'Mahomet, sone of the Emperour, sone of God, thrice heavenly and
thrice known as the renowned Emperour of the Turks, King of Greece,
Macedonia and Moldavia, King of Samaria and Hungary, King of Greater
and Lesser Egypt, King of all the inhabitants of the Earth and the
Earthly Paradise, Guardian of the Sepulchre of thy God, Lord of the
Tree of Life, Lord of all the Emperours of the World from the East
even to the West, Grand Persecutor of the Christians and of all the
wicked, the Joy of the flourishing Tree' ... and so forth and so on.
The owner of all these high-sounding titles was hunched up on his
cushions in the State Pavilion. 'On State occasions, among which it is
evident that he included this Quaker audience, he delighted to deck
his unpleasing person in a vest of cloth of gold, lined with sable of
the richest contrasting blackness. Around him were ranged the servants
of the Seraglio--the highest rank of lacqueys standing nearest the
royal person, the "Paicks" in their embroidered coats and caps of
beaten gold, and the "Solacks," adorned with feathers, and armed with
bows and arrows. Behind them were grouped great numbers of eunuchs and
the Court pages, carrying lances. These wore the peculiar coiffure
permitted only to those of the royal chamber, and above their tresses
hung long caps embroidered with gold.
'Mary Fisher was ushered into this brilliant scene with all the
honours usually accorded to an Ambassador: the Sultan's dragomans
accompanied her and stood waiting to interpret at the interview. She
was at this time about thirty-five years of age, "a maid ... whose
intellectual faculties were greatly adorned by the gravity of her
deportment." ... She must have stood in her simple grey frock, amidst
that riot of gold and scarlet, like a lily in a garden of tulips, her
quiet face shining in that cruel and lustful place with the joy of a
task accomplished, and the sense of the presence of God.'[40]
Thus she stood, at the goal of her journey at last, in the presence of
the Grand Turk, she the Messenger of the Great King. There was the
Grand Turk, resplendent in his sable and cloth of gold. Opposite to
him stood the gentle Quakeress, in her plain garment of grey Yorkshire
frieze with its spotless deep collar and close-fitting cap of snowy
lawn. Only the Message was wanting now.
At first no Message came.
The Sultan, thinking that the woman before him was naturally alarmed
by such unwonted magnificence, spoke to her graciously. 'He asked by
his interpreters (whereof there were three with him) whether it was
true what had been told him that she had something to say to him from
the Lord God. She answered, "Yea." Then he bade her speak on: and she
not being forward, weightily pondering what she might say. "Should he
dismiss his attendants and let her speak with him in the presence of
fewer listeners?" the Grand Turk asked her kindly.' Again came an
uncourtly monosyllabic 'No,' followed by another baffling silence.
The executioner, a hook-nosed Kurd with eyes like a bird of prey,
stationed, as always, at the Sultan's right hand, began to look at the
slight woman in grey with a professional interest. He felt the edge of
his blade with a skilful thumb and fore-finger, and turned keen eyes
from the slender throat of the Quakeress, rising above the folds of
snowy lawn, to the aged neck of the Grand Vizier half hidden by his
long white beard. There might be a double failure in etiquette to
avenge, should the Sultan's pleasure change and this unprecedented
interview prove a failure! The executioner smacked his cruel lips with
pleasure at the thought, looking, in his azalea-coloured garment, like
an orange hawk himself, all ready to pounce on his victims.
Still Silence reigned:--a keen silence more piercing than the sharpest
Damascene blade. It was piercing its way into one heart already. Not
into the heart of the aged Grand Vizier. The Grand Vizier was frankly
bored, and was, moreover, beginning to be strangely uneasy at his
_protégée's_ unaccountable behaviour. He turned to his interpreter
with an enquiring frown. The interpreter looked yet more
uncomfortable--even terrified. Approaching his master, he began to
whisper profound apologies into his ear, how that he ought to have
warned him that this might happen; the woman had in truth confessed
that she could not tell when the Message would be sent, nor could she
give it a moment before it came: 'Sayeth indeed that her Teacher in
this strange faith hath been known to keep an assembly of over 1000
people waiting for a matter of three hours, in order to "famish them
from words," not daring to open his lips without command.'
'Thou shouldest indeed have mentioned this before! Allah grant that
this maiden keepeth us not here so long,' retorted the Grand Vizier,
with a scowl of natural impatience, seeing that he was to set forth on
his journey to the battle-field that very day, and that moments were
growing precious, even in the timeless East. Then, turning to the
Sultan, he in his turn began to pour out profuse explanations and
apologies. The uncouth, misshapen figure on the central divan,
however, paid scant heed to his Minister. Right into the fierce,
cruel, passionate heart of Sultan Mahomet that strange silence was
piercing: piercing as no words could have done, through the crust
formed by years of self-seeking and sin, piercing, until it found,
until it quickened, 'That of God within.'
What happened next must be told in the historian Sewel's own words,
since he doubtless heard the tale from the only person who could tell
it, Mary Fisher herself.
'The Grand Turk then bade her speak the word of the Lord to them and
not to fear, for they had good hearts and could hear it. He also
charged her to speak the word she had to say from the Lord, neither
more nor less, for they were willing to hear it, be it what it would.
_Then she spoke what was upon her mind._'
She never says what it was. The Message, once delivered, could never
be repeated.
'The Turks hearkened to her with much attention and gravity until she
had done; and then, the Sultan asking her whether she had anything
more to say? she asked him whether he understood what she had said?
He answered, "Yes, every word," and further said that what she had
spoken was truth. Then he desired her to stay in that country, saying
that they could not but respect such an one, as should take so much
pains to come to them so far as from England with a message from the
Lord God. He also proffered her a guard to bring her into
Constantinople, whither she intended. But she, not accepting this
offer, he told her it was dangerous travelling, especially for such an
one as she: and wondered that she had passed safe so far as she had,
saying also that it was in respect for her, and kindness, that he
proffered it, and that he would not for anything she should come to
the least hurt in his dominions. She having no more to say, the Turks
asked her what she thought of their prophet Mahomet? She answered
warily that she knew him not, but Christ the true prophet, the Son of
God, who was the Light of the World, and enlightened every man coming
into the world, Him she knew. And concerning Mahomet, she said that
they might judge of him to be true or false according to the words and
prophecies he spoke; saying further, "If the word of a prophet shall
come to pass, then shall ye know that the Lord hath sent that prophet:
but if it come not to pass, then shall ye know that the Lord never
sent him." The Turks confessed this to be true, and Mary, having
performed her message, departed from the camp to Constantinople
without a guard, whither she came without the least hurt or scoff....'
V
Thus Mary returned safe to England, where, if not romance, at any rate
solid happiness awaited her in the shape of a certain William Bayly.
He, a Quaker preacher and master mariner, having been himself a great
traveller and having endured repeated imprisonments in distant
countries, could appreciate the courage and success of her
unprecedented journey. At any rate, as the historian quaintly tells
us, he 'thought her worthy to make him a second wife.'
A few months after her return to England, but while she was still
unmarried, Mary Fisher wrote the following account of her travels to
some of the friends in whose company she had suffered imprisonment in
former days before her great journey.
'My dear love salutes you all in one, you have been often in my
remembrance since I departed from you, and being now returned
into England and many trials, such as I was never tried with
before, yet have borne my testimony for the Lord before the King
unto whom I was sent, and he was very noble unto me, and so were
all they that were about him: he and all that were about him
received the word of truth without contradiction. They do dread
the name of God, many of them, and eyes His messengers. There is
a royal seed amongst them which in time God will raise. They are
more near truth than many Nations, there is a love begot in me
towards them which is endless, but this is my hope concerning
them, that He who hath raised me to love them more than many
others will also raise His seed in them unto which my love is.
Nevertheless, though they be called Turks, the seed of them is
near unto God, and their kindness hath in some measure been
shewn towards His servants. After the word of the Lord was
declared unto them, they would willingly have me to stay in the
country, and when they could not prevail with me, they
proffered me a man and a horse to go five days' journey that was
to Constantinople, but I refused and came safe from them. The
English are more bad, most of them, yet hath a good word gone
through them, and some have received it, but they are few: so I
rest with my dear love to you all--Your dear sister, MARY
FISHER.'