Note 20 — Chapter VIII

Returning on one occasion to Europe by Belgrade, I brought some Turks by the steamer up to Vienna to show them a little of Europe. After a night on board, my levée proved an awkward business. In a Turkish household all the servants attend their master while he dresses. That is the time to prefer petitions and make complaints. Every one is there, and may say what he likes. On the morning in question, they were mute as statues; knowing the cause, I dared not look at them. They had seen the Europeans wash. Silence being at length broken, they began to narrate what they had seen. Among other jottings for a book of travels they would have mentioned, that a priest had taken water in his mouth, and then slobbered it over his face. I told them that these were not my countrymen, and asked them if they had not seen the two English officers wash (I had observed from the single cabin on deck, which the captain had given up to me, canteen dishes, soap, towels, &c., going down for them); after a pause one of my Turks said, “Zavale belmester. The unfortunates! they don’t know how!”