thought himself cleverer than the rest. ‘And why,’ said he, ‘you stupid
fellows, do you wonder at this? Do you believe these things are done
in reality; they are mere feats of legerdemain and optical delusions?’
Without more ado he seized the iron by the part that stood a good way
out of the fire, to prove it could be handled without injury. But no
sooner had he closed his hand, than he drew it back, with the palm
and fingers so burnt that it was several days before he was well; an
accident which was followed by great laughter from his fellow-servants,
who asked him, ‘Whether he now believed it was hot, or was still
incredulous?’ and invited him to touch it again.
The same Turk told me at dinner, that his abbot, a man renowned for the
sanctity of his life and for his miracles, was accustomed to spread his
cloak on the lake which adjoined his monastery, sit down on it, and so
take a pleasant sail wherever he liked.[248] He also was in the habit
of being tied to a sheep, which had been flayed and dressed, with his
arms fastened to its fore, and his legs to its hind quarters, and being
thrown in this condition into a heated oven, where he stayed till he
gave orders for himself and the sheep to be taken out, when it was well
roasted and fit to eat, and he none the worse.[249]
I don’t believe it, you will say; for the matter of that, neither do I!
I only tell you what I heard; but as to the white hot iron, I saw it
with my own eyes. Yet this feat is not so astonishing after all, as no
doubt while he pretended to be looking for a stone in the court yard,
he fortified his mouth against the fierceness of the fire by some
medicament, such as you know have been discovered.[250] For I remember
seeing a mountebank in the Piazza at Venice handle molten lead, and as
it were wash his hands in it without injury.
I mentioned already that a few days before Roostem’s death the severity
of my prison rules was relaxed. This was exceedingly agreeable to
me, on account of the liberty of access to me which was thus granted
to men of foreign and distant nations, from whom I received much
information that amused me; but this pleasure was counterbalanced by
an equal inconvenience, because my servants abused the privilege given
them of going abroad, and often wandered about the city unescorted by
Janissaries. The consequences were quarrels and disturbances with the
Turks, which gave me a great deal of trouble; and, out of the many that
happened, I will relate one as a specimen, from which you can imagine
the others, that you may know everything about us.
Two of my servants crossed over to Pera without Janissaries, either
because they were all out, or because they did not think they required
their escort. One of them was my apothecary and the other my butler.
Having finished their business in Pera, they hired a boat to return
to Constantinople; but scarcely had they taken their seats in it,
when there came a boy from the judge, or cadi, of that place, who
ordered them to get out, and give up the boat to his master. My
servants refused, and pointed out there were boats enough about for
the cadi to cross in, and told him this one had already been engaged
by them. However, he persevered, and tried to get them out by force.
My men resisted, and that right stoutly, so that they soon came to
blows. As all this was going on before the eyes of the judge, who was
approaching, he could not restrain himself from running down to help
the boy, who was a great favourite with him for reasons that need
not be explained. But while he was carelessly rushing down the steps
leading to the sea, which were slippery with ice (for it was winter),
he missed his footing and would have tumbled into the sea—his feet were
already wet with the water—had not his companions assisted him. The
Turks gathered from all Pera, and an outcry was raised that Christians
had laid violent hands on the judge, and all but drowned him in the
sea. They seized my servants, and with great tumult dragged them before
the voivode, or judge who tries capital charges. The sticks were got
ready and their feet were inserted in the posts, for the purpose of
administering the bastinado. One of my men, who was an Italian, being
in a furious passion, never stopped shouting the whole time ‘_Vour,
chiopecklar, vour_. Strike us, you dogs, strike us! ‘Tis _we_ who have
been wronged, and _we_ have deserved no punishment. We are servants of
the Emperor’s Ambassador. You will be punished by your Sultan when he
knows of this.’ All this, in spite of his speaking in broken Turkish,
his hearers could quite understand. One of the Turks among the rioters
was amazed at his boldness and exclaimed, ‘Do you think this one-eyed
fellow a human being?’ (for he had lost one eye), ‘believe me, he is no
such thing, but belongs to the race of oneeyed Genies.’ The voivode
however, who was himself struck by such courage, that he might not do
more or less than was right, decided on sending them to Roostem unhurt.
They went to him, accompanied by a great crowd of false witnesses,
who had been procured to crush by their evidence those innocent men.
The Turks think it an act of great piety to bear witness against
a Christian; they do not wait to be asked but come unbidden, and
obtrude themselves of their own accord, as happened on this occasion.
Therefore they all exclaimed with one voice, ‘These robbers have dared
to commit a most atrocious crime, and have knocked the judge down with
their fists, and if they had not been stopped, they would have thrown
him into the sea.’ My men denied these charges, and said they were
accused unjustly, and then declared they were my servants. Roostem
soon perceived that it was a case of false accusation; but to divert
the anger of the excited multitude, he assumed a stern expression, and
saying that he would punish them himself, ordered them to be taken
to prison. The prison served as a fortress to my servants against
the violence of the raging mob. Roostem then heard the evidence of
those whom he considered worthy of credit, and found my servants were
innocent, and that it was the judge that was to blame.
Through my dragomans I demanded the surrender of my servants. Roostem
thought the matter important enough to be laid before the Council,
saying he was afraid, that, if the Sultan should hear of it, he would
suspect it was through the influence of money that the wrong the judge
had sustained had been passed over. Already there existed some intimacy
between me and Ali Pasha; and I expostulated with him in strong terms,
through the same dragomans, and demanded that an end should be put to
the persecution of my servants. Ali undertook the case and told me to
set my mind at ease, as this trouble would soon be at an end. Roostem,
however, was still shilly-shallying; he was always afraid to do me a
kindness for fear of being suspected of receiving a bribe; on that
account he would have preferred having the business settled on such
terms, that the judge should be left no cause for complaint. He sent me
word that it seemed to him to be the wisest plan to appease the judge
by giving him some pieces of gold as a sop, and that five and twenty
ducats would be enough for the purpose. I replied that I was obliged
to him for his advice. If he told me, as a personal favour to himself,
to throw fifty ducats into the sea, I would do so at once; but here it
was not a question of money but of precedent, that was at stake. For if
it were laid down as a rule, that whoever had injured my men, should,
instead of being punished, be actually paid for doing so, I should soon
come to the end of my purse. Whenever anyone’s dress began to get worn
or torn, he would resolve to do my servants some harm, inasmuch as he
would feel sure of getting paid for his trouble, and thus obtaining a
new dress at my expense. Nothing could be more disgraceful than this or
more injurious to my interests. Accordingly my servants were sent back,
thanks, in a great measure, to the advocacy of Ali Pasha. But when the
Venetian Baily[251] heard of it he sent for one of my dragomans, and
begged him to tell him how much I had paid to settle the affair. ‘Not
a penny,’ he replied. Then the Baily said, ‘If we had been concerned,
I warrant you we should hardly have got out of it for 200 ducats.’ The
man whom it cost most dear was this model of a judge, who was removed
from office, because, according to their notion, a man is disgraced
who has received a thrashing from a Christian, and this, by his own
admission, had been the case with him.
You ask for news about the Spanish generals, telling me that there is
a report in your neighbourhood that they owe their liberty to me. They
were the following, viz., de Sandé, the commander of the land forces,
and Leyva and Requesens, the admirals of the Neapolitan and Sicilian
fleets. I will give you a short account of how I managed it.
The Turks were much annoyed at the conclusion of peace between the
Kings of Spain and France, which was by no means favourable to their
interests;[252] especially as they found the treaty was not such as
they had believed it to be at first, for they had been convinced that
they would have been high in the list of those entitled to enjoy the
benefits of the same peace. Accordingly, when they found themselves
passed over, thinking that a bad return had been made them, though
they dissembled their vexation, they sought an opportunity to give
some hint that their feelings were no longer so friendly as they had
been. Solyman had written to the King of France to say he approved of
the peace, but at the same time desired the King to remember that old
friends do not easily become foes, or old foes friends.
The offence the Turks felt on these grounds was not a little favourable
to my negotiations, and I was aided in addition by Ali Pasha’s kindly
feeling towards me, and Ibrahim’s great desire of proving his gratitude.
You remember I mentioned previously that when Lavigne was calumniating
me, he at the same time used to accuse Ibrahim, implying that he
betrayed to me all the designs of the Turks.
This Ibrahim, the Sultan’s first dragoman (the Turkish word for
interpreter), was a Pole by birth; he was hated by Lavigne, because
he thought that Ibrahim, in a deadly quarrel between himself and de
Codignac, his predecessor in the embassy, had taken de Codignac’s
part too strongly. I need not trouble you with the whole story, as it
has not much to do with our subject. Lavigne, recollecting this, was
always Ibrahim’s bitter enemy; and whenever he had an opportunity of
addressing the Pashas, every other word he spoke was abuse of Ibrahim.
At last he got him degraded from office and reduced to a private
position.
This concerned me but little, as there had never been any friendship
between Ibrahim and myself, but on the contrary a somewhat hostile
feeling, as I had often found him on the side against us. I was sorry
however that the story should get abroad that it was for my sake
he had been removed from office. While Ibrahim was living in this
condition, deeply humiliated by the loss of his post, as indeed is
usually the case with men who have ceased to be what they were, I
tried to lighten his misfortunes by any attentions in my power, and on
several occasions, when there was a press of business in the course
of the peace negotiations, I employed him as an extra dragoman, and
made him a medium of communication with the Pashas. This was readily
allowed by Ali from his good feeling towards me, and because he was
well aware that Ibrahim had been wrongfully degraded. At last I
effected his restoration to his former position and dignity. From these
circumstances he became much attached to me, so that his great desire
was to find some means of proving his gratitude for my services. Most
loyally did he plead my cause in every question; and did his best to
obtain for me the favour of all whom he could influence. This was an
easier task for him from their disgust at the recent peace, on account
of which, as I said, the Turks were secretly angry with the French, so
that, when a gentleman named Salviati came to Constantinople to obtain
de Sandé’s freedom in the name of the King of France, his errand was
a complete failure. De Sandé had for some time been eagerly looking
forward to this embassy, hoping thereby to procure his liberty, and,
feeling certain that this was the only chance of recovering his
freedom, had gone to great expense in providing presents to do honour
to the Pashas and the Sultan himself, according to the usual custom.
And now, to make a long story short, all was over, Salviati had taken
his departure, and his embassy had proved a failure.
The servants whom de Sandé had employed as his agents, terrified by
this, came to me, and confessed they did not venture to inform him of
such a disappointment; he had entirely depended on his hopes from this
mission, and now they were afraid he would become desperate, and not
only lose his health, but also his life; they therefore asked me to
give them my assistance and to write to him myself.
I was inclined to refuse, as I had neither arguments nor language to
console a man who had received such a cruel blow. De Sandé was a man
of great spirit and exceedingly sanguine temperament, and did not
know what fear was. But when men, whose temper inclines them to hope
that everything they wish will come about, find everything taking an
adverse turn and going against their wishes, there is generally a great
reaction, and their spirits become so depressed that it is no easy
matter to raise them to a proper level.
While our business was at a standstill from this difficulty, the
dragoman Ibrahim most fortunately called on me, and when in the course
of conversation mention was made of the Spanish prisoners, he told me
in so many words, that, if I were to request their release, it would
not be refused. He knew what he was saying and had it on good authority.
He had indeed been previously in the habit of throwing out rather
obscure hints, calculated to make me hope they might be liberated if I
were to intercede; but I did not take much heed of what he said, for
how could I venture to make such an attempt when I was not yet sure
of peace? I was also restrained by the fear that I should do no good
myself, if I interfered at an unfavourable moment, and might perhaps
also hinder Salviati’s negotiations. But when, after his departure, I
heard Ibrahim, who was closely attached to me, make such a declaration,
there seemed to be something in it, and I began to pay more attention
to his words, cautioning him, however, at the same time not to place
me in a false position, and expose his friend to ridicule. This would
certainly be my fate if I were to undertake unsuccessfully a task
which was generally supposed to be hopeless, and in which there had
already been an adverse decision. He persevered notwithstanding, and
told me that I might rely on what he said; and that he would absolutely
guarantee my success.
Relying on his assurances I wrote to de Sandé, and informed him of the
result of Salviati’s negotiations, but told him not to despair, for,
unless all Turks were liars, there was hope in store for him, and then
I related what I had heard from Ibrahim. Having taken this step, I next
consulted certain friends of mine who had great experience in Turkish
affairs. They replied that they wished me success in my undertaking,
but they did not see how I could obtain what had just been denied
to the Ambassador of a King who was an old friend, especially while
the result of our negotiations for peace was still doubtful; and they
pointed out that all precedents showed how difficult it was to prevail
on the Turks to liberate important prisoners. However, I wrote to the
Emperor, and acquainted him with the hopes that had been held out to
me, at the same time earnestly entreating him to ask Solyman to release
the prisoners.
To make a long story short, after large presents had been promised the
Pashas, if they should show themselves gracious and favourable to their
liberation, on the eve of St. Laurence’s day (August 9), they were all
taken out of prison and conducted to my lodging.
De Sandé and Leyva hated each other worse than if they had been
brothers! for which reason it was necessary to have a table laid
separately for the latter, with whom Requesens dined. De Sandé sat at
the same table with myself. At dinner there came in a steward from the
chargé d’affaires of the King of France, bringing me some notes which
had come into his hands. De Sandé asked him if he knew him. ‘I think,’
said he, ‘you are Don Alvaro.’ ‘I am indeed,’ said he, ‘and you will
convey my best compliments to your master, and tell him how you saw
me here a free man, thanks to the Ambassador before you.’ ‘I see it
indeed,’ he replied, ‘but yet I can hardly believe my own eyes.’ This
was done by de Sandé because the chargé d’affaires, though in other
respects an excellent fellow, was one of the persons who could not be
convinced that Solyman would liberate the prisoners as a favour to the
Emperor Ferdinand.[253]
But before they were released from prison, the Mufti, the head of the
Turkish religion, was consulted on the question, if it were lawful to
exchange a few Christians for a larger number of captive Turks? for I
had promised that not fewer than forty Turkish prisoners, who, however,
might be common people of no rank, should be given in exchange. The
Mufti replied that there were two authorities on the point, and that
they held different opinions, one approving of the exchange and the
other not. The Pashas, however, adopted the more liberal opinion.[254]
I have still to tell you of Bajazet’s final catastrophe, for I know
you are expecting to hear the rest of his story. You will remember
that he was thrown into prison by Shah Tahmasp. From that time many
messengers went backwards and forwards from the King of Persia to the
Sultan, some of whom held the title of Ambassador, bringing presents
of the usual kind, such as tents of exquisite workmanship, Assyrian
and Persian carpets, and a Koran, the book which contains their holy
mysteries;[255] amongst other gifts, rare animals were sometimes sent,
for example there was an Indian ant,[256] as large as a fair-sized dog,
and extremely fierce and snappish, which, I remember, they were said to
have brought.
The ostensible reason for their arrival was to reconcile Bajazet and
his father; great honours were paid them, and they were entertained
magnificently by the Pashas. Ali made me a partaker in one of these
banquets by sending me eight large porcelain dishes of sweetmeats. The
Romans used to send something from their table to their friends, a
custom which the Spaniards retain to this day. The Turks, on the other
hand, carry off dainties from the banquet for themselves, but generally
only intimate friends do so, who have wives and children at home. They
usually carried home from my table handkerchiefs full of fragments of
eatables, and were not afraid of soiling their silk robes with drops of
gravy, although they consider cleanliness of the highest importance.
When I mention this, it recalls to my memory an amusing incident, which
I shall not be sorry to tell you. You will have a hearty laugh over it,
I am sure, as I had myself; and is not laughter worth cultivating? Is
it not man’s peculiar attribute, and the best recipe in the world for
tempering human misfortunes? Besides, we are no Catos.
The Pashas observe the custom of giving dinner for a few days before
their fast, which answers to our Lent, to all who choose to come,
and no one is excluded. However, the people who come are generally
neighbours, friends, or recognised dependants. A leather tablecloth,
which is loaded with a crowd of dishes, is laid on the ground over an
oblong mat. Such a table will hold a large company. The Pasha himself
sits in the chief place, and about him those of higher rank, and then
in a long row the guests who belong to inferior families, till no more
room remains for anyone, and many are left standing, for the table
cannot hold all at once. However, as they eat with great moderation and
do not talk, it is not long before the first party have appeased their
hunger, they then conclude their meal with a draught of water sweetened
with honey or sugar, and, after bidding the master of the feast
farewell, make room for others who have not yet sat down; these again
are succeeded by another set, till in a short space many are satisfied
off the same table, the attendants in the meantime washing the plates
and dishes, and supplying fresh ones as fast as they are emptied.
A Pasha who was giving one of these entertainments at his house had
invited a Sanjak-bey, who happened to have come there, to sit by him.
The second place from him was occupied by an old man of the class the
Turks call Khodjas, which means Scholars. As he saw before him a great
mass of various eatables, and wished, having had his fill, to take
something away for his wife, he began looking for his handkerchief to
put it in; but found he had left it at home. He was, however, equal to
the emergency, and like a good general was able to extemporise a plan
on the field of battle. He seized the bag of a turban which was hanging
down behind him[257] (which, however, was not his own as he thought,
but the Sanjak-bey’s). This he crammed as full as he could, finishing
with a good slice of bread by way of a stopper to prevent anything
slipping out. When he was bidding his host farewell, in accordance with
the Turkish fashion, he had to salute his superiors by placing his
hands on his breast or thighs. Having paid his respects he gathered
up the bag again, but this time took his own, and when he left the
dining-room, he felt it carefully all over and, to his utter amazement,
found it empty. But what was he to do? He went home in disgust.
Not long afterwards the Sanjak-bey also rose, and after saluting the
Pasha was going away, in happy ignorance of the load that was hanging
behind him. But soon the bag began to deliver itself of its contents;
every step the Sanjak-bey took, something fell out, and his progress
was marked by a long line of fragments. Every one began to laugh;
he then looked back, and his face grew crimson, when he saw his bag
disgorging pieces of food.
Then the Pasha, who had guessed the truth, called him back, told him
to sit down, and ordered the Khodja to be summoned; and turning to him
said, ‘As you are a neighbour and old friend of mine, and have a wife
and children at home, I wonder why you did not carry away something for
them from my table, where there was enough and to spare.’ The Khodja
replied, ‘This happened, sir, from no fault of mine, but from the anger
of my guardian angel. For, as I had carelessly left my handkerchief at
home, I stuffed the remains of my dinner into the bag of my turban, but
lo and behold, when I left the dining room, it proved to be empty, but
how this came to pass is more than I can tell.’ So the Sanjak-bey’s
character as a gentleman was re-established, and the disappointment
of the old Khodja, and the oddness of the accident, furnished the
bystanders with food for another merry laugh.
But I will return to my subject. Bajazet’s hopes were at a low ebb, for
his merciless father was demanding that he should be given up alive for
execution; to this the King of Persia refused to agree and pretended to
act as his protector, while all the time he intended to betray him.
Solyman at one time tried persuasion on the Shah, reminding him of the
treaty, by which he had agreed they should both have the same friends
and enemies, and at another, endeavoured to frighten him with menacing
language and threatened him with war, if Bajazet were not surrendered.
He had placed strong garrisons in all his towns on the Persian
frontier, and filled Mesopotamia and the bank of the Euphrates with
soldiers, who were taken for the most part from the Imperial guard,
and the troops he had employed against Bajazet. These forces were
commanded by Mehemet Pasha, the third of the Vizierial Pashas, and the
Beyler bey of Greece, for Selim had soon returned home. He also sent
frequent messages to the tribes they call Georgians, who dwell between
the Caspian and the Black Sea, and border on Media, urging them to
take up arms against the King of Persia. They sagaciously replied that
‘they had not sufficient confidence in their own strength to venture to
attack Shah Tahmasp by themselves; let Solyman only come with his army
and they would know, when they saw him on the spot, what they ought
to do. In that case they would be wanting neither in counsel nor in
courage.’
In another direction are still to be found five Turkoman chiefs
descended from Tamerlane; and these also were invited to join their
arms against the common foe.