Chapter XV: Letter IV (2)

But to return to my subject; there was a striking contrast between the characters of the Pashas Ali and Roostem. The career of the former had been such as to place his integrity in money matters above all suspicion. Consequently he was under no apprehension that courtesy or kindness on his part would injure him with his master. But Roostem, on the contrary, was always grasping, always mean, and one who made self-interest and money his first consideration.[240] Roostem used to have very short interviews with me, but Ali would purposely keep me for several hours, and make my visit pleasant by his great civility. Meanwhile the Turks, who had come either to call or on business, kept murmuring because they were detained so long waiting for their audience, while the Pasha was closeted with me. I confess I got very hungry at these interviews, for he used to summon me to him in the afternoon, and I did not care to eat before I went, as I wished to have my brain as clear as possible for my conference with this able statesman. In these conversations he strenuously urged, that we should each advise our own master to take the course we considered most for his interests. ‘He was well aware,’ he said, ‘that his master required nothing more urgently than repose, as his course was nearly run, and he had had his fill of military glory; on the other hand, he felt that there was no need to prove to me that peace and quiet would be likewise to my master’s interests. If he desired to consult the safety and tranquillity of his subjects, he ought not to rouse the sleeping lion, and provoke him once more to enter the lists. Just as mirrors, which are naturally empty, take the reflections of whatever objects may be placed before them, even so the minds of Sovereigns,’ he argued, ‘are blanks, which receive what may be called impressions of what is presented to them, and therefore we ought to put before our masters’ minds what would be most conducive to their advantage. Also we ought,’ said he, ‘to imitate good cooks, who do not season their dishes to suit the palate of this person or that, but consult the general taste; in like manner we, in settling the terms of peace, ought to regulate them so as to attain results which would be agreeable and honourable to both parties alike.’

He used very sensibly to repeat these and many similar arguments, and whenever an opportunity presented itself, displayed his good will towards me, and if in turn I showed him any sign of attention, he received it with marked gratitude.

About this time he met with an accident. He was returning home from the Divan, and had arrived at the turn of the road, where it was his habit to bid his colleagues farewell. There he chanced to wheel his horse round too sharply, and, while engaged in giving them a parting salute, bowed low with his whole weight on his steed’s neck. The horse, which had not yet got its foothold, being unequal to the weight, fell with its rider to the ground.

When I heard of this, I ordered my servants to visit him and inquire if he had received any harm from the accident. He was gratified by the attention, and after thanking me replied, ‘he was nowhere injured, and it was not strange if an old worn-out soldier was liable to fall.’ Then turning to the bystanders, he said, ‘I cannot tell you how much kindness that Christian always shows me.’

Sometimes he used to tell me that riches, honour, and dignities had fallen in abundance to his lot, and that now his only object in life was to show kindness to every one, and thus to hand down to posterity a grateful recollection of his name.

When we had been already engaged for some time in peace negotiations, and I was in great hopes of obtaining the result I desired, an accident occurred, which might have upset and ruined everything.

A Greek by birth, whom they honoured with the title of Despot,[241] invaded Moldavia, under the protection of the Emperor’s troops who were guarding the Hungarian frontier, and occupied it, after driving out the Voivode, who was then in possession of that country. The Turks were greatly disturbed by this event, which was serious enough in itself, and might, they feared, be only the first step to further enterprises, but they deemed it wise to conceal their anxiety, and not to make bad worse by unseemly alarm. But Ali thought he ought not to let it pass without communicating with me, and ascertaining my views. I received information from one of his domestics that in the course of a few hours I should be summoned to him about this affair. I must confess I was seriously alarmed by this message. Our negotiations were well nigh completed, in fact we were like players who are about to conclude their piece, of which only the last act remains. I was in great fear that this new event would disturb everything, and carry us away again from the harbour which was just in sight. I was summoned to Ali Pasha, as I had been warned. He received me with his usual politeness, and conversed with me on various topics, especially those relating to the conclusion of peace, without showing either in his words or expression any change from his usual demeanour, till I was just preparing to go, and had risen to bid him farewell. Then, as if he had just recollected the subject of Moldavia, he told me to sit down again and said, just as one does when some trifle has come into one’s head, ‘Indeed I had almost forgotten one thing I wanted to tell you. Have you heard that your Germans have come into Moldavia?’ ‘Into Moldavia!’ said I; ‘no, indeed I have not, and what is more, it seems to me most improbable. For what could Germans have to do with so distant a country as Moldavia?’ ‘Yet it is true,’ said he, ‘and you will find it to be so.’ He then began to repeat at greater length what he had told me, and to assure me that the news which had arrived was certain. ‘To conclude,’ said he, ‘to prevent your having any doubt about it, we will catch a German and send him to you that you may find out the truth from him.’ I then took the line of saying, that in any case I felt quite certain that nothing had been done by the Emperor’s orders or authority. The Germans were a free nation, and in the habit of taking foreign service. Perhaps some of those who had served under the Emperor’s generals had after their discharge enlisted as mercenaries under some one who required such troops, and in my judgment he would not be far wrong in attributing the cause of this disturbance to the neighbouring Hungarian magnates, who, wearied of the wrongs which were heaped on them every day by the Turks, had planned to pay them back in their own coin, and if I might express what I felt, ‘I do not see,’ said I, ‘on what ground they can be blamed, if, when harassed so often and goaded on by their wrongs, they remembered they were men and ventured to retaliate. Is there anything that your soldiers have not for many years past thought they might not perpetrate in Hungary? What species of outrage or what acts of hostility are there that they have abstained from inflicting on the Emperor’s subjects? Here indeed hopes of peace are put forward, but there war in all its worst forms is to be found. I have now been detained here as a prisoner for many years, and no one at home knows for certain whether I am alive or dead. The men who have borne your insults so long deserve, in my opinion, praise, not blame, if they avail themselves of any opportunity of revenge that presents itself.’

‘Be it so,’ said Ali; ‘let them do their worst, provided they keep within the borders of Hungary itself or the adjoining districts; but that they should invade Moldavia, which is only a few days’ journey from Adrianople, that indeed is more than we can put up with.’

I replied, ‘Men accustomed to war, and more experienced in wielding arms than in law, should not be expected to make nice or fine-drawn distinctions. They seized the first opportunity that offered, and thought it was not for them to consider where or how far they had leave to go.’ Thus I left him without his being at all angry, as far as I could judge; and in fact he did not show himself on the following days a bit more hard to deal with in the peace negotiations.

While we were in the midst of this business, I received a great kindness, for so I interpret it, from the Ambassador of the most Christian King (the King of France). There were in the Sultan’s prisons at Constantinople thirteen men, most of them young, including some of noble birth, partly Germans and partly Netherlanders, who had been reduced to that state by a curious accident. They had embarked at Venice in the ship, by which pilgrims to the holy city of Jerusalem are conveyed every year to Syria with passports from the Republic of Venice. Some were making the pilgrimage from religious motives, and others were travelling for pleasure; the journey, however, was destined to be disastrous to all. They landed at a most unfortunate time, as the knights of Malta had just made a descent upon that part of the coast of Palestine, and had carried off many prisoners. The Syrians, whose parents, children, and relations had been kidnapped, finding that they had no other means of revenging themselves and recovering their friends, laid hands on the travellers who were under the protection of Venetian passports, and accused them of belonging to the pirates, saying, ‘You must either get our kinsfolk restored to us, or like them be reduced to the condition of slaves.’ They showed their passports from the Venetian government, they appealed to the treaties and engagements of the Porte. It was all of no use; might proved stronger than right, and they were carried off to Constantinople in chains. Their youth also was much against them, as it prevented even the Pashas thinking it likely that they were _bonâ fide_ pilgrims, because, as a general rule, it is only the older Turks who make religious pilgrimages.

When I obtained information of these events, I left no stone unturned to deliver them from their miserable condition; but my endeavours were wholly unsuccessful. The Venetian Baily[242] was appealed to, because they were under the protection of his Republic when they had fallen into misfortune. He frankly admitted their claim to his assistance, but pointed out the difficulty of his doing them any service when he had to deal with such insolent barbarians as the Turks. Meanwhile I did what I could to lighten their misfortunes. However, to my great surprise and joy they one day came to me in a body and told me they were sent home, thanks to the Ambassador of the most Christian King; through his good offices they had obtained their freedom. I was indeed delighted at this unhoped-for event, and had my warmest thanks conveyed to the Ambassador. The said Ambassador, Lavigne, being about to leave, had managed, when he was having a farewell audience of Solyman and was kissing his hand according to the established etiquette, to thrust into it a paper, in which he asked that those men, whose calamity had been caused by their undertaking a pilgrimage, should be granted their liberty as a favour to his King. Solyman complied with his request and ordered them to be instantly released.[243] I provided them with means for their journey, and having put them on board ship, sent them to Venice, and thence to their own country.

This Lavigne had at first made himself troublesome to me in many ways, and, whenever he could, tried to impede my negotiations, and did his best, without any fault of mine, to prejudice the Pashas against me. He used to say I was a subject of the King of Spain, as I was born in the Netherlands, and was as much that King’s servant as the Emperor’s. He told them King Philip was informed through me of everything that went on at Constantinople; that I had suborned men for that purpose, who disclosed to me all the greatest secrets, among whom Ibrahim, the first dragoman of the Sultan, about whom I shall speak later on, played the principal part. All this had happened before peace had been made between the Kings of Spain and France; and when peace was concluded he seems to have sought an opportunity to make amends for what he had done.

Lavigne was a man of a rude and brutal frankness; he always said what was uppermost in his mind, quite regardless of the feelings of his hearer. The consequence was that Roostem himself shrank from meeting him, although other people were afraid of conversing with Roostem on account of the rudeness of his language. Lavigne would send his dragomans to demand an audience for himself; Roostem would make excuses, and tell him to communicate what he wanted through them, and spare himself the trouble, assuring him that it could be done just as well without his coming. But this used to be all in vain, for he would presently come and say such things as seldom failed to give offence to Roostem. To take an instance, he one day complained that they did not have as much regard for his master as they ought to have. ‘For what is your opinion?’ said he; ‘perhaps you think Buda, Gran, Stuhlweissenburg, and the other towns of Hungary were taken by your valour, but you are quite mistaken. It is through us you hold them. For had it not been for the quarrels and perpetual wars, which have existed between our Kings and those of Spain, you would have been so far from being able to get possession of those towns, that scarcely at Constantinople itself would you have been safe from Charles V.’ Roostem bore this no longer, but burst into a violent passion, and exclaimed, ‘Why do you talk to me of your Kings and those of Spain? Such is the power of my master that, if all your Christian princes were to unite their forces and make war on him at once, he would not care a straw for it, and would win an easy victory over them all.’ With these words he retreated to his chamber in a rage, after ordering the Ambassador to leave.

I cannot here omit what I learnt about a tribe[244] which still dwells in the Crimea, which I had often heard showed traces of a German origin in their language, customs, and lastly in their face and habit of body. Hence I had long been eager to see one of that tribe, and, if possible, to procure from them something written in that language; but in this I was unsuccessful. However, at last an accident in some measure satisfied my wishes, as two men had been sent to Constantinople from those parts, to lay before the Sultan some complaints or other in the name of that tribe. My dragomans fell in with them, and recollecting my orders on the subject, they brought them to me to dinner.

One of them was about the middle height, and had an air of superior breeding—you might have taken him for a Fleming or Batavian; the other was shorter, more strongly built, and of a dark complexion, being by birth and language a Greek, but by having traded there for some time he had acquired a fair acquaintance with their tongue; while the other man had lived and associated so much with the Greeks that he had picked up their language and forgotten his own. When questioned about the nature and customs of these people he answered my inquiries in a straightforward manner. He said the tribe was warlike, and even now inhabited numerous villages, from which the chief of the Tartars raised, when expedient, 800 infantry, armed with fire-arms, the mainstay of his army. Their chief towns are called Mancup and Scivarin.

He told me also much about the Tartars and their barbarism, among whom, however, he said a good many men of remarkable ability might be found. For when asked about matters of importance they answered shortly and to the purpose. On this account the Turks, not without reason, say that all other nations have their wisdom written in books, but the Tartars have devoured their books, and so have it stored up in their breasts, and consequently are able to bring it out when needful, and talk like men inspired. They are very dirty in their habits; if any broth is served at table they require no spoons, but use instead the palm of the hand. They devour the flesh of slaughtered horses without cooking it in any way; all they do is to spread the pieces under their horses’ saddles, this warms them slightly, and they then proceed to eat the meat, as if it had been dressed after the most dainty fashion. The chief of the nation eats off a silver table. The first and also the last dish served is a horse’s head, as among us butter is honoured with the first and last place.

Now I will write down a few of the many German words, which he repeated, for the form of quite as many was totally different from ours, whether because this is due to the genius of that language, or because his memory failed him, and he substituted foreign for the native words. To all words he prefixed the article ‘_tho_’ or ‘_the_.’ The words which were the same as ours, or only a little different, were these:[245]

Gothic. English. Flemish.

Broe Bread Brood
Plut Blood Bloed
Stul Stool Stoel
Hus House Huys
Wingart Vine Wijngaert
Reghen Rain Regen
Bruder Brother Broeder
Schwester Sister Zuster
Alt Old Oud
Wintch Wind Wind
Silvir Silver Zilver
Goltz Gold Goud
Kor Corn Koren
Salt Salt Zout
Fisct Fish Visch
Hoef Head Hoofd
Thurn Door Deure
Stern Star Star
Sune Sun Zon
Mine Moon Maen
Tag Day Dag
Oeghene Eyes Oogen
Bars Beard Baert
Handa Hand Hand
Boga Bow Bogen
Miera Ant Mier
Rinck or Ringo Ring Ring
Brunna Spring Bron
Waghen Waggon Wagen
Apel Apple Appel
Schieten To shoot Schieten
Schlipen To sleep Slapen
Kommen To come Komen
Singhen To sing Zingen
Lachen To laugh Lachen
Criten To cry Kryten
Geen To go Gaen
Breen To roast Braên
Schwalch Death

Knauen Tag meant good day. Knauen signified good, and he used many other words which did not agree with our tongue, for example:

Iel, life or health │ Stap, a goat
Ieltsch, alive or well │ Gadeltha, beautiful
Iel uburt, be it well │ Atochta, bad
Marzus, marriage │ Wichtgata, white
Schuos, a bride │ Mycha, a sword
Baar, a boy │ Lista, too little
Ael, a stone │ Schedit, light
Menus, flesh │ Borrotsch, a wish
Rintsch, a mountain │ Cadariou, a soldier
Fers, a man │ Kilemschkop, drink up your cup
Statz, the earth │ Tzo warthata, thou didst
Ada, an egg │ Ies varthata, he did
Ano, a hen │ Ich malthata, I say
Telich, foolish │

Being told to count he did so thus: _Ita_, _tua_, _tria_, _fyder_, _fyuf_, _seis_, _sevene_, precisely as we Flemings do. For you men of Brabant, who pretend you talk German, are, on this point, in the habit of lauding yourselves to the skies, and ridiculing us on account of what you are pleased to call our abominable pronunciation of that word, which you pronounce _seven_. He went on thus: _athe_, _nyne_, _thiine_, _thiinita_, _thunetua_, _thunetria_. Twenty he called _stega_, thirty _treithyen_, forty _furderthien_, a hundred _sada_, a thousand _hazer_. He also repeated a song in that language, which began as follows,

Wara, wara ingdolou;
Scu te gira Galizu
Hæmisclep dorbiza ea.

Whether they are Goths or Saxons I cannot decide. If Saxons, I think they were transported thither in the time of Charlemagne, who dispersed that nation through various regions of the world, as the cities in Transylvania,[246] which are to this day inhabited by Saxons, bear witness. And perhaps it was decided that the bravest of them should be removed yet further, as far as the Tauric Chersonese, where, though in the midst of enemies, they still retain the Christian religion. But if they are Goths, I am of opinion that even in ancient times they occupied those tracts, which adjoin the Getæ. And perhaps one would not be wrong in thinking that the greatest part of the country which lies between the island of Gothland and what is now called Perekop was at one time inhabited by Goths.

Hence came the various clans named Visigoths and Ostrogoths; hence they started on their career of victory, all over the world; this was the vast hive of that barbarian swarm. Now you have heard what I learnt about the Tauric Chersonese from these men of Perekop.

Now listen to what I heard from a Turkish pilgrim about the city and country of Cathay (China). He belonged to the sect who hold it a religious duty to wander through distant regions, and to worship God on the highest mountains and in wild and desert places. He had traversed almost the whole of the East, where he had made acquaintance with the Portuguese; and then, excited by the desire of visiting the city and kingdom of Cathay, he had joined some merchants who were setting out thither, for they are accustomed to assemble in large numbers, and so journey in a body to the frontiers of that realm. Few reach their destination safely, as the risk is great. There are many intervening tribes who are treacherous to travellers, and whose attacks are to be feared every moment.

When they had travelled some distance from the Persian frontier, they came to the cities of Samarcand, Bokhara, and Tashkend, and to other places inhabited by Tamerlane’s successors. To these there succeeded vast deserts or tracts of country, sometimes inhabited by savage and inhospitable clans, and sometimes by tribes of a more civilised description; but everywhere the country is so poor that there is great difficulty in getting provisions. On this account every man had provided himself with food and the other necessaries of life, and great numbers of camels were loaded with these supplies. A large party of this kind is called a caravan.

After many months of toil they arrived at the passes, which may be termed the keys of the kingdom of Cathay (for a great part of the dominions of the King of Cathay is inland, and surrounded by wild mountains and precipitous rocks, nor can it be entered except by certain passes which are held by the King’s forces). At this point the merchants were asked, what they brought, where they came from, and how many of them there were? This information the King’s garrison troops transmit by smoke in the day time, and by fire at night, to the next beacon, and that in turn to the next, and so on, till news of the merchants’ arrival is forwarded to the King of Cathay, which otherwise could not be done for the space of several days. In the same manner and with equal speed he sends back word what his pleasure is, saying whether he chooses them all to be admitted, or part of them to be excluded, or their entrance delayed. If admitted, they are conducted by appointed guides by halting-places established at proper stages, where the necessaries of food and clothing are supplied at a fair price, till they reach Cathay itself. Here they first declare what each of them has brought, and then, as a mark of respect, present the King with whatever gift they think proper. In addition to receiving the gift, he has also the right of purchasing at a fair valuation whatever articles he pleases.

The rest they sell or barter as they choose, a day for their return being fixed, up to which they have the power of carrying on business, for the Cathayans do not approve of foreigners sojourning too long, for fear their national customs should be corrupted by foreign manners. They are then courteously sent back by the same stages by which they came.

The same pilgrim described that nation as very ingenious, and said they were civilised and well governed. They have a religion of their own, distinct from Christianity, Judaism, or Mahomedanism, but more like Judaism without its ceremonies. For many centuries back the art of printing has been in use among them, as is sufficiently proved by the books printed in that country. For this purpose they use paper made of silkworms’ cocoons, so thin, that it will only bear the impression of the type on one side; the other is left blank.

There are numerous shops in that city which sell the scent they call musk. It is the secretion of a beast the size of a kid.

No article of merchandise is more prized among them than a lion; this beast being uncommon in those countries is exceedingly admired, and nothing fetches a higher price.

These statements about the kingdom of Cathay I learned from the mouth of this wanderer, for which their author must be responsible. For indeed it is quite possible, that, when I was asking him about Cathay, he might have been answering me about some other neighbouring country, and according to the proverb, when I was asking for a sickle, have answered me about a spade.

When I heard this story from him, I thought it well to ask, whether he had brought from any place he had visited any rare root, or fruit, or stone. ‘Nothing at all,’ said he, ‘except that I carry about this root for my own use, and if I chew and swallow the least particle of it, when I am suffering from languor or cold, I am stimulated and get warm.’ As he spoke he gave it me to taste, warning me at the same time that it must be used very sparingly. My physician, William Quacquelben, who was at that time still alive, tasted it, and from the heat with which it inflamed his mouth, pronounced it to be true Napellus or Aconite.[247]

This, I think, is the proper place to tell you of the miracle wrought by another Turkish pilgrim and monk. He went about in a shirt and white mantle reaching down to the feet, and let his hair grow long, so that he resembled the apostles as they are usually depicted by our painters. Under an engaging appearance was concealed the mind of an impostor; but the Turks venerated him as a man famous for his miracles. They urged my dragomans to bring him to me that I might see him. He dined with me, behaving soberly and modestly, and then went down into the courtyard of the house, and returned soon afterwards carrying a stone of enormous weight, with which he struck himself on his bare breast several blows that had well nigh felled an ox. Then he laid his hand on an iron which had been made white hot in a fire lighted for the purpose. He put this into his mouth, and turned it about in every direction so that his saliva hissed. The iron he took into his mouth was oblong, but thicker at either end and rectangular, and so heated by the fire that it was just like a glowing coal. When he had done this, he put the iron back in the fire and departed, after bidding me farewell, and receiving a present.

My servants, who were standing around, were astonished, except one who thought himself cleverer than the rest. ‘And why,’ said he, ‘you stupid fellows, do you wonder at this? Do you believe these things are done in reality; they are mere feats of legerdemain and optical delusions?’ Without more ado he seized the iron by the part that stood a good way out of the fire, to prove it could be handled without injury. But no sooner had he closed his hand, than he drew it back, with the palm and fingers so burnt that it was several days before he was well; an accident which was followed by great laughter from his fellow-servants, who asked him, ‘Whether he now believed it was hot, or was still incredulous?’ and invited him to touch it again.

The same Turk told me at dinner, that his abbot, a man renowned for the sanctity of his life and for his miracles, was accustomed to spread his cloak on the lake which adjoined his monastery, sit down on it, and so take a pleasant sail wherever he liked.[248] He also was in the habit of being tied to a sheep, which had been flayed and dressed, with his arms fastened to its fore, and his legs to its hind quarters, and being thrown in this condition into a heated oven, where he stayed till he gave orders for himself and the sheep to be taken out, when it was well roasted and fit to eat, and he none the worse.[249]

I don’t believe it, you will say; for the matter of that, neither do I! I only tell you what I heard; but as to the white hot iron, I saw it with my own eyes. Yet this feat is not so astonishing after all, as no doubt while he pretended to be looking for a stone in the court yard, he fortified his mouth against the fierceness of the fire by some medicament, such as you know have been discovered.[250] For I remember seeing a mountebank in the Piazza at Venice handle molten lead, and as it were wash his hands in it without injury.

I mentioned already that a few days before Roostem’s death the severity of my prison rules was relaxed. This was exceedingly agreeable to me, on account of the liberty of access to me which was thus granted to men of foreign and distant nations, from whom I received much information that amused me; but this pleasure was counterbalanced by an equal inconvenience, because my servants abused the privilege given them of going abroad, and often wandered about the city unescorted by Janissaries. The consequences were quarrels and disturbances with the Turks, which gave me a great deal of trouble; and, out of the many that happened, I will relate one as a specimen, from which you can imagine the others, that you may know everything about us.

Two of my servants crossed over to Pera without Janissaries, either because they were all out, or because they did not think they required their escort. One of them was my apothecary and the other my butler. Having finished their business in Pera, they hired a boat to return to Constantinople; but scarcely had they taken their seats in it, when there came a boy from the judge, or cadi, of that place, who ordered them to get out, and give up the boat to his master. My servants refused, and pointed out there were boats enough about for the cadi to cross in, and told him this one had already been engaged by them. However, he persevered, and tried to get them out by force. My men resisted, and that right stoutly, so that they soon came to blows. As all this was going on before the eyes of the judge, who was approaching, he could not restrain himself from running down to help the boy, who was a great favourite with him for reasons that need not be explained. But while he was carelessly rushing down the steps leading to the sea, which were slippery with ice (for it was winter), he missed his footing and would have tumbled into the sea—his feet were already wet with the water—had not his companions assisted him. The Turks gathered from all Pera, and an outcry was raised that Christians had laid violent hands on the judge, and all but drowned him in the sea. They seized my servants, and with great tumult dragged them before the voivode, or judge who tries capital charges. The sticks were got ready and their feet were inserted in the posts, for the purpose of administering the bastinado. One of my men, who was an Italian, being in a furious passion, never stopped shouting the whole time ‘_Vour, chiopecklar, vour_. Strike us, you dogs, strike us! ‘Tis _we_ who have been wronged, and _we_ have deserved no punishment. We are servants of the Emperor’s Ambassador. You will be punished by your Sultan when he knows of this.’ All this, in spite of his speaking in broken Turkish, his hearers could quite understand. One of the Turks among the rioters was amazed at his boldness and exclaimed, ‘Do you think this one-eyed fellow a human being?’ (for he had lost one eye), ‘believe me, he is no such thing, but belongs to the race of oneeyed Genies.’ The voivode however, who was himself struck by such courage, that he might not do more or less than was right, decided on sending them to Roostem unhurt. They went to him, accompanied by a great crowd of false witnesses, who had been procured to crush by their evidence those innocent men. The Turks think it an act of great piety to bear witness against a Christian; they do not wait to be asked but come unbidden, and obtrude themselves of their own accord, as happened on this occasion. Therefore they all exclaimed with one voice, ‘These robbers have dared to commit a most atrocious crime, and have knocked the judge down with their fists, and if they had not been stopped, they would have thrown him into the sea.’ My men denied these charges, and said they were accused unjustly, and then declared they were my servants. Roostem soon perceived that it was a case of false accusation; but to divert the anger of the excited multitude, he assumed a stern expression, and saying that he would punish them himself, ordered them to be taken to prison. The prison served as a fortress to my servants against the violence of the raging mob. Roostem then heard the evidence of those whom he considered worthy of credit, and found my servants were innocent, and that it was the judge that was to blame.

Through my dragomans I demanded the surrender of my servants. Roostem thought the matter important enough to be laid before the Council, saying he was afraid, that, if the Sultan should hear of it, he would suspect it was through the influence of money that the wrong the judge had sustained had been passed over. Already there existed some intimacy between me and Ali Pasha; and I expostulated with him in strong terms, through the same dragomans, and demanded that an end should be put to the persecution of my servants. Ali undertook the case and told me to set my mind at ease, as this trouble would soon be at an end. Roostem, however, was still shilly-shallying; he was always afraid to do me a kindness for fear of being suspected of receiving a bribe; on that account he would have preferred having the business settled on such terms, that the judge should be left no cause for complaint. He sent me word that it seemed to him to be the wisest plan to appease the judge by giving him some pieces of gold as a sop, and that five and twenty ducats would be enough for the purpose. I replied that I was obliged to him for his advice. If he told me, as a personal favour to himself, to throw fifty ducats into the sea, I would do so at once; but here it was not a question of money but of precedent, that was at stake. For if it were laid down as a rule, that whoever had injured my men, should, instead of being punished, be actually paid for doing so, I should soon come to the end of my purse. Whenever anyone’s dress began to get worn or torn, he would resolve to do my servants some harm, inasmuch as he would feel sure of getting paid for his trouble, and thus obtaining a new dress at my expense. Nothing could be more disgraceful than this or more injurious to my interests. Accordingly my servants were sent back, thanks, in a great measure, to the advocacy of Ali Pasha. But when the Venetian Baily[251] heard of it he sent for one of my dragomans, and begged him to tell him how much I had paid to settle the affair. ‘Not a penny,’ he replied. Then the Baily said, ‘If we had been concerned, I warrant you we should hardly have got out of it for 200 ducats.’ The man whom it cost most dear was this model of a judge, who was removed from office, because, according to their notion, a man is disgraced who has received a thrashing from a Christian, and this, by his own admission, had been the case with him.

You ask for news about the Spanish generals, telling me that there is a report in your neighbourhood that they owe their liberty to me. They were the following, viz., de Sandé, the commander of the land forces, and Leyva and Requesens, the admirals of the Neapolitan and Sicilian fleets. I will give you a short account of how I managed it.

The Turks were much annoyed at the conclusion of peace between the Kings of Spain and France, which was by no means favourable to their interests;[252] especially as they found the treaty was not such as they had believed it to be at first, for they had been convinced that they would have been high in the list of those entitled to enjoy the benefits of the same peace. Accordingly, when they found themselves passed over, thinking that a bad return had been made them, though they dissembled their vexation, they sought an opportunity to give some hint that their feelings were no longer so friendly as they had been. Solyman had written to the King of France to say he approved of the peace, but at the same time desired the King to remember that old friends do not easily become foes, or old foes friends.

The offence the Turks felt on these grounds was not a little favourable to my negotiations, and I was aided in addition by Ali Pasha’s kindly feeling towards me, and Ibrahim’s great desire of proving his gratitude.

You remember I mentioned previously that when Lavigne was calumniating me, he at the same time used to accuse Ibrahim, implying that he betrayed to me all the designs of the Turks.

This Ibrahim, the Sultan’s first dragoman (the Turkish word for interpreter), was a Pole by birth; he was hated by Lavigne, because he thought that Ibrahim, in a deadly quarrel between himself and de Codignac, his predecessor in the embassy, had taken de Codignac’s part too strongly. I need not trouble you with the whole story, as it has not much to do with our subject. Lavigne, recollecting this, was always Ibrahim’s bitter enemy; and whenever he had an opportunity of addressing the Pashas, every other word he spoke was abuse of Ibrahim. At last he got him degraded from office and reduced to a private position.

This concerned me but little, as there had never been any friendship between Ibrahim and myself, but on the contrary a somewhat hostile feeling, as I had often found him on the side against us. I was sorry however that the story should get abroad that it was for my sake he had been removed from office. While Ibrahim was living in this condition, deeply humiliated by the loss of his post, as indeed is usually the case with men who have ceased to be what they were, I tried to lighten his misfortunes by any attentions in my power, and on several occasions, when there was a press of business in the course of the peace negotiations, I employed him as an extra dragoman, and made him a medium of communication with the Pashas. This was readily allowed by Ali from his good feeling towards me, and because he was well aware that Ibrahim had been wrongfully degraded. At last I effected his restoration to his former position and dignity. From these circumstances he became much attached to me, so that his great desire was to find some means of proving his gratitude for my services. Most loyally did he plead my cause in every question; and did his best to obtain for me the favour of all whom he could influence. This was an easier task for him from their disgust at the recent peace, on account of which, as I said, the Turks were secretly angry with the French, so that, when a gentleman named Salviati came to Constantinople to obtain de Sandé’s freedom in the name of the King of France, his errand was a complete failure. De Sandé had for some time been eagerly looking forward to this embassy, hoping thereby to procure his liberty, and, feeling certain that this was the only chance of recovering his freedom, had gone to great expense in providing presents to do honour to the Pashas and the Sultan himself, according to the usual custom. And now, to make a long story short, all was over, Salviati had taken his departure, and his embassy had proved a failure.

The servants whom de Sandé had employed as his agents, terrified by this, came to me, and confessed they did not venture to inform him of such a disappointment; he had entirely depended on his hopes from this mission, and now they were afraid he would become desperate, and not only lose his health, but also his life; they therefore asked me to give them my assistance and to write to him myself.

I was inclined to refuse, as I had neither arguments nor language to console a man who had received such a cruel blow. De Sandé was a man of great spirit and exceedingly sanguine temperament, and did not know what fear was. But when men, whose temper inclines them to hope that everything they wish will come about, find everything taking an adverse turn and going against their wishes, there is generally a great reaction, and their spirits become so depressed that it is no easy matter to raise them to a proper level.

While our business was at a standstill from this difficulty, the dragoman Ibrahim most fortunately called on me, and when in the course of conversation mention was made of the Spanish prisoners, he told me in so many words, that, if I were to request their release, it would not be refused. He knew what he was saying and had it on good authority.

He had indeed been previously in the habit of throwing out rather obscure hints, calculated to make me hope they might be liberated if I were to intercede; but I did not take much heed of what he said, for how could I venture to make such an attempt when I was not yet sure of peace? I was also restrained by the fear that I should do no good myself, if I interfered at an unfavourable moment, and might perhaps also hinder Salviati’s negotiations. But when, after his departure, I heard Ibrahim, who was closely attached to me, make such a declaration, there seemed to be something in it, and I began to pay more attention to his words, cautioning him, however, at the same time not to place me in a false position, and expose his friend to ridicule. This would certainly be my fate if I were to undertake unsuccessfully a task which was generally supposed to be hopeless, and in which there had already been an adverse decision. He persevered notwithstanding, and told me that I might rely on what he said; and that he would absolutely guarantee my success.

Relying on his assurances I wrote to de Sandé, and informed him of the result of Salviati’s negotiations, but told him not to despair, for, unless all Turks were liars, there was hope in store for him, and then I related what I had heard from Ibrahim. Having taken this step, I next consulted certain friends of mine who had great experience in Turkish affairs. They replied that they wished me success in my undertaking, but they did not see how I could obtain what had just been denied to the Ambassador of a King who was an old friend, especially while the result of our negotiations for peace was still doubtful; and they pointed out that all precedents showed how difficult it was to prevail on the Turks to liberate important prisoners. However, I wrote to the Emperor, and acquainted him with the hopes that had been held out to me, at the same time earnestly entreating him to ask Solyman to release the prisoners.

To make a long story short, after large presents had been promised the Pashas, if they should show themselves gracious and favourable to their liberation, on the eve of St. Laurence’s day (August 9), they were all taken out of prison and conducted to my lodging.

De Sandé and Leyva hated each other worse than if they had been brothers! for which reason it was necessary to have a table laid separately for the latter, with whom Requesens dined. De Sandé sat at the same table with myself. At dinner there came in a steward from the chargé d’affaires of the King of France, bringing me some notes which had come into his hands. De Sandé asked him if he knew him. ‘I think,’ said he, ‘you are Don Alvaro.’ ‘I am indeed,’ said he, ‘and you will convey my best compliments to your master, and tell him how you saw me here a free man, thanks to the Ambassador before you.’ ‘I see it indeed,’ he replied, ‘but yet I can hardly believe my own eyes.’ This was done by de Sandé because the chargé d’affaires, though in other respects an excellent fellow, was one of the persons who could not be convinced that Solyman would liberate the prisoners as a favour to the Emperor Ferdinand.[253]

But before they were released from prison, the Mufti, the head of the Turkish religion, was consulted on the question, if it were lawful to exchange a few Christians for a larger number of captive Turks? for I had promised that not fewer than forty Turkish prisoners, who, however, might be common people of no rank, should be given in exchange. The Mufti replied that there were two authorities on the point, and that they held different opinions, one approving of the exchange and the other not. The Pashas, however, adopted the more liberal opinion.[254]

I have still to tell you of Bajazet’s final catastrophe, for I know you are expecting to hear the rest of his story. You will remember that he was thrown into prison by Shah Tahmasp. From that time many messengers went backwards and forwards from the King of Persia to the Sultan, some of whom held the title of Ambassador, bringing presents of the usual kind, such as tents of exquisite workmanship, Assyrian and Persian carpets, and a Koran, the book which contains their holy mysteries;[255] amongst other gifts, rare animals were sometimes sent, for example there was an Indian ant,[256] as large as a fair-sized dog, and extremely fierce and snappish, which, I remember, they were said to have brought.

The ostensible reason for their arrival was to reconcile Bajazet and his father; great honours were paid them, and they were entertained magnificently by the Pashas. Ali made me a partaker in one of these banquets by sending me eight large porcelain dishes of sweetmeats. The Romans used to send something from their table to their friends, a custom which the Spaniards retain to this day. The Turks, on the other hand, carry off dainties from the banquet for themselves, but generally only intimate friends do so, who have wives and children at home. They usually carried home from my table handkerchiefs full of fragments of eatables, and were not afraid of soiling their silk robes with drops of gravy, although they consider cleanliness of the highest importance. When I mention this, it recalls to my memory an amusing incident, which I shall not be sorry to tell you. You will have a hearty laugh over it, I am sure, as I had myself; and is not laughter worth cultivating? Is it not man’s peculiar attribute, and the best recipe in the world for tempering human misfortunes? Besides, we are no Catos.

The Pashas observe the custom of giving dinner for a few days before their fast, which answers to our Lent, to all who choose to come, and no one is excluded. However, the people who come are generally neighbours, friends, or recognised dependants. A leather tablecloth, which is loaded with a crowd of dishes, is laid on the ground over an oblong mat. Such a table will hold a large company. The Pasha himself sits in the chief place, and about him those of higher rank, and then in a long row the guests who belong to inferior families, till no more room remains for anyone, and many are left standing, for the table cannot hold all at once. However, as they eat with great moderation and do not talk, it is not long before the first party have appeased their hunger, they then conclude their meal with a draught of water sweetened with honey or sugar, and, after bidding the master of the feast farewell, make room for others who have not yet sat down; these again are succeeded by another set, till in a short space many are satisfied off the same table, the attendants in the meantime washing the plates and dishes, and supplying fresh ones as fast as they are emptied.

A Pasha who was giving one of these entertainments at his house had invited a Sanjak-bey, who happened to have come there, to sit by him. The second place from him was occupied by an old man of the class the Turks call Khodjas, which means Scholars. As he saw before him a great mass of various eatables, and wished, having had his fill, to take something away for his wife, he began looking for his handkerchief to put it in; but found he had left it at home. He was, however, equal to the emergency, and like a good general was able to extemporise a plan on the field of battle. He seized the bag of a turban which was hanging down behind him[257] (which, however, was not his own as he thought, but the Sanjak-bey’s). This he crammed as full as he could, finishing with a good slice of bread by way of a stopper to prevent anything slipping out. When he was bidding his host farewell, in accordance with the Turkish fashion, he had to salute his superiors by placing his hands on his breast or thighs. Having paid his respects he gathered up the bag again, but this time took his own, and when he left the dining-room, he felt it carefully all over and, to his utter amazement, found it empty. But what was he to do? He went home in disgust.

Not long afterwards the Sanjak-bey also rose, and after saluting the Pasha was going away, in happy ignorance of the load that was hanging behind him. But soon the bag began to deliver itself of its contents; every step the Sanjak-bey took, something fell out, and his progress was marked by a long line of fragments. Every one began to laugh; he then looked back, and his face grew crimson, when he saw his bag disgorging pieces of food.

Then the Pasha, who had guessed the truth, called him back, told him to sit down, and ordered the Khodja to be summoned; and turning to him said, ‘As you are a neighbour and old friend of mine, and have a wife and children at home, I wonder why you did not carry away something for them from my table, where there was enough and to spare.’ The Khodja replied, ‘This happened, sir, from no fault of mine, but from the anger of my guardian angel. For, as I had carelessly left my handkerchief at home, I stuffed the remains of my dinner into the bag of my turban, but lo and behold, when I left the dining room, it proved to be empty, but how this came to pass is more than I can tell.’ So the Sanjak-bey’s character as a gentleman was re-established, and the disappointment of the old Khodja, and the oddness of the accident, furnished the bystanders with food for another merry laugh.