the second poem that started with: “When will this desire be realized / o Lord, that they ally/ Our mind, all composed, and your disheveled hair,” Râkım paraphrased it as: “My soul longs to see you adorned in beauty / with disheveled locks of curly hair/ But, what is the use? / Whenever your curls are disheveled, so is my mind / Oh God, when will this desire suffice and give way to the sudden unification of the entirety of my soul with your scattered curls?” Jan and Margaret quickly took up their pens and began recording this couplet with its translation. Afterwards, they eagerly noted down the following couplet and its translation: