Part 13

The Pasha was not in the city, having encamped opposite Buda, in the plains near Pesth, called Rakos,[148] where, after the custom of the Hungarians, he was holding a muster of Turkish feudal militia. Several of the neighbouring Sanjak-beys were with him, but more were expected; and so when I asked for an audience, he put me off for three days, in order that he might have a greater assemblage of Sanjak-beys and soldiers. On receiving a summons, I crossed the Danube and came to his camp. He made many complaints of the outrages committed by certain Hungarians. There is one point in which the Turks and Hungarians have precisely the same way of proceeding, the latter being quite as bad as the former. When they have committed some outrage, they complain of their unfortunate victim as if he were the one in fault. The Pasha also added threats of reprisals, thinking, probably, that I should be intimidated by the presence of his army. I replied briefly that his charge against the Hungarians might with much better reason be brought against the Turks. I told him that, even on my way there, I had come across soldiers of his who were engaged in plundering and harrying the property of some unhappy Christian peasants who were _subjects of his Royal Majesty_ (King Ferdinand), which was perfectly true. The Pasha replied that he had handed over to the soldiers certain rebellious Christians, who were _the Sultan’s subjects_, to be chastised and pillaged. After rejoinders of this kind, he dismissed me, more dead than alive, for this was the day on which my fever recurred.

On the next day we set out for Gran, under the escort of some Turkish horsemen. My intention was to cross the Danube, and spend the night in a village which lies on the opposite bank over against Gran, so that the next day I might reach Komorn at an earlier hour, and in this way lessen the effects of the fever, which I expected to recur on that day. Accordingly I requested our conductor to send some one forward to bring the ferry-bridge across to our bank, with a view to accelerating our passage. Although there were several reasons which rendered this plan scarcely feasible, still, partly from a wish to please me, and partly because he was anxious to announce my coming to the Sanjak-bey, he despatched a couple of men.

When the men had ridden forward for the space of one hour, they noticed four horsemen under the shade of a tree, which stood at a little distance from the road. As they were dressed in Turkish fashion, they took them for Turks, and rode up. On coming nearer, they inquired whether the country in that direction was fairly quiet. The four horsemen made no reply, but charged on them with drawn swords, and slashed one of the Turks over the face, cutting his nose nearly off, so that the greater part of it hung down on his chin. One of the Turks was leading his horse by the rein. This the horsemen seized, and one of them mounted on its back, leaving his own scurvy jade in its place. After this exchange of steeds they took to flight, while the Turks fell back to our party—the man whose face had been damaged bellowing lustily, and showing the horrid wound he had received. They told us to make ready for fighting our way through an ambuscade they had discovered. Even I got into the saddle, in the hope of encouraging my men. But we came too late; the battle was all over. The fellows, who were far more anxious to carry off their booty than to bandy blows, were already galloping back to Raab, a town which our people hold, and of the garrison of which they formed a part. The Turks pointed them out to us, as they rode across the neighbouring hills on their way to Raab.

After this adventure we came to Gran, where next day the Sanjak-bey, after giving me a hearty welcome, recommended me, amongst other things, not to forget the proof I had just received of how insolent Hungarian soldiers could be, and to remember that not even the respect due to the presence of his Royal Majesty’s ambassador had kept them from playing their old tricks. He requested me also to see that the horse which had been taken away was returned. Meanwhile, my friend the Turk who had been wounded was standing in a corner of the Sanjak-bey’s hall, with his head covered with bandages and his nose freshly sewn up. As he drew his breath there was a kind of hoarse, uncomfortable sound. He kept asking me for something to comfort him under his misfortune. I promised to give him that which should cure his wound, and presented him with two gold ducats. He wanted more, but the Sanjak-bey cut him short, and declared that it was enough, and more than enough, to cure him, reminding him that his misfortune must have been predestined, and therefore I could not justly be held responsible for it!

After this I was allowed to resume my journey, and on the same day reached Komorn. Here I waited patiently for my fever to come on at its regular time. At last I found that it had left me, and that the Turkish fever had not ventured to cross into Christian territory! Hereupon I gave thanks to God for delivering me, in one and the same day, both from sickness and also from the toils and troubles of a long and difficult journey.

Two days later I reached Vienna, but I did not find my most gracious master Ferdinand, King of the Romans, in the city. At present his place at Vienna is occupied by Maximilian, King of Bohemia, whose kindness has made me well nigh forget the hardships I have undergone; but I am still so reduced by loss of flesh and lack of care, and the inconveniences arising from travelling whilst sick, that many imagine I have been poisoned by the Turks. At any rate, the other day, when the Archduke Ferdinand was here and I bowed to him, on his asking one of his people who I was, the man replied, loud enough for me to hear, that ‘my looks might tell from what country I had come;’ probably intending to suggest that I had swallowed the same sort of mushroom as Claudius[149] of old. But I am quite certain that I am suffering from nothing of the kind, and that after a little rest I shall recover my colour, my strength, and my general condition; indeed, I feel every day that there is a gradual change for the better.

In the meantime I have sent news of my return to the King of the Romans, informing him at the same time of the six months’ truce, and giving him a short account of the negotiations in which I have been engaged. When he returns from the Diet, in the affairs of which he is now engaged, I shall be able to give him a full report.

Many, who from fear or some other reason, shrank from accompanying me to Constantinople, would now give a handsome sum for the honour of having returned with me. Their case reminds me of the famous line in Plautus—

‘Let him who would eat the kernel crack the nut.’

A man has no right to ask for _part_ of the profit, if he has not taken on himself _part_ of the work.

You have now got an account of my journey to Amasia as well as the history of my journey to Constantinople; the yarn I have spun is rough and ready, just as I should tell it if we were chatting together. You will be bound to excuse the want of polish, inasmuch as I have complied with your request, and despatched my letter at an early date. In mere fairness you cannot expect fine writing from a man who is hurried and overwhelmed with business. As to fine writing indeed, I do not believe I am capable of it, even if I had time to think and leisure to compose.

But while I own my deficiencies in this respect, I have the satisfaction of feeling that I can claim for my poor narrative one merit, compared with which all other merits are as nothing. It is written in a spirit of honesty and truth.

Vienna, September 1, 1555.[150]

LETTER II.

Reasons for returning to Constantinople—Roostem restored to power—Negotiations—Busbecq’s nose and ears in danger—Bajazet—Account of Solyman’s family—Story of Prince Jehangir—Roxolana’s partiality for Bajazet—The temper of Mustapha’s partisans—Bajazet suborns a man to personate Mustapha—The impostor in Bulgaria—His artful address—Solyman’s appreciation of the crisis—The Sanjak-beys—Pertau Pasha—Seizure of the impostor—Tortured by order of the Sultan—The impostor’s revelations—Drowned at midnight—Danger of Bajazet—Roxolana’s intercession for her son—Bajazet’s visit to his father—The cup of sherbet—Bajazet more fortunate than Mustapha—Achmet Pasha—Various reasons assigned for his execution—Strange request to his executioner—Busbecq’s best friends.

I have received your letter, in which you tell me that you have heard of my departure for Thrace, while you wonder at the infatuation which has induced me to revisit a country destitute of civilisation, and notorious for deeds of cruelty.

Well, you wish me to tell you of my journey, the position of affairs when I arrived, my reception at Constantinople, etc.; in short, you want to know how I am, whether I am enjoying myself, and whether I have any immediate prospect of returning. You claim an answer to your questions on the score of our ancient friendship.

Here is my reply to your inquiries. First, the report which you heard of my return hither was quite correct, nor need you be surprised at my taking this step. My word was pledged, and having once undertaken the duty, I could not consistently draw back.

My position was this: I had been appointed by my most gracious master Ferdinand, King of the Romans, ambassador in ordinary to Solyman for several years. This appointment, however, and my acceptance of it, appeared to rest on the assumption that peace had been concluded; still, as the hope of an arrangement had not been altogether abandoned, I did not, until the matter was finally settled, one way or the other, feel justified in avoiding the toils and risks of my present position.

Accordingly though I was under no delusion as to the extent of the danger I was incurring, and should have much preferred to hand over the duty to another, still, since I could not find a substitute, I was obliged to obey the wish of my most kind and considerate Sovereign—a wish which to me was law. As soon as he had returned from the session of the Imperial Diet,[151] and had given me an interview, in the course of which I informed him of the state of our negotiations with Solyman, he ordered me to hold myself in readiness to carry back his answer to the Sultan.

It was winter, and the weather was bad, being wet, cold, and windy, when I was ordered back to Constantinople with despatches which could hardly be acceptable to those to whom I went. Here you will exclaim at my infatuation in venturing a second time on such a risk. I cannot look on it in this light. It seems to me that what was the right course before must be the right course now. And surely the proper measure of the credit to be attached to an honourable act, is the amount of toil and danger involved in its accomplishment.

In the month of November I left Vienna to retrace my steps to the shores of the Euxine. I have no intention of abusing your patience by wearying you with a repetition of the trifling occurrences which befell me on my way, for I think you must have been so bored with the account of my former journey, as hardly yet to have recovered from its effects. Repetition is all the more needless, because we took almost identically the same route as before.

Early in January I reached Constantinople, after losing one of my companions from an attack of acute fever, brought on by the hardships of the road. I found my colleagues safe and sound, but a great change had taken place in the Turkish Government. Bajazet, the younger son of Solyman, had been delivered from a position of serious danger, and forgiven by his father. Achmet Pasha,[152] the Chief Vizier, had been strangled; and Roostem restored to his former honours.

Of these things more anon. I will now tell you of the unfavourable reception I had from the Sultan, the Pashas, and the rest of the Turks.

In accordance with their usual practice before admitting an ambassador to the presence of their Sovereign, the Pashas desired me to tell them the purport of the answer with which I was entrusted; on learning that his Majesty declined to make any concession, and insisted on his right to the fulfilment of the treaty which he had fairly and honestly negotiated with the widow and son of John the Voivode[153] (i.e. Governor) of Transylvania, the wrath and indignation of the Pashas knew no bounds. A long career of success has made the Turks so arrogant, that they consider their pleasure to be the sole rule of what is right and what is wrong.

At first they tried to frighten us, and enlarged on the danger of entering the Sultan’s presence with such despatches. When we were not to be intimidated, and again asked for an audience, they refused to involve themselves in our dangers by presenting us to their Sovereign. To use their own phrase, they asked us ‘how many spare heads we thought they had got, that we expected them to introduce us to their master’s presence with an answer of this kind? It was a downright insult on our part, and one which their master was not the man to pocket. He was in his capital, surrounded by his victorious troops; his successes against the Persians had raised his spirit and swelled his pride, while the son who had aspired to his throne had been put to death, from which last circumstance we might learn a lesson as to how far his wrath could go. What could possibly suit him better than a campaign in Hungary, where his war-worn soldiers might forget their hardships, and enjoy the plunder of a well-stocked country, while he annexed to his empire the remainder of that province, which in good sooth was not much? In short our wisest course was to keep quiet, and not arouse his anger; there was no need for us to hasten on the evil day; it would come quite soon enough without our interference.’ Such was the advice of the Pashas, nor was more comfort to be derived from the opinions expressed by the rest of the Turks; for the mildest punishment they threatened us with was, that two of us would be thrust into a noisome dungeon, while the third (your humble servant, to wit), would be sent back to his master, after being first deprived of his nose and ears. Moreover, we noticed that people, as they passed our lodging, scowled at us in a way that boded no good. From this time we met with harsher treatment, our confinement was closer, no one was suffered to visit us, our people were not allowed to go abroad; in short, although we were ambassadors, our lot was scarcely better than that of prisoners. This has been our position for the last six months, and what will be the end of it God only knows; we are in His hands, and whatever may befall us, whatever we may have to bear, we shall have the great comfort of feeling that there is nothing on our part of which we need be ashamed.

I will now proceed to answer your inquiries touching Bajazet, but in order to make my explanation clearer, I must give you further explanations about the Sultan’s family. Solyman has had five sons, the eldest of whom was Mustapha, whose unhappy end I have already described; he was the son of a woman who came from the Crimea; by a Russian[154] woman, to whom he is legally married, he has had four sons—Mahomet, Selim, Bajazet, and Jehangir. Mahomet, after marrying a wife (for the Turks give the title of wife to concubines), died while still young. The surviving sons are Selim and Bajazet.

Jehangir, the youngest, is dead, and of his death I shall now proceed to give you an account. The news of Mustapha’s death, when it arrived at Constantinople, overwhelmed the young prince with terror and dismay. The poor lad, whose person was disfigured by a hump, had no strength of mind or body to enable him to resist the shock. The death of his brother reminded him of the fate in store for himself at no distant day. His father’s death would seal his doom. The consignment of the old Sultan to the tomb would mark at once the commencement of his successor’s reign, and the termination of his own life. Whoever that successor might be, it was certain he would regard all his brothers as rivals to his throne, who must be got rid of without delay; and of these brothers he was one. These sad thoughts took hold of him to such an extent, that an order for his instant execution could not have terrified him more. So great was his misery that it brought on an illness which terminated in his death.

Two sons, as I said, survive; one of whom, Selim, being the elder, is intended by his father to succeed him on the throne. Bajazet’s claims are warmly supported by his mother, who is devoted to him. Possibly his hopeless position may have excited her pity, or she may be influenced by his dutiful bearing towards herself; but whatever the reason may be, no one doubts that, if it depended on her, Bajazet would be placed on the throne to the exclusion of Selim. She must, however, yield to the father’s will, and he is thoroughly determined that, if the fates permit, no one but Selim shall succeed him. Bajazet, being aware how matters stand, is anxiously looking round for an opportunity of escaping the fate marked out for him, and exchanging a pitiless doom for a throne. Indeed the support of his mother and Roostem prevents his altogether despairing of success; and to fall fighting for the chance of empire seems to him a more honourable lot than to be butchered like a sheep by his brother’s hangman. Such were Bajazet’s feelings, and his difference with Selim was becoming more and more marked, when he discerned in the odium excited by the execution of Mustapha an opportunity of putting in motion the revolution he had long been planning.

So intense was the sorrow for Mustapha, that many after his death grew weary of life; all their prospects had been bound up in his fortunes, and what they most longed for was an opportunity of avenging his wrongs or sharing his fate. Some of his supporters were rendered so uneasy by their own fears, that they thought there could be nothing worse than their present position, and therefore were looking out for the means of bringing about a general revolution; all that was wanted was a leader; Mustapha indeed could not be recalled to life, but a pretender could be set up. Bajazet was on the watch, and the idea struck him as one admirably calculated for the furtherance of his design. At his instigation, some of his followers induced a fellow of low origin, but daring and resolute, to announce himself as Mustapha, and boldly personate the dead prince. In height, features, and general appearance he was not unlike that unhappy youth. Feigning to have escaped from the Sultan by flight, the pretender began to show himself first northward of Constantinople, on the slopes[155] of the Balkan leading down to the Danube, not far from the provinces of Moldavia and Wallachia.

There were two reasons for choosing this locality; first, because the proximity of the above-mentioned provinces afforded a good opening for revolutionary schemes, and, secondly, because the whole country was full of Spahis, a branch of the service which had provided Mustapha with most of his followers. He landed there with a few attendants, pretending to be a traveller, who desired to escape notice. When his companions were questioned as to who he was, they made people think it was Mustapha by timid hints, rather than by downright statements; nor did their leader himself deny that such was the case. This cunning device made people still more anxious to see him. Hereon the pretender threw away all disguise; and after expressing his joy at his safe arrival among them, and thanking God for his preservation, proceeded to tell them the following story. He said that ‘when he was summoned,[156] he had not ventured to enter into the presence of his offended father or trust himself in his hands, but that by the advice of his friends he had, by means of large promises, procured a man who resembled him to go in his stead, that he might learn his father’s disposition towards himself, at the risk of another man’s life: this man, before he was admitted to his father, or given any opportunity of pleading his case, had been cruelly strangled, and exposed in front of the Sultan’s tent; at the time there were many who had a sort of suspicion of the trick, but a still larger number, owing to the features of the wretched man being rendered undistinguishable by his agonising death, had been induced to believe that he himself had suffered. On learning this, he had felt that he must without loss of time fly for his life. Knowing that his safety depended on secresy, he had only allowed a few of his companions to share his flight; he had made his way along the north coast of the Black Sea through the tribes of the Bosphorus,[157] and had come amongst them, because he felt that in their loyal protection lay his best chance of safety. He implored them not to fail him in the hour of trial, when he was suffering from the persecution of his wicked stepmother, or hold him of less account than they had been wont to do in the time of his prosperity; his object was to avenge his wrongs, and draw the sword in self-defence. What else remained to him? If he still lived, it was only because another had died in his stead; proof enough had been given of his father’s feelings towards him; to his parent’s mistake, not to his parent’s affection, he owed his life; all this misery arose from the sorceries of his mother-in-law; the poor old Sultan being hardly in his right mind, and madly devoted to his wife, she was able to sway him at her pleasure, and with Roostem’s assistance, to drive him to the commission of any crime she chose; but, thank God, he had true friends to help him out of his misfortunes, and inflict condign punishment on his enemies; he still had devoted followers, on his side were the Janissaries and the greater part of his father’s household, large forces would pour in when they heard of his standard being raised, and hosts of friends, who mourned his death, would rally round him when they found he still lived. He only asked them to receive him kindly as a guest, and protect him in the day of adversity, until such time as his supporters could be assembled.’