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.