The City of the Sultan; and Domestic Manners of the Turks, in 1836, Vol. 1 (of 2)Pardoe, Miss (Julia)
History
The City of the Sultan; and Domestic Manners of the Turks, in 1836, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Pardoe, Miss (Julia)
Turkey -- Social life and customs
Nor did I, when I first met him, know the tendency of his politics; I
was desirous only to make the acquaintance of a man who had become an
object of great interest to me from the description and narration of an
individual whom he had essentially served, and who had succeeded in
awakening in my mind a wish to see and converse with him. My business
was with the man; with the politician I had nothing to do. I thought
only of the Aristarchi, who had saved and supported a ruined mother and
a beggared family; I cared not for the Dragoman, who had assisted at
treaties, and passed his youth among the intrigues of cabinets. His
domestic history was a little romance; my feelings of sympathy had been
excited by the manner in which it was related to me; and I rejoiced in
the opportunity of becoming known to him.
Logotheti was one of the first persons presented to me; and I instantly
felt that, had I encountered him in a crowd, I could not have passed him
by without remark. He is about five and thirty, of the middle size, and
there is mind in every line of his expressive countenance—his brow is
high and ample, with the rich brown hair receding from it, as if fully
to reveal its intellectual character; his bright and restless eyes
appear almost to flash fire during his moments of excitement, but in
those of repose their characteristic is extreme softness; his nose is a
perfect aquiline, and his moustache partially conceals a set of the
whitest teeth I ever saw. As he stood conversing with me, I remarked
that he constantly amused himself by toying with his beard, which he
wears pointed, and of which he is evidently vain. His voice is
extremely agreeable, his delivery emphatic, and he speaks French
fluently.
After a few moments of conversation, he introduced me to his wife, his
mother, and his sisters, all of whom greeted me with the greatest
kindness; and in a few more, my hand was in his, and we were threading
the mazes of a cotillon. I was much amused by the officiousness of his
attendants; his pipe-bearer, whose tube (not staff) of office was of the
most costly description, approached him every five minutes with the
tempting luxury, of which he was, however, much too well-bred to avail
himself while conversing with me; although the Greek ladies are
accustomed to this social accessory, and many of the elder ones even
indulge in it themselves—another handed to him from time to time a
clean cambric handkerchief—while a third haunted him like his shadow,
and the moment that we paused, either in the dance, or in our walk
across the room, placed a couple of chairs for us to seat ourselves. Of
this latter arrangement, he availed himself without scruple, and
compelled me to do the same; while, as the evolutions of the figure
constantly caused me to rise, he invariably stood leaning over the back
of my empty chair, until I was again seated, ere he would resume his
own.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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