“Well! what do ye want? Out with it quickly!” snapped the Grand Vizier, with an ominous air of impatience.
Farkas Bethlen bent his head to his very knees, and then he began to orate in the roundabout rhetoric of those days, touching upon everything imaginable except the case in point.
“Most gracious and mighty, glorious and victorious Lords, dignified Grand Vizier, unconquerable Pashas, mighty Begs and Agas, most potent pillars of the State, lords of the three worlds, famous and widely-known heroes by land and sea, my peculiarly benevolent Lords!”
All this was merely prefatory!
Kiuprile began to perspire; Kucsuk Pasha twirled his sword upon his knee; Feriz Beg turned round and contemplated the fountains of the Seraglio through the window.
“Make haste, do!” interrupted Maurocordato impatiently; whereupon Farkas Bethlen, imagining that he had offended the interpreter by omitting him from the exordium, turned towards him with a supplementary compliment:
“Great and wise interpreter, most learned and extraordinarily to be respected court physician of the most mighty Sultan!”
Kiuprile yawned so tremendously that the girdle round his big body burst in two.
Farkas Bethlen, however, did not let himself be put out in the least, but continued his oration.
“Our worthy Prince, his Highness Michael Apafi, has been much distressed to learn that those seditious rebels who have dared to raise their evil heads, not only against the Prince but against the Sublime Porte also, as represented in his person, in consequence of the frustration of their plans, have fled hither to damage the Prince by their falsehoods and insinuations. Nevertheless, although our worthy Prince is persuaded that the wisdom of your Excellencies must needs confute their lying words, your goodwill confound their devices, and your omnipotence chastise their audacity, nevertheless it hath also seemed good to his Highness to send us to your Excellencies in order that we may refute all these complaints and accusations whereby they would falsely, treacherously and abominably disturb the realm …”
Maurocordato here took advantage of a pause made by the orator to take breath after this exordium, and before he was able to proceed to the subject-matter of his address, began straightway to interpret what he had said so far for the benefit of the Grand Vizier, being well aware that the Vizier would not allow anyone to speak a second time before he had spoken himself.
The speech of the interpreter was this time dry and monotonous. All Farkas Bethlen’s homiletical energy was thrown away in Maurocordato’s drawling, indifferent reproduction.
The Grand Vizier replied with flashing eyes, his face was twice as venomous as it had been before, and his gestures plainly indicated an intention to show the envoys the door.
Maurocordato interpreted his reply.
“The Grand Vizier says that not those whom ye persecute but you yourselves are the rebels who have broken the oath ye made to the Sublime Porte, inasmuch as your ambitious projects aim at the separation of Transylvania from its dependence on the Porte and at the conquest of Hungary—both sure ways of destruction for yourselves. Wherefore the Grand Vizier gives you to understand that if you cannot sit still and live in peace with your own fellow-countrymen, he will send to you an intermediary, who will leave naught but tears behind him.”
The Hungarian gentlemen regarded each other in astonishment. Not a trace of simpering amiability remained on the face of Farkas Bethlen, who was furious at the failure of the speech he had so carefully learnt by heart. He bowed still deeper than before, and sacrificing with extraordinary self-denial the remainder of his oration, especially as he perceived that any further parleying would not be permitted, he had resort to more drastic expedients.
“Oh, sir! how can such accusations affect us who have always been willing faithfully to fulfil your wishes? We pay tribute, we give gifts, and now also our worthy Prince hath not sent us to you empty-handed, having commanded Master Michael Teleki not to neglect to provide us with suitable gifts, who has, moreover, sent to your Excellencies through me two hundred purses of money,20 as a token of his respect and homage, beseeching your Excellencies to accept this little gift from us your humble servants.”
With these words the orator beckoned to one of the deputation, at whose summons, four porters appeared carrying between them, suspended on two poles, a large iron chest, which Farkas Bethlen opened, discharging its contents at the feet of the Grand Vizier.
The jingling thalers fell in heaps around the Divan, and the sound of the rolling coins filled the room. The features of the Grand Vizier suddenly changed. Maurocordato stepped back. Bethlen’s last words had needed no interpreter; the Vizier could not keep back from his face a hideous smile, the grin of the devil of covetousness. His eyes grew large and round, he no longer clenched his teeth together, he was rather like a wild beast eager to pounce upon his prey.
Farkas Bethlen humbly withdrew among his colleagues; the Vizier could not resist the temptation, he descended from the Divan, rubbing his hands, tapping the shoulders of the last speaker, smiling at all the deputies, and even going so far as to extend his hand to one or two of them, which those fortunate beings hastened to kiss, and spoke something to them in Turkish, to which they felt bound to reply with profound obeisances.
During this scene Maurocordato had quitted the Divan, and as in default of an interpreter the envoys were unable to understand the words of the Vizier, and could only bow repeatedly, Kiuprile, who had learnt Hungarian while he was Pasha of Eger, arose and roared at them in a voice which made the very ceiling shake:
“The Vizier bids you go to hell, ye dogs of Giaours, and if we want you again we will send for you!” Whereupon he gave a vicious kick at a thaler which had rolled to his feet, while the deputies, after innumerable salutations, left the Divan.
On the departure of the
