Next day—This morning Mme. Elise, the children, and I, accompanied by the ever-present Abdullah (the body guard), went to Therepia in a motor to find a house for the summer. It is just heavenly. You simply cannot imagine how perfect it is. The houses have the most beautiful gardens and are right down on the Bosphorus, which is so blue; and from one’s windows one looks across at Asia. Papa is going some time to decide finally, as this was just a preliminary survey. We picked violets and a rose, just think of it, on December 22nd! But it is quite cold at times. The gardens are so inviting, and I can just imagine tea parties and all kinds of thrilling things happening in them. This afternoon I had two Turkish ladies to tea—Halide Edi Hanum and her mother. They came in their yashmaks and we had Mme. Elise serve the tea. Halide is a graduate of the College and a real beauty. She is tall and dark, with almond-shaped eyes, and has a beautiful complexion; and she is so gentle and soft and charming. She speaks in the sweetest voice, and what do you think she is doing? Translating Oscar Wilde into Turkish! Her mother is the daughter of the sixth wife of a very great Pasha, and her grandmother was a Circassian slave girl. The mother cannot speak anything but Turkish, and she smoked all the time she was here. I gave her some candy and a box of American cigarettes to take home. Halide doesn’t smoke, and anyway, if she went into a ball-room at home she’d create a sensation, she is so charming. You simply cannot imagine how lovely it is here and I just relish and cherish every moment. Baron von Wangenheim hopes you will take a house right next to him this summer. He wants to ride with Ruth. Beware, Ruth!
A rather amusing incident occurred late in January, 1914, when upon receiving word that my wife had left Vienna for Constantinople, I communicated at once with Talaat and told him I wished him to facilitate my intention of meeting Mrs. Morgenthau at the boundary of Turkey. I told him I proposed to go to Adrianople, the point at which her train would enter Turkey, to meet her. Talaat’s reply was characteristically Turkish:
“What!” he exclaimed, “going to all that trouble to meet one’s wife! I never heard of such a thing.”
“I cannot imagine an American,” I replied, “failing to do it. In my country, our wives share all their husbands’ interests, and I should certainly consider myself lacking in both respect and affection if I failed to show my wife this attention.”
Talaat was frankly bewildered.
“In Turkey,” he said, “we let our wives come to us, we do not go to them.”
As a last resort, he interposed what he intended to be an unanswerable objection.
“Adrianople!” he exclaimed. “It’s out of the question. There is not even a hotel in the whole city.”
“Very well then,” I replied, “I shall find accommodations in a private residence. But to Adrianople I am going.”
With this retort, I left him.