Part 18

I am afraid your ears have been offended by my account of such an instance of wickedness; but, if I can, I will remove by a pleasanter story any disagreeable impressions the former may have left, for I am quite sure you will have a good laugh over what I am going to tell you.

There came lately during the disturbances in Hungary a courier from the Emperor. The Pashas desired that he should not as usual be brought directly to me, but first be taken to the Divan, their object being to know the contents of the Emperor’s letters before they were delivered to me, as they suspected that many things were suppressed, and that I did not give them a faithful account of the tenor of despatches. The courier, however, foreseeing what was coming, concealed the Emperor’s packet, and delivered only my private letters. The Pashas had been previously informed by their interpreter Ibrahim, who is by birth a Pole, that despatches which contained confidential instructions were not written in the usual characters, but in a new sort of letters; namely, in what we call cipher. As they were examining all the letters, they chanced to come upon one from a friend of mine, the Burgundian Secretary, which Ibrahim perceived was written on unusually thin paper, through which the letters could be seen when held to the light. He exclaimed, ‘I have found it,’ and told them to let the others be, saying this was the one that contained important matter. The Pashas, telling him to break the seal, read it, and translate it, assumed an attitude of attention and expectation. Ibrahim, however, declared that he could not make out a single letter. At this the Pashas were amazed, and asked him if he had never learnt, or had forgotten, Christian characters? to which Ibrahim replied, that this kind of writing was known only to the confidential secretaries of Sovereigns. As they did not clearly understand his answer, they said: ‘But if so, why do you delay? why don’t you hurry off at once to the Secretary of the Venetian or the Florentine Baily?’ Off flew Ibrahim in hot haste. Now the letter was written in such characters that a boy ten years old could have read it, but both the Secretaries, seeing it was addressed to me, after one glance returned it, declaring that without a knowledge of the private key it was impossible for anyone to decipher the writing. Ibrahim returned with this reply, and the Pashas then deliberated what was to be done. Then some one made the following suggestion: ‘There is in the city the Patriarch, who is acquainted with many kinds of characters; if he, being an old man and a Christian, cannot read them no one else can.’ They agreed to the proposal, but the Patriarch declared that he could not make out a single jot of them, for the characters were neither Greek, nor Latin, nor Hebrew, nor Chaldee. So they brought the letter back having had their trouble for nothing. Then, Ali Pasha, though on other occasions he showed that he was by no means a fool, turned to Roostem and said, ‘Cardassi (which means ‘brother’ in Turkish), I remember I had a slave, by birth an Italian, who knew all languages and characters. Were he still alive I feel no doubt that he could have read and interpreted these characters; but he died some time ago.’ Not knowing what further plan to adopt, they decided to send me the letters as they could make no use of them. When I had heard the whole story from Ibrahim (for it was impossible to conceal it), I made vehement complaints, and was very indignant at their having thus intercepted my letters, without paying any regard to international law, or to the Emperor from whom they had come; and I also told him to wait and hear some passages translated from them, that he might communicate them to the Pashas the next day.

On the morrow, when he appeared in the Divan, the Pashas asked him, ‘could I read those characters?’ ‘As easily,’ said Ibrahim, ‘as his own name;’ and at the same time proceeded to lay before them certain statements which I had desired him to communicate. Then Roostem remarked: ‘The Ambassador is a young man, and yet he understands what the old Patriarch cannot so much as read; he will certainly turn out a great man, if he attains old age.’

I do not know if it was in consequence of this occurrence, or of something else, that this same Roostem, in the course of a conversation I had with him some days afterwards on public business, began to throw off his usual reserve, and finally went so far as to ask me, ‘Whether I had any objection to be initiated into their religion, and to become a worshipper of the true God? If I should do so, Solyman, through his influence, was ready to confer on me great honours and great rewards.’ I replied that I was determined to remain in the religion in which I was born, and which was professed by my master. ‘Very well,’ said Roostem; ‘but what is to become of your soul?’ ‘For my soul too,’ I replied, ‘I have good hopes.’ Then, after a moment’s reflection, he said, ‘You are right; and I myself do not dissent from the doctrine that men who have passed this life in holiness and innocence will be partakers of eternal bliss, whatever religion they may have followed.’ Such views are entertained by some Turks, but they are thought heretical, and Roostem himself is not considered altogether orthodox. The Turks deem it their duty and an act of charity, to make one offer to a Christian of whom they have a good opinion, of partaking in their rites and religion, in the hope of saving, if they can, a man otherwise destined to eternal perdition, and think such an offer is to be considered the greatest possible honour and mark of kindness they can show.

I will now give you another conversation with Roostem, that you may understand how widely the Persians are separated from the Turks by religion.[182] He once asked me if war was still going on between the Kings of Spain and France. On my replying that it was, ‘What right have they,’ said he, ‘to wage war on each other, when they are united by the ties of religion?’ ‘The same,’ said I, ‘as you have to fight with the Persians. There are cities, provinces, and kingdoms about which they are at variance.’ ‘It is quite a different case,’ said Roostem, ‘for we, you must know, hate the Persians worse, and consider them more impious than we do you Christians.’

I will now give you some news of events in Hungary, where, since my return, each side has met with chequered fortune in its enterprises. To write a full and particular account would be tedious and out of place.[183] Isabella, the wife of King John, returned to Transylvania with her son, after repudiating the agreement and the treaties she had made with the Emperor Ferdinand, and from fear of the Turkish arms, the people of Transylvania again submitted to the old yoke. Even these successes did not satisfy the Turks, who appeared to be aiming at the acquisition of the whole of Hungary. Accordingly, among other operations they resolved to besiege the very strong position of Szigeth,[184] which derives its name from the Hungarian word for island. For this enterprise they selected as general a man, whose successful career was calculated to inspire his troops with confidence and his enemies with fear. This was Ali Pasha, an Albanian, who had distinguished himself whilst governor of Hungary by his successes, the chief of which was his decisive victory over Sforzia Palavicini and the Bishop of Fünfkirchen. He was summoned from his distant command on the Persian frontier, and the greatest hopes were excited by his appearance in Constantinople. My colleagues were then still here, pressing for leave to return. The Pashas thought it well that we should see the man who, they considered, would be regarded by us as a very thunderbolt of war. He received us courteously, and addressed us at length, telling us that we ought to endeavour to make peace, and save Hungary from being wasted with fire and sword, by acceding to the terms which _his_ Emperor[185] proposed. We answered that peace was our first object, provided it was granted on such terms as were consistent with the honour of _our_ Emperor; but that we were forbidden to agree to such a peace as would be contrary to the interests and dignity of his Majesty. So we departed, having been first entertained by him with _eau sucrée_.

Ali was a eunuch, but his spirit seemed to have gained what his body had lost. He was of short stature, bloated person, and yellowish complexion; the expression of his face was morose, his eyes had a fierce look, and his shoulders were high and broad. Between them his head was sunk and concealed. From his mouth projected two teeth like a boar’s tusks; his voice was discordant. To describe him in a word, he was a regular devil.

He set out the next day with a great train, and having reached Hungary, he spent some time in preparations; then, marching on Szigeth, he drove away the men who were rebuilding Babocsa—a fortress belonging to the Emperor. But his Majesty, who had already been informed of Ali Pasha’s designs, determined to send one of his three sons to encounter his onslaught, and do battle for Hungary. The young Archduke Ferdinand, on whom his choice fell, is equal in courage to any of the famous generals of ancient times. He took up a position against Ali’s army with a small body of picked cavalry. Turks who were there told me that it was a goodly sight to behold the splendour, discipline, and steadiness of our troops. The Pasha, whose army was much the largest, and who was naturally a man of fierce and haughty temper, could not brook that Christians should dare to face him. Some marshy ground, which could not be crossed without danger, lay between the two armies. Ferdinand, whose object was to relieve Szigeth and to raise the siege, had no need to cross; but Ali Pasha, on the contrary, was obliged to risk everything, as he had no choice between advancing and committing himself to an ignominious and hazardous retreat. He, therefore, seeing to what a strait he was reduced, decided to risk everything on the success of his movement, and was on the point of plunging with his steed into the marsh, when a Sanjak-bey who was among the bystanders, whose name I have forgotten, perceiving the greatness of the danger, leaped down from his horse, and, laying his hand on the Pasha’s rein, said, ‘My Sultan’ (for this is the title given by the Turks to men of high rank), ‘do you not see the peril into which you are wilfully bringing yourself and us? You do not sufficiently take into account the difficulty of crossing this quagmire. The Christians are waiting for us on the other side with stout hearts and strong lances, and their serried squadrons will charge down on our straggling column as soon as the vanguard has got clear of the marsh, while the rest are still struggling in the mud. They will take advantage of our rashness, and fight with the certainty of defeating us. Restrain your wrath, and recollect yourself. Preserve the lives of your gallant soldiers and your own for our Emperor’s[186] service and for better days. God will be sure to give us an opportunity of mending this day’s work.’ At these words Ali recovered his senses, and restrained himself. Every Turk on the field admitted that the army had been saved by the advice of the Sanjak-bey. However, when news of the affair reached Constantinople, although not even the Vizierial (that is the chief) Pashas could deny that Ali’s army owed its safety to the prompt interference of the Sanjak-bey, and though they praised his loyalty and generalship in private, yet they were unwilling that such a breach of discipline should go unpunished, and thus become a precedent for the future. Accordingly, they removed him from office, recalled him to Constantinople, and they placed him on the list of those who had been dismissed the service, until, when they thought his fault had been sufficiently atoned for, they promoted him to a much better government than the one he had lost, which made it quite plain that he had been thus punished rather to preserve discipline than because he had done wrong.

Ali not long afterwards returned to Buda. During his retreat his troops were so harassed by the Hungarians that he lost a large part of his army. He arrived at the capital of Hungary a broken and dishonoured man, where he died shortly afterwards of grief and shame.

On the other hand, the Archduke Ferdinand returned to his father with well-earned laurels. His success will not only be of immediate advantage, but it will enhance for the future the prestige of our arms. The Turks have now had ample proof that, if they trouble the Emperor, he is one who has both soldiers and generals wherewith to chastise their insolence. This check has made the Turks on the borders a great deal quieter.

While Ali was still encamped before Szigeth, our soldiers took by escalade the city of Gran, with the adjoining citadel of the same name. They carried off some plunder, and also the inhabitants, who were mostly women and children. The messenger who brought the news to the Pasha came trembling, with dismay painted on his face. ‘Is all well?’ quoth the Pasha. ‘Why are you thus cast down?’ Thereon the man told him of the great disaster the Turks had sustained in the loss of Gran. ‘Disaster! loss!’ cried the Pasha. ‘Well, I know what disaster and loss mean; I can tell you it was a disastrous loss when they made me what I am.’ The Pasha was a eunuch, and he intended by this coarse joke on himself to divert the attention of the people round him from the loss which he was unable to repair.

In Croatia, too, and in the neighbouring regions, various forays went on upon both sides, and people, whether Turks or Christians, who were too venturesome and careless, were punished for their presumption. I will tell you an instance, and as it gave me reason to rejoice, I trust you also will find the story agreeable. True, it occurred a little before the affair of Szigeth which I have just related; but as it is a letter I am writing, I feel that the order of time need not be very strictly regarded. From those districts news was brought to Roostem of a feat performed by a certain Turk, for whom he professed great admiration and spoke of as his kinsman. He had swept down on a large party of Christians, who were celebrating a wedding without the slightest notion that there were any Turks in the neighbourhood. You may imagine what an unwelcome guest he was. His troops scattered the people, killing several, and carrying off many more as prisoners; amongst the latter was the unfortunate bridegroom, with her who was about to become his wife. Roostem was greatly elated, and kept boring everybody with his boasts of the wonderful success of his kinsman’s raid. So far, the story is one on which we must exchange condolences rather than congratulations. Well, it is the fortune of war. But retribution was close at hand to change Roostem’s merriment into tears and lamentation. There came not long afterwards from the same districts in hot haste a Dalmatian horseman with news of a great defeat. (The man belonged to a class whom the Turks call Delli, i.e. madmen, on account of their blind and reckless daring.) He said that several Sanjak-beys and other commanders of garrisons had united their forces and invaded the enemy’s territory; they had scoured the country for many miles, and had carried off much booty, but at last, advancing too far, they fell in with a Christian force, composed of musketeers on horseback, by whom they were put to flight and utterly routed with the loss of many men, among whom was that Achilles, Roostem’s kinsman, of whom he had just been speaking in such high terms. Roostem was overwhelmed on hearing the disastrous intelligence, and burst into tears. Richly did he deserve this misfortune in retribution for his former boastfulness.

Now listen to the rest of the story, which affords still greater reason for rejoicing. When the Dalmatian horseman, who brought the news of the defeat I mentioned, was immediately afterwards asked by the Pashas in the Divan, ‘How many of you then were engaged?’ he replied, ‘Above 2,500.’ The Pashas proceeded, ‘Pray, what was the number of the Christians?’ to which he said, ‘he thought they were not above 500 that he could see, though there might have been some more lying in ambush, and for his part he thought there were, but he could take his oath that there was not more than that number of Christians actually engaged.’ Thereupon the Pashas got angry with him for not being more ashamed at the defeat of a regular army of Mussulmans by a handful of Christians. They thought it foul scorn that picked warriors, who had been deemed worthy of being numbered amongst Solyman’s household and of eating his bread, should thus disgrace themselves. The messenger most unblushingly replied, ‘You do not take a right view of the matter. Did you not hear that we were overcome by the force of fire-arms? it was fire that routed us, not the enemy’s valour. Far different, by heaven, would have been the result of the fight, had they met us like brave men. They called fire to their aid; by the violence of fire we were conquered; we are not ashamed; it is one of the elements and the fiercest of them, and what mortal man has such strength as to be able to resist the fury of the elements?’[187] When he delivered this speech bombastically with Dalmatian magniloquence, the bystanders, notwithstanding the melancholy tidings, could with difficulty check their laughter.

This news cheered me not a little, coming as it did when I was still depressed by the recollection of the previous disaster. I could thereby learn that the Turks are much afraid of carbines and pistols, such as are used on horseback. The same, I hear, is the case with the Persians, on which account some one advised Roostem, when he was setting out with the Sultan on a campaign against them, to raise from his household servants a troop of 200 horse and arm them with fire-arms, as they would cause much alarm and do great execution in the ranks of the enemy. Roostem, in accordance with this advice, raised a troop of dragoons, furnished them with fire-arms, and had them drilled. But they had not completed half the journey when their guns began to get out of order. Every day some essential part of their weapons was lost or broken, and it was not often that armourers could be found capable of repairing them. So, a large part of the fire-arms having been rendered unserviceable, the men took a dislike to the weapon; and this prejudice was increased by the dirt which its use entailed, the Turks being a very cleanly people; for the dragoons had their hands and clothes begrimed with gunpowder, and moreover presented such a sorry appearance, with their ugly boxes and pouches hanging about them, that their comrades laughed at them, and called them apothecaries. So, since with this equipment they pleased neither themselves nor others, they gathered round Roostem, and showing him their broken and useless fire-arms, asked what advantage he hoped to gain from them when they met the enemy, and demanded that he should relieve them of them, and give them their old arms again. Roostem, after considering their request carefully, thought there was no reason for refusing to comply with it, and so they got leave to resume their bows and arrows.

The fighting on the Hungarian borders, which I mentioned above, reminds me to tell you what the Turks think of the practice of duelling, which we are accustomed to regard as the greatest proof of personal courage. There was in a part of Hungary which adjoins our frontier, a Sanjak-bey, famous for bodily strength, named Arslan Bey. None drew the bow with greater strength, no one’s sword pierced deeper, or was more formidable to the foe. Veli Bey, the governor of the next Sanjak,[188] who coveted the same reputation, put himself forward as his rival. From this rivalry, and possibly other differences, there arose a deadly feud between the Sanjak-beys; they laid plots against one another, and bloodshed was the consequence. Whether it was for this or some other reason that Veli Bey was summoned to Constantinople is unknown to me; at any rate he came. The Pashas in the Divan, after putting many other questions to him, finally wished to hear about his feud with Arslan Bey. (Arslan in Turkish means Lion.) Then he narrated at great length the whole story of their quarrel, and to improve his case, he told them how it ended in Arslan Bey’s lying in wait for him and wounding him; there would have been no need, he continued, for Arslan Bey to act thus, had he chosen to show himself worthy of his name; since for his part he had never declined a fight with him, and indeed had many times challenged him to a duel. The Pashas,[189] in indignation at this speech, exclaimed, ‘Did you dare to challenge your comrade to a duel? Were there no Christians for you to fight? Both of you live on the bread of our Emperor, but yet you were preparing to engage in mortal combat. By what law or precedent can you justify such conduct? Did you not know that whichever of you fell the Emperor would lose a soldier by his death?’ With these words they ordered him to be taken to prison, where he was made to do penance for several months, and then having with great difficulty obtained his discharge, was at last released with his reputation much impaired. Among us many who have never seen a public enemy are considered to be famous and distinguished characters, because they have drawn their swords on a fellow-citizen or fellow-soldier. What can you do when the sense of right is so perverted that vices usurp the place of virtues, and what deserves punishment is accounted a glory and an honour?

As you are eager for information of every kind, I must not deprive you of an account of the arrival here of the king of the Colchians.[190] He reigns on the banks of the Phasis at the corner of the Euxine, not far from Mount Caucasus. His name is Dadian. He is a man of dignified appearance and commanding person, but at heart they say he is a mere savage. He was attended by a large but ragged retinue in poor and threadbare attire.

The Colchians are now called Mingrelians by the Italians. They are one of the tribes settled between the Caspian Gates, called by the Turks ‘Demit Capi,’ i.e., ‘Iron Gates,’ and the Black and Caspian Seas, which are now called Georgians, either from the sect of Christianity to which they belong, or because it is their ancient name, which last seems the more probable theory, among whom are also included the Albanians and Iberians (Imeritians).