Chapter XVI: Letter IV (3)

But I will return to my subject. Bajazet’s hopes were at a low ebb, for his merciless father was demanding that he should be given up alive for execution; to this the King of Persia refused to agree and pretended to act as his protector, while all the time he intended to betray him.

Solyman at one time tried persuasion on the Shah, reminding him of the treaty, by which he had agreed they should both have the same friends and enemies, and at another, endeavoured to frighten him with menacing language and threatened him with war, if Bajazet were not surrendered. He had placed strong garrisons in all his towns on the Persian frontier, and filled Mesopotamia and the bank of the Euphrates with soldiers, who were taken for the most part from the Imperial guard, and the troops he had employed against Bajazet. These forces were commanded by Mehemet Pasha, the third of the Vizierial Pashas, and the Beyler bey of Greece, for Selim had soon returned home. He also sent frequent messages to the tribes they call Georgians, who dwell between the Caspian and the Black Sea, and border on Media, urging them to take up arms against the King of Persia. They sagaciously replied that ‘they had not sufficient confidence in their own strength to venture to attack Shah Tahmasp by themselves; let Solyman only come with his army and they would know, when they saw him on the spot, what they ought to do. In that case they would be wanting neither in counsel nor in courage.’

In another direction are still to be found five Turkoman chiefs descended from Tamerlane; and these also were invited to join their arms against the common foe.

Solyman wished it to be believed that he himself was going to Aleppo, a city of Syria on the banks of the Euphrates,[258] and that he intended from that base to make war on the King of Persia. Nor was the latter free from apprehension, as he had too often experienced the might of Solyman’s arm. But the angry Sultan was completely checked by the opposition of the soldiers and the reluctance they felt to engaging in such a war. They shrank from an unnatural contest, and began to desert. A great number of them, especially of the cavalry, returned to Constantinople, without orders from their commanders, and when bidden to return to the camp without delay, though they obeyed, they did so in such a way as to leave it evident how little they could be relied on, if any accident or change should occur.

For this reason, when it became sufficiently clear to Solyman that the King of Persia would not surrender Bajazet, pleading that he was afraid of delivering him up alive, lest by any chance he should escape, and live to take vengeance for the wrongs he had received, he decided, as the next best course, to get him executed in Persia. He had great hopes of prevailing thus far on the Shah; for in the last letter he had received from that monarch, the latter had expressed his surprise at his careless method of managing such an important affair; observing that he had several times sent ambassadors to him, but he, on the contrary, had sent him nothing but letters and messengers, conduct, which made him doubt if he were really in earnest. ‘Let him,’ said the Shah, ‘send noblemen of high authority and name, with whom the negotiations might be carried on and concluded in a way that befitted their importance. The Sultan was much in his debt; Bajazet’s coming had been a great injury to him, and he had incurred great expense before he had got him into his power. It was just that these circumstances should be taken into account.’

Solyman saw that money was his object, and so, rather than involve himself in an unnecessary war, for which he was unfitted by his years, he determined to follow the Pashas’ advice, and to fight the King of Persia with money, instead of arms.

Hassan Aga, one of the chiefs of the eunuchs of the bed-chamber, was first selected as ambassador to Persia, and the Pasha of Marasch, a man of venerable years, was ordered to accompany him. About the middle of winter they started with the fullest powers; they travelled, in spite of the difficulties of the road, with the utmost speed, and at last, after losing many of their suite, arrived at Casbin, where the King of Persia was.

They first asked leave to see Bajazet, and found him so disfigured by the dirt and filth of his prison, and with his hair and beard so long that they could not recognise him. They were obliged to have him shaved, and it was only then that Hassan was able to identify the features of the prince. He had been brought up with him from his earliest years, and it was especially for that reason that Solyman had committed this office to him.

It was agreed that the King of Persia should be indemnified for the loss he said he had sustained, and should receive in addition a present commensurate with the importance of the business, and that then Solyman should be allowed to put Bajazet to death.

Hassan hurried back and told his master of the arrangement he had concluded. The present was prepared, along with the sums demanded as expenses, and was conveyed, under the protection of a Turkish guard, to the frontiers of the Persian dominions. Hassan, too, came again as the unfortunate Bajazet’s appointed executioner, for Solyman had specially ordered that he should put him to death with his own hands. Accordingly the bow-string was put round Bajazet’s neck, and he was strangled to death. He is said to have asked one boon before his death, namely, to be allowed to see his children and share his kisses among them as a last token of affection; but this he asked in vain, being told ‘There was other business which required his immediate attention.’[259]

Such was the end of Bajazet’s ill-starred designs, whose ruin was precipitated by the very efforts he made to avoid it. His four sons shared their father’s fate.

I mentioned that one, who had been lately born, had been left at Amasia when his father fled, and that he had been removed by his grandfather to Broussa, where he was being brought up; but, when the Sultan knew it was all over with Bajazet, he sent a eunuch, whom he trusted, to Broussa to kill him. As the eunuch’s own disposition was too tender, he took with him one of the doorkeepers, a hard-hearted ruffian who was capable of any atrocity, to be the child’s murderer. When the doorkeeper entered the room, and was fitting the cord to the child’s neck, it smiled at him, and, raising itself as much as it could, threw up its little arms to give him a hug and a kiss. This so moved the cruel fellow that he could not bear it, and fell down in a swoon. The eunuch, who was waiting outside, wondered that he was so long, and at last going in himself, found the doorkeeper lying senseless on the ground. He could not afford to let his mission be a failure, and so with his own hands he stopped for ever the feeble breath of that innocent child.

From this it was clear enough that the grandson had been spared till then, not from the mercy of his grandfather, but from the Turkish superstition of referring all successful enterprises, whatever may have been the motive from which they were undertaken, to the instigation of God. On this account, as long as the issue of Bajazet’s attempts remained doubtful, Solyman determined to do no violence to the child, for fear that if afterwards Bajazet’s fortunes should take a turn for the better, he should be found to have been striving against the will of God. But now that he had perished, and thus had, as it were, been condemned by the sentence of God, he thought there was no reason for sparing Bajazet’s son any longer, that according to the proverb, not an egg of that mischievous crow might be left.

I once had a long argument with my cavasse on this subject, when I was in the islands I told you about. As I was returning from one of my more distant excursions, it happened that I could not double a projecting point, the wind being contrary. After striving for some time in vain, we were obliged to disembark and dine there, for in case of such an accident I used always to take about with us in the boat some cooked provisions. Several Turks, who had been forced to land there from the same cause, followed my example. My table was laid in a green meadow. The cavasse and dragomans sat down along with me. Bajazet happening to be mentioned, the cavasse began to inveigh against him without mercy for taking up arms against his brother. I on the other hand said, I thought he was to be pitied, because he had no choice except to take up arms or submit to certain death. But when the cavasse went on abusing him in as strong terms as before, I said, ‘You are making out Bajazet guilty of a monstrous atrocity, but you do not charge Selim, the father of the present Sultan, with any crime, though he took up arms not merely to resist his father’s will, but against his very person.’[260] ‘And with good reason,’ replied the cavasse, ‘for the issue of his enterprise showed clearly enough that he did what he did by prompting from above, and that it had been predestinated by Heaven.’ I answered, ‘On this principle you will interpret whatever has been undertaken, although from the most wicked motives, if it proves successful, to be done rightly, and will ascribe it to God’s will; and will thus make out God to be the author of evil, nor will you reckon anything to have been done well or the contrary, except by the result.’

We continued our argument for some time, each of us defending his position with great spirit and in a high tone of voice. Many texts of Scripture were cited on either side, ‘Can the vessel say to the potter, why hast thou formed me thus?’ ‘I will harden Pharaoh’s heart,’ ‘Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated,’ and others, as they came into our heads.

The Turks, who were a little way off, wondered what we were arguing about; so, after we had risen and the table had been removed, the cavasse went straight to his countrymen. They all came round him, and he appeared to be haranguing them, while they listened with the utmost attention. Then, as it was just noon, they kept silence and worshipped God after their manner with foreheads bowed to the ground. The time seemed long to me till the cavasse came back, as I was anxious to know what had been the subject of his earnest conversation with his countrymen. I felt a little afraid that he had repeated something I had said, and given it an unfavourable turn, although I had had sufficient proofs of his honesty.

At last, when the wind had gone down, and it was time to embark, we went on board again, and set out once more. Then the first thing I did was to ask the cavasse what he had been talking about so earnestly with his countrymen. He replied with a smile, ‘I will honestly confess to you what it was. They wanted to know from me what the subject was, on which we had been arguing so hotly. I said, “Predestination,” and repeated to them the texts, both those which you had cited on your side and those which you had recognised when quoted by me. Hence I argued that it was certain you had read our books, and were well acquainted with Holy Scripture, and that you wanted nothing to secure eternal happiness, except being initiated into our religion. Accordingly we exhorted each other to pray that God would bring you to the true faith; and these were the prayers you saw us making.’

When the news of Bajazet’s death was brought to Constantinople, I was seized with great alarm for the issue of our negotiations. We were indeed in a good position and there seemed to be a prospect of the end we desired; but our anxiety was renewed by Bajazet’s misfortune, for fear the Turks should become more haughty, undo what had been done, and call on us to accept less favourable terms. We had successfully got past numerous rocks, among them the defeat at Djerbé, Bajazet’s imprisonment, and the unlucky accident of the expulsion of the Voivode from Moldavia, yet two formidable ones remained, namely, Bajazet’s death, of which I have spoken, and another besides, of which I shall speak presently.

Ali had been the first to communicate the news to me, by a domestic slave, in these words, ‘Know for certain that Bajazet is dead. You cannot now go on trifling with us any longer in reliance on his making a diversion in your favour. Remember that an old friendship can be restored between two princes who share the same faith more easily than a new one can be cemented between two Sovereigns of different religions. Take my word for it, it is not safe for you to go on shuffling any longer and raising unreal difficulties.’

Such a message made a deep impression on my mind. But, as the news came from a suspicious quarter, I sent round to my friends to enquire if any certain intelligence of Bajazet’s death had arrived, and all to a man replied, that there remained no doubt about it. I then understood I must shorten sail. There was no possibility of aspiring to better terms; I ought to be contented if I could maintain the position I had gained, and if no change for the worse should be made in the conditions. They had now been before the Sultan for some time, and he had not been averse to them, subject to a few additions or omissions, among which however there were some things I was sorry to lose. Certain points were expressed too obscurely, so as to leave room for controversy hereafter, if any one were to place an unfair construction on them. I used my utmost efforts to get these either removed or altered to our advantage. The conditions had been once or twice sent to my Emperor for his perusal, and he had graciously approved of them; but I felt dissatisfied myself, and was always wishing to obtain some further concession, when, in the midst of my negotiations, the news I mentioned came upon me like a thunderbolt.

But previously also a serious difficulty had arisen in consequence of the revolt of certain Hungarian nobles from the Voivode of Transylvania to the Emperor, or, to speak correctly, in consequence of their return from error to the path of duty. They brought over with them the forts and castles which they held.[261]

This startling event was calculated to upset all the steps towards peace that had been taken. For the Turks were thus supplied with a plausible argument: ‘No change ought to have been made while negotiations about the terms of peace were going on. If you are really anxious for peace you ought to restore the advantage which you have unfairly gained. The deserters are at liberty to do as they please, but let the places they hold remain in the hands of the Voivode, our dependant and vassal.’

However, not only was no such claim asserted by Ali, but when I expressly put down in the articles of peace that these matters should remain as they were, he willingly approved of their ratification.

But the ambassadors, who had then recently arrived from the Voivode, did their utmost to chafe that sore, and filled the court with their outcries, exclaiming that their unfortunate young master was being betrayed, the rights of friendship profaned, and enemies preferred to old friends. These remonstrances had indeed some effect upon the other Pashas, but not on Ali. So at last it was agreed to adhere to the terms of peace, as they had been already settled.

Although there could be no doubt about the wishes of my master, yet, as I remembered that among the attendants of princes there never is any lack of people ready to blacken the good deeds of others, however worthy they may be, especially if they are foreigners, I decided that everything, as far as it could be managed, should be left as open as possible for his decision. Therefore I negotiated with Ali in such a way as to point out that, although the proposed conditions did not altogether answer my Sovereign’s expectations, yet I was confident he would agree to them, provided that some one was sent with me who could explain the points that were obscure, or which might in any way be made a subject of dispute, saying that Ibrahim seemed the best person for the service, as he could report to them the Emperor’s desire for peace. He readily agreed to this proposal, so the last touch was thus put to these protracted peace negotiations.

It is the custom for the Pashas to invite to their table in the Divan an ambassador who is in favour when he leaves. But as I wished to make it appear that everything remained undecided and uncertain till a reply was brought back from my master, this honour was not paid me, the want of which however did not trouble my peace of mind.[262]

I was anxious to take with me some well-bred horses, and therefore had charged my servants to go about the market frequently on the chance of being able to find any to suit. When Ali heard of this, he had a capital thorough-bred of his own brought out as if for sale. My men hurried up to bid for him, 120 ducats was named as the price, and they offered eighty, without knowing who was the owner. The people who had charge of the horse refused to let him go for such a low price. But a day or two afterwards, the same horse, with two others every bit as good, was sent as a present by Ali Pasha, one of them being a beautifully shaped palfrey. When I thanked him for his present, he asked me if I did not think the horse, which my men had wanted to buy in the market for eighty ducats, was not worth more. I replied, ‘Much more, but they had a commission from me not to go beyond that price, that I might not incur too great a loss, if they should, without knowing it, purchase some likely looking animal, which should afterwards prove unsound. Such things do sometimes happen in the horse-market.’ He then told me how Turkish horses are fed at the beginning of a journey, namely, with a very small allowance of food, and advised me to travel by very short stages, till the horses had got accustomed to the work, and to divide the journey to Adrianople into nine or ten days, which usually took only five. He presented me also with an exceedingly elegant robe interwoven with gold thread, and a casket full of the finest theriac of Alexandria,[263] and lastly added a glass bottle of balsam, which he highly commended, saying, ‘The other presents he had given me he did not think much of, as money could buy them, but this was a rare gift and his master could give no greater present to a friendly or allied prince. He had been governor of Egypt for some years, and thus had an opportunity of procuring it.’ The plant produces two sorts of juice; there is the cheap black extract made from the oil of the boiled leaves, while the other kind flows from an incision in the bark. This last, which is yellow and is the true balsam, was the one he gave me.[264]

He wished some things sent him in return, namely, a coat of mail large enough to fit him, as he is very tall and stout, and a powerful horse, to which he could trust himself without being afraid of a fall, for being a heavy man he has great difficulty in finding a horse equal to his weight, and lastly a piece of curled maple or some other wood similarly marked, with which our countrymen veneer tables.

No presents were given me by Solyman, except the ordinary ones of the kind usually given to every ambassador on taking leave, such as I had generally received in former years.

At my farewell audience he curtly inveighed against the insolence of the Heydons and the soldiers of the garrison of Szigeth. ‘What use,’ said he, ‘has it been for us to make peace here, if the garrison of Szigeth will break it and continue the war?’ I replied, ‘I would lay the matter before the Emperor, and I hoped he would do what was needful.’

Thus auspiciously, towards the end of the month of August, I commenced my wished-for journey, bringing with me as the fruit of eight years’ exertions a truce for eight years, which however it will be easy to get extended for as long as we wish, unless some remarkable change should occur.

When we arrived at Sophia, from which there is a road not only to Belgrade but to Ragusa, whence it is only a few days’ passage to Venice, Leyva and Requesens asked my leave to go by Ragusa, which was their shortest way to Italy, for the purpose of discharging at the earliest possible date their obligations to the Pashas, and paying off the debts they had incurred at Constantinople for various purposes. They said they would give me letters to the Emperor to thank him for the recovery of their freedom, which they would have preferred to do in person, if they had not been hindered by the considerations I have mentioned. I complied with their wishes without hesitation, and the death of Requesens, which happened soon after, gave me less cause to regret having done so, for before he reached Ragusa he died, being a very old man. I am glad I granted him the favour, as a refusal might have been thought to have been partly the cause of his illness.

De Sandé and I accomplished the rest of the journey very merrily, without meeting with any serious inconvenience. De Sandé was a pleasant fellow, and always making jokes, being quite capable, when it was necessary, of concealing his anxiety and assuming a cheerfulness he did not feel. The daily occurrences of our journey furnished us with many a merry jest. Sometimes we had a fancy to leave our carriages, and try which of us could walk the longest. In this, as I was thin and had no load of corpulence to carry, I easily beat my friend, who was stout and too fat for walking, not to mention that the effects of his confinement still made him incapable of much exertion. Whenever our road lay through a village, it was amusing to see Ibrahim, who followed us very gravely on horseback with his Turks, riding up and entreating us by all we held most dear to get into our carriages again, and not to disgrace ourselves utterly by allowing the villagers to see us travelling on foot, for among the Turks this is considered a great dishonour. With these words he sometimes prevailed on us to re-enter our carriages, and sometimes we laughed at him and disobeyed.

Now listen to one of de Sandé’s many witty sayings. When we left Constantinople, not only was the heat still overpowering, but I was in a languid state from the late hot weather, so that I had hardly any appetite for food, or at any rate, was satisfied with very little. But de Sandé, being a strong man and accustomed to a great deal of food, of which he always partook with me, used to devour rather than eat his meals, exhorting me from time to time to follow his example, and eat like a man. In this however he was unsuccessful, until, about the beginning of October, we were approaching the borders of Austria. There, partly from the nature of the country, and partly from the time of year, I was refreshed by the cooler climate, and began to be better in health and also to eat more freely than before. When this was observed by de Sandé, he exclaimed, ‘He was amply rewarded for his trouble, the pains and training he had spent on me had not been thrown away, inasmuch as, thanks to his teaching and instruction, I had learnt at last how to eat, though I had lived so many years without acquiring any knowledge of, or practice in, this most needful art. Let me consider him as much in my debt as I pleased for delivering him from a Turkish prison; I was no less indebted to him, as it was from him I had learnt how to eat!’

Amusing ourselves in this manner we arrived at Tolna, where we came in for a certain amount of annoyance. De Sandé used to stay under the same roof with me, where my quarters consisted of several rooms; but where there was only one he used to lodge at an adjoining house, that he might not inconvenience me. Accordingly at Tolna he ordered the Janissary, whom I took with me from Constantinople to Buda as my attendant, to look out for quarters for him. One of my servants and a Spanish doctor of medicine, who had been ransomed at de Sandé’s expense at Constantinople, accompanied the Janissary. They happened to go into a house near us, which belonged to a Janissary who had been entrusted with the charge of the town. For it is the custom of the Turks, in order to protect the Christians from the outrages of travellers, to appoint in each of the wealthier villages or small towns one or two Janissaries,[265] who take advantage of the position in which they are thus placed, and turn it to their own profit in many ways. This Janissary had committed some fault for which he had deserved to lose his office; and the fear of such a punishment hanging over his head had made him crusty, and completely soured his temper. Our people inspected his house without opposition, went all over it, and began to retreat, as they did not like it. My Janissary was going first, the servant was following, and the doctor was last. Meanwhile, the Janissary who lived there, and who was then in his garden, was told that Christians were looking for a lodging in his house. Mad with rage he hurried up with a stick that might have served Hercules for a club, and without a word brought it down with all his might on the doctor’s shoulders, who flew out of the house for fear of a repetition of the blow. My servant looked back, and saw behind him the Janissary on the point of giving him a similar greeting, his stick being already raised for the blow; but this servant of mine, who was carrying a small hatchet in his hand, as people generally do in that country, seized the blade of it with one hand, and the end of the handle with the other, and holding it cross-wise over his head parried several blows without injury. As the other, however, did not stop striking, the handle of the hatchet began to give way, so my servant was obliged to alter his tactics, and closing with the Janissary aimed a blow at his head, but the latter did not like this change in the mode of fighting, and forthwith took to his heels. As my servant could not reach him, he flung the hatchet at his back as he ran away. The Janissary was wounded by the blow and fell; and so our people escaped.

In the meantime the doctor was rousing the neighbourhood with his cries, exclaiming that it was all over with him, he was as good as dead, and all his bones were broken.

De Sandé, when he heard the story, was both vexed and amused. He was unaffected by the doctor’s exclamations, thinking he was more frightened than hurt. But he was tormented by a terrible anxiety, fearing that he would be recalled to Constantinople, and could not be persuaded that there was not some treachery at the bottom of the affair. The Pashas, he thought, had sought an opportunity of pretending to do me a favour, and would soon show their real intentions, and find an excuse for dragging him back to Constantinople, where he must lie rotting in a filthy jail to the end of his days. He was therefore much vexed at the behaviour of my servant, who, instead of expressing any sorrow at the severe wound he had inflicted on the Janissary, swore that he was exceedingly sorry to hear he was still alive. Accordingly, he addressed him as follows, ‘My good Henry (for that was his name), I beg you to control your anger. This is no place for displaying your courage or avenging your wrongs; in our present situation it is no mark of cowardice to pocket an affront. Whether we will or no, we are in their power. Pray, remember how much mischief this ill-timed passion of yours may bring on us; we may in consequence be all brought back to Constantinople, and everything that has been done may be undone, or at any rate, unsettled, the result of which will be fresh worries and endless trouble. I beg you another time, if you have no regard for your own safety, for my sake at any rate, to control yourself more.’

But his remonstrances fell on deaf ears. Henry was a man of obstinate disposition, and when angered, most unreasonable. ‘What would it have mattered to me,’ he answered, ‘even if I had killed him? Had he not resolved to murder me? if but one of all the blows he aimed at my head had reached me, he had butchered me like a sheep. The idea of my being guilty for slaying a man, who was endeavouring to kill me! I am desperately sorry for one thing, and that is, that I do not feel quite sure that he will not recover from my blow.’ Then he swore he would spare no Turk, who wanted to wound him, but would, at all hazards, do his best to kill him. De Sandé did not approve of these sentiments.

The Janissary, having received the wound I mentioned, made it out to be worse than it was. Two Jews, who were acquainted with the Spanish tongue, came to me, saying that the Janissary was in great danger; I must give him some compensation, or else I should hear more of it; much trouble was in store for me on this account. I replied as I thought politic.

But as I knew the Turkish habit of bringing false accusations, I considered it better to be beforehand with them. I immediately asked Ibrahim, through a servant, to lend me one of his suite, to escort one of my men to Constantinople, saying that the case was urgent. Ibrahim wondered what the reason could be, and came to me at once. I said that I must ask Ali Pasha to have more trustworthy precautions taken for my safety on the journey, otherwise I could not feel confident of reaching the borders of my country uninjured, as two of my suite had been within an inch of being murdered. I then told him what had happened. Ibrahim understood how closely the affair concerned himself, and asked me to have the patience to wait a few moments, and immediately went across the road to the Janissary, whom he found in bed. He rated him soundly for behaving in such a way to my people; saying ‘we were returning, after peace had been concluded, in high favour with Solyman and all the Pashas. None of my requests had been denied me, and many concessions had been made unasked; he himself had been attached to me as my companion on the journey to take care that proper respect was paid to me everywhere. The Janissary had been the first person found to do us any injury, and that I wished to send to Constantinople to complain about it. If this were done, the Janissary well knew what the consequences would be.’

By this speech not only was the Janissary’s comb cut, but it was now his turn to be frightened.

On the following day we pursued our journey towards Buda, the doctor being as nimble as before in spite of his terrible bruises. When we were just in sight of Buda, by order of the Pasha some of his household came to meet us, along with several cavasses; a crowd of young men on horseback formed the most remarkable part of our escort on account of the strangeness of their attire, which was as follows. They had cut a long line in the skin of their bare heads, which were for the most part shaved, and inserted in the wound an assortment of feathers; though dripping with blood they concealed the pain and assumed a gay and cheerful bearing, as if they felt it not. Close before me were some of them on foot, one of whom walked with his bare arms a-kimbo, both of which he had pierced above the elbow with a Prague knife. Another, who went naked to the waist, had stuck a bludgeon in two slits he had made in his skin above and below his loins, whence it hung as if from a girdle. A third had fixed a horse’s hoof with several nails on the top of his head. But that was old, as the nails had so grown into the flesh, that they were quite immovable.

With this escort we entered Buda, and were conducted to the Pasha, who conversed with me for some time about the observance of the truce, with de Sandé standing by. The company of young men, who showed such strange proofs of their indifference to pain, took up a position inside the threshold of the court-yard, and when I happened to look in that direction, the Pasha asked me what I thought of them. ‘Capital fellows,’ I replied, ‘save that they treat their skin in a way that I should not like to treat my clothes!’ The Pasha laughed and dismissed us.

On the next day we came to Gran, and proceeded from there to Komorn, which is the first fortress of his Imperial Majesty, and stands on the river Waag. On either bank of the river the garrison of the place with the naval auxiliaries, who are there called Nassadistas, was awaiting us. Before I crossed, de Sandé embraced me and thanked me once more for the recovery of his freedom, disclosing at the same time the anxiety he had so long kept a secret. He told me frankly, that up to this time he had been under the belief that the Turks could not be acting in good faith in the business, and therefore had been in perpetual fear that he would have to go back to Constantinople, and end his days in a dungeon. Now at last he felt that he was not to be cheated of the liberty he owed me, for which he would be under the deepest obligations to me to his last breath.[266]

A few days afterwards we reached Vienna. At that time the Emperor Ferdinand was at the Diet of the Empire with his son Maximilian, whose election as King of the Romans was then proceeding. I informed the Emperor of my return and of Ibrahim’s arrival, asking his pleasure concerning him, for he was anxious to be conducted to Frankfort.

The Emperor at first replied, that he thought it more advisable that the Turks should await his return at Vienna, deeming it impolitic that men of so hostile a nation should be conducted all the way from Vienna to Frankfort through the heart of the Empire.

But it was tedious to wait, and might have given the Turks many grounds for suspicion, and there was no cause for alarm, if Ibrahim with his suite should travel through the most flourishing part of the Empire; on the contrary, it was desirable that he should thereby form a just estimate of its strength and greatness, and, most of all, that he should see at Frankfort how unanimous the chief princes of the Empire were in electing Maximilian as his father’s successor.

When I had laid these arguments before the Emperor, he gave his consent to Ibrahim and his attendants being conducted to Frankfort. So we set out on our journey thither by Prague, Bamberg, and Wurzburg.

Ibrahim was unwilling to pass through Bohemia without paying his court to the Archduke Ferdinand; but the Archduke did not think fit to give him an audience, except incognito.

When I was only a few days’ journey from Frankfort, I decided to precede the Turks by one or two days, that I might, before they arrived, inform the Emperor about certain matters connected with my embassy. I therefore took post, and arrived at Frankfort the eve of the day, on which seven years before I had commenced my second journey from Vienna to Constantinople. I was received by my most gracious Emperor with a warmth and indulgence which was due not to my own poor merits, but to the natural kindness of his character. You may imagine how much I enjoyed, after so many years, seeing my Master not only alive and well, but also in the utmost prosperity. He treated me in a manner betokening his high satisfaction at the way in which I had discharged the duties of the embassy, thanked me for my long services, expressed his complete approval of the result of my negotiations, loaded me with tokens of his esteem, and, in short, bestowed on me every possible mark of favour.

On the day before the coronation (November 29, N.S.), Ibrahim arrived at Frankfort very late in the evening, after the gates of the town had been shut, which according to ancient custom are not allowed to be opened the whole of the following day. But his Imperial Majesty gave express orders that the gates should be opened for the Turks the next day. A place was assigned them from which they could see the Emperor elect passing, with the whole of the show and procession. It appeared to them a grand and magnificent spectacle, as indeed it was. There were pointed out, among the others who accompanied the Emperor to do him honour, three Dukes, those of Saxony, Bavaria, and Juliers,[267] each of whom could, from his own resources, put a regular army in the field; and many other things were explained to them about the strength, dignity, and grandeur of the Empire.

A few days afterwards Ibrahim had an audience of the Emperor, related the reasons of his coming, and presented to him such gifts as are considered the most honourable among the Turks. After the peace had been ratified, the Emperor honoured him with magnificent presents, and sent him back to Solyman.

I am still detained here by my private affairs, though longing to fly from the court and return home. For, indeed, the life of a court is by no means to my liking. Full well do I know its cares. Beneath its gaudy show lurk endless miseries. In it deceit abounds, and sincerity is rare. There is no court which is not haunted by envy, in which it is not vain to seek for friendship that can be trusted, and in which there is not cause to fear a change of favour and a sudden fall. For even monarchs themselves are human. I have seen a man, who had entered the palace escorted by a hundred friends, return home with hardly a single companion, on account of the Sovereign’s displeasure. A court does not recognise real merit till too late, but is guided by mere shadows, such as rumour, outward appearances, intrigues and popular mistakes, so that I should not hesitate to call those fortunate, who have been granted a speedy and happy release from its annoyances. To be able to live for oneself and literature, and to grow old in some quiet country nook, with a few honest friends, is indeed an enviable lot. If there is any true life to be found in this earthly pilgrimage, surely it must be this. Far too often in a court is a buffoon of rank valued more highly than a man of merit; indeed a picture of an ass among monkeys gives an excellent notion of the position of an honest man among courtiers.

It is of ordinary courts that I speak. For I freely admit that many courts, and especially this one, derive lustre from the presence of men of distinction in every walk of life, who shed around them a glorious light. Be this as it may, I prefer a peaceful retired life, with plenty of time for reading, to the throng and tumult of a court. But, though I long to depart, I am afraid my most gracious Sovereign may detain me, or at any rate summon me back, when I have reached my retirement at home. He has consented to my departure, it is true, but only on condition of my returning if recalled. But if this occurs (for who could refuse the courteous request of a Sovereign who is able to command, and to whom one owes so much?) then one consolation will be left me, namely, that it will be granted me to gaze upon the most Sacred Person of my Emperor, or, to express it better, upon the living image of real virtue.

For I assure you my master is the noblest prince on whom the sun ever shone. His character and his virtues give him a claim to empire such as few have ever possessed. Supreme power must everywhere command respect, even when held by unworthy hands, but to deserve supreme power and to be fit to wield it, is, in my judgment, a far more glorious thing.

I speak not therefore of his birth, nor of his illustrious ancestors; his greatness requires no extraneous support, but can stand on its own merits; it is his personal virtues and his personal fitness for his high station that strike me most forcibly.

There have been many bad Emperors, who did not deserve to be elevated to such a pinnacle of power; but, of all the Emperors that ever lived, not one has merited that dignity more than my master.

Again, how many originally upright and faultless characters when raised to power, have been quickly corrupted by their freedom from restraint and by the temptations of a court, and have plunged headlong into every form of vice. They forgot they were mortal, and conceiving arrogant thoughts beyond the limits of human ambition, they claimed to be elevated to heaven, and ranked among the gods, while all the time they were unworthy to be reckoned among men.

But few men’s necks can bear the load of an exalted lot; many sink beneath it, and when placed in a high position forget themselves. It is a hard trial to have unlimited power, and yet to curb one’s desires.

There is none whose eyes have been less dazzled than my master’s by the splendour of high position, and no one has kept a firmer hold on virtue, or guarded more diligently against his naturally upright disposition being corrupted by the temptations to which royalty is exposed. He has always felt, that those who shine before men in the glory of exalted rank ought to influence their minds to good by the purity of their lives.

He is most zealous for religion, and piously serves and worships God, always living as if he were in His immediate presence, measuring all his actions by His law, and thereby governing his whole life. Whether in prosperity or adversity, he recognises the Hand which gives and takes away. In short, while still on earth he leads a life such as saints in heaven may lead.

He feels intensely the seriousness of his position. All his words and actions have the common weal for their object, and he ever makes his personal interests subordinate to his subjects’ welfare. So much is this the case that some people accuse him of sacrificing the legitimate claims of his household and his children to the welfare of the state.

To those about him he shows every possible kindness, and treats us all as if he were responsible for our welfare, and, in fact, were the father of every member of his vast household. Who is there who has implored his protection in vain, when he needed assistance, or has not had proof of his generosity? He thinks every day lost in which he has not benefited some one; and, while he welcomes every one with the greatest affection, towards the members of his household he is especially gracious. Among them there is no one who can complain of being neglected or passed over; he knows by heart the life, habits, merits, and even the name, of everyone, however low his rank may be. Mighty prince as he is, when he sees them leading careless and unbecoming lives, he does not hesitate, at a fitting opportunity, to remind them of their duty and rebuke them; and, if they reform, to praise and reward them. Therefore, when they leave his presence, they declare that they find the Emperor not a master, but a father.

It is also his constant practice, when he has punished their errors by his displeasure for some days, after he has pardoned them, to restore them to exactly their former position, blotting out from his memory all recollection of their fault.

He lays down the law most uprightly, and as strictly for himself as for others. For he does not think he has the right of disregarding himself the rules he prescribes for others, or of allowing himself a license which he punishes in them.

He keeps his passions under control, and confines them within the limits of reason. Hatred, anger, and harsh language are strangers to him. No man alive has heard him disparage another; not even those whom he knows to be unjust to himself. He has never said a harsh word of any one, nor does he ever speak ill of people behind their backs.

Beneath his protection goodness is secure; malice, violence, deceit, dishonesty, all vices in a word, fly from his presence, and crimes and outrages receive the punishment they deserve.

The Romans had their censors appointed to regulate morals, and to keep the nation firm in the path of duty and the customs of their sires, but among us no censor is required, as the life of our Sovereign supplies his place. His bright example shows us what to follow and what to avoid.

He is extremely kind towards men of worth and learning, who are trained in the pursuits which do the State good service. In dealing with men of this description he lays aside his royalty and treats them, not as a master, but as an intimate friend on a footing of perfect equality, as one who would be their companion and rival in striving after what is right, making no distinction between those who owe their high position to the credit they derive from the glory of their ancestors, and those who have been elevated by their own merits and have proved their worth. With them he enjoys passing the time he has to spare from business, which, however, is but little. These are the men he values, holding, as he does, that it is of great public importance that merit should occupy the position which is its due.

He is naturally eager for information, and desirous of knowing everything worthy of a human being’s attention, and therefore always has some subject about which he wishes to hear the opinion of men of learning, from time to time interposing some shrewd and pointed observation of his own, to the great admiration of his hearers. Thus he has acquired no mean store of useful information, so that it is impossible to ask him a question on any subject with which he is wholly unacquainted.

He knows several languages. Spanish, as his mother tongue, takes the first place, then come French, German, Latin, and Italian. Although he can express anything he means in Latin, yet he has not learnt it so accurately as not to infringe, at times, the rules of grammar, a fault to be blamed in a man of letters, but not, in my humble judgment, to be hardly criticised in an Emperor.[268]

No one will deny that what I have said so far is true, but perchance some will regret that he has not paid more attention to warlike enterprises, and won his laurels on the battle-field. The Turks, such an one will say, have now for many years past been playing the tyrant in Hungary, and wasting the land far and wide, while we do not give any assistance worthy of our name. Long ago ought we to have marched against them, and allowed fortune by one pitched battle to decide which was to be master. Such persons, I grant, speak boldly, but I question if they speak prudently. Let us go a little deeper into the matter. My opinion is that we should judge of the talents of generals or commanders rather from their plans than from results. Moreover, in their plans they ought to take into account the times, their own resources, and the nature and power of the enemy. If an enemy of an ordinary kind, with no great prestige, should attack our territories, I frankly confess it would be cowardly not to march against him, and check him by a pitched battle, always supposing that we could bring into the field a force equal to his. But if the enemy in question should be a scourge sent by the wrath of God (as was Attila of yore, Tamerlane in the memory of our grandfathers, and the Ottoman Sultans in our own times), against whom nothing can stand, and who levels to the ground every obstacle in his way; to oppose oneself to such a foe with but scanty and irregular troops would, I fear, be an act so rash as to deserve the name of madness.

Against us stands Solyman, that foe whom his own and his ancestors’ exploits have made so terrible; he tramples the soil of Hungary with 200,000 horse, he is at the very gates of Austria, threatens the rest of Germany, and brings in his train all the nations that extend from our borders to those of Persia. The army he leads is equipped with the wealth of many kingdoms. Of the three regions, into which the world is divided, there is not one that does not contribute its share towards our destruction. Like a thunderbolt he strikes, shivers, and destroys everything in his way. The troops he leads are trained veterans, accustomed to his command; he fills the world with the terror of his name. Like a raging lion he is always roaring around our borders, trying to break in, now in this place, now in that. On account of much less danger many nations, attacked by superior forces, have left their native lands and sought new habitations. When the peril is small, composure deserves but little praise, but not to be terrified at the onset of such an enemy, while the world re-echoes with the crash of kingdoms falling in ruins all around, seems to me to betoken a courage worthy of Hercules himself.[269] Nevertheless, the heroic Ferdinand with undaunted courage keeps his stand on the same spot, does not desert his post, and stirs not an inch from the position he has taken up. He would desire to have such strength that he could, without being charged with madness and only at his own personal risk, stake everything on the chance of a battle; but his generous impulses are moderated by prudence. He sees what ruin to his own most faithful subjects and, indeed, to the whole of Christendom would attend any failure in so important an enterprise, and thinks it wrong to gratify his private inclination at the price of a disaster ruinous to the state. He reflects what an unequal contest it would be, if 25,000 or 30,000 infantry with the addition of a small body of cavalry should be pitted against 200,000 cavalry supported by veteran infantry. The result to be expected from such a contest is shown him only too plainly by the examples of former times, the routs of Nicopolis and Varna, and the plains of Mohacz, still white with the bones of slaughtered Christians.[270]