CHAPTER XV INTERLUDE

Despite his forebodings, Sir John during the year 1678 had no oppression to complain of.

Hussein Aga, whom our Ambassador considered, in point of influence with the Grand Vizir, to be the third man in the Empire, continued most friendly. He swore by his head that he would make the Pasha of Aleppo refund the sum he had extorted from our Factory, and, in the event of a new importation of specie by the English, he promised all possible favour. The first of these pledges could not be taken seriously: as a predecessor of Sir John’s had observed long ago, “Restitution of money was never yet procured from a Turk; his head more easily.”[208] But with regard to the second, the Customer proved as good as his word. A consignment of 30,000 dollars that reached Constantinople was, thanks to him, brought off for nothing; while a much larger sum (200,000 dollars) was landed at Smyrna for a trifle—2180 dollars: “as Times goe, no ill Bargain.” Nay, in another matter, the Customer proved even better than his word: though he threatened, in pursuance of his old policy, to raise the duty upon the finer cloth we now imported, “yet,” says our Ambassador, “I have brought Him to Acquiesce with those very duty’s I had ascertaind upon our Cloth by the New Capitulations I made; to the grief of heart of them who have reason to envy our Great and Vast Trade, because it Ruines Theirs.” In truth, both French and Dutch had cause to gnash their teeth. The rigour with which Hussein Aga treated them seemed to keep pace with the favour he showed to us: he made both pay for goods that came from Smyrna to Constantinople the difference between the duty levied at the former and the latter port, while he ostentatiously let our goods, once taxed at Smyrna, enter Constantinople scot free. This in addition to the preferential tariff we enjoyed under the New Capitulations. No wonder both the French Ambassador and the Dutch Resident struggled by might and money at the Porte to resist the intolerable tyranny of the Custom House. But nothing availed. They had “a hard head to deal with, and one whose obstinacy is powerfully backd’ at Court.” All they gained was Hussein Aga’s anger: irritated by these attempts to undermine his position, the Customer detained the French merchants’ cloth till they paid up, and let that of the Dutch rot in the Custom-House.[209]

What Frenchmen and Dutchmen thought of Hussein Aga’s partiality for the English may be imagined. But it is to be noted that neither our Ambassador’s despatches nor our Treasurer’s comments contain any hint that the motives which dictated the Customer’s attitude towards us were of a mercenary nature. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, we must assume that he spared us because he liked us. Hussein and Dudley North were fast friends: they often dined together at each other’s houses, the Turk even partaking of the Giaour’s pork and getting drunk on his wine like a good Christian. From Finch, too, he had received more than once samples of his cellar, as well as other civilities.[210] That seems to have been the extent of his obligations to us; and he repaid us with interest.

Equally satisfactory was the attitude of some other Turkish grandees. By the new Bostanji-bashi, to whom Sir John paid a visit, he was received “with all possible demonstrations of respect and kindnesse,” while he was captivated by the affability of the new Capitan Pasha—a personage who by his place was the second man in the Empire, and by his intimacy with the Grand Vizir certainly the first. At the audience which he granted to the Ambassador he was very polite, and they had “many pleasant Reparty’s upon each other;” and what seemed more significant, he honoured the visitor with six vests. Now, as Kara Mustafa made a practice of vesting no man, and as the Capitan Pasha was Kara Mustafa’s prime favourite, Sir John could not but think “that this was done by the Visir’s Privity,” and drew therefrom the hope that maybe Kara Mustafa at last “Malis nostris mitescere discit.”

As regards the pretensions of the Pasha of Tunis also Sir John’s fears went off like other forebodings; and the emergency he apprehended from Narbrough’s operations did not arise: the Admiral managed to wage a successful war of reprisals against the Algerine pirates—seizing their ships and blockading their ports—without any infringement of the Sultan’s suzerain rights.

“In short,” Finch sums up, “though wee cannot bragg of our usage, yet wee may justly say wee have fard’ better then any other Nation. For hitherto though in the worst of Times, I have maintaind’ all the Capitulations Inviolable.” He knew that he was well off, and meant to continue so. He had had his lesson. If his cherished Capitulations were attacked, he would indeed defend them to the utmost of his ability. But as to matters of etiquette, the King having graciously granted him his “dispensation for that complyance” on the point of the Soffah, he registered a vow to “be caught no more in a Ceremoniall Nett.”[211] Acquiescence, after all, has this merit: it prevents noise and saves time.

In the absence of personal history, the Ambassador gives us the history of others. Time was when Sir John, as we have seen, could not find “materialls enough to furnish a Dispatch.” Now it is “conveyances, not matter” that he wants, in order to keep abreast of the “variety’s of change and newes” which crowd upon him. Whatever else Kara Mustafa could not make, he could make things move; and, under his rule, Turkey found herself transformed from a placid lake into a foaming torrent. This transformation is well depicted in our Ambassador’s despatches. A rich chronicle, alive with events, domestic and foreign, civil and military, supplying abundant food for reflection to those who have accustomed themselves to meditate on the characters of men and the fortunes of nations. A thoroughly honest chronicle too. Sir John scrupulously discriminates between reliable intelligence and irresponsible rumour. When dealing with first-hand information, he gives us its sources; when not, his favourite expression, “Tis said,” serves us as a warning that the writer relates what he has heard, but cannot vouch for. He is deeply conscious of the extreme difficulty of getting at the truth of things in Turkey, and does not by any means profess always to believe the reports he transmits.[212] We have variant accounts set forth with perfect candour, and statements previously made corrected as the result of further inquiry. Fond though he is of speculating on the causes and consequences of events, our chronicler takes care to keep surmise severely distinct from certainty. He never pretends to do more than present to the Secretary of State the most plausible conjectures he can form, with the proviso, “Time will make all things plain.”

Not the least interesting, or the least melancholy, of these events is the conduct of Kara Mustafa—the ruler of a mighty Empire—towards the representatives of the little tributary Republic of Ragusa: one of them, Signor Caboga, the “lusty, gallant fellow” whom we saw in happier days disporting himself at Adrianople with our gay Chaplain. The Vizir had consented to treat for an adjustment upon payment of a preliminary instalment of 200,000 dollars, and despatched an Aga to collect this sum, threatening that, in case of refusal, he would order the Pasha of Bosnia to seize the City and territory of the Republic and make slaves of the inhabitants. The messenger returned with the answer that the Ragusans offered 100 purses (50,000 dollars) as a ransom. This offer was rejected, and the Ambassadors were summoned before the Divan, where they were asked whether they would pay the sum demanded or not. On their replying that they could not, Kara Mustafa “calld’ them Doggs, Infidells, Hoggs, and Atheists; commanding them to be carryd’ to prison.” By and by one of their pretended creditors visited them, and finding them sitting upon their beds, cried out that this was not the way to pay their debts. Signor Caboga was unwise enough to retort, “You see us on our beds, but wee hope ere long to see you impald’ upon stakes.” For this speech they were removed, by order of the Vizir, “into a common and filthy gaole.” While they lay in that “infamous prison,” among the vilest criminals, two more envoys arrived from Ragusa “to mitigate the implacable mind of the Visir. But they no sooner came to Silistria where the Gran Signor was, but they were suddainly clapt in chaines and one of them dyd with the insupportable weight of the chaines about his neck.”[213]

Hardly less drastic was Kara Mustafa’s treatment of the representative of a much greater State than Ragusa. In the previous autumn the Palatine of Kulm had come from Poland, with a magnificent suite of at least three hundred persons, as Ambassador Extraordinary, to conclude the long-drawn-out negotiations for peace. On his arrival, Sir John had showered upon the newcomer those tokens of friendship which he had never known to fail of their effect: “I presented him with five chests of Florence and other choice Wines out of Christendome, amongst which was one chest of the Pope’s Wine; which he never drank of but that he first signd’ himselfe with the crosse and rose up and was uncoverd!” But Kara Mustafa nipped this friendship in its juicy bud. For reasons which Sir John could not fathom, the Vizir forbade all further intercourse with the Pole, at the same time ordering our Ambassador to keep the prohibition secret. This embargo placed Sir John in a very awkward position: the world wondered why he paid no visit to his colleague, and Sir John had to dissemble until the Plague breaking out in the Pole’s house afforded him a plausible excuse for holding aloof.[214] But though he had no direct communication with the Palatine, he kept himself informed of all that passed between him and the Porte.

It is by no means our intention to recite the Iliad of miseries, the humiliations, the terrors and utter harrowing to despair, which the poor Palatine underwent incessantly till the end of his mission. Let the following extracts from Sir John’s despatches speak for themselves.

Dec. 15-25, 1677.—“The Polish Ambassadour has the Plague very hott in his house, 14 persons of quality being dead out of it (for the Visir would suffer none of the Nobility to depart), and two particularly last night; and yet I found one Druggerman who had the courage to goe to him and wish him in my name a happy Christmas: He sent me word that he intended to visit me before he left this place; not knowing, good gentleman, the restraint that I am under: tis hard really that in all this danger the Visir will not permitt him to change his house, calling the motion when it was made by him, a Christian Panick fear.”

Jan. 19-29, 1677-78.—“The Polish Ambassadour is here still and yet alive, though the Plague was very hott in his house, he could not get leave to remove to another, having no other answer but this, Let him run his destiny.”

March 1-11, 1677-78.—“At last the Peace between the Port and the Poles is concluded; which was effected three dayes since but is not yet underwritten.... The Ambassadour was so long inflexible, but he gott nothing by his standing out thus long but bad words and worse Treatment, a great part of his trayn being dead of the Plague by ill accommodation when Infection was gott amongst them.” So if this treatment, as seems probable, was the result of policy rather than of mere cruelty, it proved efficacious. “The Peace was patchd’ up by the Tartar Han or Crim Tartar ... the Polish Ambassadour applying himselfe to the Mediation of this Prince with such Humility that though His Principality is so qualifyd’ ... He kissd’ the very Hem of his Garment that touchd’ the Ground.”

March 2-12, 1677-78.—“The Peace with Poland is subscribd’ on both sides ... the Poles have deliverd’ up not onely a great part of Ukrania, two places there onely remaining to them, but what is of worse consequence to them, they have surrenderd’ all Podolia entirely, the richest province they had.”

In return for these territorial sacrifices, the Ambassador expected some religious concessions, among them the restoration of our old friends, the Latin Fathers, to the possession of the Holy Sepulchre. The Poles set immense store by this point, “for their wisedome tells them, that if the Restitution of the Holy Sepulchre depends upon the Peace with that Crowne, they shall be sure hereafter of the assistance of all Christian Princes upon any new warr with the Turk.” And in fact they had managed to insert an Article to such effect in the Treaty. But it was not for nothing that the Porte had for its chief Interpreter a Greek. The Treaty had been drawn up in two languages—Latin and Turkish. Now, in the Turkish version, that Article, from possession and guardianship of the Holy Sepulchre—the form under which it figured in the Latin text—had been whittled down to mere access to it: a privilege that the Latin Fathers already enjoyed. The Ambassador demanded that the Article should be interpreted according to the Latin text; the Porte adhered to the letter of the Turkish text. Hence several stormy conferences, in the course of which the Grand Vizir’s Kehayah and the Rais Effendi told the Pole that they would give him war if he would not have peace on their terms, called him a faithless Giaour who would fly from what he had signed, and reviled him with such violence that at length the poor Palatine, terrified for his liberty, if not for his life, fairly gave in.

Immediately messengers were despatched to Jerusalem to acquaint the Cordeliers “with to them most dreadfull Newes.” What made the news exceptionally dreadful was the sinister circumstance that, as this year the Latin and Greek Easter fell on the same day, the Greek Patriarch had an opportunity of celebrating his victory with a Te Deum at which they themselves, as well as all Eastern Christians, would of necessity be present. Sir John, who describes all these diplomatic manœuvres in detail, could not have been very sorry to see another foiled where he himself had striven in vain. So much at least may be inferred from his sardonic comment on the sole favour for the Faith his unhappy colleague seemed likely to secure: “He shall have the honour of rebuilding two churches that have bin burnt down: so wee encrease our churches here though the number of Christians decreases dayly; and the Pastours are here equall in number allmost to their sheep.”[215]

It should be mentioned that, apart from the other forces that compelled the Palatine to an over-hasty signature of Articles he did not fully understand, there was the fear of an agreement between Turkey and Russia, which appeared imminent. Yet the envoy from Muscovy, whose advent at that critical hour hastened the Polish surrender, had little reason to feel pleased with the good turn he had unwittingly done the Turks. He came from a Power which by its military resources, its proximity to the Sultan’s Persian enemies, and its influence over his Orthodox subjects, inspired respect in the Turks. But he came at a moment when respect was eclipsed by resentment.

In the preceding autumn, when peace with one country had come in sight, Kara Mustafa had begun provoking war with another. Turkish troops attacked the Russian fort of Zechrin, were badly beaten, and only escaped a total rout by a speedy retreat. The news of this disaster had been the signal for an Ottoman mobilisation on a colossal scale and accompanied with commensurate squeezing. No class or creed was spared: Moslems, Christians, and Jews, high and low, laity and clergy, were all mulcted indiscriminately. The Turkish ecclesiastics had to give up one-third of their income. The feudal land magnates had to renew their ancient conveyances at great expense, under pain of forfeiting their fiefs. The Prince of Moldavia was ordered to contribute 150 purses, and the Prince of Wallachia 300 purses, besides enormous quantities of provisions. Throughout the Empire old taxes were increased and new ones imposed: “All which things,” says Sir John, “make the people of the Country ready to hang themselves.” The Janissaries alone were left untouched by Kara Mustafa’s lash; for they alone could make a revolution. Before the Muscovite envoy had crossed the frontier the mobilised bodies had begun to move from the various provinces to the place of rendezvous three miles outside the capital, where the Grand Signor and Grand Vizir joined them about the middle of March, with more than the parade usual on such occasions. It was an astonishing sight. It lasted four days, and each day had its peculiar pageant. Sir John was present at the most important parts of the ceremony, and he sent to the Secretary of State a minute description of what he saw.

On the first day the Grand Vizir’s retinue marched out under the command of his Kehayah—over one hundred pages clad in cloth of gold and coats of mail. On the second day there was a solemn procession of the Guilds—weavers, tailors, shoe-makers, bakers, blacksmiths, and so forth, about 12,000 men in all—one-third of whom would accompany the Army on its campaign and minister to its wants. Some of them rode past in glittering coats of mail with long lances in their hands and swords at their sides, while musketeers of the same trade marched on either side of the mounted squadrons. In the middle of each squadron there were representatives of each Guild engaged in their peculiar craft either on foot or perched on the backs of camels, according to the exigencies of their occupation. In this fashion they went on, fifty-three companies of warrior-workers, with their kettle-drums, their great drums, their trumpets and other instruments of barbaric music: “So the Turkish Military Camp,” comments the chronicler, “is nothing else but a civil camp being furnishd’ with all the Arts of Peace in Time of Warr.” The third day witnessed the exodus of the Janissary Aga at the head of his Janissaries—about 20,000 of the best Infantry in the whole world. And then, on the fourth day, the Grand Signor in person made his Alloy, as the Turks called this marching out in state.

He went forth accompanied by his son, his son-in-law, the Grand Vizir, the Vizirs of the Bench, the Capitan Pasha, and all the other great pashas of the Empire with their retinues “most proudly clad, jackd’, and mounted.” Here was, indeed, the grandeur of which Sir John had dreamed. He gazed on, dumbfounded by the profusion of wealth that met his eyes; the Sultan’s led horses were almost hidden under embroideries of gold, thick-set with jewels of fabulous value. Behind them came a camel on the back of which was strapped a chest of beaten gold, made in the form of a square tower, richly encrusted with precious stones, and enclosing the Alcoran. Immediately after rode the young Prince on “as fine a Horse as Nature ever producd’”—bridle and trappings aglow with diamonds. Last of all came the Grand Signor himself, attired in a vest lined with black fox fur worth ten thousand crowns, and bestriding a steed the furniture of which was “all over besett with Jewells of Immense Price”—“really He appeard like an Emperour.” He was followed by a numerous body of royal attendants of all ranks and stalwart Spahis.

The procession closed with a caravan of camels, some laden with the Imperial baggage, others carrying the Treasure—“a Million and a halfe in Gold, and as much more in Silver: every cammel carrying fifty thousand Zecchins, or ten Purses of silver”—under a guard of trusty Janissaries.

“I do not know,” says the Ambassador, “whether what in the sight gave so much divertisement, can afford any in the reading.” The actual description of the pageant may not—descriptions seldom do. But it is enlivened by notes which are certainly more diverting than they could have been intended by the writer. One of them reveals the diplomat’s keen eye for points of etiquette; he observes that the Vizir rode with the Sultan’s son-in-law on his left; “which seems to me to evidence that the right hand is amongst the Turkes the Place of Precedence; though even in Turky tis generally thought otherwise.” Another reveals his credulity: in the train of the Sultan’s son-in-law Sir John saw, or imagined that he saw, eight tamed tigers warmly clad, carried behind eight horsemen: “of these I am informd’ the Gran Signor makes use when He Hunts Hares and other Animals; They having gott their prey, leap again upon the Horses behind their Masters.” What wag supplied His Excellency with this valuable information must remain matter of conjecture—one suspects the Honourable Dudley. A third note reveals the Ambassador’s vanity. Speaking of the Guilds, he says: “T was pretty to see the Respect of the Blacksmiths towards me; for seeing me they layd one of their companions upon His back; and placing Boards upon His Belly they layd’ a Great Stone upon them for an Anvill and putting a Red Hott Iron upon the Stone, eight of them with their Great Hammers fell to worke.” Another tribute of respect paid to Sir John on the same occasion makes a less severe demand on our faith: a large boat, like a brigantine, armed with half-a-dozen small guns was drawn along on sledges: when it passed by the Ambassador, the commander stopped and fired all the guns for a salute—“a thing,” his Excellency adds modestly, “of no great moment, but that any Civility is so when Turkes make a solemnity; and especially No others having receivd the like.” For all that, Sir John was very glad to see the backs of Kara Mustafa and his satellites: “T’ is sayd that they cannot returne hither this following winter. If so, t’ is very good new’s for me, for from thence I hope for some quiett and repose after the turmoyls and vexations I and all others have bin under.”[216]

It was shortly after this exit that the envoy from Muscovy arrived and met with a reception which showed how little reasonable accommodation was to the Grand Vizir’s taste. The first thing Kara Mustafa did was to ask the envoy to hand over to him the letters he had for the Grand Signor, and as the envoy refused to deliver them into any but the Grand Signor’s hands, he had recourse to a ruse. A day was appointed as if for an Imperial Audience, and the Russian set out holding up his letters before his forehead, after the Muscovite manner. On the way, the chaoushes who pretended to be conducting him to the Sultan snatched the letters from him and carried them to the Grand Vizir, who, on finding that they contained expostulations for his hostile designs and expressions of a desire for an amicable settlement, informed the envoy that it was too late; the army was ready for a campaign; only if, before it crossed the frontier, Muscovy would give satisfaction war could be averted; the price of peace being a cession of the object under dispute. With this message and without “any Testimony from the Port of the least imaginable respect,” the envoy was dismissed. And the march towards the Danube began.[217]

At this point Sir John ceases to be a mere spectator of the international drama and becomes for a moment an actor. For some time past a strong feeling of opposition to Charles II.’s Francophile policy had been growing up in England; and at last the King, yielding to public opinion, made an attempt to curb the power of Louis, who so far had carried everything before him against the whole Continental Alliance. France was asked to come to terms, and as she returned an evasive answer England began preparations for forcing her. News of the crisis had reached Turkey early in March, and created a considerable flutter in the diplomatic dovecote; but it was not until the end of April that the consequences of an Anglo-French conflict, should it arise, were brought home to our Ambassador.

A drunken English sailor at Smyrna met some Frenchmen in the street and, addressing them as “French dogs,” cried out that he hoped ere long to get one of their jackets and be “Allamode.” The Frenchmen fell upon him and wounded him in the head. Thereupon a body of about thirty English seamen gathered together and rushed to the French Consul’s house, breathing vengeance. The French merchants hastened to the defence of their Consul, and tried to repel the attack with stones and cudgels; but with no success. The English, after breaking all the windows, climbed up into the outer gallery, drove the defenders into the inner rooms, and were already beginning to pull down the house, when our Consul, accompanied by Sir Richard Munden, who was then in the Levant with H.M.S. St. David for the protection of English trade, and the other Commanders then in port, arrived upon the scene. The assailants at first refused to obey; “one of them swearing a desperate oath that He would not give over till He had drunke the Bloud of a Frenchman.” But in the end they were induced by threats of martial law to abandon their sanguinary design.

This incident filled Sir John with alarm as to what might have happened, “had these Mad fellows executed their fury according to their Intentions either in Murdring the Consul or pulling down His house.” Even in normal times the mutual animosities of the Franks exposed them to rapine on the part of the Turks; in time of war, and under a government like Kara Mustafa’s, such animosities might lead to utter ruin; and the English, whose property in Turkey was twenty times greater than that of the French, would suffer in proportion: “where most mony is, the most will be extorted even in a Parity of Crime.” Prompted by these considerations, Sir John took a step never before taken in Turkey: he invited the French Ambassador to a frank and free discussion of a situation which was disagreeable for the present and might in the future prove extremely dangerous. The result was as pleasing an example of sweet reasonableness as is to be found in the whole domain of Anglo-French diplomacy. The two ambassadors, after recalling to each other’s mind what quarrels of this nature had cost in the past (the Cancellarias of both Embassies abounded with cases in point)—“when sometimes one Nation, sometimes the other sufferd’ highest under Avanias that arose from thence; though in the Conclusion neither scapd’ without severe payments,”—agreed, if war broke out between their Governments in Europe, to continue living in Turkey “with all the same Circumstances of Civility and formality as also respects towards each other; as if there was no Warr: That by our Example the Factory’s under us might practise the same.” Further, “considering that Example without Precept is little, as Precept without Example is lesse,” they agreed to send to their respective Consuls and Factories orders couched in identical terms, requiring them to conform unswervingly to the line of conduct pursued by the Ambassadors themselves.[218]

So unprecedented an action, taken by the Ambassador on his own initiative, needed justification; and Sir John, in reporting it to Whitehall, explains his motives at length, adding that, when all the circumstances are weighed, he has reason to hope that the King will be pleased to think that what he has done is “for His Majesty’s Honour, and for the Interest of His Subjects.” As a matter of fact, there was every reason to believe (and both Finch and Nointel must have known it) that Charles, in his heart, had no desire to fall out with France; and in due course Sir John received His Majesty’s approval. But long before that approval reached him all danger of war had blown over. The English Parliament, while urging Charles to fight Louis, refused him the means of doing so, for fear lest the arms placed in his hands for the humiliation of France should be turned against the liberties of England. The only practical fruit of the agitation was an interdiction of trade with our rival. And so Louis, profiting by England’s neutrality, made a peace (Treaty of Nimeguen, 1678) which put the coping-stone on his power.

After this little ferment Sir John relapsed into his rôle of chronicler. At the beginning of summer a German Internuncio, Hoffmann, arrived from Vienna, with a new Imperial Resident, Sattler. Whereupon the old Resident, Kindsberg, broke up his household, took leave of his colleagues, and set out, with the newcomers, for the Vizir’s camp. But they had scarcely gone three days when an express command from Kara Mustafa obliged them to return to Constantinople and stay there till further orders. Kara Mustafa had his reasons for postponing an interview: the Internuncio’s business was to renew the truce between the Ottoman and the German Empires, which was about to expire, and Kara Mustafa wanted to see how the Polish Treaty was observed and how the Russian campaign went, before he committed himself to peace or war with Germany. The consequences were ghastly for the Caesarean diplomats: Sattler died of the plague, Hoffmann was seized with an apoplexy which paralysed him, Kindsberg, after losing his brother and a number of his attendants through the plague, himself fell victim either to the disease or to poison. The plague also carried off the Venetian Bailo’s chief Dragoman and Treasurer. Sir John, however, in his summer resort at St. Demetrius, was safe from the terrible epidemic. As for that other pest, he reckoned that, what with Muscovy and Germany, the Vizir was certain to be away for two years at least, and his reckonings seemed confirmed by a reported resolution of the Grand Signor’s to build a palace on the Danube—“a sign there’s no quick Dispatch expected either with the Muscovite or the Emperour. So that during the short remainder of my Time, I have now a Probable prospect of Quietnesse and a Calm, which I have not enjoyd hitherto One Moment Since my Arrivall.” He could now take a dispassionate, even an amused, view of his past calamities and cap Latin verses thereon with the Secretary of State, sending him, in return for a line out of a Comedian, two out of a Tragedian.[219]

But alas for the futility of human calculations! In the very midst of his self-gratulation, Sir John received the news “that Zechrin is taken by storm, And that the Triumphant Visir will return hither this winter. When that Lion comes, if successe don’t make Him milder, the contrary of which is to be feard, God direct me.”[220]