Chapter IV: Letter I (1)

Introduction—Return from England—Visit to
Bousbecque—Posting to Vienna—Interview with
Ferdinand—Malvezzi’s misfortunes—Preparations for
the expedition—Impatience of Ferdinand—Komorn—Paul
Palyna—His ideas of punctuality—Meeting the Turkish
escort—Gran—A Sanjak-bey—Feats of Turkish horsemen—A
Tartar whose hair served as hat and helmet—Buda—The Pasha
of Buda—His sickness and its cause—William Quacquelben
called in—Busbecq’s fears—Janissaries—Their duties as
policemen—Their dress—Their visits to Busbecq—Turkish
guests and hard drinkers—Determined on making a night
of it—Why Turks never drink in moderation—The old
gentleman at Constantinople who gave notice to his
soul—Description of Buda-Pesth—Turkish ideas with regard
to houses—The fish in the boiling spring—Interview with
the Pasha of Buda—A dilemma—Turkish customs—Busbecq
embarks on the Danube for Belgrade—Heydons—Turkish
sailors—Belgrade—Roman coins—Defence and capture of
Belgrade—Louis of Hungary—Importance of fortresses
against Turkish inroads—Trajan’s bridge—A Servian
funeral—Servian marriage customs—Description of a
Turkish Khan—A Turkish hostel—Sleeping in a stable—How
Busbecq made himself comfortable—How the party obtained
supplies of wine—Turkish methods for measuring
time—Busbecq’s escort acknowledge the advantages
of a watch—Sophia—The Bulgarians—Dress and bonnets
of the women—Baldwin, Count of Flanders—Trajan’s
pass—Philippopolis—Adrianople—Turks fond of flowers—An
open purse necessary in Turkey—Tchourlou—Selim’s
defeat—Selimbria—Reverence of the Turks for paper—Reasons
assigned by themselves for this superstition—The
red-hot gridiron and the cock—Busbecq arrives at
Constantinople—Visits Roostem—The story of Roostem’s
fall from power—Solyman—Roxolana—Mustapha—Roostem
once a pig-driver—His services as a financier—Makes
a profit out of the vegetables and flowers from the
Sultan’s gardens—Why a Sultan is obliged to murder his
brothers—Mustapha summoned to his father’s camp—The
death sentence—The case submitted to the Mufti—The
mutes—A look from Solyman—Mustapha strangled—Mutiny in
the camp—Roostem dismissed—Mustapha’s wife and son—Visit
from Ibrahim Pasha—Trick played on the mother—Murder
of the boy—Constantinople—St. Sophia—Superstitions as
to unclean fish—The Greek and the snails—The cost of
absolution in the Greek Church—Ancient columns—Ingenuity
of a Greek architect—Wild beasts—A dancing elephant—A
camelopard—Sailing up the Bosphorus—Thoughts
suggested by the beauty of the scene—Lazarus the
Albanian—Busbecq summoned by Solyman to Amasia—Crosses
into Asia—Nicomedia—Jackals—Nicæa—Angora goats—Fat-tailed
sheep—The duck and the post-horn—Angora—Turkish tombs—The
hyena—Its knowledge of language—How to catch it—Coins and
plants—Town of Angora—Monumentum Ancyranum—Manufacture
of mohair—Fishing in the Halys—Ignorance of the
people—Sour milk—Turkish diet—Sherbet—Grapes preserved
in mustard—Dervishes—Legend of Chederle the same as that
of St. George—Amasia—Turkish incendiaries—Houses of
Amasia—Visit to Achmet Pasha—Interview with Solyman—The
Sultan’s court—Promotion among the Turks—A body of
Janissaries—Their steadiness in the ranks—The Persian
Ambassador and his presents—Ali Pasha—Dinner given to the
Persian Ambassador and his suite—Audience with Solyman
on leaving—Why the Sultan uses rouge—Departure from
Amasia—Busbecq ill—Returns to Constantinople—Schiites
and Sunnites—Busbecq leaves Constantinople—Meets a train
of Hungarian captives—One of the party dies from the
plague—Others are attacked—Providential discovery of a
remedy—Belgrade—Fertility of Hungary—Essek—Busbecq down
with the fever—Mohacz—Plots of the brigands—Busbecq
nearly caught—Interview with the Pasha of Buda—Departure
for Komorn—How one of Busbecq’s escort lost his nose and
his horse—The Sanjak-bey improves the occasion—The value
of a nose—The amount of compensation affected by the
doctrine of predestination—Return to Vienna—Busbecq looks
so ill that his friends think he is poisoned—Is regarded
with envy—Apologises for his want of style.

I undertook, when we parted, to give you a full account of my journey to Constantinople, and this promise I now hope to discharge with interest; for I will give you also an account of an expedition[88] to Amasia, which is by far the rarer treat of the two.

To an old friend like yourself[89] I shall write very freely, and I am sure you will enjoy some pleasant passages which befell me on my way; and as to the disagreeables which are inseparable from a journey so long and so difficult, do not give them a thought, for I assure you that, though they annoyed me at the time, that very annoyance, now they are past and gone, only adds to my pleasure in recalling them.

You will remember that, after my return home from England, where I attended the marriage of King Philip and Queen Mary,[90] in the train of Don Pedro Lasso, whom my most gracious master, Ferdinand, King of the Romans, had deputed to represent him at the wedding, I received from the last-mentioned Sovereign a summons to undertake this journey.

The message reached me at Lille[91] on November 3, and without any delay, except such as was entailed by a detour to Bousbecque for the purpose of bidding adieu to my father and my friends, I hurried through Tournai, and thence to Brussels.

Here I met Don Pedro himself; and he, to use an old proverb, gave the spur to a right willing horse, by showing me a letter he had received from the King, in which he charged him to make me set out as soon as possible. Accordingly, I took post-horses, and came with all speed to Vienna. Even at this early stage my journey brought troubles of its own, for I was quite unaccustomed to riding, and the time of year was by no means favourable to such an expedition, involving as it did bad weather, muddy roads, and short days. I had, therefore, to pursue my journey long after nightfall, and to gallop over a track, which hardly deserved the name of a road, in complete darkness, to the great danger of my neck.

On my arrival at Vienna I was presented to King Ferdinand by John Van der Aa, a member of his privy council. He received me with the kindness which invariably marks his intercourse with those of whose loyalty and honesty he has formed a favourable opinion. He told me at great length his hopes with regard to me, and how important it was to his interests that I should accept the office of ambassador, and start forthwith. He informed me he had promised the Pasha of Buda that his ambassador should be there without fail by the beginning of December, and he was anxious there should be no want of punctuality on the part of his representative, lest it should furnish the Turks with a pretext for not fulfilling the engagements which they had undertaken in consideration of this promise.

We were within twelve days of the date. There was barely time to make preparations for a short journey, and I had a long one before me.

Even from this short space I had to deduct some days for a hurried visit to John Maria Malvezzi at Komorn, whither I went by the commands of the King, who considered it of great importance that I should have an interview with Malvezzi, and receive from his own lips such information and advice as he might be able to give me with regard to the character and disposition of the Turks, inasmuch as I myself had no knowledge or experience of them.

He had been for some years Ferdinand’s ambassador at the court of Solyman, to which post he was first appointed when the Emperor Charles, for divers weighty reasons, negotiated a truce with the Turks through Gerard Veltwick;[92] for on that occasion he had also made a truce with them for eight years on behalf of King Ferdinand.

Now Malvezzi had been one of Veltwick’s companions, and on his return he was sent back to Constantinople by Ferdinand to act as his ambassador, in the hope that his presence at the Sultan’s court would be of service in checking the raids of the Turks in the kingdom of Hungary, as there would be some one on the spot to remonstrate with Solyman with regard to the outrages committed by his officers, and demand satisfaction.

But it happened not long after, that an opportunity, which Ferdinand felt he could not afford to lose, occurred for re-uniting Transylvania to Hungary.[93] In this he was warmly supported by the Hungarians, who looked on Transylvania as an appanage of the kingdom. Accordingly, he came to an understanding with the widow and son of John the Voivode, who had formerly usurped the title of King of Hungary, and recovered Transylvania in exchange for other provinces.

When the Turks got wind of these transactions—and, indeed, they could not have been kept secret—Roostem, the son-in-law of Solyman and chief of the councillors who are called Vizierial Pashas, summoned Malvezzi to his presence, and asked him whether the news was true. He, without the slightest hesitation, contradicted the report, and offered, moreover, to stake his life on the result, and to submit to their worst tortures if his statement proved incorrect. But when, on Ferdinand’s taking possession of the whole of Transylvania, the truth became clear, and further concealment was impossible, the Sultan was furious with Roostem for having placed so much confidence in Malvezzi’s assurances, and Roostem was still more enraged with Malvezzi, and often declared that he had cheated him. Not to make too long a story, Malvezzi was thrown into prison, his goods confiscated, and his servants sold as slaves. In this prison he was kept in close custody for nearly two years. Sickness attacked him, and as he was not allowed to receive any medicines, he contracted a disease which, some time after, terminated his life. The Turks, in such matters, have no idea of moderation; they are excessively complaisant when they wish to show their friendship, and excessively bitter when their anger is roused. But when their troubles at home made them desirous of peace, and their attempt to recover Transylvania by force of arms was unsuccessful, they were easily induced to leave off fighting and to arrange the dispute by negotiation. The Turkish demand was that the whole of Transylvania should be restored; but inasmuch as his treaty with the Voivode was the result neither of force nor fraud, Ferdinand[94] maintained that it ought not to be set aside, and declined to evacuate Transylvania. With a view to satisfying the Turks on these matters, he despatched to the Sultan’s Court two ambassadors, in whose loyalty and zeal he had the greatest confidence—Antony Wranczy (or Verantius), Bishop of Erlau, and Francis Zay, the commander of the ships which the Hungarians call Nassades. On their arrival Malvezzi was released from his dungeon, and sent back to Ferdinand with despatches from Solyman. Shortly after this, the King desired him to return to Constantinople to act as his ambassador in ordinary when peace should have been concluded. Accordingly he set out, but a fresh attack of the disease he had contracted during his confinement compelled him to stop at Komorn, a fortress which lies at the point where the river Waag joins the Danube, and is our furthest outpost against the Turk.

He felt that his end was drawing near, and wrote to Ferdinand, asking him to appoint some one to take his place as ambassador. The King did not altogether believe what Malvezzi said, nor, on the other hand, was he disposed to think it quite without foundation. However, he was rather inclined to suspect that his reason for avoiding the office of ambassador was not so much the severity of his attack, as the recollection of what he had suffered before, and the dread of what might be in store for him in the future; at the same time, he felt that he could not in decency compel a man who had done good service to King and country to proceed on an errand for which he declared himself unfit. The death of Malvezzi a few months afterwards gave ample proof that his illness was neither an excuse nor a sham. The result of all this was that I became Malvezzi’s successor; but inasmuch as I had no experience in the tactics and character of the Turk, the King, as I told you before, thought that a visit to Malvezzi would be useful, since he could give me directions and suggestions as to the best method of dealing with Turkish chicanery. Accordingly, I spent two days with Malvezzi, and learnt as much as I could in so short a time of the policy to be followed and the things to be avoided in one’s daily transactions with the Turk Thence I returned to Vienna, and set to work, as hard as I could, to get together what I wanted for my journey. But there was so much business to be done, and the time was so short, that when the day came on which I had arranged to leave, I was not ready. The King kept pressing me to go, and I had been busy arranging and packing since three o’clock that morning; but it was with great difficulty that I managed to complete my preparations shortly after dusk. The gates of Vienna, which at that hour are locked, were unbolted, and I set out.

The King had gone hunting that day; and when he left he told me he felt quite sure that before he returned in the evening I should be on my road. And so I was; but there was very little difference between the time of his return and of my departure.

At eleven, p.m., we reached Fiscagmund, a borough town of Hungary, four miles[95] from Vienna, where we stopped for supper, for in our haste we had left Vienna supperless, and then pursued our way towards Komorn. One of the king’s instructions was that I should get hold of one Paul Palyna at Komorn, who had great knowledge of the raids and robberies of the Turks, and take him with me to Buda; since, if he were at hand to prompt me, I should find it a great advantage when remonstrating with the Pasha concerning the outrages, and demanding satisfaction for the same. But that I should start punctually appeared to Palyna the most unlikely thing in the world, and accordingly, when I arrived at Komorn, he had not yet left his home, and not a soul could give me any information as to when he was likely to arrive. I was intensely annoyed. I despatched a report of the matter to Ferdinand, and devoted the next day to waiting for this precious companion of mine at Komorn. All in vain; so on the third day I crossed the river Waag, and pursued my way towards Gran, the first fortress within the Turkish boundary line.

The officer in command at Komorn, John Pax, had given me an escort of sixteen hussars, as the Hungarians call these horsemen, with orders not to leave me until we came in sight of the Turkish outposts. The Turkish officer in command at Gran had given me to understand that his men would meet me midway between that town and Komorn. For three hours, more or less, we had advanced through a flat and open country, when four Turkish horsemen appeared in the distance; my Hungarians, however, continued to ride with me, until at last I advised them to retire, fearing that, if they came nearer, some troublesome breach of the peace might ensue. When the Turks saw me coming, they rode up, and, halting by my carriage, saluted me. In this manner we advanced a short distance, conversing with each other, for I had a lad who acted as interpreter.

I was not expecting any addition to my escort, when suddenly, as we came to a spot a little below the level of the rest of the country, I found myself surrounded by a troop of 150 horsemen, or thereabouts. I had never seen such a sight before, and I was delighted with the gay colours of their shields and spears, their jewelled scimitars, their many-coloured plumes, their turbans of the purest white, their robes of purple and dark green, their gallant steeds and superb accoutrements.

The officers ride up, give me a courteous welcome, congratulate me on my arrival, and ask whether I have had a pleasant journey. I reply in terms befitting the occasion, and so they escort me to Gran, which consists of a fort situated on a hill, at the foot of which flows the Danube, and a town hard by on the plain, where I take up my quarters. The archbishop of this place stands first among the nobles of Hungary both in rank and wealth. My lodging had more of the camp than the city. Instead of beds there were planks covered with coarse woollen rugs; there were no mattresses, no linen. And so my attendants had their first taste of Turkish luxury! As for myself, I had brought my bed with me.

Next day the Sanjak-bey in command of the place repeatedly urged me to visit him. This is the title which the Turks give to an officer in command; and the name comes from the sanjak,[96] or standard, which is carried in front of his squadron of cavalry; it consists of a lance, on the top of which is a brass ball plated over with gold. I had no despatches or commission for this officer, but he was so persistent that I had to go. It turned out that all he wanted was to see me, to go through some civilities, ask my errand, urge me to promote a peace, and wish me a prosperous journey. On my way to his quarters I was surprised to hear the frogs croaking, although it was December and the weather was cold. The phenomenon was explained by the existence of some pools formed by hot sulphur springs.

I left Gran after a breakfast, which had to serve for a dinner as well, as there was no resting-place between it and Buda.

In spite of my entreaties that he would spare himself the trouble of paying me so great an attention, the Sanjak-bey must needs escort me with all his household, and the cavalry under his command. As the horsemen poured out of the gates they engaged in mimic warfare, and also performed several feats, one of which was to throw a ball on the ground, and to carry it off on the lance’s point when at full gallop. Among the troopers was a Tartar with long thick hair, and I was told that he never wore any other covering on his head than that which nature afforded, either to protect him against weather in a storm, or arrows in a battle. When the Sanjak-bey considered that he had gone far enough, we exchanged greetings, and he returned home, leaving an escort to conduct me to Buda.

As I drew near to the city I was met by a few Turks, who were by profession cavasses. These cavasses act as officials, and execute the orders of the Sultan and Pashas. The position of cavasse is considered by the Turks to be one of high honour.

I was conducted to the house of a Hungarian gentleman, where, I declare, my luggage, carriage, and horses were better treated than their owner. The first thing the Turks attend to is to get carriages, horses, and luggage into safe quarters; as for human beings they think they have done quite enough for them, if they are placed beyond the reach of wind and weather.

The Pasha, whose name was Touighoun (which, by the way, signifies a stork in Turkish), sent a person to wait on me and pay me his respects, and asked me to excuse him from giving me audience for several days, on account of a severe illness from which he was suffering, and assured me that he would attend to me as soon as his health permitted.

This circumstance prevented my business from suffering at all by Palyna’s delay, and enabled him also to escape the charge of wilful negligence. For he used all diligence to reach me in time, and shortly afterwards made his appearance.

The illness of the Pasha detained me at Buda for a considerable time. The popular belief was that he had fallen sick from chagrin on receiving the news that a large hoard of his, which he had buried in some corner, had been stolen. He was generally supposed to be an arrant miser. Well, when he heard that I had with me William Quacquelben, a man of great learning and a most skilful physician, he earnestly desired me to send him to prescribe for his case. I made no objection to this proposal, but my consent was like to have cost me dear; for when the Pasha gradually got worse, and a fatal termination to his illness seemed probable, I was in great alarm lest, if he joined his Mahomet in Paradise, the Turks should accuse my physician of murdering him, to the danger of my excellent friend, and my own great disgrace as an accomplice. But, by God’s mercy, the Pasha recovered, and my anxiety was set at rest.

At Buda I made my first acquaintance with the Janissaries; this is the name by which the Turks call the infantry of the royal guard. The Turkish state has 12,000 of these troops when the corps is at its full strength. They are scattered through every part of the empire, either to garrison the forts against the enemy, or to protect the Christians and Jews from the violence of the mob. There is no district with any considerable amount of population, no borough or city, which has not a detachment of Janissaries to protect the Christians, Jews, and other helpless people from outrage and wrong.

A garrison of Janissaries is always stationed in the citadel of Buda. The dress of these men consists of a robe reaching down to the ankles, while, to cover their heads, they employ a cowl which, by their account, was originally a cloak sleeve,[97] part of which contains the head, while the remainder hangs down and flaps against the neck. On their forehead is placed a silver-gilt cone of considerable height, studded with stones of no great value.

These Janissaries generally came to me in pairs. When they were admitted to my dining room they first made a bow, and then came quickly up to me, all but running, and touched my dress or hand, as if they intended to kiss it. After this they would thrust into my hand a nosegay of the hyacinth or narcissus; then they would run back to the door almost as quickly as they came, taking care not to turn their backs, for this, according to their code, would be a serious breach of etiquette. After reaching the door, they would stand respectfully with their arms crossed, and their eyes bent on the ground, looking more like monks than warriors. On receiving a few small coins (which was what they wanted) they bowed again, thanked me in loud tones, and went off blessing me for my kindness. To tell you the truth, if I had not been told beforehand that they were Janissaries, I should, without hesitation, have taken them for members of some order of Turkish monks, or brethren of some Moslem college. Yet these are the famous Janissaries, whose approach inspires terror everywhere.

During my stay at Buda a good many Turks were drawn to my table by the attractions of my wine, a luxury in which they have not many opportunities of indulging. The effect of this enforced abstinence is to make them so eager for drink, that they swill themselves with it whenever they get the chance. I asked them to make a night of it, but at last I got tired of the game, left the table, and retired to my bedroom. On this my Turkish guests made a move to go, and great was their grief as they reflected that they were not yet dead drunk, and could still use their legs. Presently they sent a servant to request that I would allow them access to my stock of wine and lend them some silver cups. ‘With my permission,’ they said, ‘they would like to continue their drinking bout through the night; they were not particular where they sat; any odd corner would do for them.’ Well, I ordered them to be furnished with as much wine as they could drink, and also with the cups they asked for. Being thus supplied, the fellows never left off drinking until they were one and all stretched on the floor in the last stage of intoxication.

To drink wine is considered a great sin among the Turks, especially in the case of persons advanced in life: when younger people indulge in it the offence is considered more venial. Inasmuch, however, as they think that they will have to pay the same penalty after death whether they drink much or little, if they taste one drop of wine they must needs indulge in a regular debauch; their notion being that, inasmuch as they have already incurred the penalty, appointed for such sin, in another world, it will be an advantage to them to have their sin out, and get dead drunk, since it will cost them as much in either case. These are their ideas about drinking, and they have some other notions which are still more ridiculous. I saw an old gentleman at Constantinople who, before taking up his cup, shouted as loud as he could. I asked my friends the reason, and they told me he was shouting to warn his soul to stow itself away in some odd corner of his body, or to leave it altogether, lest it should be defiled by the wine he was about to drink, and have hereafter to answer for the offence which the worthy man meant to indulge in.

I shall not have time to give you a full description of the good town of Buda, but that I may not pass it over altogether, I will give you a sketch of such sort as is suitable for a letter, though it would not be sufficient for a book. The town is built on the side of a hill, in a most delightful situation, the country around being rich and fertile. On the one side it is bordered by vine-clad hills, and on the other it commands a view of the Danube, as it flows past its walls, with Pesth beyond, and the broad fields on the other side of the river. Well might this town be selected as the royal capital of Hungary. In past times it was adorned with the magnificent palaces of the Hungarian nobility, some of which have fallen down, while others are only kept from falling by a liberal use of props and stays. The inmates of these mansions are generally Turkish soldiers, who, as their daily pay is all they have to live on, can spare nothing for the purpose of mending the walls or patching the roofs of these vast buildings. Accordingly, they do not take it to heart if the roof lets in rain or the wall cracks, provided they can find a dry spot to stable their horses and make their own bed. As to the chambers above, they think it is no concern of theirs; so they leave the rats and mice in full enjoyment of them. Another reason for this negligence is that it is part of the Turkish creed to avoid display in the matter of buildings; they consider that a man proves himself a conceited fellow, who utterly misunderstands his position, if he aims at having a pretentious house, for he shows thereby, according to their notion, that he expects himself and his house to last for ever. They profess to use houses as travellers use inns, and if their habitations protect them from robbers, give them warmth and shade, and keep off rain, they want nothing more. Through the whole of Turkey it would be hard to find a house, however exalted or rich its owner may be, built with the slightest regard to elegance. Everyone lives in a hut or cottage. The great people are fond of fine gardens and sumptuous baths, and take care to have roomy houses to accommodate their retinues; but in these you never see a bright verandah, or a hall worth looking at, nor does any sign of grandeur attract one’s attention. The Hungarians also follow the same practice, for with the exception of Buda, and perhaps Presburg, you will scarcely find a city in the whole of Hungary containing buildings of any pretension whatever. For my own part, I believe that this is a very old habit of theirs, and arises from the circumstance that the Hungarians are a warlike nation, accustomed to camp life and expeditions far from home, and so, when they lived in a city, they did so as men who must shortly leave it.

Whilst at Buda I was much struck with a spring which I saw outside the gate on the road to Constantinople. The surface of the water was boiling hot, but at the bottom you could see fish swimming about, so that, if they were caught, you might expect them to come out ready boiled!

At length, on December 7, the Pasha was ready to receive me. I gave him a present with a view to securing his favour, and then proceeded to complain of the arrogance and misdeeds of the Turkish soldiers. I demanded the restitution of the places which had been taken from us in violation of the truce, and which he had undertaken in his letters to restore to my master on his sending an ambassador. The Pasha replied with complaints as heavy as mine about the losses and injuries he had sustained at the hands of our people. As to restoring the places, he took refuge in the following dilemma:—‘I,’ said he, ‘either did not promise to restore these places, or I did promise to restore them. In the former case, I am not bound to restore them; while in the latter case, a man of your intelligence must comprehend that I made a promise which I have neither the right nor the power to keep; for my master has assigned me the duty of enlarging his dominion, not of diminishing it; and I have no right to impair his estate. Remember it is _his_ interest that is in question, not _mine_. When you see him you can ask him for whatever you like.’ He concluded by remarking that ‘it was very wrong of me to bother a man still weak from illness with a long discourse about nothing.’

When he had delivered this decision with the air of a judge, I had leave to go. All I gained by my interview was the conclusion of a truce until an answer should be brought back from Solyman.

I observed, when we were presented to the Pasha, that they kept up the custom of the ancient Romans, who put in the word ‘feliciter’ at the end of their speech, and used words of good omen. I noticed also that in most cases the left-hand side was considered the more honourable. The reason they assign for this is that the sword confers honour on that side, for if a man stands on the right, he has in a certain sense his sword under the hand of the man who flanks him on the left; while the latter, of course, would have his sword free and disencumbered.

Our business at Buda being thus concluded, in so far as we were able to accomplish it, my companion returned to the King, while I, with my horses, carriages, and people, embarked on some vessels which were waiting for us, and sailed down the Danube towards Belgrade. This route was not only safer than that by land, but also occupied less time, for encumbered as I was with baggage, I should have been twelve days at the very least on the road, and there would also have been danger of an attack from Heydons—for so the Hungarians call the banditti who have left their flocks and herds to become half soldiers, half brigands. By the river route there was no fear of Heydons, and the passage occupied five days.

The vessel on board which I sailed was towed by a tug manned by twenty-four oarsmen; the other boats were pulled along by a pair of sweeps. With the exception of a few hours during which the wretched galley-slaves and the crew took food and rest, we travelled incessantly. I was much impressed on this occasion with the rashness of the Turks, for they had no hesitation in continuing their voyage during the night, though there was no moon and it was quite dark, amid a gale of wind. We often, to our very great danger, encountered mills and trunks and branches of trees projecting from the banks, so that it frequently happened that the boat was caught by the gale and came crashing on to the stumps and branches which lined the river side. On such occasions it seemed to me that we were on the point of going to pieces. Once, indeed, there was a great crash, and part of the deck was carried away. I jumped out of bed, and begged the crew to be more careful. Their only answer was ‘Alaure,’ that is, ‘God will help us;’ and so I was left to get back to my bed and my nap—if I could! I will venture to make one prophecy, and that is, that this mode of sailing will one day bring about a disaster.

On our voyage I saw Tolna, a Hungarian borough of some importance, which deserves special mention for its excellent white wine and the civility of the people. I saw also Fort Valpovar, which stands on high ground, as well as other castles and towns; nor did I fail to notice the points at which the Drave on the one side, and the Theiss on the other, flow into the Danube. Belgrade itself lies at the confluence of the Save and Danube, and at the apex of the angle where these streams join, the old city is still standing; it is built in an antiquated style, and fortified with numerous towers and a double wall. On two sides it is washed by the rivers I mentioned, while on the third side, which unites it to the land, it has a citadel of considerable strength, placed on an eminence, consisting of several lofty towers built of squared stone.

In front of the city are very large suburbs, built without any regard to order. These are inhabited by people of different nations—Turks, Greeks, Jews, Hungarians, Dalmatians, and many more.

Indeed, throughout the Turkish Empire the suburbs, as a rule, are larger than the towns, and suburbs and town together give the idea of a very considerable place. This was the first point at which I met with ancient coins, of which, as you know, I am very fond, and I find William Quacquelben, whom I mentioned before, a most admirable and devoted fellow-student in this hobby of mine.

We found several coins, on one side of which was a Roman soldier standing between a bull and a horse, with the inscription ‘Taurunum.’ It is a well-ascertained fact that the legions of Upper Mœsia were quartered here.

Twice in the days of our grandfathers great efforts were made to take Belgrade, on the first occasion by Amurath, and on the second by Mahomet, the captor of Constantinople. But the efforts of the barbarians were on both occasions baffled by the gallant defence of the Hungarians and the champions of the Cross.

It was not till the year 1520 that Belgrade was taken. Solyman, who had just ascended the throne, advanced against the city with powerful forces. He found it in a weak state, the garrison not having been kept at its proper strength, owing to the neglect of the young King Louis and the feuds of the Hungarian nobles; consequently he made himself master of the city without much loss. We can now see clearly that Belgrade was the door of Hungary, and that it was not till this gate was forced that the tide of Turkish barbarism burst into this unhappy country. The loss of Belgrade entailed the death of Louis[98] on the battle-field, the capture of Buda, the enthralment of Transylvania, and the utter prostration of a flourishing realm, amid the alarm of neighbouring kingdoms lest their turn should come next. The loss of Belgrade ought to be a warning to the Princes of Christendom that they, as they love their safety, should take the utmost possible care of their forts and strongholds. For the Turks resemble in this point great rivers swollen by the rains; if they can burst their banks in any single place, they pour through the breach and carry destruction far and wide. In yet more fearful fashion do the Turkish hordes, when once they have burst the barriers in their path, carry far and wide their unparalleled devastations.

But we must now return to Belgrade, with full purpose to make our way straight to Constantinople. Having procured in the city what we thought needful for our journey by road, leaving Semendria, formerly a stronghold of the Despots[99] of Servia, on our left, we commenced our journey towards Nissa. When we came to high ground the Turks showed us the snow-capped mountains of Transylvania in the distance, and they also pointed out by means of signs the place near which some of the piles of Trajan’s bridge may still be seen.[100]

After crossing a river, called Morava by the natives, we took up our lodgings in a village named Jagodin, where we had an opportunity of seeing the funeral ceremonies of the country, which are very different from ours. The body was laid in a chapel, with its face uncovered, and by it was placed food in the shape of bread and meat and a cup of wine; the wife stood by the side, and also the daughter, dressed in their best clothes; the latter wore a head-dress of peacock’s feathers. The last present which the wife made to her husband, after he had been waked, was a purple cap of the kind that young ladies wear in that country.

Then we heard wailing and crying and complaining, as they asked the dead man ‘What they had done that he should desert them? Had they in any way failed in showing submission to him or in ministering to his comfort? Why did he leave them to loneliness and misery?’ &c. &c. The religious ceremonies were conducted by priests of the Greek Church. I noticed in the burial-ground a great many wooden figures of stags, fawns, &c., placed on the top of posts or poles. On inquiring the reason, I was informed that the husbands or fathers placed these monuments as memorials of the readiness and care with which the wives and daughters had discharged their domestic duties. On many of the tombs were hanging tresses of hair, which the women and girls had placed there to show their grief for the loss of relations. We heard also that it was the custom in these parts, when the elders had arranged a marriage between a young man and a young woman, for the bridegroom to seize his wife by force and carry her off. According to their ideas, it would be highly indelicate for the girl to be a consenting party to the arrangement.

Not far from Jagodin we came to a little stream, which the inhabitants call Nissus. This we kept on our right, skirting its bank until we came to Nissa (Nisch). Some way on, we found on the bank (where the traces of an old Roman road still remained) a little marble pillar with a Latin inscription, but so mutilated as to be undecipherable. Nissa is a small town of some account, to which the people of the country often resort.

I must now tell you something as to the inns we make use of, for that is a subject on which you have been some time wanting information. At Nissa I lodged in the public inn, called by the Turks a caravanserai—the most common kind of inn in those parts. It consists of a huge building, the length of which somewhat exceeds the breadth. In the centre is an open space, where the camels and their baggage, as well as the mules and waggons, have to be quartered.

This open space is surrounded by a wall about three feet high, and this is bonded into the outer wall surrounding the whole building. The top of the former is level, and about four feet broad. This ledge serves the Turks for bedroom and dining-room, and kitchen as well, for here and there fireplaces are built into the outer wall, which I told you encloses the whole building. So they sleep, eat, and cook on this ledge, three feet high and four feet broad; and this is the only distinction between their quarters and those of the camels, horses, and other beasts of burden.

Moreover, they have their horses haltered at the foot of the ledge, so that their heads and necks come right over it; and as their masters warm themselves or take their supper, the creatures stand by like so many lackeys, and sometimes are given a crust or apple from their master’s hand. On the ledge they also make their beds; first they spread out the rug which they carry for that purpose behind their saddles, on this they put a cloak, while the saddle supplies them with a pillow. A robe, lined with skins, and reaching to the ankles furnishes their dress by day and their blanket at night. And so when they lie down they have no luxuries wherewith to provoke sleep to come to them.

In these inns there is no privacy whatever; everything is done in public, and the only curtain to shield one from people’s eyes is such as may be afforded by the darkness of the night.

I was excessively disgusted with these inns, for all the Turks were staring at us, and wondering at our ways and customs, so I always did my best to get a lodging with some poor Christian; but their huts are so narrow that oftentimes there was not room enough for a bed, and so I had to sleep sometimes in a tent and sometimes in my carriage. On certain occasions I got lodged in a Turkish hostel. These hostels are fine convenient buildings, with separate bedrooms, and no one is refused admittance, whether he be Christian or Jew, whether he be rich or a beggar. The doors are open to all alike. They are made use of by the pashas and sanjak-beys when they travel. The hospitality which I met with in these places appeared to me worthy of a royal palace. It is the custom to furnish food to each individual who lodges there, and so, when supper-time came, an attendant made his appearance with a huge wooden platter as big as a table, in the middle of which was a dish of barley porridge and a bit of meat. Around the dish were loaves, and sometimes a little honey in the comb.

At first I had some delicacy in accepting it, and told the man that my own supper was being got ready, and that he had better give what he had brought to people who were really in want. The attendant, however, would take no denial, expressed a hope ‘that I would not despise their slender fare,’ told me ‘that even pashas received this dole, it was the custom of the place, and there was plenty more for supplying the wants of the poor. If I did not care for it myself I might leave it for my servants.’ He thus obliged me to accept it, lest I should seem ungracious. So I used to thank whoever brought it, and sometimes took a mouthful or two. It was not at all bad. I can assure you that barley porridge is a very palatable food, and it is, moreover, recommended by Galen[101] as extremely wholesome.

Travellers are allowed to enjoy this hospitality for three full days; when these have expired, they must change their hostel. In these places I found, as I have already told you, most convenient lodgings, but they were not to be met with everywhere.

Sometimes, if I could not get a house to lodge in, I spent the night in a cattle shed. I used to look out for a large and roomy stable; in one part of it there would be a regular fire-place, while the other part was assigned to the sheep and oxen. It is the fashion, you must know, for the sheep and the shepherd to live under the same roof.

My plan was to screen off the part where the fire was with my tent hangings, put my table and bed by the fire side, and there I was as happy as a king. In the other part of the stable my servants took their ease in plenty of good clean straw, while some fell asleep by the bonfire which they were wont to make in an orchard or meadow hard by, for the purpose of cooking our food. By means of the fire they were able to withstand the cold; and, as to keeping it burning, no vestal virgin at Rome was ever more careful than they. I dare say you will wonder how I managed to console my people for their bad lodgings. You will surmise that wine, the usual remedy for bad nights, is not easily found in the heart of Turkey. This is quite true. It is not in every district that you can get wine, and this is especially the case in places where Christians do not live. For ofttimes, getting wearied of Turkish insolence, they leave the neighbourhood of the high road, and take refuge in pathless wilds, where the land is poorer, and they themselves are safer, leaving their conquerors in possession of the more fertile spots. When we drew near to such places, the Turks warned us that we should find no wine there, and we then despatched a caterer the day before under the escort of a Turk, to obtain a supply from the neighbouring Christian districts. So my people did not lack this solace of their hardships. To them wine supplied the place of feather beds and bolsters, and every other comfort that induces sleep. As for myself, I had in my carriage some flasks of excellent wine, which supplied my own private table.

I have now told you how I and my people provided ourselves with wine; but we had one hardship almost worse than want of wine, and this was the dreadful way in which our nights were broken. Sometimes, in order to reach a good halting-place betimes, it was necessary to rise very early, while it was still dark. On these occasions it not unfrequently happened that our Turkish guides mistook the moonlight for the approach of dawn, and proceeded to wake us soon after midnight in a most noisy fashion. For the Turks, you must know, have neither hours to mark their time, nor milestones to mark their roads.

They have professional people, called talismans, set apart for the service of their mosques, who use a water-glass; and when these talismans know that morning is at hand, they utter a cry from a lofty minaret built for that special purpose, in order to call and invite the people to the performance of their devotions. They utter the same cry when one quarter of the day has elapsed, at midday, again when three quarters of the day are over, and, last of all, at sunset; each time repeating the cry in shrill quavering tones, the effect of which is not unpleasing, and the sound can be heard at a distance that would astonish you.

Thus the Turks divide their day into four portions, which are longer or shorter according to the season. They have no method for marking time during the night.

But to return to my subject. Our guides, deceived by the brightness of the moon, were wont to give the signal for striking camp when the day was yet far distant. Up we jumped in haste, for fear of causing any delay, or being blamed for any misadventure that might ensue. Our baggage was got together, the bed and tents thrown into the waggon, our horses harnessed, and we ourselves stood ready and equipped, waiting for the signal to start. Meanwhile, our Turks had found out their mistake, and turned into bed for another sleep.

When we had waited some time for them in vain, I would send a message to tell them that we were quite ready, and that the delay rested with them. My messengers brought back word that ‘the Turks had returned to their bedclothes, and vowed that they had been atrociously deceived by the moon when they gave the signal for starting; it was not yet time to set out, and we had much better all go to sleep again.’ The consequence was that we had either to unpack everything at the cost of considerable labour, or to spend a good part of the night shivering in the cold. To put a stop to this annoyance, I ordered the Turks not to trouble me again, and promised to be responsible for our being up in good time, if they would tell me the day before, when we ought to start, assuring them that ‘I could manage it, as I had watches that could be trusted; they might continue their slumbers,’ I added, ‘relying on me to have the camp roused at the proper time.’

My Turks agreed, but were not quite comfortable about it; so at first they would come early, and wake up my servant, bidding him go to me, and ask what the fingers of my timepieces said. On his return he would tell them, as best he could, what the time was, informing them that it was nearly morning, or that the sun would not rise for some time, as the case might be. When they had once or twice proved the truth of his report, they trusted the watches implicitly, and expressed their admiration at their accuracy. Thenceforward we were allowed to enjoy our night’s rest without having it cut short by their uproar.

On our way from Nissa to Sophia we had fair roads and good weather, considering the season of the year. Sophia is a good-sized town, with a considerable population both of residents and visitors. Formerly it was the royal city of the Bulgarians; afterwards (unless I am mistaken) it was the seat of the Despots of Servia, whilst the dynasty still existed, and had not yet succumbed to the power of the Turk. After quitting Sophia we travelled for several days through fruitful fields and pleasant valleys, belonging to the Bulgarians.

The bread we used through this part of our expedition was, for the most part, baked under ashes. The people call these loaves ‘fugacias:’ they are sold by the girls and women, for there are no professional bakers in that district. When the women hear of the arrival of strangers, from whom they may expect to earn a trifle, they knead cakes of meal and water without any leaven, and put them under the hot ashes. When baked they carry them round for sale at a small price, still hot from the hearth. Other eatables are also very cheap. A sheep costs thirty-five aspres,[102] a fowl costs one; and fifty aspres make a crown. I must not forget to tell you of the dress of the women. Usually, their sole garment consists of a shirt or chemise of linen, quite as coarse as the cloth sacks are made of in our country, covered with needlework designs, of the most absurd and childish character, in different colours. However, they think themselves excessively fine; and when they saw our shirts—the texture of which was excellent—they expressed their surprise that we should be contented with plain linen instead of having worked and coloured shirts. But nothing struck us more than their towering head-dresses and singular bonnets—if bonnets they can be called. They are made of straw, woven with threads; the shape is exactly the reverse of that which is usually worn by our women in country districts; for their bonnets fall down on the shoulders, and are broadest at the lowest part, from which they gradually slope up into a peak. Whereas, in Bulgaria the bonnet is narrowest at the lowest part; above the head it rises in a coil about three-quarters of a foot; it is open at the top, and presents a large cavity towards the sky, so that it seems expressly made for the purpose of catching the rain and the sun, just as ours are made for the purpose of keeping them off.

The whole of the bonnet, from the upper to the lower rim, is ornamented with coins and figures, bits of coloured glass, and anything else that glitters, however rubbishy it may be.

This kind of bonnet makes the wearer look tall, and also obliges her to carry herself with dignity, as it is ready to tumble off at the slightest touch. When they enter a room you might imagine it was a Clytemnestra,[103] or Hecuba such as she was in the palmy days of Troy, that was marching on to the stage.