Part 7

At length, on December 7, the Pasha was ready to receive me. I gave him a present with a view to securing his favour, and then proceeded to complain of the arrogance and misdeeds of the Turkish soldiers. I demanded the restitution of the places which had been taken from us in violation of the truce, and which he had undertaken in his letters to restore to my master on his sending an ambassador. The Pasha replied with complaints as heavy as mine about the losses and injuries he had sustained at the hands of our people. As to restoring the places, he took refuge in the following dilemma:—‘I,’ said he, ‘either did not promise to restore these places, or I did promise to restore them. In the former case, I am not bound to restore them; while in the latter case, a man of your intelligence must comprehend that I made a promise which I have neither the right nor the power to keep; for my master has assigned me the duty of enlarging his dominion, not of diminishing it; and I have no right to impair his estate. Remember it is _his_ interest that is in question, not _mine_. When you see him you can ask him for whatever you like.’ He concluded by remarking that ‘it was very wrong of me to bother a man still weak from illness with a long discourse about nothing.’

When he had delivered this decision with the air of a judge, I had leave to go. All I gained by my interview was the conclusion of a truce until an answer should be brought back from Solyman.

I observed, when we were presented to the Pasha, that they kept up the custom of the ancient Romans, who put in the word ‘feliciter’ at the end of their speech, and used words of good omen. I noticed also that in most cases the left-hand side was considered the more honourable. The reason they assign for this is that the sword confers honour on that side, for if a man stands on the right, he has in a certain sense his sword under the hand of the man who flanks him on the left; while the latter, of course, would have his sword free and disencumbered.

Our business at Buda being thus concluded, in so far as we were able to accomplish it, my companion returned to the King, while I, with my horses, carriages, and people, embarked on some vessels which were waiting for us, and sailed down the Danube towards Belgrade. This route was not only safer than that by land, but also occupied less time, for encumbered as I was with baggage, I should have been twelve days at the very least on the road, and there would also have been danger of an attack from Heydons—for so the Hungarians call the banditti who have left their flocks and herds to become half soldiers, half brigands. By the river route there was no fear of Heydons, and the passage occupied five days.

The vessel on board which I sailed was towed by a tug manned by twenty-four oarsmen; the other boats were pulled along by a pair of sweeps. With the exception of a few hours during which the wretched galley-slaves and the crew took food and rest, we travelled incessantly. I was much impressed on this occasion with the rashness of the Turks, for they had no hesitation in continuing their voyage during the night, though there was no moon and it was quite dark, amid a gale of wind. We often, to our very great danger, encountered mills and trunks and branches of trees projecting from the banks, so that it frequently happened that the boat was caught by the gale and came crashing on to the stumps and branches which lined the river side. On such occasions it seemed to me that we were on the point of going to pieces. Once, indeed, there was a great crash, and part of the deck was carried away. I jumped out of bed, and begged the crew to be more careful. Their only answer was ‘Alaure,’ that is, ‘God will help us;’ and so I was left to get back to my bed and my nap—if I could! I will venture to make one prophecy, and that is, that this mode of sailing will one day bring about a disaster.

On our voyage I saw Tolna, a Hungarian borough of some importance, which deserves special mention for its excellent white wine and the civility of the people. I saw also Fort Valpovar, which stands on high ground, as well as other castles and towns; nor did I fail to notice the points at which the Drave on the one side, and the Theiss on the other, flow into the Danube. Belgrade itself lies at the confluence of the Save and Danube, and at the apex of the angle where these streams join, the old city is still standing; it is built in an antiquated style, and fortified with numerous towers and a double wall. On two sides it is washed by the rivers I mentioned, while on the third side, which unites it to the land, it has a citadel of considerable strength, placed on an eminence, consisting of several lofty towers built of squared stone.

In front of the city are very large suburbs, built without any regard to order. These are inhabited by people of different nations—Turks, Greeks, Jews, Hungarians, Dalmatians, and many more.

Indeed, throughout the Turkish Empire the suburbs, as a rule, are larger than the towns, and suburbs and town together give the idea of a very considerable place. This was the first point at which I met with ancient coins, of which, as you know, I am very fond, and I find William Quacquelben, whom I mentioned before, a most admirable and devoted fellow-student in this hobby of mine.

We found several coins, on one side of which was a Roman soldier standing between a bull and a horse, with the inscription ‘Taurunum.’ It is a well-ascertained fact that the legions of Upper Mœsia were quartered here.

Twice in the days of our grandfathers great efforts were made to take Belgrade, on the first occasion by Amurath, and on the second by Mahomet, the captor of Constantinople. But the efforts of the barbarians were on both occasions baffled by the gallant defence of the Hungarians and the champions of the Cross.

It was not till the year 1520 that Belgrade was taken. Solyman, who had just ascended the throne, advanced against the city with powerful forces. He found it in a weak state, the garrison not having been kept at its proper strength, owing to the neglect of the young King Louis and the feuds of the Hungarian nobles; consequently he made himself master of the city without much loss. We can now see clearly that Belgrade was the door of Hungary, and that it was not till this gate was forced that the tide of Turkish barbarism burst into this unhappy country. The loss of Belgrade entailed the death of Louis[98] on the battle-field, the capture of Buda, the enthralment of Transylvania, and the utter prostration of a flourishing realm, amid the alarm of neighbouring kingdoms lest their turn should come next. The loss of Belgrade ought to be a warning to the Princes of Christendom that they, as they love their safety, should take the utmost possible care of their forts and strongholds. For the Turks resemble in this point great rivers swollen by the rains; if they can burst their banks in any single place, they pour through the breach and carry destruction far and wide. In yet more fearful fashion do the Turkish hordes, when once they have burst the barriers in their path, carry far and wide their unparalleled devastations.

But we must now return to Belgrade, with full purpose to make our way straight to Constantinople. Having procured in the city what we thought needful for our journey by road, leaving Semendria, formerly a stronghold of the Despots[99] of Servia, on our left, we commenced our journey towards Nissa. When we came to high ground the Turks showed us the snow-capped mountains of Transylvania in the distance, and they also pointed out by means of signs the place near which some of the piles of Trajan’s bridge may still be seen.[100]

After crossing a river, called Morava by the natives, we took up our lodgings in a village named Jagodin, where we had an opportunity of seeing the funeral ceremonies of the country, which are very different from ours. The body was laid in a chapel, with its face uncovered, and by it was placed food in the shape of bread and meat and a cup of wine; the wife stood by the side, and also the daughter, dressed in their best clothes; the latter wore a head-dress of peacock’s feathers. The last present which the wife made to her husband, after he had been waked, was a purple cap of the kind that young ladies wear in that country.

Then we heard wailing and crying and complaining, as they asked the dead man ‘What they had done that he should desert them? Had they in any way failed in showing submission to him or in ministering to his comfort? Why did he leave them to loneliness and misery?’ &c. &c. The religious ceremonies were conducted by priests of the Greek Church. I noticed in the burial-ground a great many wooden figures of stags, fawns, &c., placed on the top of posts or poles. On inquiring the reason, I was informed that the husbands or fathers placed these monuments as memorials of the readiness and care with which the wives and daughters had discharged their domestic duties. On many of the tombs were hanging tresses of hair, which the women and girls had placed there to show their grief for the loss of relations. We heard also that it was the custom in these parts, when the elders had arranged a marriage between a young man and a young woman, for the bridegroom to seize his wife by force and carry her off. According to their ideas, it would be highly indelicate for the girl to be a consenting party to the arrangement.

Not far from Jagodin we came to a little stream, which the inhabitants call Nissus. This we kept on our right, skirting its bank until we came to Nissa (Nisch). Some way on, we found on the bank (where the traces of an old Roman road still remained) a little marble pillar with a Latin inscription, but so mutilated as to be undecipherable. Nissa is a small town of some account, to which the people of the country often resort.

I must now tell you something as to the inns we make use of, for that is a subject on which you have been some time wanting information. At Nissa I lodged in the public inn, called by the Turks a caravanserai—the most common kind of inn in those parts. It consists of a huge building, the length of which somewhat exceeds the breadth. In the centre is an open space, where the camels and their baggage, as well as the mules and waggons, have to be quartered.

This open space is surrounded by a wall about three feet high, and this is bonded into the outer wall surrounding the whole building. The top of the former is level, and about four feet broad. This ledge serves the Turks for bedroom and dining-room, and kitchen as well, for here and there fireplaces are built into the outer wall, which I told you encloses the whole building. So they sleep, eat, and cook on this ledge, three feet high and four feet broad; and this is the only distinction between their quarters and those of the camels, horses, and other beasts of burden.

Moreover, they have their horses haltered at the foot of the ledge, so that their heads and necks come right over it; and as their masters warm themselves or take their supper, the creatures stand by like so many lackeys, and sometimes are given a crust or apple from their master’s hand. On the ledge they also make their beds; first they spread out the rug which they carry for that purpose behind their saddles, on this they put a cloak, while the saddle supplies them with a pillow. A robe, lined with skins, and reaching to the ankles furnishes their dress by day and their blanket at night. And so when they lie down they have no luxuries wherewith to provoke sleep to come to them.

In these inns there is no privacy whatever; everything is done in public, and the only curtain to shield one from people’s eyes is such as may be afforded by the darkness of the night.

I was excessively disgusted with these inns, for all the Turks were staring at us, and wondering at our ways and customs, so I always did my best to get a lodging with some poor Christian; but their huts are so narrow that oftentimes there was not room enough for a bed, and so I had to sleep sometimes in a tent and sometimes in my carriage. On certain occasions I got lodged in a Turkish hostel. These hostels are fine convenient buildings, with separate bedrooms, and no one is refused admittance, whether he be Christian or Jew, whether he be rich or a beggar. The doors are open to all alike. They are made use of by the pashas and sanjak-beys when they travel. The hospitality which I met with in these places appeared to me worthy of a royal palace. It is the custom to furnish food to each individual who lodges there, and so, when supper-time came, an attendant made his appearance with a huge wooden platter as big as a table, in the middle of which was a dish of barley porridge and a bit of meat. Around the dish were loaves, and sometimes a little honey in the comb.

At first I had some delicacy in accepting it, and told the man that my own supper was being got ready, and that he had better give what he had brought to people who were really in want. The attendant, however, would take no denial, expressed a hope ‘that I would not despise their slender fare,’ told me ‘that even pashas received this dole, it was the custom of the place, and there was plenty more for supplying the wants of the poor. If I did not care for it myself I might leave it for my servants.’ He thus obliged me to accept it, lest I should seem ungracious. So I used to thank whoever brought it, and sometimes took a mouthful or two. It was not at all bad. I can assure you that barley porridge is a very palatable food, and it is, moreover, recommended by Galen[101] as extremely wholesome.

Travellers are allowed to enjoy this hospitality for three full days; when these have expired, they must change their hostel. In these places I found, as I have already told you, most convenient lodgings, but they were not to be met with everywhere.

Sometimes, if I could not get a house to lodge in, I spent the night in a cattle shed. I used to look out for a large and roomy stable; in one part of it there would be a regular fire-place, while the other part was assigned to the sheep and oxen. It is the fashion, you must know, for the sheep and the shepherd to live under the same roof.

My plan was to screen off the part where the fire was with my tent hangings, put my table and bed by the fire side, and there I was as happy as a king. In the other part of the stable my servants took their ease in plenty of good clean straw, while some fell asleep by the bonfire which they were wont to make in an orchard or meadow hard by, for the purpose of cooking our food. By means of the fire they were able to withstand the cold; and, as to keeping it burning, no vestal virgin at Rome was ever more careful than they. I dare say you will wonder how I managed to console my people for their bad lodgings. You will surmise that wine, the usual remedy for bad nights, is not easily found in the heart of Turkey. This is quite true. It is not in every district that you can get wine, and this is especially the case in places where Christians do not live. For ofttimes, getting wearied of Turkish insolence, they leave the neighbourhood of the high road, and take refuge in pathless wilds, where the land is poorer, and they themselves are safer, leaving their conquerors in possession of the more fertile spots. When we drew near to such places, the Turks warned us that we should find no wine there, and we then despatched a caterer the day before under the escort of a Turk, to obtain a supply from the neighbouring Christian districts. So my people did not lack this solace of their hardships. To them wine supplied the place of feather beds and bolsters, and every other comfort that induces sleep. As for myself, I had in my carriage some flasks of excellent wine, which supplied my own private table.

I have now told you how I and my people provided ourselves with wine; but we had one hardship almost worse than want of wine, and this was the dreadful way in which our nights were broken. Sometimes, in order to reach a good halting-place betimes, it was necessary to rise very early, while it was still dark. On these occasions it not unfrequently happened that our Turkish guides mistook the moonlight for the approach of dawn, and proceeded to wake us soon after midnight in a most noisy fashion. For the Turks, you must know, have neither hours to mark their time, nor milestones to mark their roads.

They have professional people, called talismans, set apart for the service of their mosques, who use a water-glass; and when these talismans know that morning is at hand, they utter a cry from a lofty minaret built for that special purpose, in order to call and invite the people to the performance of their devotions. They utter the same cry when one quarter of the day has elapsed, at midday, again when three quarters of the day are over, and, last of all, at sunset; each time repeating the cry in shrill quavering tones, the effect of which is not unpleasing, and the sound can be heard at a distance that would astonish you.

Thus the Turks divide their day into four portions, which are longer or shorter according to the season. They have no method for marking time during the night.

But to return to my subject. Our guides, deceived by the brightness of the moon, were wont to give the signal for striking camp when the day was yet far distant. Up we jumped in haste, for fear of causing any delay, or being blamed for any misadventure that might ensue. Our baggage was got together, the bed and tents thrown into the waggon, our horses harnessed, and we ourselves stood ready and equipped, waiting for the signal to start. Meanwhile, our Turks had found out their mistake, and turned into bed for another sleep.

When we had waited some time for them in vain, I would send a message to tell them that we were quite ready, and that the delay rested with them. My messengers brought back word that ‘the Turks had returned to their bedclothes, and vowed that they had been atrociously deceived by the moon when they gave the signal for starting; it was not yet time to set out, and we had much better all go to sleep again.’ The consequence was that we had either to unpack everything at the cost of considerable labour, or to spend a good part of the night shivering in the cold. To put a stop to this annoyance, I ordered the Turks not to trouble me again, and promised to be responsible for our being up in good time, if they would tell me the day before, when we ought to start, assuring them that ‘I could manage it, as I had watches that could be trusted; they might continue their slumbers,’ I added, ‘relying on me to have the camp roused at the proper time.’

My Turks agreed, but were not quite comfortable about it; so at first they would come early, and wake up my servant, bidding him go to me, and ask what the fingers of my timepieces said. On his return he would tell them, as best he could, what the time was, informing them that it was nearly morning, or that the sun would not rise for some time, as the case might be. When they had once or twice proved the truth of his report, they trusted the watches implicitly, and expressed their admiration at their accuracy. Thenceforward we were allowed to enjoy our night’s rest without having it cut short by their uproar.

On our way from Nissa to Sophia we had fair roads and good weather, considering the season of the year. Sophia is a good-sized town, with a considerable population both of residents and visitors. Formerly it was the royal city of the Bulgarians; afterwards (unless I am mistaken) it was the seat of the Despots of Servia, whilst the dynasty still existed, and had not yet succumbed to the power of the Turk. After quitting Sophia we travelled for several days through fruitful fields and pleasant valleys, belonging to the Bulgarians.