Chapter XII: Letter III (4)

Having addressed his troops in such terms, he boldly ordered them to attack the enemy. He led the charge in person, and on that day proved himself alike a gallant soldier and a skilful leader, winning, by the courage he displayed, as much admiration from foes as from friends. The battle was fierce and bloody; for a long time neither party could gain any decisive advantage; at last victory inclined to the side which was stronger in arms, stronger in right, and stronger in generalship. Selim’s troops also received supernatural assistance, if one may believe the Turkish story, for they aver that a great blast came from the shrine of one of their ancient heroes, which stood hard by,[210] and carried the dust into the faces of Bajazet’s soldiers, darkening the atmosphere and blinding their eyes. After great losses on both sides, Bajazet was obliged to give the signal for retreat, but he retired slowly and without disorder, as if he had won a victory instead of having sustained a defeat. Selim made no attempt to pursue. He was perfectly satisfied with the success he had gained in repelling his brother’s troops, and remained in his position as a quiet spectator of the retreating enemy.[211]

Bajazet had now committed an act of direct disobedience to his father’s orders, he had given the rein to his own inclinations, and he had been unsuccessful. He abandoned his project of marching into Syria, and set out for Amasia in good earnest.

About this time Solyman crossed into Asia, having, it is asserted, received news of the result of the battle in a marvellously short space of time. The Pashas held it to be impolitic for the Sultan to cross until intelligence of Bajazet’s defeat should be received, but at the same time were of opinion, that when news of it arrived no time ought to be lost, lest Bajazet’s misfortunes should provoke his secret partisans to declare themselves, and thus greater troubles ensue. They argued that nothing would be more effectual than the report of his crossing for cowing Bajazet and terrifying his friends. The victory, they urged, should be improved, and no opportunity be given to the prince of rallying from the blow he had received, lest he should follow in the steps of Selim, Solyman’s father, who became more formidable after defeat than ever he was before, and owed his final victory, in no small measure, to his previous failure.

The Pashas were perfectly correct in their view of the situation. For though Bajazet had been defeated, his conduct in the field marvellously increased his popularity and reputation. People spoke of how he had ventured with a handful of men to encounter the superior forces of his brother, supported as they were by all the resources of the Sultan. The strength of his brother’s position, and his formidable array of artillery, had failed to daunt him, while in this, his first field, his conduct would not have shamed a veteran general. Though fortune had not favoured him, yet he was the hero of the battle. Selim might go to his father, and vaunt his triumph, but what then? True, he had _won_ it, but Bajazet had _deserved_ it. To whatever cause Selim’s victory was due, it was certainly not to his valour that he was indebted for his success.

Such was the common talk, the effect of which was to increase Bajazet’s popularity, and at the same time to make his father more anxious than ever. His hatred was inflamed, and he began to long for his destruction. His determination remained unaltered. Selim was the elder, and had ever been a dutiful and obedient son, and he and no one else should be his heir; while Bajazet, who had been a disobedient son and had endeavoured to supplant him on the throne, was the object of his aversion. He was well aware that the peril of the situation was increased by the reputation Bajazet had gained, and the open support which he himself had given to Selim. For these reasons he had crossed the sea: his object was to give moral support to Selim by his presence in Asia, but he had no intention of marching up the country. He could not trust his troops, and if he ventured to lead them to the scene of action, they might at any moment declare for Bajazet.

He left Constantinople June 5, 1559, on which occasion, in spite of my cavasse, I managed to be among the spectators. But why should I not tell you of my two skirmishes after the fashion of the _Miles Gloriosus_ of Plautus? At any rate, I have nothing better to do, unless worry counts for work. Under such circumstances letter-writing is a relief.

When it became generally known that the Sultan was about to cross the sea, and the day was fixed, I intimated to the cavasse my wish to see the Sultan’s departure. It was his habit to take charge of the keys every evening, so, when the time came, I bade him attend me early in the morning and let me out. To this he readily agreed. My Janissaries and interpreters, by my orders, hired for me a room commanding a view of the street by which the Sultan was to pass. When the day came I was awake before daybreak, and waited for the cavasse to open the gates. Time passed and he did not come. So I availed myself of the services of the Janissaries who slept at my gate and the interpreters who were waiting to obtain admittance, and despatched messenger after messenger to fetch the cavasse. I had, by the way, to give my orders through the chinks of the crazy old gates. The cavasse kept putting me off with excuses, at one time saying he was just coming, and at another that he had business which hindered him. Meanwhile it was getting late, and we knew, by the salutes fired by the Janissaries, that the Sultan had mounted his steed. Hereupon I lost patience, for I saw that I was being humbugged. Even the Janissaries on guard were sorry for my disappointment, and thought that I had been treated scurvily; so they told me that, if my people would push from the inside while they pulled from the outside, it would be possible to burst the locks of the gate, which was old and weak. I approved of the plan; my people pushed with a will, and the gate gave way. Out we rushed, and made for the house where I had hired a room. The cavasse had intended to disappoint me, not that he was a bad sort of fellow, but when he had informed the Pashas of my wishes they had refused consent, not liking that a Christian should be among the spectators on such an occasion. They did not wish me to see their Sovereign on his march against his son and at the head of a mere handful of troops, so they recommended him to put me off by courteous promises till the Sultan had embarked, and then to invent some excuse, but the trick recoiled on its author.

When we arrived at the house we found it barred and bolted, so that we had as much difficulty in getting in, as we had just had in getting out! When no one answered our knocks, the Janissaries came to me again, and promised, if I would undertake the responsibility, either to break open the doors or climb in through a window and let us in. I told them not to break in, but did not object to their entering by a window. In less time than I can tell it they were through the window, and had unbarred the doors. When I went upstairs, I found the house full of Jews, in fact, a regular synagogue. At first they were dumbfoundered, and could not make out how I had passed through bolts and bars! When the matter was explained, a well-dressed elderly lady, who talked Spanish, came up and took me roundly to task for breaking into the house. I rejoined that I was the aggrieved party, and told her that the landlady ought to have kept her bargain, and not tried to fool me in this way. Well, she would have none of my excuses, and I had no time to waste on words.

I was accommodated with a window at the back of the house, commanding a view of the street by which the Sultan was to pass. From this I had the pleasure of seeing the magnificent column which was marching out. The Ghourebas and Ouloufedgis rode in double, and the Silihdars and Spahis in single file. The cavalry of the Imperial guard consists of these four regiments, each of which forms a distinct body, and has separate quarters.[212] They are believed to amount to about 6,000 men, more or less. Besides these, I saw a large force, consisting of the household slaves belonging to the Sultan himself, the Pashas, and the other court dignitaries. The spectacle presented by a Turkish horseman is indeed magnificent.[213] His high-bred steed generally comes from Cappadocia or Syria, and its trappings and saddle sparkle with gold and jewels in silver settings. The rider himself is resplendent in a dress of cloth of gold or silver, or else of silk or velvet. The very lowest of them is clothed in scarlet, violet, or blue robes of the finest cloth. Right and left hang two handsome cases, one of which holds his bow, and the other is full of painted arrows. Both of these cases are curiously wrought, and come from Babylon, as does also the targe, which is fitted to the left arm, and is proof only against arrows or the blows of a mace or sword. In the right hand, unless he prefers to keep it disengaged, is a light spear, which is generally painted green. Round his waist is girt a jewelled scimitar, while a mace of steel hangs from his saddle-bow. ‘What are so many weapons for?’ you will ask. I reply for your information, that he is trained by long practice to use them all. You will ask again, ‘How can a man use both bow and spear? will he seize the bow after he has cast or broken his spear?’ Not so; he keeps the spear in his grasp as long as he can, but when circumstances require that it should be exchanged for the bow, he thrusts the spear, which is light and handy, between the saddle and his thigh, so that the point sticks out behind, and by the pressure of his knee keeps it in this position for any length of time he chooses. But when he has need of the spear, he puts the bow into its case, or slings it on his left arm across his shield. It is not, however, my object to explain at length their skill in arms, which is the result of long service and constant drilling. The covering they wear on the head is made of the whitest and lightest cotton-cloth, in the middle of which rises a fluted peak of fine purple silk. It is a favourite fashion to ornament this head-dress with black plumes.

When the cavalry had ridden past, they were followed by a long procession of Janissaries,[214] but few of whom carried any arms except their regular weapon, the musket. They were dressed in uniforms of almost the same shape and colour, so that you might recognise them to be the slaves, and as it were the household, of the same master. Among them no extraordinary or startling dress was to be seen, and nothing slashed or pierced.[215] They say their clothes wear out quite fast enough without their tearing them themselves. There is only one thing in which they are extravagant, viz., plumes, head-dresses, &c., and the veterans who formed the rear guard were specially distinguished by ornaments of this kind. The plumes which they insert in their frontlets might well be mistaken for a walking forest. Then followed on horseback their captains and colonels, distinguished by the badges of their rank. Last of all, rode their Aga by himself. Then succeeded the chief dignitaries of the Court, and among them the Pashas, and then the royal body-guard, consisting of infantry, who wore a special uniform and carried bows ready strung, all of them being archers. Next came the Sultan’s grooms leading a number of fine horses with handsome trappings for their master’s use. He was mounted himself on a noble steed; his look was stern, and there was a frown on his brow; it was easy to see that his anger had been aroused. Behind him came three pages, one of whom carried a flask of water, another a cloak, and the third a box. These were followed by some eunuchs of the bed-chamber, and the procession was closed by a squadron of horse about two hundred strong.

Having had a capital view of the whole spectacle, which I thoroughly enjoyed, my only anxiety was to appease my hostess. For I heard that the lady, who had addressed me in Spanish at my entrance, was on very intimate terms with Roostem’s wife, and I was afraid that she might tell tales about me in his family, and create an impression that I had not behaved as I ought. I invited my hostess to an interview, and reminded her of her breach of contract in bolting the door in my face, when she had for a fixed sum agreed to leave it open; but told her that, however little she might have deserved it, I intended to keep my part of the engagement, though she had neglected hers, and not only to pay her in full, but to give her a little extra douceur as well. I had promised seven pieces of gold, and she should receive ten, to prevent her regretting my having forced my way into her house. When she saw her hand filled with more gold than she had hoped for, she suddenly altered her tone, and overwhelmed me with thanks and civilities, while the rest of her Hebrew friends followed suit. The lady also, whom I mentioned as being intimate with Roostem’s family, echoing the praises of my hostess, thanked me profusely in her name. Some Cretan wine and sweetmeats were then produced for my refreshment. These I declined, and hurried home as fast I could, followed by the good wishes of the party, planning as I went a fresh battle with my cavasse, to whom I should have to answer for having broken open the doors in his absence.

I found him sitting disconsolately in the vestibule, and he at once assailed me with a long complaint, saying, I ought not to have gone out without his consent or have broken the doors. He declared that it was a breach of the law of nations, &c. I answered shortly that had he chosen to come in time, as he had promised, there would have been no need for me to burst the doors; and I made him understand that it was all his fault for not keeping his word, and for trifling with me. I concluded by asking whether they considered me an ambassador or a prisoner? ‘An ambassador,’ he answered. ‘If a prisoner,’ I rejoined, ‘it is useless employing me to make peace, as a prisoner is not a free agent; but if you consider me an ambassador, why am I not at liberty? Why am I prevented leaving my house when I please? It is usual,’ I repeated, ‘for prisoners to be kept shut up, but not for ambassadors. Indeed the freedom of ambassadors is a right recognised by the law of nations.’ I told him also to remember that he had been attached to me, not as a jailor or policeman, but, as he was always saying himself, to assist me by his services, and to take care that no injury was done to myself or my servants. He then turned to the Janissaries, and began quarrelling with them for giving me advice, and helping my men to open the doors. They said that I had not needed their advice, I had ordered them to open the doors and they had obeyed. They told him, with perfect truth, that in doing this but little exertion had been required, as the bars had given way under very slight pressure, and that nothing had been broken or injured. Thus the cavasse’s remonstrances were stopped whether he would or no, and nothing more was heard of the matter.

A few days later I was summoned across the sea myself. They considered it politic that I should pass some time in their camp, and be treated courteously as the ambassador of a friendly prince. Accordingly, a very comfortable lodging was assigned me in a village adjoining the camp. The Turks were encamped in the neighbouring fields. As I stayed there three months, I had opportunities of visiting their camp, and making myself acquainted with their discipline. You will hardly be satisfied if I do not give you a few particulars on the subject. Having put on the dress usually worn by Christians in those parts, I used to sally out incognito with one or two companions. The first thing that struck me was, that each corps had its proper quarters, from which the soldiers composing it were not allowed to move. Everywhere order prevailed, there was perfect silence, no disturbances, no quarrels, no bullying; a state of things which must seem well nigh incredible to those, whose experience is limited to Christian camps. You could not hear so much as a coarse word, or a syllable of drunken abuse. Besides, there was the greatest cleanliness, no dunghills, no heaps of refuse, nothing to offend the eyes or nose. Everything of the kind is either buried or removed out of sight. Holes are dug in the ground, as occasion requires, for the use of the men, which are again filled in with earth. Thus the whole camp is free from dirt. Again, no drinking parties or banquets, and no sort of gambling, which is the great fault of our soldiers, are to be seen. The Turks are unacquainted with the art of losing their money at cards and dice.

A little while ago I came across some soldiers from the borders of Hungary, amongst whom was a rough fellow, who, with a woe-begone face, sang or rather howled, to the accompaniment of a melancholy lyre, a lugubrious ditty, purporting to be the last words of a comrade dying of his wounds in a grassy meadow by the bank of the Danube. He called upon the Danube, as he flowed to the country of his kinsfolk, to remember to tell his friends and clansmen that he, while fighting for the extension of his religion and the honour of his tribe, had met with a death neither inglorious nor unavenged. Groaning over this his companions kept repeating, ‘O man, thrice happy and thrice blessed, how gladly would we exchange our lot for thine!’ The Turks firmly believe that no souls ascend to heaven so quickly as those of brave heroes who have fallen in war, and that for their safety the Houris daily make prayers and vows to God.

I had a fancy also to be conducted through the shambles where the sheep were slaughtered, that I might see what meat there was for sale. I saw but four or five sheep at most, which had been flayed and hung up, although it was the slaughter-house of the Janissaries, of whom I think there were no fewer than four thousand in the camp. I expressed my astonishment that so little meat was sufficient for such a number of men, and was told in reply that few used it, for a great part of them had their victuals brought over from Constantinople. When I asked what they were, they pointed out to me a Janissary, who was engaged in eating his dinner; he was devouring, off a wooden or earthen trencher, a mess of turnips, onions, garlic, parsnips, and cucumbers, seasoned with salt and vinegar, though, for the matter of that, I fancy that hunger was the chief sauce that seasoned his dish, for, to all appearance, he enjoyed his vegetables as much as if he had been dining off pheasants and partridges. Water, that common beverage of men and animals, is their only drink. This abstemious diet is good both for their health and their pockets.

I was at the camp just before their fast, or Lent[216] as we should call it, and thus was still more struck with the behaviour of the men. In Christian lands at this season, not only camps, but even orderly cities, ring with games and dances, songs and shouts; everywhere are heard the sounds of revelling, drunkenness, and delirium. In short, the world runs mad. It is not improbable that there is some foundation for the story, that a Turk, who happened to come to us on a diplomatic mission at one of these seasons, related on his return home, that the Christians, on certain days, go raving mad, and are restored to their senses and their health by a kind of ashes, which are sprinkled on them in their temples. He told his friends that it was quite remarkable to see the beneficial effects of this remedy; the change was so great that one would hardly imagine them to be the same people. He referred of course to Ash Wednesday and Shrove Tuesday. His hearers were the more astonished, because the Turks are acquainted with several drugs which have the power of rendering people insane, while they know of few capable of speedily restoring the reason.

During the days which immediately precede the season of abstinence, they do not alter their former mode of life, or allow themselves any extra indulgence in the way of food and drink. Nay rather, on the contrary, by diminishing their usual allowance they prepare themselves for the fast, for fear they should not be able to bear the sudden change. Their fast recurs every twelve months; and, as twelve lunar months do not make up a year, it annually comes some fifteen days earlier. Hence it follows that, if the fast is at the beginning of Spring, six years later it will be kept at the commencement of Summer. The Turks limit their fast to the period of one lunar month, and the most severe fasts are those which fall in summer, on account of the length of the days. Inasmuch as they keep it so strictly as to touch nothing, not even water—nay, they hold it unlawful even to wash out the mouth—till the stars appear at even, it follows of course that a fast which occurs when the days are longest, hottest, and most dusty, is extremely trying, especially to those who are obliged to earn their livelihood by manual labour. However, they are allowed to eat what they please before sunrise, or to speak accurately, before the stars are dimmed by the light of that luminary, the idea being that the Sun ought to see no one eating during the whole of the fast. On this account the fast, when it falls in winter, is not so hard to bear.

On a cloudy day of course some mistake might be made about sunset. To meet this difficulty the priests, who act as sacristans, put lighted paper lanterns on the pinnacles of the minarets. (It is from these minarets that they utter the loud cry which summons the people to prayer, and they therefore answer to our belfries.[217]) These lights are intended to remove all doubt as to the time being come when food may be taken. Then at last, after first entering a mosque and reciting their customary prayers, they return to supper. On summer days I remember seeing them making in crowds from the mosque to a tavern, opposite our abode, where snow was kept for sale (of which, by the way, there is an unfailing supply from Mount Olympus, in Asia), and asking for iced water, which they drank, sitting cross-legged, for the Turks have a scruple about eating or drinking standing, if they can help it. But as the evening was too far gone for me to be able to see what they were squatting down for, I got some of my acquaintance, who understood Turkish customs, to enlighten me, and found that each took a great draught of cold water to open a passage for their food, which otherwise would stick in their throats, parched as they were by heat and fasting, and also that their appetite was stimulated by the cold drink. No special kinds of food are appointed to be eaten during the fast; nor does their religion prescribe abstinence during that season from anything which they are allowed to eat at other times. Should they happen to have any illness which prevents their observing the fast, they may disregard it, on condition, however, of making up, when they get well, the number of fasting days which their health has compelled them to miss. Likewise, when they are in an enemy’s country and an engagement is apprehended, they are ordered to postpone their fast to some other time, lest they should be hungry and faint on the day of battle. If they hesitate to do so, the Sultan himself takes food publicly at midday before the eyes of the army, that all may be encouraged by his example to do the same. But as at other times of the year they are forbidden, by their religion, to drink wine, and cannot taste it without committing a sin, so they are most scrupulous in observing this rule all the days of the fast, and even the most careless and profligate people not only abstain from wine, but shun the very smell of it.

I remember that, after I had made many enquiries as to the reason why Mahomet had so strictly forbidden his followers to drink wine, I was one day told this story. Mahomet happened to be travelling to a friend, and halted on his way at midday at a man’s house, where a wedding feast was being celebrated. At his host’s invitation he sat down with them, and greatly admired the exceeding gaiety of the banqueters and their earnest demonstrations of affection—such as shaking of hands, embraces, and kisses. He asked his host the reason, and was informed that such feelings were the consequence of wine. Accordingly on his departure he blessed that beverage as being the cause of such affection among mankind. But on his return the day after, when he entered the same house, a far different sight was presented to his eyes; on all sides were the traces of a cruel fight, the ground was stained with gore and strewn with human limbs; here lay an arm and there a foot; and other fragments were scattered all about. On his asking what had been the cause of so much mischief, he heard that the banqueters he had seen the day before had got maddened with wine and quarrelled, and that a fearful butchery had been the consequence. On this account, Mahomet changed his opinion and cursed the use of wine, making a decree for all time that his followers should not touch it.

So, drinking being prohibited, peace and silence reign in a Turkish camp, and this is more especially the case during their Lent. Such is the result produced by military discipline, and the stern laws bequeathed them by their ancestors. The Turks allow no crime and no disgraceful act to go unpunished. The penalties are degradation from office, loss of rank, confiscation of property, the bastinado, and death. The most usual is the bastinado, from which not even the Janissaries themselves are exempt, though they are not subject to capital punishment. Their lighter faults are punished with the stick, their graver with dismissal from the service or removal to a different corps, a penalty they consider worse than death, by which indeed such a sentence is almost always followed. For when the Janissaries are stripped of their uniform, they are banished to distant garrisons on the furthest frontiers, where their life is one of ignominy and disgrace; or if the crime is so atrocious as to render it necessary to make an example of the culprit, an excuse is found for putting him to death in the place to which he has been banished. But the punishment of death is inflicted on him not as a Janissary, but as a common soldier.

The endurance of the Turks in undergoing punishment is truly marvellous. They often receive more than a hundred blows on their soles, ankles, and buttocks, so that sometimes several sticks of dogwood are broken on them, and the executioner has to say repeatedly, ‘Give me the other stick.’[218] Although remedies are at hand, yet it sometimes happens that many pounds of gangrened flesh have to be cut off from the places which have been beaten. They are obliged notwithstanding to go to the officer by whose orders they have been punished, and to kiss his hand and thank him, and also to pay the executioner a fixed fee for every stroke. As to the stick with which they are beaten, they consider it a sacred thing, and are quite convinced that the first bastinado stick fell down from the same place from which the Romans believed their sacred shields descended, I mean from heaven. That they may have some consolation for such pain, they also believe that the parts, which have been touched by the stick, will after this life be safe from the fires of purgatory.

In saying that the camp was free from quarrels and tumults, it is necessary to make one exception, for some trouble was caused by my people. A few of them had gone out of the camp to stroll along the shore without Janissaries, having only taken with them some Italian renegadoes. Among the various advantages which such renegadoes enjoy, the greatest perhaps is the power of ransoming prisoners. They go to the people who have possession of the captives, and pretend that they are their relations or connections, or at any rate their fellow-countrymen. After speaking of the great pain it gives them to see their friends in such a position, they ask the masters to take their value and emancipate them, or else to make them over to themselves. To such a request the masters make no difficulty in agreeing; whereas, if a Christian were to ask the same favour, they would either refuse it or demand a much higher price. To return to my subject, when my men had gone out they came upon some Janissaries, who, by way of performing their ablutions, had taken a swim in the sea. They had left their turbans behind, and their only head-dress was a piece of linen roughly folded. The Janissaries seeing my men were Christians began to abuse them. For the Turks not only consider it lawful to call Christians by insulting names and otherwise abuse them, but even think it meritorious, on the ground that they may possibly be shamed into changing their religion for the faith of the Turks, when they see what insults they are exposed to on its account. My men, when thus assailed, abused them in return, and at last from words they came to blows, the Italians I mentioned taking the side of my men. The end of it was, that the head-wrapper of one of the Janissaries was lost in the scuffle, how or where I cannot say. The Janissaries, having traced my people to my quarters, went to their commanding officer and charged them with having caused this loss. The officer ordered them to summon my interpreter, who had been present at the skirmish. They seized him, as he was sitting at the door, while I was looking down from the verandah above. I felt that this was a very gross insult; here was one of my people being carried off without my permission, and not only so, but carried off, as I knew right well, having heard of the affair from my servants, to receive a flogging. This was certain to be his fate, for he was a Turkish subject. I went down and laying my hand on him told them to let him go, which they did; but they went off to their commander more savage than ever. He directed them to take some more men, and bring before him the renegade Italians I mentioned, charging them at the same time to be careful not to use violence to me or the house where I was staying. Accordingly they came again making a great uproar, and standing on the road demanded the surrender of the men with loud cries and threats. But the Italians foreseeing what would happen, had already crossed the Bosphorus to Constantinople. This went on for a long time with much bad language on both sides, till at last the cavasse I was then employing, an old man on the brink of the grave, becoming nervous at the uproar, thrust into their hands, without my knowledge, some pieces of gold as the price of the lost head-wrapper, and thus our peace was made.

One reason for telling you this adventure is, that it gave me an opportunity of learning from Roostem himself the light in which the Janissaries are regarded by the Sultan. For when he heard of this disturbance he sent a man warning me, to use his own words, ‘to remove every cause of offence which might occasion a quarrel with those atrocious scoundrels. Was I not aware, that it was war time, when they were masters, so that not even Solyman himself had control over them, and was actually himself afraid of receiving violence at their hands?’ These were no random words of Roostem’s; he knew what he was talking about, for his master’s anxieties were no secret to him. What the Sultan dreaded most in the world was secret disaffection among the Janissaries; disaffection which would lie hidden for a time, and then break out at a critical moment when he had no power to counteract it. His alarm is certainly not without foundation; for while there are great advantages to a Sovereign in the possession of a standing army, there are on the other hand, if proper precautions be not taken, considerable disadvantages. The greatest of all is, that the soldiers have it in their power to depose their Sovereign and place another on the throne; and the fear of a revolution of this kind must be ever present to the minds of the masters. Striking instances might be quoted of Sovereigns who were dethroned by their own troops; but it is by no means impossible to guard against such occurrences.

During my stay at the camp, Albert de Wyss,[219] a gentleman and a good scholar, arrived. If I am not mistaken, he is a native of Amersfort. He brought as presents from the Emperor to the Sultan some gilded cups and a clock of skilful workmanship, which was mounted like a tower on the back of an elephant, and also some money for distribution among the Pashas. Solyman desired me to present these gifts to him in the camp, in the sight of the army, as a fresh proof to his subjects that he and the Emperor were firm friends. He was anxious that such an idea should prevail, and also that an impression should be produced, that no warlike movement on the part of the Christians was likely to take place.

I now return to the point from which I began this digression, namely to Bajazet, who had retreated from the battle field of Koniah to Amasia, his own government, apparently with the resolution of remaining quiet there, if his father should allow him to do so. He had obeyed the dictates of his passion and his youthful ambition; now he seemed to intend for the future to play the part of a dutiful son. He continually endeavoured to ascertain his father’s disposition by letters and agents. Solyman did not show himself averse to a reconciliation. At first he made no difficulty in giving the messengers audience, read the letters and did not answer them harshly, so that a report was prevalent throughout the camp that the father would be reconciled to the son, and pardon his youthful indiscretion, on his promising to be loyal for the future. But in reality the crafty old man was playing a very deep game suggested to him by the Pashas, he was deluding Bajazet with hopes of forgiveness until the toils should be prepared, and he should be ready to seize his prisoner alive. For it was apprehended that, if he was driven to despair, he would make his escape to the territory of the King of Persia, which was his only refuge, before the governors of the intervening country had time to guard and watch the roads. Solyman kept sending messenger after messenger to them, urging them not to leave any loophole however small for Bajazet to escape to Persia. Meanwhile anyone suspected of a leaning towards Bajazet who fell into the Sultan’s hands was secretly executed, after being questioned by torture. Among them were some whom Bajazet had sent to clear his character.

The kingdom of Persia, though Solyman has torn away from it much territory by war, namely Babylonia itself, Mesopotamia, and part of Media, includes at the present time all the tribes that dwell between the Caspian Sea and the Persian Gulf, with some portion of Greater Armenia. The Sovereign of this country is Shah Tahmasp, who, besides the territory I mentioned, reigns over regions still more remote, as far as the dominions of the Prince who is called by the Turks Humayoum Padischah.[220] The father of the present Shah was defeated many years ago by Selim in a great battle on the plains of Tschaldiran,[221] and from that time the fortunes of Persia have been declining, under the powerful attacks of the Emperor Solyman, for Tahmasp has defended himself with but little vigour and in no way displayed the spirit of his father. At the present time he is said to be leading the life of a mere voluptuary; he never leaves his harem, where he divides his time between dallying with his favourites and forecasting the future by means of lots. Meanwhile he neglects to enforce the laws or to administer justice, and consequently, brigandage and outrages of every kind prevail throughout the different tribes that are subject to his sway, and so the poor and helpless throughout Persia are suffering every kind of oppression at the hands of the strong, and it is useless for innocence to resort to the King for protection. This culpable neglect of his duty as a ruler has so little impaired either his influence or the superstitious veneration with which his person is regarded, that they think that a blessing falls on those who have kissed the doorposts of his palace, and they keep the water in which he has washed his hands as a sovereign cure for divers diseases. Of his numerous offspring one son is called Ismael after his grandfather, and on him has also descended his grandfather’s spirit. He is extremely handsome, and is a deadly enemy of the house of Othman. They say that when he first entered the world his baby hand was found to be full of blood, and this was commonly regarded by his countrymen as a sign that he would be a man of war. Nor did he belie the prediction, for hardly had he grown up to manhood when he inflicted a bloody defeat on his Turkish enemies. One of the articles of the treaty between his father and Solyman was, that he should not be allowed to attack the Turks, and in accordance with this stipulation he was sent to a distance from the frontier and there confined in prison. He is, however, the person marked out by the aspirations of the nation as successor to the throne on his father’s decease.

Accordingly Solyman was afraid that the Shah, who, by the way, is better known to us as the Sophi, would have a keener recollection of their ancient quarrels than of the peace which he had been recently compelled to make, and that consequently, if his son should escape into Persia, he would not allow him to be taken away without a great deal of trouble, and that possibly a long and harassing war would be the result. He therefore took the utmost pains to apprehend Bajazet, before he should escape thither. He remembered that the support, which, a few years before, he himself had given to Elkass, the brother of Tahmasp, who had taken refuge with him,[222] had been the cause of many years of annoyance and anxiety to Tahmasp, and his conscience told him that this would be an opportunity for the latter to retaliate, and perhaps to make an attempt to recover the territory which he had lost in war.

Although the designs of Solyman were kept very secret, they were not unobserved by Bajazet’s friends, who repeatedly warned him not to trust his father, to be on his guard against plots, and to take betimes the best measures in his power for his safety. A little matter is often the immediate cause of a very serious step, and so it was in this case. What drove him to take his friends’ advice was, as I have heard, the circumstance that one of his spies, who was arrested in the camp, was by Solyman’s orders publicly executed by impalement, on the pretext that he had been enlisted by Bajazet after he had been strictly forbidden to enroll any more soldiers. When informed of his follower’s execution, Bajazet immediately felt that his only chance was to fly for his life. Solyman, on the other hand, thinking he had now made certain of his not escaping, or perhaps to deceive him the more, ordered his army to return to Constantinople the day after the festival of Bairam.

At Amasia, on the very day of the feast, as soon as the usual ceremonies were finished, Bajazet ordered his baggage to be packed up and began his ill-starred journey to Persia; he knew right well that he was going to the ancient enemy of the house of Othman, but he was fully resolved to throw himself on any one’s mercy rather than fall into his father’s hands. Every man marched out who was capable of bearing arms; none but women and children unequal to the fatigues of a long journey were left behind. Among the latter was a newly born son of Bajazet, with his mother; his father preferred to leave the innocent babe to his grand-father’s mercy, rather than take him as a companion of his anxious and miserable flight. This child Solyman ordered to be taken care of at Broussa, feeling as yet uncertain what his father’s fate might be.

I should have returned to Constantinople on the day before the Bairam,[223] had I not been detained by my wish to see that day’s ceremonies. The Turks were about to celebrate the rites of the festival on an open and level plain before the tents of Solyman; and I could hardly hope that such an occasion of seeing them would ever present itself again. I gave my servants orders to promise a soldier some money and so get me a place in his tent, on a mound which commanded a good view of Solyman’s pavilions. Thither I repaired at sunrise. I saw assembled on the plain a mighty multitude of turbaned heads, attentively following, in the most profound silence, the words of the priest who was leading their devotions. They kept their ranks, each in his proper position; the lines of troops looked like so many hedges or walls parting out the wide plain, on which they were drawn up. According to its rank in the service each corps was posted nearer to, or farther from, the place where the Sultan stood. The troops were dressed in brilliant uniforms, their head-dresses rivalling snow in whiteness. The scene which met my eyes was charming, the different colours having a most pleasing effect. The men were so motionless that they seemed rooted to the ground on which they stood. There was no coughing, no clearing the throat, and no voice to be heard, and no one looked behind him or moved his head. When the priest pronounced the name of Mahomet all alike bowed their heads to their knees at the same moment, and when he uttered the name of God they fell on their faces in worship and kissed the ground. The Turks join in their devotions with great ceremony and attention, for if they even raise a finger to scratch their head, their prayer, they think, will not be accepted. ‘For,’ say they, ‘if you had to converse with Pashas would you not do so with your body in a respectful attitude? how much more are we bounden to observe the same reverence towards God, who is so far above the highest earthly eminence?’ Such is their logic. When prayers were finished, the serried ranks broke up, and the whole plain was gradually covered with their surging masses. Presently the Sultan’s servants appeared bringing their master’s dinner, when, lo and behold! the Janissaries laid their hands on the dishes, seized their contents and devoured them, amid much merriment. This licence is allowed by ancient custom as part of that day’s festivity, and the Sultan’s wants are otherwise provided for. I returned to Constantinople full of the brilliant spectacle, which I had thoroughly enjoyed.

I have a little more news to give you about Bajazet and then I will release you, as you are probably as tired of reading as I am of writing. Bajazet, as you have heard, having started from Amasia with his escort in light marching order, travelled with such speed that his arrival almost everywhere anticipated the tidings of his approach, and many who had been ordered to look out for his passage were taken by surprise, before their preparations were completed. He gave the Pasha of Siwas the slip by the following stratagem. There were two roads, of which the Pasha had occupied the one which was of importance to Bajazet; the latter, however, sent some pretended deserters to tell the Pasha that he had already passed by the other road. As the Pasha thought this not improbable, he left his position on the road he had occupied, and hastily led his forces across to the other road, by which he believed Bajazet to be going, and so left him a free passage.

He likewise imposed on the Pasha of Erzeroum by a somewhat similar stratagem. When he was not far off and knew there was much danger awaiting him in his passage through that Pashalik, he had recourse to the following device; he sent messengers to salute him, and told them to relate his misfortunes in the most pathetic manner, in hopes of exciting his sympathy. They were to conclude their appeal by asking permission to get shoes for the horses, telling the Pasha, the Prince’s troops were quite worn out by the hardships of the march, and that he intended remaining a day or two where there was plenty of fodder, in order to rest his horses, and to put new shoes on them. The Pasha courteously replied that he did not forbid him to take what he wanted; whether he was influenced by pity for Bajazet’s misfortunes, or by inclination to his party, as some people thought, I cannot say; perhaps, after all, his design was to throw Bajazet off his guard and so take him prisoner, or time may have been needed to concentrate his troops, who had been surprised by Bajazet’s rapid march. He also sent him some small presents as a compliment, and congratulated him on his safe arrival; but Bajazet, instead of making any halt, pressed on, allowing his troops no rest by day and only a short one by night.

When the Pasha of Erzeroum became aware that Bajazet was hurrying on, he quickened his movements and joined the other Pashas who were following in pursuit, for, as soon as it was known that Bajazet had left Amasia, Solyman sent several Sanjak-beys and Pashas after him, threatening them with the loss of their heads if they did not bring him back, alive or dead. But this was all in vain on account of Bajazet’s hasty departure, and also because the fugitive’s speed was greater than that of his pursuers. But after all, Bajazet’s flight cost none more dear than the above-mentioned Pasha of Erzeroum, who was removed from his Pashalik by Solyman, and put to death by Selim, with his two young sons, after they had first been horribly ill-treated. Meanwhile, both Selim and Mehemet Pasha and the Beyler-bey of Greece, although a long way behind, continued their pursuit of Bajazet.

His departure came upon Solyman as a very heavy blow, for he surmised correctly that Bajazet was making for Persia; he could scarcely be kept from marching, with the whole Imperial guard, both foot and horse, and making a demonstration against the King of Persia. But his rash impetuosity was moderated by his counsellors, who pointed out what danger might arise from the disaffection of the soldiery. There was also the risk of Bajazet’s marching round by the North of the Black Sea and the Sea of Azoff, and suddenly making a desperate attack on Constantinople; it would then be in his power to create an army by offering their freedom to the slaves and the recruits whom they call _Agiamoglans_,[224] and to penetrate into the deserted capital. By such warnings they induced Solyman to abandon his design. Moreover, Bajazet left notices on the doorposts of the mosques, wherever he passed, promising to give double pay to any soldiers who went over to his side. These proclamations made the officers anxious, as they felt they could not trust their men, and this feeling was increased by the fact that remarks were constantly heard in the ranks, which showed a strong tendency in Bajazet’s favour.

At last Bajazet reached the river Araxes, which divides the Turkish territory from Persia. Even after he had passed it he did not feel secure, and, to prevent the Sanjak-beys, who were in pursuit, from crossing, he placed on the bank of the river, as guards, some of his men who had volunteered for that duty. They were, however, easily routed by the Sanjak-beys, who penetrated a considerable distance beyond the Persian frontiers, till they met Persian officers with a large body of cavalry, who demanded what they meant and what they wanted in foreign territory. The Turks replied that they were trying to recover the runaway son of their Sovereign. The Persians retorted that the Turks were violating the treaty by crossing the frontier with arms in their hands. There was peace and friendship, they said, between Shah Tahmasp and their master, and this state of things ought to be respected. The Shah’s decision about Bajazet would be one worthy of himself, and he would loyally fulfil his obligations. Meanwhile they would do well if they departed from a country in which they had no right to be. By these arguments the Turks were induced to return.

Soon afterwards there came to Bajazet envoys sent by the Persian King to salute him and enquire the reason of his coming, and also to ascertain what forces he brought with him.[225] Bajazet told them that he had been driven from his country by his brother’s wrongful acts and his father’s partiality, and had fled to the protection of the King of Persia, as the only sanctuary he had left, and expressed his hope that the Shah, remembering the uncertainties of human fortune, would not refuse the prayers of a suppliant who had no one else to help him. In reply to this appeal he received a message from the Shah, saying that he had acted but inconsiderately in coming to him, as he knew that there was peace and friendship between himself and his father, and also that they had agreed to hold each other’s friends and foes as their own, which terms he felt bound to observe. However, as circumstances had taken this course, he bade him come in God’s name, give him his hand and become his guest; he promised that he would leave nothing undone to restore him to favour with his father.