My funeral was splendid, exactly as I’d wanted. It made me proud that everybody I’d wished would attend came. Of the viziers who were in Istanbul at the time of my death, Haji Hüseyin Pasha of Cyprus and Baki Pasha the Lame loyally remembered that I’d rendered extensive services to them at one time or another. The presence of the Minister of Accounts, Red Melek Pasha, who, at the time of my death was both in high favor and much criticized, enlivened the humble courtyard of our neighborhood mosque. Had I lived and continued an active political life, I would’ve been promoted to the same rank as Mustafa Agha, the Sultan’s Chief Herald, whose presence especially delighted me. The mourners constituted a large, dignified and impressive group that included the Divan Secretary Kemalettin Effendi, Chief Secretary Salim Effendi the Austere, the heralds of the Divan—each of whom was either a dear friend or an archenemy—a group of former Divan councillors who’d resigned early from active political life, my school friends, others who’d somehow learned of my death—I cannot imagine how or where—and various other relatives, in-laws and youths.

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新网页】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

使用【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开并收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通网络。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)