Well, you wish me to tell you of my journey, the position of affairs when I arrived, my reception at Constantinople, etc.; in short, you want to know how I am, whether I am enjoying myself, and whether I have any immediate prospect of returning. You claim an answer to your questions on the score of our ancient friendship.
Here is my reply to your inquiries. First, the report which you heard of my return hither was quite correct, nor need you be surprised at my taking this step. My word was pledged, and having once undertaken the duty, I could not consistently draw back.
My position was this: I had been appointed by my most gracious master Ferdinand, King of the Romans, ambassador in ordinary to Solyman for several years. This appointment, however, and my acceptance of it, appeared to rest on the assumption that peace had been concluded; still, as the hope of an arrangement had not been altogether abandoned, I did not, until the matter was finally settled, one way or the other, feel justified in avoiding the toils and risks of my present position.
Accordingly though I was under no delusion as to the extent of the danger I was incurring, and should have much preferred to hand over the duty to another, still, since I could not find a substitute, I was obliged to obey the wish of my most kind and considerate Sovereign—a wish which to me was law. As soon as he had returned from the session of the Imperial Diet,[151] and had given me an interview, in the course of which I informed him of the state of our negotiations with Solyman, he ordered me to hold myself in readiness to carry back his answer to the Sultan.
It was winter, and the weather was bad, being wet, cold, and windy, when I was ordered back to Constantinople with despatches which could hardly be acceptable to those to whom I went. Here you will exclaim at my infatuation in venturing a second time on such a risk. I cannot look on it in this light. It seems to me that what was the right course before must be the right course now. And surely the proper measure of the credit to be attached to an honourable act, is the amount of toil and danger involved in its accomplishment.
In the month of November I left Vienna to retrace my steps to the shores of the Euxine. I have no intention of abusing your patience by wearying you with a repetition of the trifling occurrences which befell me on my way, for I think you must have been so bored with the account of my former journey, as hardly yet to have recovered from its effects. Repetition is all the more needless, because we took almost identically the same route as before.
Early in January I reached Constantinople, after losing one of my companions from an attack of acute fever, brought on by the hardships of the road. I found my colleagues safe and sound, but a great change had taken place in the Turkish Government. Bajazet, the younger son of Solyman, had been delivered from a position of serious danger, and forgiven by his father. Achmet Pasha,[152] the Chief Vizier, had been strangled; and Roostem restored to his former honours.
Of these things more anon. I will now tell you of the unfavourable reception I had from the Sultan, the Pashas, and the rest of the Turks.
In accordance with their usual practice before admitting an ambassador to the presence of their Sovereign, the Pashas desired me to tell them the purport of the answer with which I was entrusted; on learning that his Majesty declined to make any concession, and insisted on his right to the fulfilment of the treaty which he had fairly and honestly negotiated with the widow and son of John the Voivode[153] (i.e. Governor) of Transylvania, the wrath and indignation of the Pashas knew no bounds. A long career of success has made the Turks so arrogant, that they consider their pleasure to be the sole rule of what is right and what is wrong.
At first they tried to frighten us, and enlarged on the danger of entering the Sultan’s presence with such despatches. When we were not to be intimidated, and again asked for an audience, they refused to involve themselves in our dangers by presenting us to their Sovereign. To use their own phrase, they asked us ‘how many spare heads we thought they had got, that we expected them to introduce us to their master’s presence with an answer of this kind? It was a downright insult on our part, and one which their master was not the man to pocket. He was in his capital, surrounded by his victorious troops; his successes against the Persians had raised his spirit and swelled his pride, while the son who had aspired to his throne had been put to death, from which last circumstance we might learn a lesson as to how far his wrath could go. What could possibly suit him better than a campaign in Hungary, where his war-worn soldiers might forget their hardships, and enjoy the plunder of a well-stocked country, while he annexed to his empire the remainder of that province, which in good sooth was not much? In short our wisest course was to keep quiet, and not arouse his anger; there was no need for us to hasten on the evil day; it would come quite soon enough without our interference.’ Such was the advice of the Pashas, nor was more comfort to be derived from the opinions expressed by the rest of the Turks; for the mildest punishment they threatened us with was, that two of us would be thrust into a noisome dungeon, while the third (your humble servant, to wit), would be sent back to his master, after being first deprived of his nose and ears. Moreover, we noticed that people, as they passed our lodging, scowled at us in a way that boded no good. From this time we met with harsher treatment, our confinement was closer, no one was suffered to visit us, our people were not allowed to go abroad; in short, although we were ambassadors, our lot was scarcely better than that of prisoners. This has been our position for the last six months, and what will be the end of it God only knows; we are in His hands, and whatever may befall us, whatever we may have to bear, we shall have the great comfort of feeling that there is nothing on our part of which we need be ashamed.