No sooner was this bone of contention “buryd” than another affair rose on our Ambassador. The Barbary Corsairs—those redoubtable sea-wolves who seemed to take a perverse pleasure in harassing the friends of their suzerain—were once more at their old game. For some time past English navigation in the Mediterranean had enjoyed exceptional prosperity: all sorts of foreign merchants, whose nations were at war, choosing to convey their goods under the flag of the only country that was at peace with the whole world. By these voyages between Spanish, Italian, and Turkish ports, our countrymen not only reaped the benefit of the foreign freights, but besides put out their money at “Cambio Marittimo”—that is, on security of the merchandise they carried, at 20 and 25 per cent: an immense gain. But lately the Tripolines disturbed this lucrative traffic by seizing two of the vessels engaged in it. The English Consul at Tripoli managed to free the ships, as well as the English men and goods in them, but the property of foreigners, which constituted the bulk of the cargoes, could not be rescued: even as it was, the liberation of the ships and crews had raised a loud outcry against the Dey, whose subjects were either pirates or such as got their livelihood from them; and a revolt had barely been averted. In the circumstances the Dey, even if he had the will, lacked the power to restore the booty, claiming that by her Treaty with England Tripoli had the right to search English ships and to confiscate foreign goods.
These outrages had dealt a severe blow at the prestige of the English flag, and it was feared that they might prove a cause of greater damage still, if left unavenged: “unlesse His Majesty is pleasd to resent this searching of His ships and taking out Strangers Goods,” wrote Finch to the Secretary of State, “T’ will be impossible to keep long Argiers and Tunis from the same Trade and liberty; and at last the Maltese and other Christian Corsari will pretend to the same.” He went on to suggest that the appearance of an English squadron in the Mediterranean would have a salutary effect both as a corrective and as a preventive.[77] As a fact, the English Government had anticipated the suggestion; and presently the Ambassador received from Smyrna a letter enclosing a communication from Sir John Narbrough to Mr. Consul Rycaut: the Admiral, having been denied by the Dey satisfaction, had commenced hostilities. This vigour, no doubt, redounded to the glory of England; but at the same time it created a delicate situation for her representative at the Porte.
The Barbary States still were, at least in name, parts of the Ottoman Empire. When their enormities were brought to the notice of the Porte by European ambassadors, the Grand Signor’s Ministers professed themselves greatly shocked. But what would you? they said. The Barbary people were rebels for whose sins the Grand Signor could not be held responsible. When the ambassador requested that, such being the case, the Grand Signor should not consider himself aggrieved if his master should take his own vengeance and right his own wrongs, the Ministers used to answer that it was only just that malefactors should suffer and that those who inflicted injuries on others should receive injuries themselves. But the Grand Signor could not see with indifference his vassal States attacked: the utmost he would permit was reprisals on pirate ships afloat—an assault on the towns ashore would be regarded as an act of hostility against himself. Hence, every time an English fleet came forth to punish the African rogues, the English in Turkey trembled lest it should do something that might draw the Sultan’s wrath down upon them. Such was the situation created in 1661 by Sir John Lawson’s, and in 1669-71 by Sir Thomas Allin’s and Sir Edward Spragge’s expeditions against Algiers.[78] As Winchilsea and Harvey on those occasions, so Finch now had to bestir himself to prevent disagreeable developments. He began by transmitting the news of the rupture with Tripoli to the Grand Vizir, “that it might not be thought His Majesty Our Master had broken with those Vile People an Agreement subscribd’ by both Monarchs, but according to the Tenour of the Articles.”[79]
And that was not all: troubles seldom come single. The Pasha of Tunis, it now appeared, was not satisfied with the 30,000 dollars the Ambassador had recovered for him. He affirmed that this sum represented only a fraction of his loss, and claimed 60,000 dollars more. As to Sir John’s settlement with his Aga, the Pasha had already shown what he thought of that transaction in an unmistakable manner. The moment the Aga reached home he received, in lieu of thanks, a merciless drubbing. When he could walk, the wretched Procurator came to Finch, told him how he had been treated, and left with him the written dismissal he had from his master, saying that the Pasha was a bad man, and that document might be of use to the Ambassador one day. Then he went away to Trebizond, where he died. In the meantime the Pasha had obtained a new post at the Porte, and now favoured Sir John with a list of his alleged losses, sent through no less a person than the Grand Vizir’s Kehayah or Steward. How much this unexpected missive perturbed Sir John may be judged by his own expression: “The storm which I had thought had bin blown over, as to the depredation of the Pashah of Tunis, is turnd’ upon me more violent then ever.”[80]
He did not think it politic, however, to betray his agitation by taking direct notice of the claim. But he immediately despatched to Adrianople his second Dragoman, Signor Antonio Perone, under pretence of finding lodgings for his Audience, with instructions to own no other errand: only, after he had been there four or five days to invent an excuse for waiting upon the Kehayah and, in case that official made no mention of the matter, to say nothing about it; but if he broached the question, the Dragoman was primed what to answer. Should the Kehayah prove obstinate, the Dragoman was to address himself, in the Ambassador’s name, to the Grand Vizir and complain of the Tripoline outrages, thus meeting the Pasha’s grievance with a counter-grievance. Even if the Grand Vizir did not allude to the subject of his own accord, Signor Antonio had orders, unless he found him out of humour, to open it himself and predispose him in Sir John’s favour. It was not the weakness of his case that troubled our Ambassador: he believed that in an argument he could more than hold his own; what made him fear was the fact that the Pasha had presented one half of his claim to the Sultan, who just now wanted money badly to defray the cost of the coming festivities: “in order to which extraordinary expense He has imposd’ a great Taxe upon all those that have any charge under Him throughout the Empire.”[81]
The inadvisability of further inaction thus borne in upon our Ambassador from more quarters than one, he hurried on his preparations for the trip to Adrianople.
It was “a grand equipment,” and the task of providing the thousand and one things needed for it—tents, horses for saddle and carriage, hired servants, and so forth—devolved on the Levant Company’s Treasurer. The Ambassador was far too great a man to concern himself about matters of this sort. He serenely abandoned to Dudley North all the drudgery, and, with the drudgery, all the amusement and emolument. North enjoyed both. The only matters connected with the expedition that Sir John seems to have considered worthy of his care were matters which gave rise to points of honour—sundry acts of commission or omission, mere pinholes, maybe, to the ordinary eye; significant enough to one whose guiding maxim was, “Never to part with the least Puntiglio of the King’s Honour.”
Signor Antonio at Adrianople demanded a Command for the Kaimakam of Constantinople to supply the Ambassador with carts. The Command was issued, but it was worded in a way which suggested that the Porte had been annoyed by Sir John’s delay in presenting his Credentials: the Kaimakam was ordered to send the Ambassador to Audience. Signor Antonio returned the document, saying that his Excellency would never come on such terms: why should he be sent, when he had offered to come? The phrasing was altered accordingly. But when the Command reached Constantinople, Sir John found himself obliged to fight for the King’s honour on another “puntiglio.” The Kaimakam allotted him thirty carts, as he had done to his predecessor (Harvey, it would seem from this as well as from other instances, was not very sensitive on “puntiglios”—but then he had not the advantage of an Italian education). On being informed that the French Ambassador, when he went to Adrianople, had double that number, Sir John declared that he “was an Ambassadour of no lesse King, and had as good a Retinue,” consequently he required an equal number of carts. The Kaimakam said it was true that Nointel had been assigned sixty, but had been content with fifty. Very well, was Sir John’s rejoinder, “I would have the same assignment to me and I would be content with fifty-five.”[82]