Preparations for leaving Acre--Anecdotes of Gezzàr
Pasha--Intrigues of his Women in his absence with the
Mamelukes--Suspicions and plans of Gezzàr--Slaughter of the
Women--Alarm and Rebellion of the Mamelukes--They take refuge in
a tower and threaten to blow up the powder magazine--They escape
in the night--General defection of the troops, who storm Tyre,
but are routed before Acre--Further vengeance of Gezzàr.
Active preparations were now made for continuing our journey along the
coast. Horses were purchased for the servants,[58] and camels hired for
the baggage. But, before dismissing the subject of Acre altogether,
it will not be amiss to relate one or two anecdotes touching that
extraordinary man, Hadj Ahmed el Gezzàr, a pasha, whose ferocious
character seems to partake more of the brute than of human nature,
but whose vices have in some measure been redeemed by his patronage
of literary men and by the many useful buildings which he erected
and establishments which he founded. Still, amongst the tyrants whom
we read of in the history of the Turks, whose annals are fruitful
in such monsters, few appear to have been more sanguinary than El
Gezzàr. Although he had at this time been dead some years, yet his
name was perpetually the theme of conversation; and traits of great
vice and great virtue were everywhere recorded of him in a way to
leave an impression on the mind that he was a man of no common stamp.
The following is an imperfect narrative of the Mameluke sedition,
an important event in his government, and which, arising from the
suspicious jealousy of a lustful disposition, had nearly brought his
career to an early termination.
El Gezzàr was, from causes which it is not necessary here to detail,
appointed Pasha both of Damascus and Acre. His power was at this time
at its height, and his cruelties were supposed to have reached their
_acmè_ also. It would seem, however, that the hitherto known
scale of human tyranny was deficient with respect to him. As Pasha of
Damascus, he was obliged to conduct the pilgrims to Mecca: he left
behind him a harým full of white beauties; it was said nearly one
hundred. Of his Mamelukes, the whole number of whom was four hundred,
half was thought unnecessary on the long journey on which he was gone,
and therefore remained at Acre.
No sooner had El Gezzàr departed on the pilgrimage, than the eunuchs
of the harým relaxed somewhat in their accustomed severity. At certain
hours of the day, when the officers and attendants of the palace were
moving about in the court below, the ladies would coax their black
Arguses for permission to repair to the blinds of the windows to look
at them. As they disputed on the respective merits of the gentlemen
who passed, each would be led to select her favourite, and, by an easy
transition, would feel desirous of informing him of her preference.
Writing was dangerous, and a message still more so; but the language of
flowers is understood in the East; and the present of a budding rose, a
pink, or a carnation, is the billet-doux of the country.
Thus several intimations were given from those within to those without;
and the agas and Mamelukes no doubt communicated their good fortune,
each to his friend. Four or five of them entered into a secret
resolution to attempt an entrance to the harým. One was the khasnadár,
or treasurer of the Pasha, and brother of Selim, newly appointed
pasha of two tails, the seraskier of El Gezzàr, and who had been left
kekhyah, or vicegerent, in his absence.
The black eunuchs, who are the keepers of the harým, have each a key of
the outer door. Whether by bribes or otherwise, the paramours contrived
to obtain admission. After midnight, when all was quiet, the khasnadár
and his companions opened the door; and, we may suppose, previously
apprized where they were to go, found their expecting mistresses.
In the mean time the arduous and painful track of the Desert was traced
and retraced, and El Gezzàr re-entered Acre. On his first visit to the
harým, his keen eye soon told him that all was not as it used to be. To
their submissive and servile manners was added something which showed
him that other thoughts reigned in their bosoms besides dress and
ornaments. He asked himself what it could be, and soon found a clue to
guide his suspicions.
Sitting, one day, at a window that looked on the outer door of the
harým, he observed a Christian, named Nummum, with a nosegay in his
hand, knock at the door and deliver it to a slave. At night, when
he retired to his harým, he thought he saw the same nosegay stuck
carelessly under the tarbûsh[59] of one of his Sereahs, the lovely
Zulyka, with the flowers hanging down and the stalks upwards according
to the Eastern manner. “Come hither, girl: where did you get that
nosegay?” said the Pasha. She readily answered, “Out of the garden.”
He put on a smiling look--“Come, come, I know better than that: I saw
Nummum, the Nazareen, with it. Tell me, my girl, who your admirer is,
and I’ll see if I cannot give you to him in marriage. I have intended
to find you a husband for some time.” The foolish Zulyka believed him
to be in earnest, and told him she thought it came from the khasnadàr.
Previous to this accident, whilst a prey to secret jealousy, his
suspicions had fallen on the Mamelukes, and he had resolved within
himself that he would make such an example of some of those who had
been left behind, as should deter any one in future from similar
attempts on his honour. His scheme was deep-laid, and not the gust of
sudden passion. One day he told Selim Pasha, his seraskier, that he
was resolved on an incursion into the province of the Drûzes, against
the Emir Yusef. Disputes between El Gezzàr and his neighbours were too
common to cause this order to excite any great surprise. Letters were
accordingly written to the neighbouring governors secretly to hold
themselves and their troops in readiness, and the place of meeting was
to be at Khan Hasbéyah.
Selim Pasha assembled the Hawáry, the Arnaûts, and the Dellati troops;
whilst El Gezzàr was employed in mustering his Mamelukes, giving some
leave to go, ordering some to stay behind, according to the selection
he had made in his own mind of the guilty from the innocent: and the
khasnadár was among those who remained at Acre. Selim marched with
his men, and arrived at Hasbéyah, where he encamped, as was agreed,
to give time to the other chiefs to join him. Thus El Gezzàr had
contrived, under pretext of a war, to get rid of all such as he thought
likely to be troublesome to him in the execution of his bloody plan.
For his Mamelukes, if together, formed a body of 400 youths, and were
also much connected, by ties of intimacy and friendship, with most
of the officers of the pasha’s troops: so that to attempt a signal
revenge, when thus united, he considered too hazardous, and accordingly
separated them by the above stratagem.
It was close upon the march of Selim that the accident of Zulyka’s
nosegay occurred, and gave him a clue to begin his inquiries. No sooner
had she, as above related, confessed to him her partiality for the
khasnadár than, pretending to be satisfied, he rose from his seat, took
his balta[60] with him, and walked into his garden. When there, he
ordered Zulyka to be sent to him. She came; and the Pasha, no longer
concealing his rage, furiously seized her by the hair and threw her on
the ground: then placing his foot on her neck, and holding his balta as
if he would strike her: “Wretch! tell me the truth,” he cried: “thou
hast already confessed thyself guilty, and nothing but the denunciation
of thy accomplices can save thee.” In vain she protested that she had
no accomplices, was conscious of no guilt: he drew his sabre, and,
with his own hand, severed her head from that bosom which in happier
moments she had made the tyrant’s pillow! He commanded the corpse to be
thrown into a well. It is related that three others, whose fidelity he
most doubted, met with a similar fate at his hands: when fatigued, and
aware how much more yet remained to be done, he sent for four Hawára
soldiers, men naturally of a ferocious character, and, ordering fresh
victims into his presence, bade them continue the work of death.
Quite unusual as it is for men even of a grave character, more
especially soldiers, to enter the harým of a pasha, their summons
caused much wonder among the Mamelukes in attendance in the seraglio.
The cries of the women who had perished had already been heard: but
the frequent use of the bastinado within made them at first pay little
attention to such sounds. As they were busied in conjectures on what
this proceeding could mean, a repetition of the cries was heard.
These, uttered with all the vehemence of distress, suddenly ceased.
They remained mute and listening:--again the piercing scream was heard,
and again as suddenly was hushed: but the voice was different from the
former.
Assembling round the harým door, they contrived to speak to one of
the harým agasis. They induced him to come out, and then asked him
what those cries meant. He pretended that there was nothing unusual
going forward; but they were not to be deceived; and, by threats and
promises, at last extracted the truth from him that the pasha was
murdering his women. The Mamelukes heard no more. Conscious of a
participation in their guilt, they looked at each other with appalled
countenances, and the stoutest heart trembled for a moment. At last
they took courage; and some of the most resolute, and perhaps the
most culpable, spoke. They asked, “What is to be expected for us from
a cruel and jealous disposition like El Gezzàr’s? we shall be the
next victims; let us be true to each other, and either die together
or save ourselves.” They immediately flew to their apartments, armed
themselves, and prepared for resistance. We have seen that the
khasnadár was one most implicated in this affair. As master of the
treasury, he had his apartment in a tower, which formed part of the
palace. This tower, for the sake of security, was more than commonly
strong, with an iron door and iron grated windows, and it looked on
the harým. To this building they betook themselves: they barred and
blockaded the doors, and waited the event.
In the mean time, El Gezzàr, with his four executioners, was carrying
on the horrid massacre, and fifteen young and beautiful creatures
were murdered that night. When the slaughter was over, and the terror
that prevailed within a little abated, some of his harým-agasis[61]
took courage to tell him of the defection of his Mamelukes. He was
furious: he sent to them immediately, and commanded them to quit the
tower. Their reply was firm--“It is true we are your property; but you
have imbrued your hands so deeply in human blood, and are so thirsty
for ours, that our measures are irrevocably taken.” It so happened
that the powder-magazine adjoined the treasury, and was a part of the
tower. They added--“If you attempt to dislodge us from this place,
we will fight as long as we can defend ourselves, and then will set
fire to the powder-magazine, and signalize our end with the fall of
El Gezzàr and the destruction of Acre; but if you will suffer us to
depart unmolested, we will bid adieu to you and Acre for ever.” Frantic
with rage, he fired on them with his own hand from the windows of his
apartment; but was compelled to shelter himself, as they fired on him
in return.
The news soon spread through the city: the extraordinary event of
slaves in rebellion to their master, and the noise of musketry heard
from within, with the various reports of a general extermination of the
women in the harým: all was so full of horror, that the inhabitants
retired trembling to their homes, and, shutting their doors, looked
forward to the end with a mixture of curiosity and consternation. The
segmàn bashi, or commander of the infantry, was the only military
officer in the place: he thought it prudent to remain quiet, and the
pasha did not call on him to act.
In the mean time, no one dared approach the pasha; he foamed and raged,
and, in his fury, would listen to no reasoning. At length, the mufti
and some others of the principal inhabitants resolved to enter his
presence, cost what it might. “We will bring him to reason if we can,
and if we cannot,” they said, “he must kill us.” They approached him,
and began to intercede for the lives of the Mamelukes: they then spoke
a little plainer, and told him he only endangered his own life and
that of all the citizens by persisting in confining the Mamelukes to a
place where one desperate act might blow them all to atoms. Finally,
they begged him, for the honour of a pasha’s name and the odium it
would bring upon him, to give the culprits a free passage. El Gezzàr
seemed to yield: he said “He would not hinder their departure, provided
they would only appear in his presence that he might reproach them
with their ingratitude.” But the Mamelukes declined this dangerous
proposition, and adhered to their resolution: so that the good counsel
of the elders profited nothing, and probably left a rancour against
themselves in the heart of the tyrant.
For three days, matters remained in this uncertain state. On the
fourth, it was known that the Mamelukes, to the number of fifteen, had
found means to escape, being those arrived at manhood, whilst the boys
were left behind to their fate. Those who had got away bent their steps
towards Khan Hasbéya, and, on the fifth day, in the morning, arrived
at Selim Pasha’s tent. Great was the surprise that their appearance
excited: the Mamelukes of the pasha, with their horses fatigued, with
no corn, no customary pomp--all announced that something was not right.
When the khasnadár reached his brother’s tent, he related to him what
had happened; and, when he had brought his story to the period of their
taking refuge in the tower, he continued--“Thus shut up, and seeing no
movement among the soldiers or inhabitants in our favour, we thought
it better to contrive some plan of escape. You know that window of
the tower which opens on the ditch: you are aware, likewise, that the
money chests deposited in the treasury are all bound with large cords:
having, therefore, with our baltas and battleaxes worked out some of
the iron bars, we made use of the ropes to let ourselves down. But
first we ransacked the chests, and each loaded his pockets and girdle
with as much money as he could take; then, one by one, we descended
through the window: by the care of some well-wishers in the city,
horses were waiting for us, and we found ourselves to be fifteen in
number and outside of the walls. Here we sent defiance to the pasha,
and told him he might now take us if he could.
Selim Pasha did not deliberate long on which side he should range
himself. He was a Mameluke, and his brother was a leader of the
fugitives: he therefore assembled all the principal officers of the
camp, and addressed them thus--“You see here a body of men whom the
jealousy of a cruel pasha would have sacrificed; but who is that pasha?
A rebel to the Porte, driven out of Damascus, and a usurper of the
government he holds. For myself,” said he, “you know the sultan some
time since made me _waly_[62] of Sayda and its dependencies:
to him I owe allegiance, and not to one who is denounced by him
as a rebel. Let us then, in avenging the wrongs of these injured
men, be faithful to our sovereign: let us--instead of wantonly
attacking a prince, against whom we were not sent on the grounds of
real aggression, but to remove us out of the way, in order that a
tyrant might with more facility execute his bloody ends against our
brethren--let us unite ourselves with this prince, and, marching
against the monster, offer his head as a just tribute to the Porte.”
His advice was received with acclamations. A horseman was despatched to
Emir Yusef, who, when acquainted with the defection of the Mamelukes,
immediately joined the league and aided it with money and troops. After
some days, the allied forces marched to Sayda, and there they remained
for a time to mature their plans.
El Gezzàr was quite deserted: his soldiers had abandoned him, and
he was loved by no one; yet was he not dismayed. He sent for his
counsellors, one by one, and asked them what they would advise him to
do: almost all told him his case was desperate, and that he would do
well to fly. “Take what you will with you,” said they, “but leave us,
and save the town from the sufferings of a siege.” He scorned their
advice. “Go, my friends: God will manage it; and I shall some day have
the pleasure of thanking you for your prudent counsels.”
Hadj Ali, the author of this narrative, was a soldier under Yahya
Aga, who commanded a few troops, and was, when these events happened,
encamped about three hours’ march from Acre. When Yahya heard what was
going forward, he hesitated whose cause he should espouse, whether
that of the pasha at Acre or of the pasha at Sayda. Ali signified that
he was ready to follow him wherever he chose to go; but added that,
if he thought obedience to an unjust master was a less sacred duty
than fidelity to his comrades, with whom he had been bred up and had
fought, then it was with those comrades he must connect his fortunes
and conquer or perish with them. “And such is my resolve,” replied the
Aga: “their fate and mine shall be one!” He accordingly struck his
tents, and joined Selim Pasha, who had quitted Sayda, and was lying
before Tyre.
Tyre had remained faithful to El Gezzàr, and shut its gates against
Selim. Although the town had no garrison, and the whole population
did not amount to more than 2,000, they were willing to try the issue
of a contest. But, on the following day, Selim stormed and sacked
it, finding a very considerable booty. The women were violated; the
houses plundered; and what could not be carried off was sold to camp
followers, or thrown away in waste. Property of all kinds lay scattered
in the streets, and all the excesses of Turkish warfare were here
committed.
On the next day but one, Selim Pasha reached the environs of Acre,
and encamped at Abu Ataby, where were provisions in abundance. What
was el Gezzàr now to do? Soldiers he had none, and but few friends.
His fate seemed certain, and every body foretold his ruin. Still,
however, he remained firm. By means of emissaries, he contrived to
disseminate a spirit of defection among the troops of his enemy, in
holding forth the immense rewards that would attend those who should
show themselves faithful to him. He insinuated that the lot of a brave
soldier could only be prosperous under a warlike leader like himself,
whose contentions with his neighbours, however they might distress the
labouring and manufacturing classes, filled the purses of the troops.
These, with many other arguments adapted to the occasion, had the
desired effect.
El Gezzàr then armed a number of labourers, who happened to be in Acre
employed in buildings which he was erecting, and joined them to a few
regular soldiers. They were instructed that, at midnight, when the
enemy might be supposed asleep, they were to steal forth secretly until
they came within the precincts of the camp. Their watchword was to be
_Balta_, the instrument that El Gezzàr always carried about him,
and the very name of which, from the fatal purposes to which he had so
often turned it, inspired terror. On arriving at the camp, they were to
set up a cry of Balta, balta, and to fire their muskets with as much
noise as possible. It was supposed by him that the enemy, believing
themselves attacked by a larger force than they really were, would be
panic-struck, and might take to flight: and his anticipations were
verified.
The precautions used to prevent surprise in European camps are unknown
or seldom practised in those of Orientals. Fear magnified the number
of the assailants, and the rebels fled in disorder. Selim Pasha and
Suliman Aga (afterwards pasha of Acre) hovered for some time round the
scene of action; until, finding that all was lost, they bent their
way to Damascus; and, the stragglers on the road joining them here
and there, they made up a body of 300 or 400 men. The Delatis and
Arnaûts retired to Nazareth, and soon afterwards, on professing their
penitence, were received again into the service of El Gezzàr.
From Damascus Selim Pasha took the road to Aleppo, and from Aleppo
went to Constantinople, plundering the villages in his route for
subsistence. On arriving in Constantinople, he was seen by the Sultan,
on a day of royal diversion, and had the honour of exhibiting together
with his Mamelukes in some martial exercises before him. The Sultan
took notice of them, and they were sent to the army, at that time in
the field against the Russians, with a promise that, when the campaign
was over, Selim Pasha should return to Syria with firmans to remove El
Gezzàr from his government. But Selim Pasha was killed in the storming
of Ismael, and El Gezzàr thus lost a troublesome enemy.
Of the Mamelukes left behind in the tower some were pardoned, some
were mutilated by the loss of their noses, eyes, or ears; and some
were punished still more severely. The rage of El Gezzàr was not yet
appeased. He embarked the remainder of his women for Cairo, where he
caused them to be sold. He vented his impotent fury against the trees
that had afforded shade to their guilty loves, and against every object
that could remind him of his dishonour. Will it be credited? The very
cats of the harým were destroyed, that nothing might exist that had
witnessed his shame.[63]