Part 20

My cavasses are changed from time to time, and sometimes I have the good fortune to have men who are so considerate that they not only would not object to my going out, were I to desire it, but they actually invite me to take a ride. But, as I said, I make a point of refusing to leave my quarters to prevent their thinking that they have it in their power either to gratify or to annoy me. I excuse myself on the plea, that by such a long stay in the house I have grown a piece of the building, so that I can’t be torn away without risk of its falling! I tell them I will go out once for all, when permission shall be granted me to return home! I am glad my household are allowed their liberty, as it may help them to bear their long exile more patiently. In this, however, there is again the inconvenience that quarrels often occur when they meet with drunken Turks, especially if they are unattended by Janissaries; but even if they are at hand, they cannot always prevent blows being exchanged. All this causes me much annoyance, as I am obliged to answer the accusations which are continually trumped up against my people, though I must say that my cavasses in most cases save me the trouble, they are so particular about keeping the gates shut. Of this we had lately an instance, which I must tell you. There had been sent to me by the Emperor one Philip Baldi, an Italian, a man of about sixty, who had travelled too fast for a person of that age, and had consequently fallen ill.[197] When the apothecary brought the clyster the doctor had ordered, the cavasse refused him admittance, and would not allow him to take it to the patient, treating him most uncivilly.

This cavasse had for a long while behaved kindly and courteously towards us, but he suddenly turned savage, and even threatened to beat my visitors with his stick. As I was much annoyed by his conduct, I determined to show him he was wasting his trouble in trying to intimidate us, as if we were a set of children. I ordered one of my servants to keep the door bolted, and to undo it for no one except by my orders. The cavasse came as usual in the morning to open the gates, but, as the key proved useless, he perceived they were bolted inside, and called out to my servant, whom he could see through the chinks between the folding-doors, to let him in. My servant refused, and the cavasse thereupon got angry, and began to abuse him and swear at him. My servant replied, ‘Bluster to your heart’s content; but neither you, nor any of your people shall get in here. Why should I open the door for you any more than you do for us? As you keep us shut in, we will keep you shut out. You may lock the door on the outside as tight as you please; I will take care to bolt it on the inside.’ Then the cavasse asked, ‘Is this done by the Ambassador’s orders?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But let me at least put my horse in the stable.’ ‘I won’t.’ ‘At any rate give me hay and fodder for him.’ ‘There is plenty to be had in the neighbourhood, if you are willing to pay for it.’ I used to invite this cavasse to dine with me, or send him something from my table; this day, however, his luck was changed, and he was obliged to stay before the gate without breaking his fast, and tie up his horse to the plane-tree which stands opposite. The Pashas and most of the court officials pass this way on their return home from the palace, and when they saw the cavasse’s horse, which they knew well enough by its trappings, munching hay at the foot of the plane-tree, they asked him why he kept it there instead of in the stable, as he usually did? He then told them the whole story; viz., that because he had shut us in, we had shut him out, and not only himself but his horse, and that he got no food and his steed no forage. The story reached the ears of the other Pashas, and caused much laughter. From that time they could no longer doubt how utterly useless it was to lock me up, and with what contempt I treated such petty means of annoyance. Shortly afterwards the cavasse was removed, and the rigour of our confinement was somewhat relaxed.

This occurrence was noticed by Roostem a few days afterwards in a way that deserves to be recorded. A man of reverend years and great reputation for sanctity was paying him a visit, and asked him in the course of their conversation, why, when the discord between the Sultan’s sons was so apparent, and serious disturbances were expected to arise from it, nay were imminent, he did not make a regular peace with the Emperor, and so relieve Solyman of all anxiety in that quarter? Roostem replied, there was nothing he desired better, but how could he do it? The demands I made he could not concede; and, on the other hand, I refused to accept what he offered. ‘Nor does he yield,’ said he, ‘to compulsion. Have I not tried everything to make him agree to my terms? I have now for several years been keeping him immured, and annoying him in many ways, and treating him roughly. But what good am I doing? He is proof against everything. We do our best to keep him in the closest confinement, but not content with our locking him up, he actually bolts himself in. Thus all my labour is in vain; any other man, I believe, sooner than endure these annoyances would ere now have gone over to our religion; but he cares nothing for them.’ This was related to me by people who were present at the conversation.

The Turks are a suspicious nation, and have got it into their heads, that the Ambassadors of Christian princes have different instructions, to be produced or suppressed according to circumstances, and that they first attempt to get the most favourable terms they can, and, if they fail, gradually come down and accede to harder conditions. Consequently they think it is necessary to intimidate them, to flaunt war in their faces, to keep them shut up like prisoners, and to torment them in every way, as the best means of breaking their spirit and making them sooner produce the set of instructions, which specify the minimum they are empowered to accept.

Some think that this notion was much encouraged by the conduct of a Venetian Ambassador, when there was a dispute between the Venetians and Turks about restoring Napoli di Romania to the Sultan.[198] The instructions he had received from the Venetian Senate directed him to do his best to make peace without giving up Napoli, but, if he failed, at last to agree to surrender the town, if he found war to be the only alternative. Now it happened that these instructions were betrayed to the Turks by certain citizens of Venice. The Ambassador, in total ignorance of this, intended to open negotiations by suggesting easier terms, and thus to sound the minds of the Pashas. When they pressed him to disclose all his instructions, he declared that his powers went no further; till at last the Pashas grew furious, and told him to take care what he was about, as their master was not accustomed to be trifled with, and also that he knew right well what his instructions were. Then they repeated accurately in detail the orders he had received from the authorities of Venice, and told him, that ‘If he did not at once produce them all, he would find himself in no small danger as a liar and impostor, while inevitable destruction would await the republic he represented, if his deceit should provoke Solyman’s wrath beyond all appeasing, and cause him to destroy them with fire and sword.’ They warned him that ‘he had not much time for deliberation; if he produced all his instructions, well and good; but if he persevered in his attempt to trifle with them, it would be too late afterwards to talk of peace and express his regret.’ They concluded by saying, that ‘Solyman was no man’s suppliant; since by God’s blessing he had the power to compel.’ The Ambassador knew not what to do, and thinking it useless to attempt to conceal what was perfectly well known, made a clean breast of it, and frankly confessed that what they stated as to his instructions was correct. This misadventure, however, made him very unpopular at home. From that time the Turks seem to have become much more suspicious, thinking it impolitic to enter into negotiations with an ambassador until his spirit is broken by long confinement. It was on this account that Veltwick,[199] the ambassador of the Emperor Charles, was detained by them for eighteen months, and my colleagues for more than three years, and then dismissed without having accomplished anything. On me they have been putting pressure for a long time, as you know, and as yet I can see no prospect of my release.

But when Baldi, whom I was speaking of, arrived, the age of the messenger made them suspect that he brought fresh instructions, allowing us to accept harder conditions of peace, and these they were afraid of my misrepresenting on account of my knowledge of their domestic troubles. They thought it therefore politic to treat me with greater rigour, as the best means of making me produce forthwith the real instructions I had last received. For the same reason Roostem tried to intimidate me with threats of war, which he hinted at by the following pleasantry. What does he do but send me a very large pumpkin of the kind we call ‘Anguries,’ and the Germans ‘Wasser Blutzer’ (water-melons). Those grown at Constantinople are of excellent flavour, and have red seeds inside; they are called Rhodian melons because they come from Rhodes. They are good for allaying thirst when the weather is very hot. A great round one was sent me by Roostem through my interpreter, one very hot day, with the following message: ‘He hoped I should like a fruit which suited the season; there was no better antidote for the heat; but he wished me also to know that at Buda and Belgrade they had great store of such fruit, and indeed some larger specimens of it,’ by which he meant cannon balls. I sent back word that I was much obliged for his present and should enjoy it, but that I was not surprised at what he said about Buda and Belgrade, as there were at Vienna plenty of specimens of the fruit quite as big as the one he sent me. I made this answer because I wished Roostem to understand that I had noticed the point of his jest.

Now it is time I should relate the story of Bajazet, about which you especially beg for information.[200] Doubtless you remember the circumstances under which Bajazet parted from his father a few years ago. He was pardoned on condition that he should not again make any movement against his brother or excite fresh disturbances, but should remain at peace and on friendly terms with him, as a brother ought to do.[201] ‘Let him,’ said the Sultan, ‘remember the pledges he has given me, nor further disquiet my declining years. Another time I will not let him go unpunished.’ These warnings influenced Bajazet for a time, but only as long as his mother survived; indeed, he placed but little confidence on his brother’s affection or his father’s feelings towards him, and relied entirely on the love his mother bore him, and being anxious not to alienate her, he remained quiet during her lifetime. But, when she died two years afterwards, thinking that his case was desperate, and that he was no longer bound by any tie of filial duty, he began to resume his former designs, and to prosecute his old quarrel against his brother with more bitterness than ever. At one time he plotted secretly against his life, at another used open violence, and often sent his troops to make forays into his brother’s government, which bordered on his own, and if he could catch any of his servants he sentenced them to heavy punishments, intending thereby to insult their master; in short, as he could not strike at his brother’s life, he left nothing undone which he thought would impair his prestige.

At Constantinople he had some devoted partisans, and through them he tried to tamper with the Sultan’s bodyguard by every means in his power, and on some occasions he even ventured to cross over to Constantinople himself,[202] concealing himself there among his accomplices and the men of his party.

The progress of the conspiracy was no secret to Solyman, who, besides his other channels of information, received accurate intelligence from Selim, who wrote despatches from time to time, warning his father to be on his guard against attack. ‘The Sultan was mistaken,’ said Selim, ‘if he thought that the impious designs which Bajazet was now rehearsing were not ultimately aimed at his own person. Bajazet cared neither for God nor man, provided he could reach the throne. His father was as great a barrier as his brother to the accomplishment of his ambitious hopes. Attacks on himself were aimed at Solyman’s life, a crime which Bajazet had planned long ago, and had lately been trying to carry into execution. He begged the Sultan to take care he did not fall a victim to these plots, and find himself a prisoner before news of his danger could be received or help sent to him. As to the personal wrongs he received from Bajazet, he could afford to disregard them, but he was troubled at the greatness of his father’s peril.’

By such insinuations fresh fuel was continually added to Solyman’s wrath against Bajazet. Accordingly he wrote letters reminding him of his duty, of the clemency with which he had treated him, and of his promises to himself, and bade him remember what he had said on a former occasion, viz., that he would not always find pardon, that he ought to turn over a new leaf, and not persist in provoking his brother and annoying his father.[203] He added that he had but a short span of life left himself, and when he was dead Providence would determine what their several lots should be. In the meantime they should keep quiet, if they had any regard for the peace of their father and their country. But such arguments were all thrown away upon Bajazet, who had made up his mind to hazard everything rather than take the other alternative, and tamely wait till the time came for him to be butchered like a sheep, which would most assuredly be his fate, if Selim ascended the throne.

He replied, however, to his father’s commands in becoming terms, but his deeds did not correspond to his words, nor did he swerve in the least from the line of conduct he had resolved on.

When Solyman saw this, he felt that other measures were necessary, and that he must not allow his sons to remain so near each other. Accordingly he issued orders that before a certain day each should leave his government (Bajazet was Governor of Kutaiah, Selim of Magnesia), and that Bajazet should go to Amasia and Selim to Koniah. No fault could be found with Selim, and his favour with his father was unimpaired, but to prevent Bajazet from being hurried into rebellion, Solyman wished to make it appear that they were both being treated alike. In giving these orders he observed that the further apart they were in actual distance the closer they would be in spirit. Vicinity, he added, was often prejudicial to union, many faults being committed on both sides by mischievous officers and servants, the effect of which was to cause great irritation on the part of their masters. Let both of them be obedient to his commands. If either should hesitate to obey, he would expose himself to a charge of treason.

Selim made no delay, inasmuch as he knew that these orders were given chiefly in his interest. Bajazet kept making excuses, and halted after proceeding a short distance. He complained that he had been given the government of Amasia, that town of evil omen, which was still reeking with his brother’s blood,[204] and said that he would be contented with any other government whatever, in place of that, in which the miserable end of his kinsfolk would ever be forcing itself on his eyes, and wounding his heart with its sad recollections. He asked that he might at least be permitted to pass the winter where he was, or at any rate in the place which his brother had left. To these remonstrances Solyman paid no attention; and Selim had already proceeded some days’ march with the troops, which his father had given him as an escort to protect him against any attack on the part of his brother, while Bajazet was still delaying and hesitating, when he suddenly turned and retraced his steps, and then making a circuit appeared in his brother’s rear, moving on Ghemlik, a Bithynian town, on the Asiatic coast opposite Constantinople. For this step he had the sanction of his father, who did not like Bajazet’s procrastination, for both father and son were alarmed at the thought of what might be the consequence both to the empire and themselves, if Bajazet should win over the Imperial guards and march on Ghemlik or even on Constantinople. As they were both threatened, the safest course seemed to be for Selim to take up such a position as would enable them to support each other. Selim had not as yet sufficient strength to make him certain of defeating his brother, who was now ready for any desperate step.

When Bajazet saw Selim in his rear, he felt that the only result of his own delay had been to ensure his brother’s succession to the throne, whenever his father should be carried off, an event which might be expected any day, as the Sultan’s health, which was generally bad, was at that time worse than usual. Accordingly he sent letters to his father, in which he accused his brother; he told him that Selim could have given no stronger proof of his undutiful and disloyal intentions than his march to Ghemlik; to which no other object could be assigned than an attempt on the throne, as it was a place from which he would have but a short passage to Constantinople, if he received the news he wished for, informing him of his father’s death. But if his father’s life should be prolonged, and the fulfilment of his wishes thus deferred, he would not hesitate to employ his tools for the attainment of his object, and would ascend the throne over his father’s murdered body. In spite of all this he could not help seeing that Selim, villain as he was, was his father’s darling, and was treated as if he were a pattern son; while he on the other hand, though he had always been a good son, and had never dreamt of such undutiful conduct, nay, more, had always strictly observed every indication of his father’s wishes, was nevertheless scorned and rejected. All that he requested was permission to decline a government, the traditions of which boded ill to its possessor. Next he had recourse to entreaties, and again implored his father to consent to his being appointed to a different government, whether it were the one his brother had left, or any other, provided it had not the dark history of Amasia. He concluded by saying he would wait for an answer to his petition at the place where he had halted, that he might not have further to return should his wish be granted, but if he should not obtain what he asked, he would then go wherever his father might order.

The complaints Bajazet made about Amasia were not altogether unreasonable, for the Turks are in the habit of forecasting important matters from trifling incidents. But this was not the view that Solyman took, for he knew what value to attach to his son’s bemoanings, and was convinced that his object was to obtain a situation more convenient for making a revolution, Amasia being too far from Constantinople. Thus Bajazet, pleading one excuse after another for delay, put off the hour for obeying his father’s wishes as long as he could, and went on increasing his forces by enlisting recruits, arming them, and raising money—in short, he made every preparation for defending himself and attacking his brother. These preparations were regarded by Solyman as directed against himself, but, nevertheless, he passed them over for the most part in silence. The cautious old man did not wish to render Bajazet desperate and thus drive him into open rebellion. He was well aware that the eyes of the world were fixed on the quarrel between his sons, and he was therefore anxious that these troubles should be left to the influence of time, and be allowed to die out as quietly as possible. He therefore replied to Bajazet in gentle language, saying, ‘He could make no change about the government, his decision on that point was final. They ought both to obey his commands and repair to their respective posts. As to the future he bade them be of good hope, as he would take care that everything should be so regulated as to prevent either of them having any ground for just complaints.’

Pertau, the fourth of the Vizierial Pashas, was selected to convey these commands to Bajazet, and to keep up an appearance of impartiality, Mehemet, the third of the Vizierial Pashas, was despatched to Selim with the same orders. Both were instructed not to leave the Princes before they reached their respective governments, as Solyman prudently intended to attach these important officers to his sons in order that they might be kept in mind of their duties. This Selim was ready to allow, but Bajazet refused, for, as his intention was to bring about a general revolution, he thought there could be no greater obstacle to his designs than to have one of his father’s counsellors ever at his side to criticise his words and actions. He therefore addressed Pertau courteously, and having given him such presents as he could, compelled him to return, in spite of his remonstrances, saying, that he wished to employ him as his defender and advocate with his father, as he had no one else to plead for him. He told him that he would not prove an ungrateful or a discreditable client. Further, he bade him tell his father that he would always regard his commands as law, if Selim would let him, but that he could not bear any longer the outrages of his brother, and his attacks upon his life.