{"id":6519,"date":"2018-03-10T19:48:22","date_gmt":"2018-03-10T19:48:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/?p=6519"},"modified":"2020-12-29T07:38:13","modified_gmt":"2020-12-29T07:38:13","slug":"daughter-of-the-orient-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/daughter-of-the-orient-story\/","title":{"rendered":"TOCHTER DES ORIENTS"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Charlotte Marie Victoire Jorelle turned in front of the mirror. She liked what she saw. A light transparent blouse, as white and fragrant as the flowers of the jasmine framing her window, discreetly showing off her physical advantages. The long-cut sleeves were trimmed with delicate Parisian lace, ensnaring her narrow wrists.<\/p>\n

A forge of flat-hammered golden platelets, woven together with filigree chain links, lay around her neck like a cloak. A pair of powder pink harem pants swirled around her hips. Golden embroidery and pearls, drop-shaped like tears turned to stone, graced the waistband of her pants, in the belt a dagger, its diamond-tipped handle catching the light of the setting sun and throwing back glittering sparkles upon the ceiling. A sleeveless bolero of fine burgundy camel wool and embroidered with silk threads of the same color completed her outfit.<\/p>\n

Charlotte brushed her long, dark hair, slowly, diligently, the chocolate-colored splendor cascading like a waterfall down her back. She\u00a0opened the wooden casket in front of her and removed a gold-plated band which she handed to her maid, who weaved it into the curls let loose, lending an additional shine to Charlotte\u2019s appearance. Charlotte emphasized her charcoal eyes with kohl. A few tweaks in her cheek made them bloom in shy pink.<\/p>\n

Happy with her appearance Charlotte stepped onto the terrace and was greeted by the admiring glances of her husband. Every time F\u00e9lix Guilliume Jorelle saw his wife, he marveled that he could call such an exotic being his own. He first met Charlotte when he took up his post as the second Drogman at the French consulate in Aleppo. A Drogmann was a mediator between the languages of this East and the Occident. And the interface between both cultures. Charlotte was married to the first Drogmann Jean Joseph Antoine Derch\u00e9 at the time. When Derch\u00e9 died, it was a matter of honor for F\u00e9lix Guilliume to ask for the hand of the young widow and mother.<\/p>\n

Charlotte descended from the wealthy Venetian Durighello family. As the youngest member of this merchant dynasty with little prospect of inheriting the family fortune, her father, Angelo Durighello, left Italy towards the end of the 18th century, seeking his fortune in Aleppo. Aleppo was a trading city in the Ottoman Empire, on the brink of flourishing into a thriving center of commerce. The trade route between East and West ran right through the city, merchants and traders from the Orient and Occident met in the souk, the vibrant heart of the city. In the hustle and bustle of the market, they bargained with each other, bought and sold spices, exquisite silk, precious ebony or rare gemstones. Merchants like Angelo Durighello, delivered the merchandise to European centers to quench the growing thirst for luxury goods of their inhabitants from a distance.<\/p>\n

F\u00e9lix came from a family of impoverished winegrowers. When the income of the family winery could no longer feed the family, his father Francois left Mery-sur-Oise, the village where his ancestors settled centuries ago and began working in the archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His mentor not only supported him, but made sure, that his sons, F\u00e9lix Guilliume, \u00a0Jean-Jacques Francoise and Joseph H\u00e9lois, enjoyed an education, otherwise reserved for nobility, opening the doors for the boys to enter the diplomatic service.<\/p>\n

Charlotte looked into the distance. The first fall storms had washed away the dust of the summer from plants and houses. Small white foam crests on the sea, dissolving into nothing, when they reached the shore, remained as the last witnesses of the weather of the past days. In the port of Beyrouth, ships,\u00a0waiting to be unloaded\u00a0moved up and down on the waves, nervous like frightened birds. \u00a0Others were preparing for the long sea voyage with which they would bring their much sought-after freight, \u00a0into the metropoles of Europe, awaited by the wealthy and beautiful.<\/p>\n

Behind the harbor, the summer residence of the French consul perched upon a slight elevation. Beneath it whitewashed houses sticking the slopes, like honeycombs to a tree. In between the houses silvery olive groves glittered in the evening sun. Charlotte turned her back to the sight and viewed the table that was set for her guests in the wooden gazebo in the garden like a hawk observing his prey. A poet and his entourage had announced their arrival this evening. They would be guests of the Consulate\u2019s residence for a few days before they could move into their own quarters. Alphonse Lemartine, the poet, was accompanied by his wife and ten-year-old daughter.<\/p>\n

The sound of horse\u2019s hooves clattering heralded the visitors\u2019 approach. A pale man, dressed in a light summer suit, emerged from the coach, followed by a woman in a heavy turquoise taffeta dress and a lively blond-laced child. F\u00e9lix Guilliume welcomed the arrivals and led them to the terrace where Charlotte was waiting for them. It was the poet\u2019s first trip to the Orient, and although he had read a lot about his destination, Charlotte\u2019s oriental appearance astonished him. He had never seen a woman in pants and was left speechless by her sight. Later, in his travel journal, Lemartine wrote admiringly, that the women of the Orient enjoyed a freedom that European women never would.<\/p>\n

F\u00e9lix Guilliume inquired his guest after his trip. After the poet\u2019s portrayal of the harsh cruise, the company sat down at the heavily laden table for a sumptuous French style evening meal. The mixture of the Oriental and the Occidental fascinated Lemartine and the conversation turned to the virtues of French and Oriental culture. Comparisons were made, and the parties concluded that both cultures resided in excellent harmony. Then the discussion turned to the enumeration of common and non-common acquaintances.<\/p>\n

Bored by the discourse of the adults, the poet\u2019s daughter turned her attention to the Nubian servants. Full of admiration she watched the ebony-skinned women as they served food with an inborn elegancy and cleared away empty plates and bowls. Timidly, she reached out to one of the women to stroke her velvety skin. The woman stopped next to the child and wound a turban around the child\u2019s head with the colorful silk handkerchief she had wrapped around her hips. The red threads of the scarf hung down like emerald chains, caressing the girl\u2019s radiant heart-shaped face. For the first time, Lemartine sensed the delicate bud of femininity concealed in his child\u2019s body.<\/p>\n

The conversation turned to poetry, and Lemartine quoted from his poems and works of contemporary French poets. Charlotte, devoted to oriental poetry, translated passages from Ottoman volumes of poetry. Lemartine looked at her. The light rising moon sparked off a copper-colored fire in her hair. A light breeze rose. The candles flickered, their soft light caressing the face of the hostess. Charlotte\u2019s eyes were now as deep and infinite as the darkness of night.<\/p>\n

\u201cNature is much more poetic than any poet could ever be,\u201d Lemartine whispered to her. \u201cAt this moment, at this hour, in this place, in the light of the rising moon, Madame, with your water-pipe in your hand and the diamond dagger in your belt, you set a much better example for poetry than the imagination can ever do.\u201d Upon that Charlotte bent over to and asked him in a husky voice, if he could write down a few lines for her. He rose and appeared shortly afterwards with the poem \u201cDaughter of the Orient\u201d .<\/p>\n

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TOCHTER DES ORIENTS<\/p>\n

Thou ! the child of the East, dost thou ask me for song ?
Thou ! born where the desert wind sweepeth along ;
The flower of the gardens the bulbul might choose
For the opening blossom his love music woos.<\/p>\n

We bring back no balm 'scaped the odorous fold.
Nor fruit to the orange tree heavy with gold ;
Would we offer the orient day-break more light?
Or stars to the sky that is glorious with night ?<\/p>\n

No, song comes not hither ; but would thy look prove.
All poesy treasures of lovely and love.
Look down on the water wherein thou art shown.
Ah! song hasn o beauty to equal thine own.<\/p>\n

When thou leanest in thy kiosque, whose lattice at night.
Admits the cool breeze, the moon's silver light,
A mat for thy seat, which Palmyra has wrought,
When the moka, just heated beside thee is brought.<\/p>\n

When thy hands to thy rose lip, half closing, uphold
The pipe of the jasmine wood fretted with gold,
Thy sweet mouth in breathing the breath of the rose,
Makes the waves through the shell murmur soft as it flows.<\/p>\n

When the winged cloud floats and caresses thee round,
And the odorous vapor thy senses has bound,
What visions of youth and of love seem to be,
And float in the air that is breathing from thee.<\/p>\n

When thou speakest of the Arab steed sweeping the plain,
Though thy childish hand governs the foam-covered rein,
The ray of its eyes which in wild triumph shine,
Is neither so soft nor so brilliant as thine.<\/p>\n

When thine arm like the polished urn's handle of snow,
Supports on thy elbow thy exquisite brow ;
When thy lamp at the midnight flings sudden its rays.
On the hilt of thy poniard where diamonds blaze
<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

There is naught in the sounds that all language hath brought.
Nor in the bard's brow like mine heavy with thought,
Naught in the sweet sighs of a young and pure heart.
So poetry breathing, so pure as thou art.<\/p>\n

I have past the glad period of life's early bloom ;
Love expands, and the young heart is filled with perfume.
The delight is grown cold with which mine eyes meet
All beauty\u2014it is but a ray without heat.<\/p>\n

To my harp all the love of my worn heart belongs ;
At sixteen how I should have lavished my songs.
On every sweet vapor the scented winds bear.
Which thy soft lips while musing exhale on the air.<\/p>\n

Or bidding that form, the enchanted endure.
Which a viewless hand traces in outline obscure.
When the stars of the night, whose gleams round thee fall.
Fling, tracing in flinging, thy shade on the wall.<\/p>\n

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ANMERKUNGEN DER AUTORIN<\/h4>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t
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The persons in the story are historically documented persons. The story is based on true events.<\/p>

Charlotte Durighello<\/strong>\u00a0was born November 24th, 1809 to the Venetian merchant Angelo Durigello and his Dutch-French wife Celeste Vailhen in Aleppo. She married F\u00e9lix Guilliume in 1829 in Paris. Charlotte died June 27th<\/sup>,\u00a01875 in Paris. She was buried together with her third husband Gustave Adolphe Haage<\/strong>in the P\u00e8re-Lachaise Cemetery<\/a>, in which many celebrities have found their final peace.
Felix Guilliume Jorelle<\/strong>\u00a0war der Sohn von Francoise Jorelle und Marie Pi\u00e9rette Merlot und wurde 1804 in Paris geboren. Er starb in 1859 in Alexandrien, \u00c4gypten nach mehr als 30 Jahren im diplomatischen Dienst.<\/p>

Jean Joseph Antoine Derch\u00e9<\/strong> was Charlotte\u2019s first husband. The couple had a son Jean Joseph Antoine Derch\u00e9 <\/strong>(1828 \u2013 1878).<\/p>

Der Sohn des Paares\u00a0Ange Francois Jorelle<\/strong>\u00a0(1830 - 1877) folgte in den dipolmatischen Fussstapfen des Vaters. Weitere S\u00f6hne von Charlotte und F\u00e9lix Guilliume waren vermutlich Richard und Guilliume. \u00dcber Guilliume ist nichts bekannt. Richard war als Agent der \u00d6sterreichisch-Ungarischen Lloyd in Jeddah in den 1870ern t\u00e4tig.<\/p>

Ihre vermutliche Tochter\u00a0St\u00e9phanie Jorelle<\/strong>\u00a0(about 1854 - about 1931) married\u00a0Percy Sinnett-Smith<\/strong>\u00a0(1850 - 1904), son of William Sinnett-Smith, a British Doctor of Medicine and Harriette Eliza Oates in Naples. Percy was a merchant and Egyptophile.<\/p>

Alphonse Lemartine<\/strong>\u00a0was a well-known French poet and politician. He was married to an English artist. Their daughter Julia died on the way to Palestine. His wife returned home after their daughter's death. Lemartine himself finished the journey as planned. His book \"Pilgrimage to the Holy Land\" was written after the trip. He wrote the poem \"Daughter of the Orient\" during his stay with the Jorelle family.<\/p>\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n<\/div>\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

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\u00a9 2018 EGIZIA FAMILY \/ Barbara Ras Wechsler<\/p>\n\t<\/div>\n<\/div>\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\t<\/div>\n\t<\/section><\/p>\n

\"image_pdf\"PDF downloaden<\/span><\/a>\"image_print\"Druckfreundliche Version<\/span><\/a><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Charlotte was a breath-taking sight. A light transparent blouse, as white and fragrant as the flowers of the jasmine framing her window, discreetly showing off her physical advantages, a …<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7610,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13,96,53],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6519","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-histories","category-durighello-family","category-stories"],"brizy_media":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6519","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6519"}],"version-history":[{"count":30,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6519\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8035,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6519\/revisions\/8035"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7610"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6519"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6519"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egizia.family\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6519"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}