good fortune to have men who are so considerate that they not only
would not object to my going out, were I to desire it, but they
actually invite me to take a ride. But, as I said, I make a point of
refusing to leave my quarters to prevent their thinking that they have
it in their power either to gratify or to annoy me. I excuse myself
on the plea, that by such a long stay in the house I have grown a
piece of the building, so that I can’t be torn away without risk of
its falling! I tell them I will go out once for all, when permission
shall be granted me to return home! I am glad my household are allowed
their liberty, as it may help them to bear their long exile more
patiently. In this, however, there is again the inconvenience that
quarrels often occur when they meet with drunken Turks, especially
if they are unattended by Janissaries; but even if they are at hand,
they cannot always prevent blows being exchanged. All this causes me
much annoyance, as I am obliged to answer the accusations which are
continually trumped up against my people, though I must say that my
cavasses in most cases save me the trouble, they are so particular
about keeping the gates shut. Of this we had lately an instance, which
I must tell you. There had been sent to me by the Emperor one Philip
Baldi, an Italian, a man of about sixty, who had travelled too fast
for a person of that age, and had consequently fallen ill.[197] When
the apothecary brought the clyster the doctor had ordered, the cavasse
refused him admittance, and would not allow him to take it to the
patient, treating him most uncivilly.
This cavasse had for a long while behaved kindly and courteously
towards us, but he suddenly turned savage, and even threatened to beat
my visitors with his stick. As I was much annoyed by his conduct,
I determined to show him he was wasting his trouble in trying to
intimidate us, as if we were a set of children. I ordered one of my
servants to keep the door bolted, and to undo it for no one except by
my orders. The cavasse came as usual in the morning to open the gates,
but, as the key proved useless, he perceived they were bolted inside,
and called out to my servant, whom he could see through the chinks
between the folding-doors, to let him in. My servant refused, and the
cavasse thereupon got angry, and began to abuse him and swear at him.
My servant replied, ‘Bluster to your heart’s content; but neither
you, nor any of your people shall get in here. Why should I open the
door for you any more than you do for us? As you keep us shut in, we
will keep you shut out. You may lock the door on the outside as tight
as you please; I will take care to bolt it on the inside.’ Then the
cavasse asked, ‘Is this done by the Ambassador’s orders?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But
let me at least put my horse in the stable.’ ‘I won’t.’ ‘At any rate
give me hay and fodder for him.’ ‘There is plenty to be had in the
neighbourhood, if you are willing to pay for it.’ I used to invite this
cavasse to dine with me, or send him something from my table; this day,
however, his luck was changed, and he was obliged to stay before the
gate without breaking his fast, and tie up his horse to the plane-tree
which stands opposite. The Pashas and most of the court officials pass
this way on their return home from the palace, and when they saw the
cavasse’s horse, which they knew well enough by its trappings, munching
hay at the foot of the plane-tree, they asked him why he kept it there
instead of in the stable, as he usually did? He then told them the
whole story; viz., that because he had shut us in, we had shut him out,
and not only himself but his horse, and that he got no food and his
steed no forage. The story reached the ears of the other Pashas, and
caused much laughter. From that time they could no longer doubt how
utterly useless it was to lock me up, and with what contempt I treated
such petty means of annoyance. Shortly afterwards the cavasse was
removed, and the rigour of our confinement was somewhat relaxed.
This occurrence was noticed by Roostem a few days afterwards in a
way that deserves to be recorded. A man of reverend years and great
reputation for sanctity was paying him a visit, and asked him in
the course of their conversation, why, when the discord between the
Sultan’s sons was so apparent, and serious disturbances were expected
to arise from it, nay were imminent, he did not make a regular peace
with the Emperor, and so relieve Solyman of all anxiety in that
quarter? Roostem replied, there was nothing he desired better, but how
could he do it? The demands I made he could not concede; and, on the
other hand, I refused to accept what he offered. ‘Nor does he yield,’
said he, ‘to compulsion. Have I not tried everything to make him agree
to my terms? I have now for several years been keeping him immured,
and annoying him in many ways, and treating him roughly. But what good
am I doing? He is proof against everything. We do our best to keep him
in the closest confinement, but not content with our locking him up,
he actually bolts himself in. Thus all my labour is in vain; any other
man, I believe, sooner than endure these annoyances would ere now have
gone over to our religion; but he cares nothing for them.’ This was
related to me by people who were present at the conversation.
The Turks are a suspicious nation, and have got it into their heads,
that the Ambassadors of Christian princes have different instructions,
to be produced or suppressed according to circumstances, and that they
first attempt to get the most favourable terms they can, and, if they
fail, gradually come down and accede to harder conditions. Consequently
they think it is necessary to intimidate them, to flaunt war in their
faces, to keep them shut up like prisoners, and to torment them in
every way, as the best means of breaking their spirit and making them
sooner produce the set of instructions, which specify the minimum they
are empowered to accept.
Some think that this notion was much encouraged by the conduct of a
Venetian Ambassador, when there was a dispute between the Venetians
and Turks about restoring Napoli di Romania to the Sultan.[198] The
instructions he had received from the Venetian Senate directed him to
do his best to make peace without giving up Napoli, but, if he failed,
at last to agree to surrender the town, if he found war to be the only
alternative. Now it happened that these instructions were betrayed
to the Turks by certain citizens of Venice. The Ambassador, in total
ignorance of this, intended to open negotiations by suggesting easier
terms, and thus to sound the minds of the Pashas. When they pressed
him to disclose all his instructions, he declared that his powers went
no further; till at last the Pashas grew furious, and told him to
take care what he was about, as their master was not accustomed to be
trifled with, and also that he knew right well what his instructions
were. Then they repeated accurately in detail the orders he had
received from the authorities of Venice, and told him, that ‘If he did
not at once produce them all, he would find himself in no small danger
as a liar and impostor, while inevitable destruction would await the
republic he represented, if his deceit should provoke Solyman’s wrath
beyond all appeasing, and cause him to destroy them with fire and
sword.’ They warned him that ‘he had not much time for deliberation; if
he produced all his instructions, well and good; but if he persevered
in his attempt to trifle with them, it would be too late afterwards to
talk of peace and express his regret.’ They concluded by saying, that
‘Solyman was no man’s suppliant; since by God’s blessing he had the
power to compel.’ The Ambassador knew not what to do, and thinking it
useless to attempt to conceal what was perfectly well known, made a
clean breast of it, and frankly confessed that what they stated as to
his instructions was correct. This misadventure, however, made him very
unpopular at home. From that time the Turks seem to have become much
more suspicious, thinking it impolitic to enter into negotiations with
an ambassador until his spirit is broken by long confinement. It was on
this account that Veltwick,[199] the ambassador of the Emperor Charles,
was detained by them for eighteen months, and my colleagues for more
than three years, and then dismissed without having accomplished
anything. On me they have been putting pressure for a long time, as you
know, and as yet I can see no prospect of my release.
But when Baldi, whom I was speaking of, arrived, the age of the
messenger made them suspect that he brought fresh instructions,
allowing us to accept harder conditions of peace, and these they were
afraid of my misrepresenting on account of my knowledge of their
domestic troubles. They thought it therefore politic to treat me with
greater rigour, as the best means of making me produce forthwith the
real instructions I had last received. For the same reason Roostem
tried to intimidate me with threats of war, which he hinted at by the
following pleasantry. What does he do but send me a very large pumpkin
of the kind we call ‘Anguries,’ and the Germans ‘Wasser Blutzer’
(water-melons). Those grown at Constantinople are of excellent
flavour, and have red seeds inside; they are called Rhodian melons
because they come from Rhodes. They are good for allaying thirst when
the weather is very hot. A great round one was sent me by Roostem
through my interpreter, one very hot day, with the following message:
‘He hoped I should like a fruit which suited the season; there was no
better antidote for the heat; but he wished me also to know that at
Buda and Belgrade they had great store of such fruit, and indeed some
larger specimens of it,’ by which he meant cannon balls. I sent back
word that I was much obliged for his present and should enjoy it, but
that I was not surprised at what he said about Buda and Belgrade, as
there were at Vienna plenty of specimens of the fruit quite as big as
the one he sent me. I made this answer because I wished Roostem to
understand that I had noticed the point of his jest.
Now it is time I should relate the story of Bajazet, about which
you especially beg for information.[200] Doubtless you remember the
circumstances under which Bajazet parted from his father a few years
ago. He was pardoned on condition that he should not again make any
movement against his brother or excite fresh disturbances, but should
remain at peace and on friendly terms with him, as a brother ought to
do.[201] ‘Let him,’ said the Sultan, ‘remember the pledges he has given
me, nor further disquiet my declining years. Another time I will not
let him go unpunished.’ These warnings influenced Bajazet for a time,
but only as long as his mother survived; indeed, he placed but little
confidence on his brother’s affection or his father’s feelings towards
him, and relied entirely on the love his mother bore him, and being
anxious not to alienate her, he remained quiet during her lifetime.
But, when she died two years afterwards, thinking that his case was
desperate, and that he was no longer bound by any tie of filial duty,
he began to resume his former designs, and to prosecute his old quarrel
against his brother with more bitterness than ever. At one time he
plotted secretly against his life, at another used open violence, and
often sent his troops to make forays into his brother’s government,
which bordered on his own, and if he could catch any of his servants he
sentenced them to heavy punishments, intending thereby to insult their
master; in short, as he could not strike at his brother’s life, he left
nothing undone which he thought would impair his prestige.
At Constantinople he had some devoted partisans, and through them
he tried to tamper with the Sultan’s bodyguard by every means in
his power, and on some occasions he even ventured to cross over to
Constantinople himself,[202] concealing himself there among his
accomplices and the men of his party.
The progress of the conspiracy was no secret to Solyman, who, besides
his other channels of information, received accurate intelligence from
Selim, who wrote despatches from time to time, warning his father to be
on his guard against attack. ‘The Sultan was mistaken,’ said Selim, ‘if
he thought that the impious designs which Bajazet was now rehearsing
were not ultimately aimed at his own person. Bajazet cared neither
for God nor man, provided he could reach the throne. His father was as
great a barrier as his brother to the accomplishment of his ambitious
hopes. Attacks on himself were aimed at Solyman’s life, a crime which
Bajazet had planned long ago, and had lately been trying to carry into
execution. He begged the Sultan to take care he did not fall a victim
to these plots, and find himself a prisoner before news of his danger
could be received or help sent to him. As to the personal wrongs he
received from Bajazet, he could afford to disregard them, but he was
troubled at the greatness of his father’s peril.’
By such insinuations fresh fuel was continually added to Solyman’s
wrath against Bajazet. Accordingly he wrote letters reminding him of
his duty, of the clemency with which he had treated him, and of his
promises to himself, and bade him remember what he had said on a former
occasion, viz., that he would not always find pardon, that he ought
to turn over a new leaf, and not persist in provoking his brother and
annoying his father.[203] He added that he had but a short span of life
left himself, and when he was dead Providence would determine what
their several lots should be. In the meantime they should keep quiet,
if they had any regard for the peace of their father and their country.
But such arguments were all thrown away upon Bajazet, who had made up
his mind to hazard everything rather than take the other alternative,
and tamely wait till the time came for him to be butchered like a
sheep, which would most assuredly be his fate, if Selim ascended the
throne.
He replied, however, to his father’s commands in becoming terms, but
his deeds did not correspond to his words, nor did he swerve in the
least from the line of conduct he had resolved on.
When Solyman saw this, he felt that other measures were necessary,
and that he must not allow his sons to remain so near each other.
Accordingly he issued orders that before a certain day each should
leave his government (Bajazet was Governor of Kutaiah, Selim of
Magnesia), and that Bajazet should go to Amasia and Selim to Koniah.
No fault could be found with Selim, and his favour with his father was
unimpaired, but to prevent Bajazet from being hurried into rebellion,
Solyman wished to make it appear that they were both being treated
alike. In giving these orders he observed that the further apart they
were in actual distance the closer they would be in spirit. Vicinity,
he added, was often prejudicial to union, many faults being committed
on both sides by mischievous officers and servants, the effect of which
was to cause great irritation on the part of their masters. Let both of
them be obedient to his commands. If either should hesitate to obey, he
would expose himself to a charge of treason.
Selim made no delay, inasmuch as he knew that these orders were given
chiefly in his interest. Bajazet kept making excuses, and halted after
proceeding a short distance. He complained that he had been given the
government of Amasia, that town of evil omen, which was still reeking
with his brother’s blood,[204] and said that he would be contented with
any other government whatever, in place of that, in which the miserable
end of his kinsfolk would ever be forcing itself on his eyes, and
wounding his heart with its sad recollections. He asked that he might
at least be permitted to pass the winter where he was, or at any rate
in the place which his brother had left. To these remonstrances Solyman
paid no attention; and Selim had already proceeded some days’ march
with the troops, which his father had given him as an escort to protect
him against any attack on the part of his brother, while Bajazet was
still delaying and hesitating, when he suddenly turned and retraced
his steps, and then making a circuit appeared in his brother’s rear,
moving on Ghemlik, a Bithynian town, on the Asiatic coast opposite
Constantinople. For this step he had the sanction of his father, who
did not like Bajazet’s procrastination, for both father and son were
alarmed at the thought of what might be the consequence both to the
empire and themselves, if Bajazet should win over the Imperial guards
and march on Ghemlik or even on Constantinople. As they were both
threatened, the safest course seemed to be for Selim to take up such a
position as would enable them to support each other. Selim had not as
yet sufficient strength to make him certain of defeating his brother,
who was now ready for any desperate step.
When Bajazet saw Selim in his rear, he felt that the only result of his
own delay had been to ensure his brother’s succession to the throne,
whenever his father should be carried off, an event which might be
expected any day, as the Sultan’s health, which was generally bad,
was at that time worse than usual. Accordingly he sent letters to his
father, in which he accused his brother; he told him that Selim could
have given no stronger proof of his undutiful and disloyal intentions
than his march to Ghemlik; to which no other object could be assigned
than an attempt on the throne, as it was a place from which he would
have but a short passage to Constantinople, if he received the news he
wished for, informing him of his father’s death. But if his father’s
life should be prolonged, and the fulfilment of his wishes thus
deferred, he would not hesitate to employ his tools for the attainment
of his object, and would ascend the throne over his father’s murdered
body. In spite of all this he could not help seeing that Selim,
villain as he was, was his father’s darling, and was treated as if he
were a pattern son; while he on the other hand, though he had always
been a good son, and had never dreamt of such undutiful conduct, nay,
more, had always strictly observed every indication of his father’s
wishes, was nevertheless scorned and rejected. All that he requested
was permission to decline a government, the traditions of which boded
ill to its possessor. Next he had recourse to entreaties, and again
implored his father to consent to his being appointed to a different
government, whether it were the one his brother had left, or any other,
provided it had not the dark history of Amasia. He concluded by saying
he would wait for an answer to his petition at the place where he had
halted, that he might not have further to return should his wish be
granted, but if he should not obtain what he asked, he would then go
wherever his father might order.
The complaints Bajazet made about Amasia were not altogether
unreasonable, for the Turks are in the habit of forecasting important
matters from trifling incidents. But this was not the view that Solyman
took, for he knew what value to attach to his son’s bemoanings, and was
convinced that his object was to obtain a situation more convenient
for making a revolution, Amasia being too far from Constantinople.
Thus Bajazet, pleading one excuse after another for delay, put off the
hour for obeying his father’s wishes as long as he could, and went on
increasing his forces by enlisting recruits, arming them, and raising
money—in short, he made every preparation for defending himself and
attacking his brother. These preparations were regarded by Solyman as
directed against himself, but, nevertheless, he passed them over for
the most part in silence. The cautious old man did not wish to render
Bajazet desperate and thus drive him into open rebellion. He was well
aware that the eyes of the world were fixed on the quarrel between
his sons, and he was therefore anxious that these troubles should be
left to the influence of time, and be allowed to die out as quietly as
possible. He therefore replied to Bajazet in gentle language, saying,
‘He could make no change about the government, his decision on that
point was final. They ought both to obey his commands and repair to
their respective posts. As to the future he bade them be of good hope,
as he would take care that everything should be so regulated as to
prevent either of them having any ground for just complaints.’
Pertau, the fourth of the Vizierial Pashas, was selected to
convey these commands to Bajazet, and to keep up an appearance
of impartiality, Mehemet, the third of the Vizierial Pashas, was
despatched to Selim with the same orders. Both were instructed not to
leave the Princes before they reached their respective governments, as
Solyman prudently intended to attach these important officers to his
sons in order that they might be kept in mind of their duties. This
Selim was ready to allow, but Bajazet refused, for, as his intention
was to bring about a general revolution, he thought there could be
no greater obstacle to his designs than to have one of his father’s
counsellors ever at his side to criticise his words and actions. He
therefore addressed Pertau courteously, and having given him such
presents as he could, compelled him to return, in spite of his
remonstrances, saying, that he wished to employ him as his defender
and advocate with his father, as he had no one else to plead for him.
He told him that he would not prove an ungrateful or a discreditable
client. Further, he bade him tell his father that he would always
regard his commands as law, if Selim would let him, but that he could
not bear any longer the outrages of his brother, and his attacks upon
his life.
The dismissal of Pertau in this manner made Solyman sure of his son’s
intentions. Though Bajazet, to prevent the mission to him appearing
to have been wholly ineffectual, kept pretending that he was on his
way to Amasia, Solyman was not deceived, and continued to make his
preparations for war with undiminished activity. He ordered the
Beyler-bey of Greece, although he was suffering from an attack of gout,
to hurry with his cavalry to Selim’s assistance, and on Mehemet Pasha’s
return from his mission he despatched him into Asia with the most
trusty of the Imperial guard on the same service. He also made his own
preparations, and wished to make it appear that he was about to take
the field in person, but the Imperial guard gathered to their standards
with hesitation and reluctance, loathing a war between brothers as an
accursed thing. ‘Against whom were they to draw their swords?’ they
asked; ‘Was it not against the heir of the empire himself?’ ‘Surely,’
they argued, ‘some alternative might be found instead of plunging into
war; it could not be necessary to compel them to dip their hands in the
blood of their comrades, and to incur the guilt of slaughtering their
fellow-soldiers. As to Bajazet’s attempts, they were, in their opinion,
justified by the emergency.’
When these speeches reached Solyman’s ears he submitted the following
questions to his Mufti, who, as you doubtless remember, is the chief
authority among the Turks in religious matters, and like the oak of
Dodona[205] is consulted in cases of difficulty. ‘First, how ought he
to treat a man who in his own lifetime raised men and money, attacked
and captured towns, and troubled the peace of the empire? Secondly,
what was his opinion of those who joined his standard, and assisted
him in such an enterprise? Finally, what he thought of those who
refused to take up arms against him, and justified his acts?’ The
Mufti replied, ‘That such a man and his partisans, in his judgment,
merited the severest punishment; and that those who refused to bear
arms against him were wicked men, who failed to support their religion,
and therefore deserved to be branded as infamous.’ This reply was made
public, and transmitted through the chief of the cavasses to Bajazet.
A few days afterwards there returned to Constantinople a cavasse, who
had been sent to Selim by Solyman, and had been captured on the way by
Bajazet. By him he sent word to his father, that he had violated no
obligation demanded by filial duty, he had never taken up arms against
him, and was ready to obey his commands in everything. The quarrel was
one between his brother and himself, and life and death depended on the
issue of the struggle, as either he must fall by his brother’s sword
or his brother by his. That both should survive was an impossibility.
He had determined to bring matters to a conclusion, one way or the
other, in his father’s lifetime; therefore he called on Solyman not
to interfere in their contest, and to remain neutral. But if, as was
rumoured, he should cross the sea to go to Selim’s assistance, he
warned him not to hope that he would find it an easy task to get him
into his power, as he had secured for himself a refuge in case of
defeat. The moment Solyman set foot on the soil of Asia, he would lay
the country waste with fire and sword as mercilessly as Tamerlane.
Such a message caused Solyman no small anxiety. At the same time news
arrived that the town of Akschehr, which was governed by Selim’s son as
Sanjak-bey, had been taken by Bajazet, and, after a large sum of money
had been exacted, had been ruthlessly sacked.