It is not easy to get into any intimacy with Turks; but if I have not seen much of their society, I have seen more than any of my fellow-travellers have. With those who have no manners at all it is not difficult to get acquainted. For instance, an imam (priest), a neighbour of ours, often drops in at the dinner hour, taking compassion on me when I am alone. He plays at billiards, drinks and swears, and is very troublesome; but he has a great respect for my art, and my plans above all things excite his astonishment. I scraped acquaintance, too, with a Turk architect, in the hope of getting to see more palaces; but he also is too great a rogue to keep company with, for he gets drunk and stabs his friends; and as for his art he is not worth cultivating for that, for it is confined to the chisel and mallet. And his promises are false promises; for with all my hopes I have never got him to show me anything. My specimen friend hitherto is Beki-Beki Effendi, who seems to be a real Turkish gentleman. He had been brought up in the Seraglio as one of the attendants on the Grand Signor, and his manners struck me as very fine, having a cheerfulness and regard for his visitors, mixed with great dignity. My host, who has already shown me great kindnesses, presented me to him and explained my mission. He expressed himself much pleased to be made acquainted with an English traveller, hoped I was well, liked Constantinople, &c., and presented me with a little bottle of oil of aloes, the scent of which was nice. We smoked, ate sweetmeats, and conversed by interpreter, and after two mortal hours' stay (conceive such a visit!) were preparing to go when his father-in-law arrived. I was told it would be grossly impolite to persist in going, so we stopped on. Beki sent his slaves forward to usher in the new arrival, and then stood in a particular spot and position to receive him, and touched his garment with his hand, which he then kissed. He then paid him the highest marks of attention, inquired after his health, &c. The father then walked upstairs, attended by two slaves, one on each side holding him under the arm, as if assisting him, although he was not at all old. We stayed another half-hour, and then at last tore ourselves away.
In return for taking me to see a certain palace, Beki begged me show him the English embassy. He accordingly called on me on an appointed day at ten o'clock. Taking a hint from my host I had a breakfast prepared which we should call a solid dinner; and a parasite living in the inn, a common animal in these countries, assisted my party. My visitors made a big day of it, and got very merry over their fare, drinking copiously of rum punch, which, as it is not wine, is not forbidden to the Mussulman, and at the end paid me a string of compliments. I presented my visitor with one of those new phosphoric contrivances [? a tinder-box.—Ed.], and never was an effendi more delighted. 'If you had given me a casket of jewels,' said he, 'I should not have been better pleased.'
We walked up to the embassy and sauntered about the rooms. What best pleased Beki were the pictures of the King and Queen, which he pronounced very beautiful (Chouk Guzul), and the cut-glass chandeliers; but the few windows seemed dull to his Turkish taste.
We got home and regaled again, and on his proposal to retire, I returned him his compliment and begged him to stay and sleep, which I am happy to say he refused, for where we should have stowed him I know not.
So passed an idle, odious day. I was worn out with trying to do the agreeable through an interpreter, but—I had seen a Turkish gentleman.
And when I reflect upon him, I cannot help feeling that, as a contrast to what I am accustomed to, there was something very fascinating about him. I have been used to see men slaves to their affairs, still wearing themselves with work when they possess every requisite of life, and not knowing how to enjoy the blessings their exertions have procured them. Whereas here was a man who calmly enjoyed what he had, doing his best to make himself and those around him happy. With any but absolute paupers contentment is the common frame of mind in this country. The poor tradesman in the bazaar works his hours of business, and then sits cross-legged on his shop-board and enjoys his pipe like an emperor. There is no mean cringeing for patronage. The very porters in their services have an air of condescension, and never seem to feel inferiority.
The climate, of course, has a great deal to do with it. One may sleep in the open air most of the year, and if one does little work, a bit of water-melon and slice of bread dipped in salt and water is an excellent repast. Temperance is hardly a virtue where rich food could only make one unwell.
Whatever be the attraction—the tenets of the Faith, or the leisurely life, or the desire to live in Turkey without the inconveniences of nonconformity—conversion to Mahommedanism is a very common thing. I have met several French renegades, and some English have been pointed out to me. Our frigates have frequent quarrels with the Turks on this head; and even of the Spaniards, who are supposed to be so bigoted, an incredible number turned Turks at the time that their ships of war first came up here.
As for society amongst the foreigners, diplomatic and others, although there is a complete Frank quarter, and it is said to have been at one time very pleasant, there is hardly any now. For one thing, in these times of general war, the ministers of countries at variance at home now hold no communication, nor do their families; in the case of the French this is by a peremptory order of their Government. So there is little meeting and next to no entertainment, and for lack of other amusement a vast deal of scandal, of mining and countermining of each other's reputations, with the result that they come to be nearly as mean in character as they try to make each other out to be; and another reason is that among the merchants who formerly vied in magnificence with the ministers, there is now great distress, and hardly one could give a decent dinner. Their ships lie rotting in the ports, and the hands, Ragusans mostly, hang about gnawing their fingers with hunger.
Among the few families one could visit was that of the Charnowskis, Poles, the ladies of which are the admired of all the English here, and especially of my two companions, Sir W. Ingilby and Foster, who have fallen completely under the thumbs of these beautiful sirens. I saw enough of them to feel compassion for my friends and almost to need it myself.