HOPES DEFERRED
Having duly “wiped the dust of the Sublime Threshold with his
face”--a Turkish figure of speech not far removed from a literal
statement of fact--Sir John expected that the Capitulations would
forthwith be handed to him. There was not, in his mind, the shadow
of an excuse for putting him off longer. But when he applied to
the Kehayah, he found that, instead of everything being settled,
as he had been led to believe, the Grand Vizir and his Ministers
had only just begun to study the Articles. Indeed, the draft which
he had sent in two and a half months ago had been lost during the
festal confusion, and, after a long search (the Kehayah and the
Rais Effendi each saying that the other had it), was but lately
discovered in the hands of a page of the Grand Vizir’s.[139] So
all those messages about the Articles being read over, considered,
passed, etc. etc., had been from beginning to end a tissue of
poetic inventions! The trick was gross, but not unusual. Nor,
fairly viewed, was it undeserved: the Turks had begun by telling
Sir John frankly that no business could be transacted during the
Feasts; as he went on pestering them, they had no alternative but
to lie--politeness forbade any other course towards a man whose
wine they drank.
Although unspeakably disgusted, our Ambassador would fain suppress
his mortification: he was old enough, and man of the world
enough, to know that, where one cannot strike, one must smile.
But never was smiling more difficult. The Plague from Adrianople
now travelled to Karagatch, and first seized the daughter of our
Chaplain’s landlady.
Up to that moment the English had dwelt there as happily as might
have been expected. In spite of the Grand Signor’s edicts, the
village was a notorious resort for citizens in quest of liquid
solace. Every now and then the Aga of the Janissaries came to
see that the law was observed; but, as he made at least 10,000
dollars a year by its breach, he gave at least one hour’s notice
of his raids. The greatest purveyor of spirituous consolation in
the locality was Covel’s friend, the village priest, who used to
secure his stock by hiding it in the church. Englishmen could not,
of course, let themselves be outdone by Turks and Greeks. It has
always been the way of our race to develop its greatest capacity
in the hour of sternest need. So they drank deeply to find joy,
more deeply still to drown fear: trying all the while to appear
outwardly unconcerned. The Rev. John wrote home that he frequently
went into Adrianople, and had become so inured to funerals that he
minded no more meeting a dead man than a dead calf. That may be;
but when the little girl with whom he had been prattling died, it
was not so pleasant.
In a few days the epidemic spread through the whole village, and
drove the Ambassador and his party out into the fields, where they
set up their tents, and waited.
The Articles, once recovered from the Vizir’s page, were studied
by the pashas, revised by the Rais Effendi, and brought to the
Ambassador in what he understood to be their final form. When they
were read over to him, Sir John heaved a sigh of relief: this time
there could be no doubt that his ordeal was at an end. But alas!
when they were shown to the Grand Vizir, he caused some of them to
be straightway incorporated in the Capitulations, but the financial
clauses to be submitted to the Tefterdar for his opinion, and the
Article regarding Englishmen turning Turks to be referred to the
Mufti. So the pudding that had for a moment appeared ready to be
served up, was once more in the pot.[140]
The situation might have been amusing, but for the fact that Sir
John did not think it so. Sir John felt intensely unhappy, and when
Sir John was unhappy nobody connected with him could be happy. How
those wretched Dragomans must have blessed him!
A fresh series of conferences ensues. First the Dragomans are
sent to the Tefterdar, who wishes to know what do we want these
new clauses for, and why the Capitulations may not stand as they
are. They reply that the reason is very simple: we want to be
certain and not fall every day into disputes with ignorant and
impertinent Custom-House officials. The Tefterdar smiles: That,
he says, is not the true reason: we intend to start importing a
finer cloth and want to pay no more duty than for the cheaper.
The Tefterdar has hit the mark with wonderful accuracy; but the
Dragomans repudiate the vile insinuation. Then again, he goes on:
that Aleppo Hattisherif--why can it not remain as it has been for
so many years: why must it needs be put into the Capitulations now?
However, in the end, he declares himself satisfied and promises to
pass everything.[141]
But Sir John, whose soul has been stirred to most dismal
scepticism, cannot rest. “What troubled me most,” he says, “was
for the three Articles referrd’ to the Tefterdar which were of the
greatest concern, knowing that he was a Judicious, sower, severe
man, and in His apprehension very quick also.” What harm might
not this shrewd Turk work? Full of misgivings, next morning the
Ambassador goes once more into Adrianople and seeks a personal
interview with the Kehayah. At this conference he surpasses
himself: “I muster up all the Arguments that I could think of.”
After listening to his Excellency’s oration, the Kehayah, suave as
ever, says: “Ambassadour, all things by the Grace of God will be
well, for I will stand by you to the outmost, but send not your
Druggermen to the Tefterdar till I advise you the hour.”[142]
This speech brings sweet balm to the soul of Sir John, who then
proceeds to touch upon the title, Padishah. He is very proud to
have been the first to give His Majesty this title before the Grand
Signor; but that was only planting the seed: the fruit had yet to
be plucked. He receives assurances that, as the Kehayah thinks the
claim just and reasonable, he will move the Vizir again about it.
Further, our Ambassador mentions the question of the Latin friars,
and on this point also the Kehayah is eager to oblige: only he
needs a Petition (_Arz_) for the Vizir. Sir John, who has the paper
ready, hands it to him, and departs recomforted.[143]
The Cordeliers had all this time been with Sir John, filling
his ears day and night with the tale of their misfortunes,
exaggerating them, and laying the chief blame for them upon the
French Ambassador. They had received him at Jerusalem with all
honour imaginable and at great cost, expecting wonders from his
protection, and he had caused their ruin. The object of these
tirades obviously was to inspire Finch with the desire to capture
the position which Nointel had forfeited; and Finch would very
much like to do so. But he was cautious. He defended Nointel,
telling the Friars that the noble Marquis certainly did intend
nobly, according to his power; but the inexpedient murder of the
Greek Caloyers, added to Ahmed’s dislike of the French, had made
the Grand Vizir implacable. Of course, he would do all he could
for them. But the Ambassadors of France and Venice were their
official protectors. Therefore he advised them to inform those
Ambassadors that he was disposed to protect them, but that he
would be more earnest in it if they who had orally solicited his
aid before he left Constantinople would repeat their request in
writing. The “good Fathers” did as they were bidden; but the result
was negative. The Venetian replied that, for certain reasons, he
could not write to Sir John to undertake their protection, and
that he verily believed his undertaking it would not be pleasing
to the French Ambassador. The French Ambassador did not reply at
all. While both diplomats wished to make use of the Englishman
as an auxiliary, neither wanted to be supplanted by him. Sir John
understood the position perfectly: “if a Hattesheriffe had bin
procurd’ by me in favour of the Fathers it must have runn in the
King my Masters name, which the Fathers Protection being in both
their Capitulations had bin a slurr to them.”[144] Nevertheless, he
pursued his way, and after that most satisfactory interview with
the Kehayah he had great hopes of success.
Meanwhile he thought it advisable, plague or no plague, to go into
Adrianople again and pay his respects to the Mufti, upon whose
decision depended one at least of the new Articles. He found the
“Wisest of the Wise” sitting cross-legged, with a coarse kind of
linsey-woolsey blanket over his knees and three or four books
beside him: a swarthy, good-natured elderly gentleman, who received
the Ambassador with the same ceremony as the Grand Vizir. There was
no conversation worth mention. After some formal compliments, Sir
John hurried back to his rural retreat.[145]
There was another personage that Sir John would have been well
advised to cultivate even at some personal risk: a certain Mustafa
Pasha, the Grand Vizir’s brother-in-law, who, having already acted
as Ahmed’s Deputy, was destined to rise at no distant date to the
highest post open to a Turkish subject. But Sir John, whose energy
was limited and whose fear of the Plague was unlimited, contented
himself with sending to that pasha his Dragomans with a present and
an excuse. No doubt, he felt that by calling on the Mufti he had
done his part. It was now Sir Thomas’s turn to do his. Had they
not always hunted in couples?
To the Knight’s lot fell a far more interesting figure--the
much-honoured and fawned-upon Sheikh Vani Effendi, chief counsellor
and preacher to the Grand Signor: a holy man who knew how to retain
the Imperial favour by reassuring the Imperial conscience on
such points as giving to hunting and to the harem what was meant
for the Empire. Ahmed Kuprili had wisely avoided making a rival
of this redoubtable saint by taking him as an ally. In personal
appearance, the two had nothing in common. What Ahmed was like,
we know. Vani, as painted by the Rev. John, was a repulsive old
hunch-back with shrivelled flesh and one eye smaller than the
other, as if it had shrunk in the washing: an uglier saint could
not easily be imagined. Yet they shared a common passion. Ahmed
was animated by a statesman’s love for political morality; Vani
burned with a fanatic’s zeal for religious purity. It is hard to
determine which of the two unclean things he hated most: Moslem
heretics or Christian infidels. But it was amongst the latter that
his fervour had found its choicest victims. As far back as 1661 he
had announced that the decline of the Ottoman Empire was due to the
excessive liberty permitted to its Christian subjects--the liberty
to live amongst the Turks and to sell wine to them. The fires and
plagues which afflicted Constantinople were likewise traced to
divine anger at such unseemly tolerance. It was at his instigation
that Imperial edicts were issued forbidding the reconstruction of
ruined churches and the consumption of wine, and commanding all
infidels to clear out of the capital. While the Sultan threatened
wine-bibbers with death in this world, the Sheikh promised them
eternal damnation in the next. Every Friday he fulminated in one
mosque or another, and the Grand Signor himself was an assiduous
listener to his sermons.
Nevertheless, one regrets to hear, Vani Effendi imbibed in his
closet vast quantities of the liquor he cursed from the pulpit. It
may be, of course, that, like other saints, he issued some kind
of a special dispensation to himself in the matter. He certainly
held that indulgences which in an ordinary man would be sinful
were lawful to a saint. When one of his disciples asked him how he
reconciled the anathemas he continually hurled against the use of
gold and silver, of silk and pearls, and against certain other joys
of the flesh, with his own marked predilection for such things,
he replied: “Worldly goods are not evil in themselves; it is the
manner they are got by and used that decides the cases in which and
the persons to whom they may be permitted or forbidden.” For the
holy nothing is impure.[146]
Benighted unbelievers looked upon the Sheikh as a ranting
hypocrite--he reminded the English Cavaliers in Turkey of
the Puritan Pharisees they knew at home. But among his own
co-religionists Vani was above scandal. He was “more than a Pope
amongst them,” says the Rev. John: nay, in a sense, “this old
coxcomb” was more than the Grand Signor himself. For your Grand
Signor could only put you to death. But your saint could put you
in a particularly unpleasant corner of a particularly unpleasant
place, where people had garments of fire fitted unto them, boiling
water poured on their heads, and were beaten with maces of iron
for ever and ever. Or, on the other hand, he could procure you an
exceptionally comfortable pavilion in Paradise, furnished with
green cushions and beautiful carpets, and couches of silk and
gold; and a garden planted with shady trees full of all kinds of
fruit growing close at hand; and rivers of milk and honey flowing
conveniently by; and troops of fine black-eyed dancing girls with
complexions like rubies and pearls, to ensure domestic peace and
felicity. Either of these lots it was in Vani Effendi’s power to
bestow, and he made a very good thing of it in the way of presents:
a poor saint’s only recognised source of revenue.
From all this it is easy to understand the Knight’s anxiety to win
over Vani Effendi.
One of Sir John’s Dragomans and the renegade Count Bocareschi were
sent to solicit an interview. They returned with the answer that
Sir Thomas would be welcome. He went and acquitted himself after
a fashion which showed that he had not spent so many years in
diplomatic circles for nothing. With exquisite tact he attacked the
Sheikh on his weak side, putting to him a number of questions in
the tone of one consumed with a violent thirst for illumination.
Did women and children have souls of the same size as men’s? Could
women go to heaven? What infidels might be suffered to live amongst
True Believers? Had a good Christian a chance of salvation?
The Sheikh found some of these questions rather embarrassing,
and met them with evasions; but on others he was as precise and
positive as became one who had direct access to the Creator’s
inmost secrets. He seemed very glad to parade his exclusive
information, and very pleased with the man who gave him the
opportunity. The crafty Knight followed up his advantage by
becoming confidential. He told the Sheikh what kind of Christian he
was: he would rather die than worship images, pictures, crosses, or
the like abominations. He adored only one God, and he believed that
a Mohammedan who lived up to his Law would undoubtedly be saved.
For his part, he would never hurt a hair of a Mohammedan’s head on
account of religious difference, but would rather help and cherish
him in every possible way. On hearing this confession of faith,
all the bystanders (needless to say, the saint had taken care that
there should be a full house) cried out:
“_Ey adam_--a good man!”
Vani Effendi burst into tears, and said he had never thought any
Christian could come so near to being a Mussulman. But--but there
was no real perfection except in Islam. Would not Sir Thomas----?
Sir Thomas shook his curls, sadly. He was now over fifty-five years
of age, he said; his bones were hardened to their shapes, and so
were his opinions; it would be a difficult process, and one that
would require some time, to unrivet his mind.
Vani did not despair of completing the education of so promising a
pupil. He pressed him to come again, guaranteeing him full security
and freedom of speech. The Knight went no more. If the way to
Mohammed’s Paradise lay through the plague-stricken streets of
Adrianople, he preferred to stay outside it. But he continued the
discussion through the disreputable Count, until Vani (with better
taste) intimated that Bocareschi was not a fit channel for divine
truth, and desired the Knight, if he had any more questions, to
put them down in writing, and he would answer in like manner. But
the Knight had had enough.[147] By that time the necessity which
had impelled him to brave the sickness and enter the lists of
Moslem theology appeared to be over, or nearly over.
The Tefterdar, having made it quite clear that he was not duped
by our diplomacy, passed the clauses submitted to him; and the
Kehayah, having thus redeemed his pledge, reminded Sir John’s
Dragomans of the bakshish they had promised. Sir John wasted no
time. He gives twice who gives quickly; besides, the reminder was
tantamount to an intimation that his deliverance was now actually
at hand. In the plenitude of his gratitude, Sir John even proposed
to bestow some of the Levant Company’s gold upon the Tefterdar,
who had never asked for any. Then, contrary to every expectation,
new difficulties sprang up; bringing with them fresh doubts and
disquietudes.
When, on the appointed day, the Treasurer of the Levant Company and
the Dragomans came to the Kehayah with the cash, that gentleman
said he could not touch it before he had spoken with the Vizir.
The Rais Effendi proved less coy. He very kindly pocketed his
present and showed the bearers the Capitulations being drawn up
fair. Fair they were, indeed, so far as calligraphy went; but the
Dragomans noted that one Article--the Article about English factors
turning Turks--had, in the process of copying, undergone a curious
transmutation. In the draft read to Sir John, though the evidence
of Christian witnesses was not granted, it had been conceded that
the proofs of embezzlement should be derived from the Levant
Company’s books and bills of lading: wherewith his Excellency was
well satisfied. This concession had entirely vanished.[148] In Sir
John’s own phrase, “the Mufti castrats the Article as to manner of
Proofe,” or, “the Byshop had His foot in it.” However, the point
was not worth fighting for--English factors were not likely to
turn Turks every day. The thing that made Sir John uneasy was the
Kehayah’s new-born repugnance to bribery. What did it mean?
Sir John was not left in doubt long. When his Dragomans went to
the Kehayah for an answer to his Petition on behalf of the Latin
Fathers, they brought back word that his Excellency would do well
to give up all thoughts of that matter. The Vizir was inflexible:
“He cannot deferr the Execution of the sentence any longer; for the
messenger being now returnd’ from Jerusalem which He had employd’,
He was resolvd’ to issue out the Gran Signor’s Command immediately
in order to putt the sentence in execution.” Sir John bore this
blow with comparative equanimity. He had at first been led to
believe that the sentence involved expulsion of the Cordeliers
from Jerusalem and confiscation of their convents. But two months’
close intercourse with the “good Fathers,” assisted perhaps by the
wish to minimise in his own eyes the magnitude of his failure,
enabled him to see things in their true proportions. “Now, Sir,”
he tells the Secretary of State, “you will wonder that so great a
noise should be made about so small a thing, the sentence being
onely this, That the Latin Fathers who were in possession of the
Luoghi Santi at Jerusalem are to be lookd’ upon as living in the
Patriarchicall See of Jerusalem, and so under the Patriarch: which
jurisdiction is onely to be shown in this, that when the Greek
Easter and theirs fall on the same day, the Ceremony’s of Palme
Sunday and Easter Day are to be performd’ first by the Greeks,
and the Latins are to pay a small recognition besides in mony;
Both which points the Latin Fathers look upon as renouncing the
Pope’s Supremacy; For the rest they are to enjoy their convents and
freedome of Mass as formerly.”[149]
It was less easy for our Ambassador to bear another disappointment.
For months the Kehayah had nourished his hopes about the title of
Padishah; and now he sent him word that this also was a thing that
the Grand Vizir would not hear of: “He was loath that I above all
should depart from this Court any wayes discontented, but He could
not with safety alter the ancient style.”[150] Had mortal ever
suffered such vexing frustrations? Why did the Turks tease him
so--holding the cup to his lips only to snatch it away?
On the other hand, the copying out of the Capitulations seems to
be going on satisfactorily. The Dragomans daily report progress;
they are engrossed; signed by the Rais Effendi; decorated with
the Imperial cipher by the Nishanji-bashi; and so on. At last
it is announced that they are in the hands of the Grand Vizir,
who only waits for an opportunity to present them to the Grand
Signor for signature. That opportunity seems to the sorely tried
Ambassador very long in coming, and he thinks to accelerate matters
by ordering his Dragomans to inquire into the Vizir’s pleasure
concerning his bakshish. But here also the unexpected happens: the
Dragomans are told that Ahmed Kuprili has never hitherto taken
anything from any ambassador and will not now: what he did, he did
purely for right and justice.[151] It was an astounding statement
for a Grand Vizir to make, and the most astounding part of it was
that it was true. Ahmed had never soiled his hands. His probity was
notorious. Strange, that Sir John alone should never have heard of
this peculiarity.
At any rate, it now became evident to him that the Vizir knew
nothing of the demand made on his behalf by his underlings. It was
another of their little tricks; and another lesson for Sir John
in the mysteries of Ottoman procedure. He does not seem to have
profited greatly by it. For he sends his Dragomans again to press
the Kehayah about the title of Padishah. The Kehayah replies that
he has done all he could, but without effect. Yet, that wily and
oily one adds, the Ambassador need not despair: so desirous is
he to oblige the English, and to spite the French, that he would
gladly spend five purses (or 2500 dollars) of his own money to get
this feather for the King of England. On whom was he to spend that
money? The matter rested entirely with the Vizir, and the Vizir was
proof against corruption. Obvious as these reflections were, they
did not occur to Sir John. The Kehayah’s suave message, and the
gentle hint it conveyed, spur him to fresh exertion: he immediately
orders the Treasurer and the Dragomans to renew to the Kehayah
their offer of bakshish, and moreover, since the Grand Vizir has so
courteously refused money, to tell his Steward that the Ambassador
has a copy of the Atlas which the Dutch Resident some time before
had presented to the Grand Signor--a work in twelve volumes which
had pleased the Sultan so much that he had commanded its instant
translation into Turkish.[152] If the Kehayah thinks this gift
would be acceptable, his Excellency will bring it to the Vizir
together with some superfine vests of cloth at his final audience.
The Kehayah undertakes to sound the Vizir, and meanwhile graciously
signifies his own readiness to pocket the English gold without
further delay.
Even bribery, however, did not run in Turkey smoothly. Early next
morning the Treasurer and Dragomans carried the moneybags to the
Kehayah’s house and waited for him to come out of the women’s
apartments. After waiting for some time in vain, they were informed
that he had taken horse at the door of his harem and was riding
away to the Vizir’s. Swiftly they ran after him with the coin. He
bade them deliver it to his Hasnadar or Treasurer. Back to the
house they went and begged the Hasnadar to relieve them of their
burden. But the Hasnadar absolutely refused to touch the money
without a formal order from his master. He had many times suffered
in such cases--the sum paid him proving less than it ought to have
been. So the Dragomans went to the Vizir’s palace and spoke to the
Kehayah of this new difficulty. He was kind enough to write two
words on a scrap of paper, which removed the Hasnadar’s scruples.
The transaction was concluded as if it had been payment of a debt:
the Hasnadar bending and testing the pieces of gold and counting
them twice over.[153]
By this time Sir John was fairly tired. Italian diplomacy was
simple, transparent, and child-like beside this Ottoman maze with
its supple turns and sudden twists, its infinite ambiguities and
bewildering mutabilities. The game was much too elusive for Sir
John’s grasp: the moment you thought your fish safe in the net,
somehow it slipped through the meshes; the moment a concession
seemed crystallised, it melted again. Nothing was ever fixed;
everything was fluid. Our metaphors are rather perplexed; but so
was Sir John’s mind: so would be anybody’s mind after several
months of promises and refusals continually interchanging. He did
not know what to think. “I am sensible enough,” he confesses, “that
all buissenesse of moment is hardly done; but here the perplexity
of doeing affayrs is still attended with more of difficulty and
intrigue, by having to doe with a people who neither in language,
custome, manners, or religion, have any affinity with us.”[154] He
longs to leave this baffling scene of suave, slippery Kehayahs and
be back in his peaceful house at Pera--that scene of retirement
and wrens from which he set out--how long ago? But hitherto his
fortitude has not been tried beyond easy endurance.
FOOTNOTES:
[139] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 108.
[140] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 108; Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9,
1675.
[141] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 109.
[142] Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9, 1675.
[143] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 109.
[144] Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9, 1675.
[145] Covel’s _Diaries_, p. 268.
[146] See Winchilsea to Nicholas, May 20, 1662; Harvey to
Williamson, Sept. 5, 1670, _S.P. Turkey_, 17 and 19. Rycaut’s
_Memoirs_, pp. 105, 154, 285; Hammer, vol. xi. pp. 163-4, 336.
[147] Covel’s _Diaries_, pp. 269-72.
[148] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 110.
[149] Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9, 1675.
[150] _Ibid._
[151] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 110.
[152] See Rycaut’s _Memoirs_, p. 318.
[153] _Life of Dudley North_, p. 111.
[154] Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9, 1675.