Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
“So young—and yet so early
acquainted with such deep affliction!” exclaimed Ibrahim. “But can you form no
idea, Christian, of the cause of that double disappearance? Had your sister no
attendants who could throw the least light upon the subject?” he asked, with
the hope of eliciting some tidings relative to his own sister, the beauteous
Flora.
“I dare not reflect thereon!”
cried Francisco, the tears starting into his eyes. “For, alas! Florence has
long been infested by a desperate band of lawless wretches—and my God! I
apprehend the worst—the very worst.”
Thus speaking, he rose and paced
the spacious tent with agitated steps; for this conversation had awakened in
his mind all the bitter thoughts and dreadful alarms which he had essayed to
subdue amidst the excitement and peril of war. A slave now entered to inform
Ibrahim that the sultan commanded his immediate presence in the imperial
pavilion.
“Christian,” said Ibrahim, as he
rose to obey this mandate, “wilt thou pledge me thy word, as a noble and a
knight, not to attempt to escape from this tent?”
“I pledge my word,” answered
Francisco, “seeing that thou thyself art so generous to me.”
Ibrahim then went forth; but he
paused for a few moments outside the tent to command his slaves to serve up
choice refreshments to the prisoner. He then hastened to the pavilion of the sultan,
whom he found seated upon a throne, surrounded by the beglerbegs, the
councilors of state, the viziers, the lieutenant-generals of the army, and all
the high dignitaries who had accompanied him on his expedition. Ibrahim
advanced and prostrated himself at the foot of his throne; and at the same
moment two of the high functionaries present threw a caftan of
honor over his shoulders—a
ceremony which signified that the sultan had conferred upon him the title of
beglerbeg, or “prince of princes.”
“Rise, Ibrahim Pasha!” exclaimed
Solyman, “and take thy place in our councils, for Allah and his prophet have
this day made thee their instrument to save the life of thy sovereign.”
The newly-created pasha touched
the imperial slipper with his lips, and then rising from his prostrate
position, received the congratulations of the high functionaries assembled.
Thus it was that in a few months,
protected by that secret influence which was hurrying him so rapidly along in
his ambitious career, the Italian apostate attained to a high rank in the
Ottoman Empire; but he was yet to reach the highest, next to that of the
sovereign, ere he could hope to receive the fair hand of his mysterious
patroness as the crowning joy of his prosperity, for her image, her charming
image, ever dwelt in his mind, and an ardent fancy often depicted her as she
appeared, in all the splendor of her beauty, reclining on the sofa at the
dwelling to which he had been conducted with so much precaution, as detailed in
a preceding chapter. On the following day peace was formally concluded between
the Ottomans and the knights of Rhodes, the latter consenting to surrender the
island to the formidable invaders. An exchange of prisoners was the result, and
Francisco, Count of Riverola, again found himself free within twenty-four hours
after his capture.
“Your lordship is now about to
sail for your own clime,” said Ibrahim, when the moment of separation came. “Is
there aught within my power that I can do to testify my friendship for one so
brave and chivalrous as thou art?”
“Nothing, great pasha!” exclaimed
Francisco, who felt his sympathy irresistibly attracted toward Ibrahim, he knew
not why, “but, on the other hand, receive my heartfelt thanks for the kindness
which I have experienced during the few hours I have been thy guest.”
“The history of thy afflictions
has so much moved me,” said Ibrahim Pasha, after a brief pause, “that the
interest I experience in your behalf will not cease when you shall be no longer
here. If then you would bear in mind the request I am about to make, gallant
Christian——”
“Name it!” cried Francisco; “’tis
already granted!”
“Write me from Florence,” added
Ibrahim, “and acquaint me with the success of thy researches after thy lost
sister and the maiden whom thou lovest. The ships of Leghorn trade to
Constantinople, whither I shall speedily return, and it will not be a difficult
matter to forward a letter to me occasionally.”
“I should be unworthy of the kind
interest you take in my behalf, great pasha, were I to neglect this request,”
answered Francisco. “Oh! may the good angels grant that I may yet recover my
beloved sister Nisida, and that sweetest of maidens—Flora Francatelli!”
Francisco was too overpowered by
his own emotions to observe the sudden start which Ibrahim gave, and the pallor
which instantaneously overspread his cheeks as the name of his sister
thus burst upon his ears—that
sister who, beyond doubt, had disappeared most strangely.
But, with an almost superhuman
effort, he subdued any further expression of the agony of his feelings, and,
taking Francisco’s hand, said, in a low, deep tone: “Count of Riverola, I rely
upon your solemn promise to write me, and write soon and often. I shall
experience a lively pleasure in receiving and responding to your letters.”
“Fear not that I shall forget my
promise, your highness,” responded Francisco.
He then took leave of Ibrahim
Pasha, and returned to the city of Rhodes, whence he embarked on the same day
for Italy, accompanied by the few Florentine auxiliaries who had survived the dreadful
slaughter on the ramparts. The hustle and excitement attending the departure
from Rhodes somewhat absorbed the grief which Ibrahim felt on account of the
mysterious disappearance of his sister Flora.
Solyman left a sufficient force,
under an able commander, to garrison the island, which was speedily evacuated
by Villiers of Isle Adam and his knights; and by the middle of May the sultan,
attended by Ibrahim and the other dignitaries of the empire, once more entered
the gates of Constantinople.
Not many days had elapsed when,
at a divan or state council, at which Solyman the Magnificent himself presided,
Ibrahim Pasha was desired to give his opinion upon a particular question then
under discussion. The renegade expressed his sentiments in a manner at variance
with the policy recommended by the grand vizier; and this high functionary
replied, in terms of bitterness and even grossness, at the same time
reproaching Ibrahim with ingratitude. The apostate delivered a rejoinder which
completely electrified the divan. He repudiated the charge of ingratitude on
the ground of being influenced only by his duty toward the sultan; and he
entered upon a complete review of the policy of the Grand Vizier Piri Pasha. He
proved that the commerce of the country had greatly fallen off—that the
revenues had diminished—that arrears were due to the army and navy—that several
minor powers had not paid their usual tribute for some years past—and, in a
word, drew such a frightful picture of the maladministration and misrule, that
the grand vizier was overwhelmed with confusion, and the sultan and other
listeners were struck with the lamentable truth of all which had fallen from
the lips of Ibrahim Pasha. Nor less were they astonished at the wonderful
intimacy which he displayed with even the minutest details of the machinery of
the government; in a word, his triumph was complete.
Solyman the Magnificent broke up
the divan in haste, ordering the members of the council to return each
immediately to his own abode. In the evening a functionary of the imperial
household was sent to the palace of the grand vizier to demand the seals of
office; and thus fell Piri Pasha.
It was midnight when the sultan
sent to order Ibrahim Pasha to wait upon him without delay. The conference that
ensued was long and interesting, and it was already near daybreak
when messengers were dispatched
to the various members of the divan to summon them to the seraglio. Then, in
the presence of all the rank and talent in the capital, the sultan demanded of
Ibrahim whether he felt sufficient confidence in himself to undertake the
weight and responsibility of office. All eyes were fixed earnestly upon that
mere youth of scarcely twenty-three, who was thus solemnly adjured.
In a firm voice he replied that
with the favor of the sultan and the blessing of the Most High, he did not
despair of being enabled to restore the Ottoman Empire to its late prosperity
and glory. The astronomer of the court declared that the hour was favorable to
invest the new grand vizier with the insignia of office; and at the moment when
the call to prayer, “God is great!” sounded from every minaret in
Constantinople, Ibrahim Pasha received the imperial seals from the hand of the
sultan.
The
call to prayer, “
God is great
,” sounded from every
minaret in Constantinople, when Solyman the Magnificent raised the renegade
Ibrahim to a rank second only to his own imperial station. The newly appointed
prime minister received the congratulations of the assembled dignitaries of the
empire; and when this ceremony was accomplished, he repaired to the palace of
the viziership, which Piri Pasha had vacated during the night.
A numerous escort of slaves, and
a guard of honor, composed of an entire company of Janizaries, attended Ibrahim
to his new abode, the streets through which he passed being lined with
spectators anxious to obtain a glimpse of the new minister.
But calm, almost passionless, was
the expression of Ibrahim’s countenance: though he had attained to his present
high station speedily, yet he had not reached it unexpectedly; and, even in the
moment of this, his proud triumph, there was gall mingled with the cup of honey
which he quaffed. For, oh! the light of Christianity was not extinguished
within his breast; and though it no longer gleamed there to inspire and to
cheer, it nevertheless had strength enough to burn with reproachful flame.
The multitudes cheered and
prostrated themselves as he passed; but his salutation was cold and
indifferent, and he felt at that moment that he would rather have been
wandering through the Vale of Arno, hand-in-hand with his sister, than be
welcomed in the streets of Constantinople as the Grand Vizier of the Ottoman
Empire!
O crime! thou may’st deck thy
brow with flowers, and adorn thy garments with the richest gems—thou may’st
elicit the shouts of admiring myriads, and proceed attended by guards ready to
hew down those who would treat thee with disrespect—thou may’st quit the palace
of a mighty sovereign to repair to a palace of thine own—and in thy hands thou
may’st hold the destinies of millions of human beings; but thou canst not
subdue the still small voice
that whispers reproachfully in thine ear, nor pluck from thy bosom the undying
worm.
Though Ibrahim Pasha felt
acutely, yet his countenance, as we have before said, expressed nothing—he was
still sufficiently master of his emotions to retain them pent up in his own
breast; and if he could not appear perfectly happy, he would not allow the
world to perceive that his soul harbored secret care. He entered the palace now
destined to become his abode, and found himself the lord and master of an
establishment such as no Christian monarch in Europe possessed. But as he
passed through marble halls and perfumed corridors lined with prostrate
slaves—as he contemplated the splendor and magnificence, the wealth and the
luxury, by which he was now surrounded—and as he even dwelt upon the hope—nay,
the more than hope, the conviction, that he should full soon be blest with the
hand of a being whose ravishing beauty was ever present to his mental
vision—that still small voice which he could not hush, appeared to ask what
avail it was for a man, if he gain the whole world but lose his own soul?
But Ibrahim Pasha was not the man
to give way to the influence of even reflections so harrowing as these; and he
immediately applied himself to the business of the state, to divert his mind
from unpleasurable meditations. Holding a levee that same day, he received and
confirmed in their offices all the subordinate ministers; he then dispatched
letters to the various governors of provinces to announce to them his elevation
to the grand viziership; and he conferred the Pashalic of Egypt upon the fallen
minister, Piri Pasha. In the afternoon he granted audiences to the embassadors
of the Christian powers; but the Florentine envoy, it should be observed, had
quitted Constantinople some weeks previously—indeed, at the time when the
sultan undertook his expedition against Rhodes; for the representative of the
republic had entirely failed in the mission which had been intrusted to him by
his government.
In the evening, when it was quite
dusk, Ibrahim retired to his apartment; and hastily disguising himself in a
mean attire, he issued forth by a private gate at the back part of the palace.
Intent upon putting into execution a scheme which he had hastily planned that
very afternoon, he repaired to the quarter inhabited by the Christians. There
he entered a house of humble appearance where dwelt a young Greek, with whom he
had been on friendly terms at that period when his present greatness was
totally unforeseen—indeed, while he was simply the private secretary of the
Florentine envoy. He knew that Demetrius was poor, intelligent and trustworthy;
and it was precisely an agent of this nature that Ibrahim required for the
project which he had in view.
Demetrius—such was the young
Greek’s name—was seated in a small and meanly furnished apartment, in a
desponding manner, and scarcely appearing to notice the efforts which his sister,
a beautiful maiden of nineteen, was exerting to console him, when the door
opened, and a man dressed as a water-carrier entered the room.
The young Greek started up
angrily, for he thought the visitor was one of the numerous petty creditors to
whom he was indebted, and whose demands he was unable to liquidate; but the
second glance which he cast, by the light of the lamp that burnt feebly on the
table, toward the countenance of the meanly dressed individual, convinced him
of his mistake.
“His highness the grand vizier!”
ejaculated Demetrius, falling on his knees; “Calanthe!” he added, speaking
rapidly to his sister, “bow down to the representative of the sultan!”
But Ibrahim hastened to put an
end to this ceremony, and assured the brother and sister that he came thither
as a friend.
“A friend!” repeated Demetrius,
as if doubting whether his ears heard aright; “is it possible that Heaven has
indeed sent me a friend in one who has the power to raise me and this poor
suffering maiden from the depths of our bitter, bitter poverty?”
“Dost thou suppose that my rapid
elevation has rendered me unmindful of former friendships?” demanded Ibrahim;
although, had he not his own purposes to serve, he would never have thought of
seeking the abode, nor inquiring after the welfare of the humble acquaintance
of his obscure days.
The young Greek knew not,
however, the thorough selfishness of the renegade’s character; and he poured
forth his gratitude for the vizier’s kindness and condescension with the most
sincere and heart-felt fervor: while the beauteous Calanthe’s large dark eyes
swam in tears of hope and joy, as she surveyed with mingled wonder and
admiration the countenance of that high functionary whose rapid rise to power
had electrified the Ottoman capital, and whom she now saw for the first time.
“Demetrius,” said Ibrahim, “I
know your worth—I have appreciated your talents; and I feel deeply for the
orphan condition of your sister and yourself. It is in my power to afford you
an employment whereby you may render me good service, and which shall be
liberally rewarded. You are already acquainted with much of my former history;
and you have often heard me speak, in terms of love and affection, of my sister
Flora. During my recent sojourn in the island of Rhodes, a Florentine nobleman,
the Count of Riverola, became my prisoner. From him I learned that he was
attached to my sister, and his language led me to believe that he was loved in
return. But alas! some few months ago Flora suddenly disappeared; and the Count
of Riverola instituted a vain search to discover her. Too pure-minded was she
to fly of her own accord from her native city; too chaste and too deeply imbued
with virtuous principles was she to admit the suspicion that she had fled with
a vile seducer. No; force or treachery—if not
murder
,” added Ibrahim, in a tone
indicative of profound emotion, “must have caused her sudden disappearance. The
Count of Riverola has doubtless ere now arrived in Italy; and his researches
will most assuredly be renewed. He promised to communicate to me the result,
but as he knew not to whom that pledge was given—as he recognized not in me the
brother of the Flora whom he loves—I am fearful lest he forget or neglect the
promise. It is, therefore, my intention to send a secret agent to Florence—an
agent
who will convey rich
gifts to my aunt, but without revealing the name of him who sends them—an
agent, in a word, who may minister to the wants and interests of my family, and
report to me whether my beloved sister be yet found, and if so, the causes of
her disappearance. It seems to me that you, Demetrius, are well fitted for this
mission. Your knowledge of the Italian language, your discreetness, your sound
judgment, all render you competent to enact the part of a good genius watching
over the interests of those who must not be allowed to learn whence flow the
bounties which suddenly pour upon them!”
“Gracious lord,” said the young
Greek, his countenance radiant with joy. “I will never lose any opportunity of
manifesting my devotion to the cause in which your highness condescends to
employ me.”
“You will proceed alone to
Italy,” continued Ibrahim; “and on your arrival in Florence, you will adopt a
modest and reserved mode of life, so that no unpleasant queries may arise as to
your object in visiting the republic.”
Demetrius turned a rapidly
inquiring glance upon Calanthe, who hastened to observe that she did not fear
being left unprotected in the city of Constantinople. Ibrahim placed a heavy
purse and a case containing many costly jewels in the hands of Demetrius,
saying: “These are as an earnest of my favor and friendship;”—then, producing a
second case, tied round with a silken cord, he added, “And this is for my aunt,
the Signora Francatelli.”
Demetrius promised to attend to
all the instructions which he had received; and Ibrahim Pasha took his leave of
the brother and the charming sister, the latter of whom conveyed to him the
full extent of her gratitude for his kindness and condescension toward them in
a few words uttered in a subdued tone, but with all the eloquence of her fine
dark eyes.
“Did I not love my unknown
protectress,” murmured Ibrahim to himself, as he sped rapidly back to his
palace, “I feel that Calanthe’s eyes would make an impression upon my heart.”
Scarcely had he resumed his
magnificent garb, on his return home, when a slave announced to him that his
imperial majesty, the sultan, required his immediate attendance at the
seraglio, whither he was to repair in the most private manner possible. A
sudden misgiving darted through Ibrahim’s imagination. Could Solyman have
repented of the step which he had taken in thus suddenly elevating him to the
pinnacle of power? Was his viziership to last but a few short hours? had the
secret influence, which had hitherto protected him, ceased?
Considering the times and the
country in which he lived, these fears were justifiable; and it was with a
rapidly beating heart that the new minister hastened, attended only by a single
slave, to the dwelling of his imperial master. But when he was ushered into the
presence of the sultan—his own slave remaining in the ante-room—his
apprehensions were dissipated by the smiling countenance with which the monarch
greeted him.
Having
signaled his attendants to retire, Solyman the Magnificent addressed the grand
vizier in the following manner:
“Thy great talents, thy zeal in
our service, and the salvation which I owed to thee in the breach at Rhodes,
have been instrumental, oh, Ibrahim! in raising thee to thy present high state.
But the bounties of the sultan are without end, as the mercy of Allah is
illimitable! Thou hast doubtless heard that among my numerous sisters, there is
one of such unrivaled beauty—such peerless loveliness, that the world hath not
seen her equal. Happy may the man deem himself on whom the fair Aischa shall be
bestowed; and thou art that happy man, Ibrahim—and Aischa is thine.”
The grand vizier threw himself at
the feet of his imperial master, and murmured expressions of gratitude—but his
heart sank within him—for he knew that in marrying the sultan’s sister he
should not be allowed the enjoyment of the Mussulman privilege of polygamy, and
thus his hopes of possessing the beautiful unknown to whom he owed so much
appeared to hover on the verge of annihilation. But might not that unknown lady
and the beauteous Aischa be one and the same person? The unknown was evidently
the mistress of an influence almost illimitable; and was it not natural to
conceive that she, then, must be the sister of the sultan? Again, the sultan
had many sisters; and the one who had exerted her interest for Ibrahim, might
not be the Princess Aischa, who was now promised to him! All these conjectures
and conflicting speculations passed through the mind of Ibrahim in far less
time than we have taken to describe their nature; and he was cruelly the prey
to mingled hope and alarm, when the sultan exclaimed, “Rise, my Vizier Azem,
and follow me.”
The apostate obeyed with beating
heart, and Solyman the Magnificent conducted him along several passages and
corridors to a splendidly furnished room, which Ibrahim immediately recognized
as the very one in which he had been admitted, many months previously, to an
interview with the beauteous unknown. Yes—that was the apartment in which he
had listened to the eloquence of her soft, persuasive voice—it was there that,
intoxicated with passion, he had abjured the faith of a Christian and embraced
the creed of the false Prophet Mohammed. And, reclining on the very sofa where
he had first seen her—but attended by a troop of charming female slaves—was the
fair unknown—his secret protectress—more lovely, more bewitching, than she
appeared when last they met.