“I went out to meet my beloved Músá; he tarried and came not.
Perhaps I have missed him in the way; he tarried and came not.”
On hearing this plaintive song, the Sultán took up his pocket handkerchief, and when I approached him, he turned round and said: “The boy has brought to life the spirit of Músá Chelebí! Now tell me the truth instantly; who told thee to sing this song, which I have forbidden to be sung in my presence, and who taught thee it?” I replied, “My emperor, may your life be prolonged! My father had two slaves who learnt the song from the writings of Irmaghán Mohammed Efendí, who died during the late plague, and from them I learnt it. I have heard it from no one else, nor did any one tell me to sing it in the presence of my emperor.” The Sultán said, “The boy is very ingenious; he quotes the authority of dead men, that he may not compromise the living.” He then said, “Mayest thou live long,” and desired me proceed with my performance. I accordingly put my hand on the dáyara and sang:
“The mouth of my beloved betrays the hidden secret,
When he speaks he utters magic spells;
Should he look in anger, even Rustam would be overcome,
For his eyebrows resemble the bow, and his lashes the arrows.”
I then stood silent, and having kissed the ground before the emperor, he praised me highly, and gave me several pieces of gold. The emperor then addressing Emírgúneh, said: “The first verses sung by Evliyá were composed by myself, on the death of my favourite companion Músá, whom I had sent on a message to Rajab Páshá, when he was assaulted by the rebels, who threw his murdered body into the At-maidán. O! Emírgúneh, hadst thou but known what an amiable and intelligent youth that was! I have hitherto found no servant like him; and that innocent boy died a martyr!” “My emperor,” replied Emírgúneh, “have you not opened the life-veins of those who shed his innocent blood?” “Yes,” said the Sultán, “it is to avenge the murder of my favourite, and the violent death of my brother Othmán, that I have made the heads of 307,000 rebels to roll in the dust.” “May God prosper all your undertakings,” replied Emírgúneh; “the 307,000 heads did not indeed belong to men, but to so many rebels, who sprung from the ground like mushrooms. Your armies however, in avenging the blood of their companions, did so sufficiently in taking the fortress of Eriván out of my hands, and cutting up the root and branch of the Persian army.” The Sultán, pleased with this reply, called for wine and drank a glass. In the evening he ordered me to read a tenth of the Korán; I commenced where I had left off on the holy night of Kadr at Ayá Sofiá, that is, at the Súra Aa’ráf, and read two hundred and four verses, divided into two mákam, twenty-four sha’ba, and forty-eight tarkíb. I then repeated the names of the Sultáns Ahmed, Othmán, and all their illustrious ancestors, to whom I transferred any merit I might have from this reading of the Korán, and concluded with the Fatihat (first chapter of the Korán). The Sultán then presented me with a fish-bone belt set with jewels, which he had in his hand; and asked Emírgúneh whether they read the Korán so well in Persia. Emírgúneh replied that the Persians cared little to conform their actions to the Korán, and much less to read it properly. “It is only to the piety of your majesty, that we are indebted for such reading, which reminds us of the assemblies of Husain Bhikará.” At this moment the Mu’azzins began to call to prayers at the head of the staircase, which looks toward the court-yard of the palace. The emperor ordered me to assist them; I flew like a peacock to the top of the staircase, and began to exclaim, “Hai a’la’-as-saláh! i.e. Ho! to good works!” Before the commencement of prayers, I was observed by my good master Evliyá Efendí, the imperial Imám, who meeting the emperor in the oratory, outside of the imperial mosque, close to the Khás-oda, thus addressed him: “My gracious emperor, this boy, the darling of my heart, has not attended my lectures since the sacred night of Kadr, when you took him to the Harem. He has already learnt by heart the whole of the Korán, according to the seven readings; he is thoroughly acquainted with the Shátabíeh treatise on that subject, and was beginning the study of the ten different readings; allow him, then, to perfect himself in these studies, after which he may return to your majesty’s service.” The emperor, not in the least regarding these requests, said, “Efendí! do you suppose that our palace is a tavern, or a den of robbers? Three thousand pages are here devoted night and day to the study of the sciences, besides attending to the seven general lectures, and the two which your reverence delivers twice a week. He may attend your lectures as before; but I cannot leave him to your disposal, for he is a lively and intelligent youth, and must remain with me as my son. His father, the chief of the goldsmiths, is my father; but he may come as often as he pleases to see his son.” Evliyá Efendí seeing there was no hope of obtaining what he wished, said: “Well, my gracious sovereign, allow him at least the books that are necessary for his education.” The Sultán immediately called for pen and ink, directed the treasurer to be in attendance, and with his own hand he wrote the following imperial order: “Thou, chief of the treasury, shalt immediately supply Evliyá with the following works: the Káfiah, the commentary of Jámí, the Tafsír Kází, the Misbáh, the Díbácheh, the Sahíh Moslem, the Bokhárí, the Multeka-al-Abhar, the Kadúrí, the Gulistán and Bostán, the Nisáb-sabiyán, and the Loghat Akhtarí.” The kehiyá or deputy treasurer immediately brought me these valuable works, which had been written for the use of sovereigns, and the Sultán presented me with a copy of the Korán, in the hand-writing of Yákút Musta’samí, which he was in the habit of reading himself; also a silver inkstand set with jewels, and a writing-board inlaid with mother-o’-pearl. At the same time he gave instructions to the Kílárjí-báshí respecting my accommodation. Thus three times a week I read the Korán with Evliyá Efendí, and also had lessons in Arabic, Persian, and writing. In this manner it was but seldom I could attend in the service of the emperor, but whenever I came into his presence he was always delighted, and treated me so graciously, that I never failed to shew my wit and pleasantry. I should never have been tempted to repeat any of my witty sayings, but for the express commands of the Sultán. Kara Hisárí, the great calligrapher my writing-master, and many other witnesses are still living, who can attest that, versed as I then was in every branch of science, I enjoyed the greatest favour of the Sultán, who liked a joke or a laugh as well as any plain dervísh.[6] I had frequently the honour of conversing familiarly with this great monarch, and were I to relate all the conversation that passed between us I should fill a volume. In short, Sultán Murád was a man who had the nature of a Dervísh, but he was brave and intelligent. His fingers were thick, but well proportioned, and the strongest wrestler could not open his closed fist. He generally dressed in blue coloured silk, and liked to ride very fast. Neither the Ottoman nor any other dynasty of Moslem princes ever produced a prince so athletic, so well-made, so despotic, so much feared by his enemies, or so dignified as Sultán Murád. Though so cruel and bloodthirsty, he conversed with the rich and poor without any mediator, made his rounds in disguise night and day to be informed of the state of the poor, and to ascertain the price of provisions, for which purpose he frequently went into cookshops and dined incognito. No monarch, however, was guilty of so many violent deeds. On the march to Baghdád, when he left Cæsarea, a wild goat was started in the mountains of Develí Kara Hisár. The emperor immediately gave it chase, struck it with his spear, followed it up amongst the rocks, and divided his prey amongst his vezírs. The whole army was surprised to see him dismount and climb up the craggy mountain in pursuit of his game. On another occasion I saw him seize his Salihdárs Melek Ahmed and Músá Aghá, both remarkably stout men, take them by their belts, lift them over his head, and fling them one to the right and the other to the left. Ahmed Páshá, Hasan Páshá the calligrapher, Delí Husain Páshá, and Pehleván Díshlenk Soleïmán, were all athletic men who were fond of playing and wrestling. The Sultán frequently stripped himself and wrestled with these men, on a spot of the seráï called Chemen-sofa. It was I who on such occasions read the usual prayer of the wrestlers. It is as follows: “Allah! Allah! For the sake of the Lord of all created beings—Mohammed Mustafá, for the sake of Mohammed Bokhárá of Sárí Sáltik, for the sake of our Sheikh Mohammed who laid hold of the garments and the limbs, let there be a setting-to of hand upon hand, back upon back, and breast upon breast! And for the love of Alí the Lion of God, grant assistance O Lord!” After this prayer the Sultán began to wrestle either with Melek Ahmed or Delí Husain. They met according to the rules of wrestling, laying hold of each other, and entwining themselves like serpents. But when the emperor grew angry he knelt down upon one knee, and endeavouring to master his opponent from beneath, it was difficult to resist him. He generally succeeded in bringing his antagonist to the ground. All the early heroes of Islamism, such as Ma’di Karb, Okail Ben Abú Táleb, Sohail Rúmí, Sa’íd, Kháled Ben Walíd, Asa’d Ben Mokdád, Haddád, Omar, Alí, Hamza, and Malek, used to wrestle in the presence of the Prophet, who was himself a great wrestler, and at different times vanquished his enemies, the cursed Abúlahab and Abújahal. Thus wrestling became one of the favourite exercises of the Moslems; and Pír Mahmúd became the patron saint of the art, which was made to consist of forty arts, seventy rounds, and one hundred and forty tricks, and with all of which a good wrestler must be thoroughly acquainted. Wrestlers are forbidden to engage in karakosh, boghma, and jeríd, because wrestling is an exercise on foot, and not a contest with an enemy. If in battle an enemy lays hold on another to wrestle, he may take advantage of the karakosh, boghma, or jeríd. He may even cut off the head of his adversary. Murád, when a stout young man, was never satisfied until he brought his antagonist to the ground. One day he came out covered with perspiration from the hammám (bath) in the Khás-oda, saluted those present, and said, “Now I have had a bath.” “May it be to your health,” was the general reply. I said, “My emperor, you are now clean and comfortable, do not therefore oil yourself for wrestling to-day, especially as you have already exerted yourself with others, and your strength must be considerably reduced.” “Have I no strength left?” said he, “let us see;” upon which he seized me as an eagle, by my belt, raised me over his head, and whirled me about as children do a top. I exclaimed, “Do not let me fall, my emperor, hold me fast!” He said, “Hold fast yourself,” and continued to swing me round, until I cried out, “For God’s sake, my emperor, cease, for I am quite giddy.” He then began to laugh, released me, and gave me forty-eight pieces of gold for the amusement I had afforded him. Sometimes he would take his two sword-bearers, Melek Ahmed and Músá, both stout men, and carrying them in his hands would make the circuit of the Chemen-sofa several times. He was a man who ate much, and indeed he was a hero surpassing Sám, Zál, Narímán, Afrásíáb and Rustam. One day he pierced with a jeríd the shield of an Albanian, which was composed of seven layers of the root of the fig-tree, and sent it to Cairo, where it is suspended in the díván of Sultán Ghúrí. Hasan the calligrapher wrote the toghra of the Sultán in gold and purple on Chinese paper five cubits square. This is also preserved in the díván of Ghúrí. When I was there, I inscribed underneath it the names of the four associates of the prophet (Abúbekr, Omar, Othmán and Alí), also in the manner of a toghra (monogram), imploring the blessing of God upon them.
On another occasion Murád, in the presence of the German and Dutch ambassadors, pierced some shields composed of ten camel-hides, which they had brought with them as presents. He returned these shields, and the spear with which he had pierced them, as presents to the emperor of Germany. I saw them suspended in the archway of the inner gate at Vienna. Ten other shields, sent as presents by the emperor of Germany, he pierced in the same manner, and sent them to Músá Páshá when governor of Bude, where I saw them suspended. When he was at Halep (Aleppo) he threw a jeríd from the castle, which passing over the ditch and a considerable space beyond, fell in the market-place of the stirrup-makers, where a column inscribed with a chronogram marks the spot where it fell.
One day while he was exercising himself in the old palace, he saw a crow on the crescent of the left minareh of Sultán Báyazíd. He immediately rode to the At-maidán, and throwing his jeríd to the height of the mosque, struck the crow, which fell dead at his feet. The At-maidán of the old palace is distant one mile from the minareh of Sultán Báyazíd. If the jeríd had not hit the raven, but had pursued its course, it would certainly have fallen in the poultry-market. On the spot where the crow fell there now stands a white marble column of the height of a man, with a chronogram by Júrí inscribed with letters in gold. A similar monument of the extraordinary distance to which a jeríd was thrown stands in the garden of Beykos, also inscribed with a chronogram by Júrí.