I have often seen it stated in print that the Sultan wore an habitual look of melancholy—in other words, that his main characteristics were sadness and nervousness. Neither my own experience, nor the testimony of others best in a position to form a reliable opinion, bears this out, although the tragic circumstances under which, very much against his will, he came to the throne may well have left their impress on his mind. The Sultan was of an exceedingly sensitive nature. He was a man in whom the domestic affections were very strong; thus a blow, such as the loss of a daughter, might well have had a cruel effect on him, as only those can understand who have loved and lost children of their own. But I do not believe that the Sultan’s temperament was one of habitual melancholy. On the contrary, I know that His Majesty could enjoy a joke as heartily as ever did Martin Luther; though the nature of some of the doughty Reformer’s sallies would hardly have suited the refined taste of the Khalif of the Mohammedans. The Sultan on one occasion was inquiring of one of his confidants about a stranger whose personality interested him. His Majesty’s informant told him that the individual in question was never seen in coffee-houses or theatres, much less in places of doubtful repute or in suspicious company; that he was most moderate, even abstemious, in his habits; that he sat at home working most of his time, and if he went out, it was to visit a mosque and watch the Faithful at prayer. “Truly a remarkable man,” broke in the Sultan; “he might almost be an Osmanli” (for among themselves the Turks never use the word “Turks”). The other, feeling that he had drawn an impossible picture of perfection, which might perhaps encounter the Sultan’s incredulity, here rejoined that truth compelled him to confess to His Majesty that he had seen the stranger walk up and down in his room during the hot weather with next to no clothing on—almost naked. This caused the Sultan to burst out laughing. On such occasions—and they were by no means rare—when the Sultan was in good spirits, the monarch’s merriment, as if by magic, was reflected in his surroundings. I have seen all Yildiz in the best of good humour, for the word had gone round that “Sa Majesté est de fort bonne humeur,” and the news spread far and wide; it even found expression in the broad grin of the hamal who carried the fat pasha’s dinner-tray from the Imperial kitchen on his head.