Transcribers note:
This is the combined version of The Life and Letters Of Ogier Ghiselin De Busbecq Volume I and [Volume II].

OGIER GHISELIN
DE BUSBECQ
VOL. I.

AVGERIVS GISLENVS BVSBEQVIVS.
Te voce, Augeri, mulcentem Cæsaris aures
Laudauit plausis Austrius Ister aquis.
Te Ducis Ismarij flectentem pectora verbis
Thrax rapido obstupuit Bosphorus e pelago.
Te gesfisfe domum pro nata Cæsaris, ingens
Sequana conspexit, Parisÿq3 lares

I. Lernutius.

THE
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
OGIER GHISELIN DE BUSBECQ

SEIGNEUR OF BOUSBECQUE

KNIGHT, IMPERIAL AMBASSADOR

BY

CHARLES THORNTON FORSTER, M.A.

Late Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge: Vicar of Hinxton

AND

F. H. BLACKBURNE DANIELL, M.A.

Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge: Barrister-at-Law

Πολλῶν ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. I.

LONDON

C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE

1881

(The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved)

TO

MONSIEUR JEAN DALLE

MAIRE OF BOUSBECQUE
AS A SLIGHT ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS KINDNESS
AND THE VALUABLE ASSISTANCE WE HAVE
DERIVED FROM HIS RESEARCHES
THESE VOLUMES ARE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

PREFACE.

We ask to be allowed to introduce the Reader to a kind and genial cicerone, who can take him back, three centuries deep, into the Past, and show him the Turk as he was when he dictated to Europe instead of Europe dictating to him; or conjure once more into life Catherine de Medici, Navarre, Alençon, Guise, Marguerite the fair and frail, and that young Queen, whom he loved so well and served so faithfully.

CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.

Errata.

The references in footnotes on pp. 105-250, to other passages in this volume after p. 72, should be advanced by 2 pages, e.g. for 163, read 165.

LIFE OF BUSBECQ.

MAP OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF BOUSBECQUE
London; C. Kegan Paul & Co.--Edw^d Weller.

LIFE OF BUSBECQ.

Introductory.

The days are now past when students were content to take their history at second hand, and there is therefore the less reason to apologise for introducing to the reader, in an English dress, the letters of one who was an eyewitness and actor in some of the most important events in the sixteenth century.

Several of the most striking passages in Robertson’s History of Charles V. are taken from Busbecq; De Thou has borrowed largely from his letters; and the pages of Gibbon, Coxe, Von Hammer, Ranke, Creasy, and Motley, testify to the value of information derived from this source. It must not, however, be supposed that all that is historically valuable in his writings has found a place in the works of modern authors. On the contrary, the evidence which Busbecq furnishes has often been forgotten or ignored.

A remarkable instance of this neglect is to be found in Prescott’s account of the capture of Djerbé,[1] or Gelves, by the Turks. The historian of Philip II. has made up this part of his narrative from the conflicting and vainglorious accounts of Spanish writers, and does not even allude to the plain, unvarnished tale which Busbecq tells—a tale which he must have heard from the lips of the commander of the Christian forces, his friend Don Alvaro de Sandé, and which he had abundant opportunities of verifying from other sources.

The revival of the Eastern Question has drawn attention in France[2] to the career and policy of one who was so successful as an ambassador at Constantinople, and the life of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq has been the subject of two treatises at least since 1860, while a far more important work dealing with our author’s life is about to issue from the press. Of this last we have been allowed to see the proof-sheets, and we take this opportunity of expressing our obligation to the author, Monsieur Jean Dalle, Maire de Bousbecque. His book is a perfect storehouse of local information, and must prove invaluable to any future historian of the Flemings. It is entitled Histoire de Bousbecque.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries hardly any author was so popular as Busbecq. More than twenty editions[3] of his letters were published in the literary capitals of Europe—Antwerp, Paris, Bâle, Frankfort, Hanau, Munich, Louvain, Leipsic, London, Oxford and Glasgow. His merits as a recorder of contemporary history are briefly sketched by a writer of that period, who thus describes his despatches to Rodolph: ‘C’est un portrait au naturel des affaires de France sous le régne de Henri III. Il raconte les choses avec une naïveté si grande qu’elles semblent se passer à nos yeux. On ne trouve point ailleurs tant de faits historiques en si peu de discours. Les grands mouvemens, comme la conspiration d’Anvers, et les petites intrigues de la cour y sont également bien marquées. Les attitudes (pour ainsi dire) dans lesquelles il met Henri III., la Reine Mere, le duc d’Alençon, le roi de Navarre, la reine Marguerite, le duc de Guise, le duc d’Espernon, et les autres Courtisans ou Favoris de ce tems-là, nous les montrent du côté qui nous en découvre, à coup seur, le fort et le foible, le bon et le mauvais.’[4]

All who have studied the letters of Busbecq will endorse this opinion; nor is it possible for anyone even superficially acquainted with his writings, not to recognise the work of a man who combined the rarest powers of observation with the greatest industry and the greatest honesty.

He was eminently what is called ‘a many-sided man’; nothing is above him, nothing beneath him. His political information is important to the soberest of historians, his gossiping details would gladden a Macaulay; the Imperial Library at Vienna is rich with manuscripts and coins of his collection. To him scholars owe the first copy of the famous Monumentum Ancyranum. We cannot turn to our gardens without seeing the flowers of Busbecq around us—the lilac, the tulip, the syringa. So much was the first of these associated with the man who first introduced it to the West, that Bernardin de Saint Pierre proposed to change its name from lilac to Busbequia. Throughout his letters will be found hints for the architect, the physician, the philologist, and the statesman; he has stories to charm a child, and tales to make a grey-beard weep.

Of his careful and scientific investigations it is almost unnecessary to cite examples. Never having seen a camelopard, and finding that one had been buried at Constantinople, he had the animal dug up, and a careful examination made of its shape and capabilities. On his second journey to Constantinople he took a draughtsman with him, to sketch any curious plants and animals he might find. He sent his physician to Lemnos to make investigations with regard to Lemnian earth—a medicine famous in those days; while he despatched an apothecary of Pera to the Lake of Nicomedia to gather acorus[5] for his friend Mattioli, the celebrated botanist.

While furnishing information of the highest value, Busbecq never assumes the air of a pedant. He tells his story in a frank and genial way, not unlike that of the modern newspaper correspondent. If to combine amusement and instruction is the highest art in this branch of literature, he would have been invaluable as a member of the staff of some great newspaper. Among books, Kinglake’s Eothen is perhaps the nearest parallel to Busbecq’s Turkish letters; the former is more finished in style—Busbecq evidently did not retouch his first rough draft—but it does not contain one tithe of the information. Such is the author for whom we venture to ask the attention of the English reader.

Even to those who can read the elegant Latin in which he wrote, it is hoped that the notes and articles appended may be found interesting and useful. They have been gleaned from many different quarters, and to a great extent from books inaccessible to the ordinary student. This is specially the case with the Sketch of Hungarian History during the Reign of Solyman. In no modern writer were we able to find more than scattered hints and allusions to the history of Hungary during this important epoch, when it formed the battle-field on which the Christian and the Mussulman were deciding the destinies of Europe.

The object of Busbecq’s mission was to stay, by the arts of diplomacy, the advance of the Asiatic conqueror, to neutralise in the cabinet the defeats of Essek and Mohacz. In this policy he was to a great extent successful. He gained time; and in such a case time is everything. What he says of Ferdinand is eminently true of himself.[6]

There are victories of which the world hears much—great battles, conquered provinces, armies sent beneath the yoke—but there is also the quiet work of the diplomatist, of which the world hears little. In the eyes of those who measure such work aright, not even the hero of Lepanto or the liberator of Vienna will hold a higher place among the champions of Christendom than Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq.

Removal of the Rubbish.

For the rebuilding of a house, it is absolutely necessary to remove the rubbish with which the site is encumbered. Unfortunately, the process is equally necessary in writing the life of Busbecq. There is rubbish of ancient date and rubbish of modern date, which cannot be ignored and must be removed. With regard to one story, a writer of the present time is specially bound to protest. It is to be found in the treatise of Monsieur Rouzière, entitled, Notice sur Auger de Busbecq, Ambassadeur du Roi Ferdinand 1^er en Turquie, et de l’Empereur Rodolphe II. en France. There is the more need for warning the reader against it, because Monsieur Rouzière ushers in his narrative with a long tirade against similar inventions. ‘He is not,’ he tells us, ‘a professor of history, or one of those knights of the quill who wander from town to town discovering documents which, like the Sleeping Beauty, are waiting for the champion who is to break the enchanter’s spell.’ Monsieur Rouzière is specially bitter against ‘un Américain qui vient de mourir en parcourant l’Europe pour faire des découvertes historiques, et qui à l’Escurial avait fait la trouvaille d’une relation sur la mort de don Carlos écrite par son valet-de-chambre.’ With this preamble, he introduces his readers to the following story, which is simply a romance of his own creation:

‘When Charles V. came to Flanders for the purpose of installing his sister Mary, Queen of Hungary, in the government, he visited Comines, in company with Gilles Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque, father of the Ambassador. As they were entering the town, the Seigneur, entreating Charles to wait for a few moments, knocked at the door of a house, which, though unpretentious, had a dignity of its own. Out of it issued a boy with sparkling eyes; so interesting was his appearance, that the words, ‘O! what a lovely child!’ burst from the emperor’s lips. The Seigneur bade the boy kneel down. ‘Ogier,’ said he, ‘look well at your lord; when you are older you will serve him as faithfully as your father and grandfather.’ He then informed the emperor that, not having any legitimate children, he had allowed all his love to centre on this offshoot, who, he fondly hoped, would one day be admitted into his family.’

Monsieur Rouzière is certainly not fortunate in his story;[7] the Seigneur’s name was George[8] and not Gilles, and he had, moreover, three legitimate children. A house at Comines is shown as the scene of this event, but from inquiries made on the spot, we have ascertained that there is no tradition connecting it with Busbecq earlier than the publication of Monsieur Rouzière’s treatise in 1860. He is a lively and amusing writer. It is the more to be regretted that he has not regarded the line which separates biography from romance.

Monsieur Huysmans, the well-known French artist, has also laid the foundation of several errors in the striking picture which has been purchased by the Belgian Government, and now adorns the Hôtel de Ville of Belgian Comines. Its artistic merits make one regret the more that he did not select one of the many dramatic events in Busbecq’s life, instead of giving us a scene which not only is not recorded, but never could have happened. In the first place, the date 1555 is wrong; in no case could the scene have taken place earlier than 1556. Secondly, Monsieur Huysmans has been led into error by a loose translation in the French version of Busbecq’s letters by the Abbé de Foy. For some time Busbecq was confined to his house by the Turkish authorities. De Foy, in speaking of this curtailment of his liberty, uses the expression ‘une étroite prison’ (whence, by the way, some have supposed that Busbecq was confined in the Seven Towers). Monsieur Huysmans, led astray by this phrase, and imagining that the Ambassador was confined in a prison, straightway concluded that if he was imprisoned he must have been arrested. On this he grounded the subject of his work, ‘Soliman fait arrêter Busbecq, diplomat Flamand, Constantinople, 1555.’ There is also a striking error in the persons represented in the picture. When Busbecq first arrived at Constantinople Roostem was in disgrace, and Achmet held the post of chief Vizier. The latter had only consented to accept the seal of office on condition that the Sultan undertook never to remove him. The Sultan kept his word. When it was convenient to reinstate Roostem, he did not deprive Achmet of the seal of office, but of his life. The execution of Achmet is one of the most striking scenes recorded by Busbecq. Unfortunately, Monsieur Huysmans had not studied his subject sufficiently, for in his picture Roostem is in office, and Achmet stands by as a subordinate.

As to errors of a less recent date, they are, for the most part, such as an intelligent reader of Busbecq’s letters may correct for himself. For instance, it is not hard to prove that the author of the life prefixed to the Elzevir edition is wrong in stating that Busbecq’s father died before the Ambassador went to England, when we find that he had an interview with him after his return from our island. Neither is there much danger of the veriest tiro being led astray by De Foy’s suggestion that, when Busbecq came to England for the marriage of Philip and Mary, he had long conversations with Henry VIII., who tried to induce him to enter his service. There is, however, danger in Howaert’s[9] statement that Busbecq accompanied the younger sons of Maximilian to Spain, and introduced them to Philip. The story is not impossible in itself, nor is it even improbable. But there is this suspicious circumstance about it; those who mention it do not seem to be aware that Busbecq did accompany the two elder sons of Maximilian, Rodolph and Ernest, to Spain in the capacity of ‘Écuyer trenchant.’ This latter fact is established on the best of authorities, namely, the Patent of knighthood issued by the Emperor Ferdinand to Busbecq, a copy[10] of which we have, through the kindness of a friend, been enabled to procure from the archives of Vienna.

That Busbecq accompanied the four younger Archdukes to Spain is perhaps doubtful, and still more doubtful is the story grafted on to it by later hands, namely, that Busbecq pleaded the cause of the Netherlands before Philip II., obtained the recall of Alva and the substitution of Requesens in his place. No facts could be more interesting if they should but prove to be true; unfortunately they are at present without authority.

Bousbecque and its Seigneurs.

It is from the seigneury of Bousbecque that Ogier[11] Ghiselin takes the name by which he is best known, Busbecq (Latin, Busbequius).

Properly of course his name is identical with that of the seigneury, but, by common consent, the Ambassador is known as Busbecq, while the name of the place, after numerous variations—Bosbeke, Busbeke, Bousbeke, &c., has settled down into the form Bousbecque.[12]

It will be necessary therefore to speak of the man by one name and the place by another.

The geographical position of Bousbecque has an important bearing on the biography of the Ambassador; as the place is not marked in English maps, a plan of the district is given in this volume showing the relative positions of Bousbecque, Comines, Wervicq, Halluin, &c. It will be seen that Bousbecque lies on the river Lys, about two miles from Comines. In the times with which we shall have to deal, it formed part of the County of Flanders; it is now part of the French frontier, and is included in the Département du Nord.

The neighbourhood of Bousbecque has a history extending to early times, for close to it stands Wervicq, marking with its name the Roman station of Viroviacum; in Bousbecque itself Roman paving-stones have been dug out on the road now known as the ‘Chemin des Oblaers;’ whence it may be assumed that the road mentioned in the itinerary of Antoninus, as running from Tournay to Wervicq, passed through Bousbecque.

The depth of the river Lys, which is an affluent of the Scheldt, exposed the neighbouring country to the attacks of the Northmen; the hardy pirates sailed up the stream, and built their castles and forts on the banks of the river. Their descendants became the seigneurs, or lords, of the territories which their ancestors had won.

A distinction must here be drawn between the seigneury of Bousbecque and the parish (now commune) of Bousbecque. The parish of Bousbecque contained a great many other seigneuries besides that from which it takes its name; notably, for instance, the seigneuries of la Lys and Rhume. The first mention of Bousbecque occurs in a deed, without date, but necessarily between 1098 and 1113; in it Baudry, bishop of Tournay, conveys to the Collegiate Chapter of St. Peter, at Lille, the whole tithes of Roncq and half the tithes of Halluin and Bousbecque (Busbeka).[13]

In 1159, Wautier, Seigneur of Halluin, husband of Barbe daughter of the Count of Soissons, conveys to the Abbey of St. Aubert, with the consent of his wife and his children—Wautier, Roger, Guillaume, Alix, and Richilde—his share of the tithes of Iwuy. The Roger here mentioned, married Agnes de Bousbecque; hence we see the high position held at that early date by the family of Busbecq;[14] a daughter of their house was considered a proper partner for a nobleman of royal family, the grandson of a Comte de Soissons.

Adjoining the seigneury of Bousbecque lay the seigneury of la Lys, and in 1298 both these seigneuries are found in the possession of the same person, mention being made in the archives of Lille of ‘William de la Lys, sire de Bousbeke, fius Monseigneur William de la Lys, ki fu sire de Bousbeke.’

Thus for a time the title by which the family was known was not Bousbecque, but la Lys.

In December 1348, was signed the Treaty of Dunkirk, by the Earl of Lancaster, the Earl of Suffolk, and Sir Walter Manny on the part of England, and on the part of Flanders, by ten delegates of rank; among their names is found that of Jehan de la Lys.

About this time the seigneuries of la Lys and Bousbecque passed to the house of Pontenerie; William of that name marrying Marie de la Lys, heiress of the seigneuries, and assuming—no doubt as one of the conditions of the contract—the name of la Lys. His children were severally known as, Guillaume, Jeanne, and Marie de la Pontenerie, dit de la Lys.

Again there was a failure in the male line, and Marie, the youngest daughter, brought the seigneuries to Bauduin de Hingettes.

Their son, Jehan de Hingettes, married a Halluin, and dying in 1466, his daughter Adrienne de Hingettes, dit de la Lys, became representative and heiress of the family. She married Gilles Ghiselin I., and thus the seigneuries of la Lys and Bousbecque passed into the possession of the noble house of Ghiselin.[15]

On the marriage of Adrienne to Gilles Ghiselin I. the title of la Lys was dropped, and that of Bousbecque resumed.

Gilles Ghiselin I., Seigneur of Bousbecque, knight of Jerusalem and Cyprus, was a man of considerable importance, and from the following notice it would appear that he was a man of high character. In 1474 there was a dispute between the dean and chapter of Messines[16] on the one side, and the abbess, convent, and church on the other. It appears that the bailiffs of the abbess had arrested a man in a house belonging to the dean and chapter. The chapter resented this intrusion on their rights, and the case was submitted to two men for arbitration, Gilles Ghiselin I. and Guillaume Wyts.

George Ghiselin I., great uncle of the Ambassador.

Gilles Ghiselin I., died in 1476, leaving six children by his wife Adrienne; two of whom, George and Gilles, were destined to occupy a prominent part in the history of their time.

George, the elder, succeeded to the seigneury of Bousbecque; his grandmother was a Halluin, and he also was married to a member of the same house.

It is not improbable that he owed his promotion to a high place in the Burgundian Court to the influence of Jeanne de la Clite, dame de Comines, the wife of Jean Halluin, Seigneur of Halluin, and the head of that important family.

At any rate this lady had an influence at the Court of Burgundy which it is impossible to overestimate, and we find her husband’s relations,[17] the Ghiselins of Bousbecque, occupying high positions in the ducal household.

In June 1478, Mary of Burgundy, daughter and heiress of Charles the Bold, was married to the Archduke Maximilian, afterwards Emperor; George Ghiselin was appointed one of his chamberlains, and a member of his council.

On August 7, 1479, there was a great battle at Guinegatte, between Maximilian and the French. The latter were at first successful, their men at-arms defeated Maximilian’s horse, and chased them off the field, while the free-archers began plundering the baggage, and murdering the non-combatants. But the battle had yet to be decided. Maximilian’s army did not consist solely of horse, for there were two divisions of Flemish pikemen on foot. To the surprise of Philippe de Comines, who gives an account of the battle, the Flemish infantry were not shaken by the defeat of the cavalry; the firm front which they showed was probably owing to a custom which the Burgundians had adopted from their English Allies. Their officers, who in this instance consisted of two hundred of their own nobles and gentlemen, fought on foot. These two divisions were severally commanded by the Count of Nassau and the Count of Romont. As soon as a French force could be collected, it was brought up to crush the Flemings; the Count of Nassau’s command was hard pressed, and in spite of a gallant resistance, Maximilian’s guns were taken, and turned on the Burgundians. At this critical moment, the Count of Romont charged with his division, retook the guns, and sweeping on, captured the whole of the French artillery, thirty-seven pieces, with their camp and commissariat stores. This battle is generally spoken of as an indecisive one, because Maximilian retired instead of following up his success. His strategy may have been bad, but, as to the great victory he gained, there can be no doubt. On the Burgundian side, we have the account of Molinet, who tells us that the French lost ten thousand men, thirty-seven guns, and their camp with all its stores. On the French side, we have the account of Philippe de Comines, who endeavours to represent it as a drawn battle; but he does not disguise the effect which the news of this defeat had on his master, Louis XI. He was with him when the tidings came, and from that very hour, he tells us, the French king determined to make peace with Maximilian. It was on the field of Guinegatte[18] that George Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque, in company with nine other gentlemen, received knighthood at the hand of Maximilian. It seems certain that he was fighting on foot, with his retainers, in the ranks of the Flemish pikemen.

The scene now changes from the battle-field to the scaffold. The Flemings, as represented by their four members—Ghent, Bruges, Ypres, and the belt of villages known as the Francq—were anxious for peace with France. They had also serious grievances against Maximilian (now King of the Romans) and his ministers. They declared that the latter had misappropriated the revenues, and the former been more grievous in his exactions than Philippe le Bon or Charles the Bold.

They also objected to having German troops quartered in the country.

Early in 1488 the smouldering fires of insurrection burst into a flame. Curiously enough, Maximilian’s treatment of a friend and relation of the Busbecqs was the proximate cause of the outbreak. Adrien de Vilain,[19] Seigneur of Rasenghien, had been one of the leaders of the Gantois after the outbreak in 1485. He had subsequently retired to Lille, with the approval of Maximilian, who had given him a pardon. Here no doubt he felt safe in the neighbourhood of the Ghiselins of Bousbecque and other friends; but one day he was seized by Charlot de Menneville and a party of the Count of Nassau’s archers, who carried him off, and imprisoned him in the castle of Villevorde. His relations were naturally incensed at this breach of faith, and one morning, when the warden of the castle had gone to Brussels, Vilain’s first cousin, Adrien de Lickerke, rode into Villevorde with thirteen of his friends; leaving the rest in the town, he proceeded to the castle with three of his companions, and knocked at the gate. The porter at first refused to admit them, but by dint of entreaties, backed by the offer of a handsome reward, his scruples were at last overcome. On entering, they asked for Adrien Vilain. The porter replied that he was no longer in the castle; but a glance into the court-yard disproved his words, for there was the prisoner drearily pacing up and down in his gown. De Lickerke went up to him. ‘You have been here long enough, fair cousin,’ quoth he, ‘come back with us.’ Vilain’s gown (the civilian dress), was quickly exchanged for a soldier’s doublet, and a hat placed on his head. The porter, seeing their intentions, attempted to raise an alarm, but they hustled him against the wall, and nearly killed him. Quitting the castle with the prisoner they joined their friends in the town, and taking horse rode for their lives. Avoiding Brussels, they made for Tournai, some seventy miles distant, not sparing the spur till they were in a place of safety.

Whether Maximilian had authorised the seizure of Vilain or not, at any rate he was deeply annoyed at his escape. De Lickerke was now a marked man; probably he thought that his safety lay in boldness, for he put himself at the head of 3,000 Gantois, and one wintry night (January 9, 1488) took Courtrai[20] by surprise, making the inhabitants swear allegiance to Philippe (Maximilian’s infant son) and the Gantois.

The King of the Romans was at this time at Bruges, where the States were assembled to conclude a peace with France. The Gantois had committed themselves; it was time for the Brugeois to rise. On the last day of January, 1488, the guild of carpenters made the first move by seizing two of the gates of Bruges,[21] those of St. Catherine and Ghent. Maximilian, with his officers, attendants, and body-guard lay at the Palace (Prinssenhof), not far from the centre of the town; with him were Pierre Lauchast, Carondelet the Chancellor, George Ghiselin, and other faithful followers.

It is difficult to say whether his best plan would have been to remain quiet, or to follow the example of Philippe le Bon,[22] put himself at the head of his guard, and fight his way out of the city. Unfortunately for himself and his friends, he took a middle course. On February 1, between five and six in the morning, he marched into the market-place with his household troops. Leaving the larger portion of them there, he proceeded with his personal attendants to the gates of Ghent and St. Catherine, where he met with scant courtesy from the guard of carpenters.

Meanwhile the troops in the market-place had been standing round a huge bonfire, and it occurred to their commanding officer that it would be a good opportunity to put them through their drill. He gave the order for them to execute a German[23] manœuvre, ‘Faison le limechon à la mode d’Allemagne,’ and marched them round the square in fours. Next he gave the order for them to bring their pikes to the charge; there was a crowd looking on, and, imagining they were about to be attacked, they fled in confusion and dismay. Maximilian, hearing the uproar, returned, and led his men back to their quarters. No blood had been shed, but the mischief had been done.

At twelve o’clock the same day the trades of Bruges met at their several halls, arms were served out, flags were unfurled, and columns of citizens streamed into the market-place. There they formed a regular encampment, planting their fifty-two banners, throwing up entrenchments, and arming them with cannon.

The Brugeois were now masters of the situation. On February 5, at the request of the Gantois, they compelled Maximilian to leave his palace, and lodged him in the famous grocer’s shop in the market-place, known as the Cranenburg. But the king of the Romans was not the chief object of their wrath; it was against his ministers that they vowed their direst vengeance. A reign of terror commenced; rewards were offered for the apprehension of Pierre Lauchast and others connected with the treasury. Maximilian’s friends and advisers were compelled to seek safety in concealment or in flight.

George Ghiselin had his head tonsured, and assumed the dress of a mendicant friar of the Augustin order. In this disguise he attempted to leave the city. Unfortunately he was recognised at the gate, and arrested.

Shortly afterwards he was called up for examination before the town judges, in company with Jehan Van Ninove, and a sergeant named Bontemps. The court had not sat for a full hour, when the dean of the carpenters brought a detachment of his men to the door, and threatened to break it open. The judges, seeing that resistance was useless, allowed them to seize the unfortunate prisoners, whom they straightway carried off to the market-place, and there examined after their own fashion.

The deans of the different trades had enclosed a space for the purpose of holding their consultations; in the middle of this enclosure stood a rack, specially constructed for torturing victims of different sizes. Hard by was a scaffold of unusual size, and there, waiting for his prey, stood Maistre Charles, the executioner of Bruges.

Jehan Van Ninove’s turn came first. He was frightfully tortured, his legs being actually dislocated. Whilst he was being racked, proclamation was made that he had agreed with Pierre Lauchast to bring the troops of the guard into the town for the purpose of intimidating the citizens of Bruges. Bontemps was then tortured, but George Ghiselin was respited. The unfortunate prisoners had now no doubt as to what their ultimate fate would be, and they all three asked to be executed, and forgave those who had compassed their death.

There was one listening on whose ears the words fell with no unwelcome sound; Maistre Charles[24] had an eye to his fees, and determined that there should be no delay on his part. In a trice he was on the scaffold, getting out his swords and preparing his bandages. Then, louder than thunder, swelled the shouting in the market-place, some demanding their immediate execution, and some its postponement. The latter prevailed. Maistre Charles was disappointed of his prey, and the unhappy men were sent back to prison.

On February 28, the leading spirits of the insurrection being absent from the town and engaged in an attack on Middelbourg, the town judges made a most meritorious effort to save the lives of these victims of mob law. They called them up for sentence.[25] Maistre Charles was again in high glee; his swords and bandages were all ready, and his palm itching for the fees. He must have been greatly cast down when the judges passed a merely nominal sentence on George Ghiselin and his companions; they were to beg pardon in their shirts of the deans, make some pilgrimages, and distribute certain sums in charity; the only object of the sentence being to satisfy the people. There was now a gleam of hope for the unhappy men; but, unfortunately, Middelbourg surrendered the same day, and the ringleaders, returning in triumph, were furious at this attempt to frustrate their vengeance. They seized the unfortunate prisoners, and racked them again in the market-place.

On the next day, February 29, 1488, Maistre Charles once more made his preparations, and this time he was not disappointed. Bontemps, whose turn came last, was pardoned by the mob, now glutted with blood, but the rest were all executed, and amongst them died that gallant knight, George Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque.

Gilles Ghiselin II., Grandfather of the Ambassador.

George Ghiselin left no children, and on his death the seigneury of Bousbecque passed to his brother Gilles. The latter appears to have entered the public service at an earlier period than his elder brother. Gilles won his spurs from Charles the Bold, and George from Maximilian.

At home and at court, Gilles Ghiselin II. must necessarily have been brought into contact with a man of world-wide fame—Philippe de Comines,[26] the father of modern history. Living within two miles of each other during their boyhood, and connected by marriage, they were both at an early age introduced into the household of Charles the Bold.

The famous Duke of Burgundy made a point of gathering[27] round him and educating his young nobles. Philippe de Comines entered his service when he was about seventeen years old, and it is not improbable that Gilles Ghiselin II. joined his court at the same time. It will be necessary here to give some account of the posts which the two young men severally filled. In the ducal household[28] there were fifty bread-servers, fifty cupbearers, fifty carvers, and fifty equerries, each of whom in battle was accompanied by a swordbearer, and the whole body was commanded by four captains. Thus the officers of Charles the Bold’s house were formed into an organised band of picked troops. In this body Philippe de Comines was enrolled as a cup-bearer, ‘écuyer échanson,’ and Gilles Ghiselin II. as a carver, ‘écuyer trenchant.’ They were both at a later date appointed chamberlains to the duke, and members of his council; they were also both knighted by their Sovereign, and not improbably on the same occasion.

Philippe de Comines is supposed to have won his spurs on the occasion of the Burgundian and French armies entering Liege, an event rendered familiar to English readers by the pages of Quentin Durward. Gilles Ghiselin II. may have received the accolade at the same time.

In August 1472, Philippe de Comines deserted his master, and threw in his lot with Louis XI. of France. Gilles Ghiselin remained constant to the house of Burgundy in sunshine and in shade. He accompanied his master in his numerous campaigns, and was with him at the fatal battle of Nancy.[29]

Gilles Ghiselin must have taken part in many a victory, but it is only the disastrous defeat that is recorded by his descendant on his tomb. That inscription must have been placed by one who valued loyalty above success, and merit above reward. We know who caused that inscription to be engraved; it was his grandson, Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq.

The death of his master on the fatal field of Nancy, January 1477, apparently marks the termination of Gilles Ghiselin’s military career. Though he did not become Seigneur of Bousbecque till after his brother’s death in 1488, there was probably some family arrangement by which he resided at the château, and represented its absent lord. During his service under Duke Charles, he must have acquired considerable wealth, for shortly after his return to Bousbecque he built the noble church[30] which still stands as a memorial of his munificence. He also rebuilt, or more probably restored, the seigneur’s château, the family residence of the Busbecqs, and there with his wife, Agnes Gommer, he settled down to lead the life of a country gentleman.

He was, however, too valuable a man to be left without work. In 1480, three years after the battle of Nancy, he was appointed High Bailiff of Ypres, ‘grand bailly de la ville, salle et châtellenie d’Ypres.’ This important town, which formed one of the four members of Flanders, is situated about ten miles north of Bousbecque. About six miles from either of these places lies Messines, of which his sister Marie was lady-abbess. The castles of Halluin and Comines were both in the hands of his relations; while in the important town of Lille, Gilles Ghiselin and his wife had a magnificent hotel, whither after her husband’s death Agnes Gommer retired to end her days. It will be seen, therefore, that Gilles Ghiselin II., the grandfather of the Ambassador, was, at this period of his life, a man of very high position and influence. Unlike his brother George, he did not accept any office in the household of Maximilian. It would appear that if Gilles Ghiselin II. was a loyal subject, he was no less a loyal Fleming, and had little taste for the service of the German Archduke, who had been married by his Sovereign. That this is the true reading of his story may be gathered with fair probability from the records of Bousbecque church. It was built by Gilles Ghiselin about 1480. In 1485 a window was presented to this church, blazoned with the arms of Ghent and Rasenghien, by a distant relation of the family, Adrien Vilain, Seigneur of Rasenghien, whose story has already been told. Now in 1485 Adrien Vilain was one of the leaders of the Gantois in opposing Maximilian. It may fairly be inferred that his views met with some sympathy from his friend at Bousbecque. To admit such a window into his church was not the way to curry favour with Maximilian.

With regard to Maximilian’s son Philippe le Beau, Gilles Ghiselin was in a different position. He was the child not only of Maximilian, but also of Mary of Burgundy, and the grandson of his old master Charles the Bold. Moreover, the early education of Philippe had been entrusted to the neighbour, connection, and doubtless intimate friend and ally of the Busbecqs, Jeanne de la Clite,[31] of whom mention has already been made. She probably exercised considerable influence over the selection of the officers of the young prince’s household, and it is not surprising to find that Gilles Ghiselin II. filled the post of écuyer trenchant.[32]

It is not probable that Philippe le Beau had like his grandfather fifty squires to discharge the duties of this office. It is more likely that Gilles Ghiselin II. was his sole écuyer trenchant, though it is possible that he may have had one or two coadjutors.

On attaining his eighteenth year Philippe was united to Joanna the second daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. In its political issues this marriage was probably the most important event of its kind in the history of the world. Philippe was already Sovereign of the Low Countries, as his mother’s heir; through his father he was entitled to the reversion of the possessions of the house of Hapsburg, and had practically a claim on the Imperial title. Joanna, on her part, was destined to become by the death of her brother and her nephew heiress of Spain, and to transmit not only Spain itself, but vast empires in the western hemisphere to the descendants of this marriage.

Of Philippe and Joanna were born two sons, Charles V., the famous Emperor, and Ferdinand, who was born in Spain, and brought up there by his grandfather Ferdinand of Aragon, to whom his brother resigned Austria, Styria, and the Tyrol, and who succeeded eventually to the Imperial title. The last of these two princes specially commands our notice, for he it was who invited young Ogier Ghiselin into his service, and sent him first to England, and afterwards to Constantinople.

In November 1501 Philippe and Joanna left the Netherlands for a visit to Spain. The Count of Nassau was entrusted with the government of the country, and with the care of their children whom they left behind them. Their family then consisted of Charles, the future Emperor, and his two sisters, Leonora[33] and Elizabeth.[34] Mechlin was appointed as their residence, and an establishment was created for them, in which the post of premier écuyer trenchant was assigned to Gilles Ghiselin, who had been the faithful servant of their father and their great grandfather.

Gilles Ghiselin did not live to see his young master and mistresses ascend the thrones, to which they were destined; he died in 1514, full of years and honours.

The careers of George and Gilles Ghiselin had an important bearing on the destinies of Ogier; his credentials to Ferdinand were the eminent services of his grandsire and great uncle.

Possibly the calm courage with which he faced the prospect of death and torture at Constantinople, may have arisen in some degree from the memory of what his ancestors had been.

In Bousbecque church still stands the monument which marks Ogier’s regard for the grandsire he never saw.

To this object he devoted what was probably the first large sum he was able to save from his salary as ambassador.

It bears the date 1559, and the following inscription:—

CY GIST MESSIRE GILLES CHEVALIER SEIGNEUR DE BOUSBEKE FILZ DE FEU GILLES AUSSY CHEVALIER EN SON TEMPS S^R DUDICTE BOUSBEKE DU HEULLEHOF ET WASTINES &C EN SON TEMPS ESCUIER TRENCHANT A FEU DUC CHARLE DE BOURGOGNE LE SERVIT A LA JOURNEE DE NANSY ET DEPUIS AU DICT ESTAT A TRES PUISSANT ROY PHILIPPE DE CASTILLE ET PREMIER ESCUIER TRENCHANT A MESSEUR LES ENFFANS DU ROY QUAND IL SE PARTIT DES PAYS DEMBAS POUR ESPAIGNE LEQUEL TERMINA VIE PAR MORT LE XVIII^E JO^R DU MOIS D’APVRIL ANNO XV^CXIIII ET DAME AGNIES GOMMER SA COMPAIGNE EN SON TEMPS DAME DESPLANQUES, ET DE LE PHALESQUES LAQUELLE TERMINA VIE PAR MORT LE SECOND JOUR DE JUILLET XV^CXLI PROES DIEU POUR LEURS AMES.

Jeanne de la Clite and her son George Halluin.

Hitherto the family history has been traced, but before proceeding further, it will be necessary to describe the man to whom the Ambassador must have owed more than to anyone else.

This was George Halluin, son of Jeanne de la Clite, cousin of Philippe de Comines,[35] and an intimate friend of the great Erasmus. Mention has already been made of alliances between the Busbecqs and the Halluins; in the map it will be seen that Bousbecque lies half way between Halluin and Comines, being about two miles distant from either.

Towards the end of the fourteenth century, Colard de la Clite I. married Jeanne de Wazières, Lady of Comines, and thus became seigneur of the place. He had two sons, (1) Jean de la Clite I.,[36] Seigneur of Comines, guardian of Philippe de Comines; (2) Colard de la Clite II., dit de Comines, father of Philippe de Comines.

Jean de la Clite I. married Jeanne de Ghistelles, and had a son, Jean de la Clite II., who was united to Jeanne d’Estouteville.

The sole child of the pair last mentioned was Jeanne de la Clite, who was destined to exercise so important an influence on the current of modern history.

It will be seen therefore that Jeanne de la Clite was the granddaughter, and Philippe de Comines the nephew, of Jean de la Clite I., but though the girl belonged to a younger generation, she was older than her cousin Philippe, having been born in the Castle of Comines in 1440, while the historian was born in the same place in 1445.

Philippe de Comines, being yet a child when his father died, was handed over to the care of his uncle; and there is a manifest probability that he and Jeanne were brought up together. His name is famous, she was one of the most accomplished women of her age. As she was so much older, it is probable that hers was the predominating influence: what that influence was likely to be may be traced in the education she bestowed on her son.

Charles the Bold, as has been already stated, made his court a sort of school for young men of noble birth; it was not likely therefore that he would neglect the education of his only child.

He provided for it by appointing Jeanne de la Clite as première gouvernante to the young princess.

On three remarkable occasions in the life of Mary of Burgundy we meet with Jeanne de la Clite; (1) when tidings came of the disastrous defeat of Nancy, and the death of Duke Charles, the Chancellor Hugonet asked Jeanne de la Clite[37] to break the news to her young mistress before he himself made the official announcement; (2) when it was proposed to marry the princess to the Dauphin of France, a sickly child of eight, Jeanne de la Clite[38] put her veto on the project. Her interference was not altogether approved of by the Burgundian Council, but it was decisive; (3) Mary of Burgundy’s first-born, Philippe le Beau, was baptised when six days old. Jean Molinet, the court chronicler, thought it necessary to record the order in which the great nobles and ladies went to the ceremony: of Jeanne de la Clite[39] we read that she stopped behind to take care of her young mistress.

After Mary’s accession to the throne, Jeanne de la Clite became her première dame d’honneur; her next office was gouvernante to Philippe le Beau, who lost his mother when he was scarce five years old. She saw her young charge grow up, and became dame d’honneur to his wife, the unfortunate Joanna of Spain, accompanying her in that capacity to Spain in 1501.

She had been gouvernante to Mary of Burgundy, and in all probability she was present at the birth and christening of her grandchildren, Charles and Ferdinand, but her long connection with the royal family was now to terminate. Of her own choice she retired to Comines, and spent her last days in ministering to the welfare of her people.

Her important duties had not prevented her forming domestic ties. Early in life she was married to Jean Halluin, or Halewin, Seigneur of Halluin, and chief of what may be termed the Halluin clan,[40] bringing as her marriage portion the important seigneury of Comines. Five children were the fruit of this marriage, three daughters, Wautier, who died young, and George Halluin.

The last succeeded to the seigneuries of Halluin and Comines, and also to the title[41] which had been bestowed on his mother for her eminent services. George Halluin was born in 1470, his father died in 1473, so that, from his earliest infancy, his mother must have had the supreme direction of his education. Probably no woman was ever better fitted for the task. It is remarkable that Philippe de Comines, who was an excellent modern linguist, regretted deeply his ignorance of the ancient languages, when we couple this circumstance with the fact that his cousin and playmate, Jeanne, gave her son an education which made him one of the first Latin scholars of his age. With regard to his literary merits, we can produce two unimpeachable witnesses; the one is a man whose name was for centuries familiar to the schoolboy, Jean Despauteres, the writer of Latin grammars, the other is the great Erasmus.

Long before his mother had resigned her influential position at the Court, George Halluin had grown to man’s estate. A brilliant career, accompanied with wealth and high honours, seemed the manifest destiny of the young Seigneur. He was a gallant knight, placed at the head, not only of numerous vassals, but also of an important clan. His advice was sought by his Sovereign, and his voice in the council chamber was listened to with respect.[42]

As a loyal gentleman he was ever ready to give his country the benefit of his services, but of ambition he had none. The campaign over, the crisis past, George Halluin sought once more his books and his friends. He collected a magnificent library, he surrounded himself with students, young and old, and became the guide and oracle of the best scholars of his age. He took an interest not only in the pursuits of finished scholarship, but also in the best method of instructing beginners. He had a theory, which Erasmus thought he pushed too far, that grammars and rules were a hindrance rather than a help, and that the only road to a real knowledge of the Latin language lay through the best Latin authors.

In order to establish his views, he wrote a treatise on modern and ancient writers, showing how many mistakes arose from the grammars used by the former. It is curious that such a man should have been brought into so close connection with Despauteres, the great writer of grammars. When the latter was schoolmaster at St. Winoc, he showed George Halluin his treatise on Versification, ‘Ars Versificatoria,’[43] which it had cost him three years to prepare, feeling confident of his approval. George Halluin examined it, and at once hit the blot.

Despauteres had to a great extent followed the lines of his predecessors, instead of mastering the authors for himself. George Halluin’s first question was, ‘Have you read Silius Italicus?’ Despauteres had not. ‘Read him by all means,’ said the Seigneur, ‘and you will then see your mistakes.’ When Silius Italicus was finished, he sent the schoolmaster Lucretius, Virgil, Manilius, Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, &c., all of which were new to Despauteres, with the exception of Virgil. Despauteres read them, and rewrote his book at the cost of three years more labour. The preface testifies his gratitude to George Halluin. At this time Despauteres was schoolmaster of St. Winoc, but not long afterwards he became master of the ancient chapter school at Comines,[44] a post which he owed no doubt to the patronage of the Seigneur.

The following extracts from the letters of Erasmus will show what the great leader of the Renaissance thought of George Halluin.

Erasmus to George Halluin, Seigneur of Comines.

‘Dearest George, if I am not very much mistaken, I have a clue to the man who quarrels with my book on Folly.[45] He is a monk, he is a dark man, and his stomach is the biggest part of him. At first my book was understood by few, till Listrius published notes on it; but when, thanks to your translation, people were able to read it in French, fellows understand it who cannot construe the Psalms they patter.

‘Louvain, August 29, 1517.’

Erasmus to Thomas More.

‘In time we shall have scholars, for there is hardly a gentleman who is not giving his children a classical education, though there is not in the Court circle a single well-educated man, with the solitary exception of George Halluin.

‘Anderlecht, 1520.’

Erasmus to George Halluin, Seigneur of Comines.

‘I cannot tell you with what pleasure I received your letter. You have not then forgotten your old friend Erasmus, and in spite of your rank can condescend to write to him.

‘You say you are not satisfied with any of the Latin grammars or exercise books yet published, or with the Latin of modern writers. I am not sure, my dear friend, that you would not criticise Cicero himself, just as some have accused Virgil of solecisms, and Livy of writing dog Latin.

‘For my own part, I approve not of those who neglect either their authors for their grammar, or their grammar for their authors. The grammar rules should be few and sound; all the rest should be picked up from reading the best authors, or in conversation with good Latin scholars.... I should be more inclined to agree with you, if an instance could be given of a man who had learnt to write Latin without the aid of a grammar. I have with me here Ulrich von Hutten,[46] an exquisite Latin scholar, of gentle birth and good breeding. I should recommend you to discuss the subject with him. I will come to you the day after to-morrow, health permitting, for I am still poorly, otherwise this letter would have been in my own handwriting, instead of being dictated. Most honoured Sir, farewell.

‘Louvain, June 21, 1520.’

An account of George Halluin would be incomplete without a list of his works, which are, (1) A translation into French of the [Greek: Enkômion Môrias], written by Erasmus, and dedicated to Sir Thomas More. (2) A treatise De Restauratione Linguæ Latinæ. (3) On the Coronation of Emperors. (4) A work on Music. (5) A treatise against Luther. (6) Notes on Virgil.[47]

This list shows the wide range of his studies, and also implies no small amount of literary toil, for George Halluin was one who loved to polish and mature his work. As Despauteres puts it, ‘nothing would satisfy him that fell short of perfection.’

Such was the man who must have exercised the greatest influence over Busbecq’s earlier years. The latter was born in 1522. George Halluin did not die till 1536, when Busbecq had left his home for the University of Louvain.

As, however, we have no direct record of the connection between George Halluin and Busbecq, the probabilities, which in this case seem to amount to certainty, must be set before the reader. (1) Busbecq was born at Comines, and passed his earlier years at his father’s house, two miles from Comines. (2) Though Jean Despauteres was dead, the school at Comines under his pupils maintained its high reputation. (3) George Halluin was a great patron of scholars, and had the finest library in Flanders. (4) The Busbecq family, as has been already shown, had made constant alliances with the Halluins; moreover, not only were they their nearest neighbours, but they had also been brought into close relations by the positions that George and Gilles Ghiselin and Jeanne de la Clite had severally occupied in the Burgundian Court. (5) Busbecq’s father was on intimate terms with George Halluin, hawking and feasting with him (see infra, page 39). Taking all these points into consideration, is it probable that Busbecq’s father, the neighbour, relative, fellow seigneur, and intimate friend of George Halluin, would fail to consult him as to the education of his scholar son? Erasmus, it is to be remembered, writing of these days, says that all the noblemen were anxious to give their sons a good education, but that George Halluin was the only member of the Court circle who was himself a scholar. Is it likely, therefore, that Busbecq’s father, having such a man at his door, went elsewhere for advice? Then there is the other side. Busbecq’s writings will show that he was formed in the mould of George Halluin. A Latin scholar of exquisite taste and wide reading, a student of many different subjects; in religion a reformer within the pale of the Church, desiring comprehension and objecting to schism; in short, a follower of George Halluin and a follower of Erasmus. At the end of Busbecq’s fourth Turkish letter will be found a distinct reference to the life which George Halluin led, as his beau idéal of earthly happiness. His wants are summed up thus—a quiet home, a good garden, a few friends, and plenty of books. This was the lot which George Halluin deliberately chose: this the life which Busbecq would fain have led.

The following epitaph was engraved on George Halluin’s tomb:—

Munera qui sprevit aulæ fumosa superbæ

Pro dulci Aonidum ludo et sudore Minervæ,

Nec tamen abstinuit regum, si quando vocatus,

Conciliis, gravibus consultans publica dictis,

Nec patriæ duros sudanti Marte labores

Defuit, et neutram contempsit tempore laudem.

Qui, quos antiqua populos ditione tenebat,

Legibus instituit, fuerant ut tempora, sanctis.

Comminii genetrix, Halewini cui pater arcem

Jure dedit prisca majorum laude regendam,

Ejus habes clausos cineres hoc marmore, mentem

Pronus ei precibus commenda, siste viator,

Æternum cineres faciat qui vivere rursus.

Of which the following is a free translation.

He left ambition’s phantom-chase,

The glare of Court, the greed of place,

For joys that letters yield;

But yet should Halluin’s sovereign call,

He gave good counsel in the hall,

And struck a blow amongst them all

For country on the field.

At once the scholar and the knight,

He taught his people what was right—

At least the best he knew.

The Seigneur he of old Comines,

And on his scutcheon might be seen

The arms of Halluin too.

On either side of lineage high,

He ruled each ancient seigneury,

The head of Halluin’s clan.

Then, traveller, pause awhile, and pray

To Him who can revive this clay

Mid realms of everlasting day.

There’s One alone who can.

George Ghiselin II., father of the Ambassador.

Gilles Ghiselin II. had four children, (1) Gilles Ghiselin III., who died childless; (2) Marie Ghiselin, who appears to have accompanied her widowed mother to Lille, and after her death to have occupied the family mansion. It was with her, in all probability, that Busbecq was staying when he received the summons to Vienna (see page 75); (3) Barbe Ghiselin, married to François de Hocron, governor of Bethune; (4) George Ghiselin II., Knight, Seigneur of Bousbecque.

The lives of George Ghiselin I. and his brother Gilles introduce us to the scenes of public life, the Court, the battle-field, and the scaffold. George Halluin has given us a glimpse of the library and the student. From the story of George Ghiselin II. may be gleaned not less valuable knowledge of a seigneur’s life whilst living amongst his people. It is not impossible that the influence of his friend, relative, and near neighbour, the student Seigneur of Comines, may have induced George Ghiselin to prefer home duties and home pleasures to the perilous honours of a public career. At any rate, the life of Busbecq’s father is the life of a country gentleman, interested in the welfare of those around him, and joining in the recreations and festivities of his neighbours.

Comines had long been celebrated for its cloth, and George Ghiselin II. endeavoured to establish the manufacture in his own seigneury. Nearly two hundred years before, 1352, the inhabitants of Bousbecque had been given a charter, entitling them to manufacture cloth. Their right appears to have lapsed, for on June 7, 1531, George Ghiselin II.[48] obtained from Charles V. a renewal of the privilege. It does not appear, however, that his vassals reaped much advantage from this right. About this time the trade of Comines began to decline, and under these circumstances it is not surprising to find that the attempt to revive the industry in Bousbecque proved a failure. It is interesting, however, to notice the source from which the Ambassador acquired his knowledge of the mysteries of the craft.[49]

A curious document has been discovered among the archives of Lille, which furnishes us with a striking picture of the sort of life led by George Ghiselin II. and his brother seigneurs. It will be found in the Appendix, under the head of Pardon of Daniel de Croix. From this interesting record it appears that on a certain day in the summer of 1519, George Halluin, Seigneur of Comines, had a meeting in the broad meadows beneath the castle, for the knightly sport of hawking. Thither came George Ghiselin, the father of the Ambassador, from his château at Bousbecque, bringing with him the Seigneur of Wambrechies, Daniel de Croix, a relative of his wife’s, and thither rode other gentlemen of the country, Jacques de le Sauch and the Seigneur of Croiselle; while Comines was represented by its bailiff, Jehan Homme, and several other townsmen who had fought against the French under the banner of the Halluins.

The noble seigneurs and the worthy clothiers passed a merry day with hawk and hound; they had their sport in the field, and they feasted in the castle. Their host was one whom they all respected, a gallant knight, a safe adviser, a prince of scholars, one who could hold his own in the field or in the council-chamber, and yet preferred his library at Comines, and a chat with Erasmus, to the honours of a Court and the condescensions of an Emperor.

Between eight and nine in the evening, the festivities drew to a close. George Halluin and the Seigneur of Croiselle, according to the official account, retired to bed. It is pardonable to imagine that the former may have sought his library, to add another note to his Virgil, to have a chat about Latin grammars with Jean Despauteres, or to indite a letter to Erasmus in the most faultless of Latin.

Meanwhile, George Ghiselin, in company with Jehan Homme, bailiff of Comines, Jacques de le Sauch, and Daniel de Croix, strolled towards the market-place of the town. It happened to be a fête-day, so there was a general holiday and merry-making. To this fête had come a minstrel named Chariot Desrumaulx. Perhaps he may have helped to entertain the gentlemen at the castle, at any rate he attached himself to the party of seigneurs as they went towards the market-place. Possibly in Provence he would have been allowed to associate with men of rank, but the Flemish seigneurs evidently thought that the man was taking a liberty. On the road one of them suggested that they should adjourn to the inn of Master Francis Barbier, on the Place de Comines, and there prolong their festivities. The proposal met with general approval. Daniel de Croix and Jacques de le Sauch went on in front, while the Seigneur of Bousbecque and the bailiff followed at some little distance. When the two gentlemen first mentioned came to the inn, Charlot Desrumaulx insisted on entering with them. De Croix, who still had his hawk upon his wrist,[50] remonstrated with him, and told him in plain terms that he was too drunk and quarrelsome for them to wish for his company. The minstrel persisted in entering, whereupon de Croix took him by the collar, and, with the assistance of de le Sauch, expelled him from the house. Desrumaulx grew violent, and attempted to draw his sword, but his hand was stopped by de le Sauch before he could disengage his weapon. At this moment up came Jehan Homme, bailiff of Comines, and George Ghiselin. The former immediately executed his office by arresting Desrumaulx, and was on the point of consigning him to the gaol, when the bystanders good-naturedly interfered. They made what excuses they could for the man; ‘he was drunk and saucy now, but if he were allowed to sleep it off, he would come to his senses in the morning.’ Desrumaulx promised to go to bed quietly, and on this understanding he was released. On regaining his liberty, however, instead of going off to his lodgings, he stationed himself at the entrance to the Place, laid down his violin, took off his coat, and in loud insulting language challenged the best of the seigneurs to single combat. Young Daniel de Croix, no doubt with good reason, considered the challenge as specially addressed to himself. According to his ideas, his reputation as a gentleman and a soldier was at stake; if he permitted a base-born minstrel publicly to insult him, he could never hold up his head again among his comrades at arms. Assuming, probably, that with his superior skill he would have no difficulty in disarming his tipsy antagonist, he threw his hawk to his man-servant, and sallied out into the market-place. Desrumaulx, on seeing him, repeated his insults, and drawing his sword advanced to meet him. Hereon de Croix, unsheathing his rapier, exchanged some passes with the minstrel; the latter’s skill proved greater than the young Seigneur had anticipated, and he succeeded in hitting his antagonist’s shoulder. De Croix, smarting under the blow, made a lunge at the minstrel, and ran him through the body; his rapier entered a little below the right breast, inflicting a wound that was almost immediately fatal. De Croix was now in a very serious position, for not only was the man dead, but he had died before he could be confessed and shriven, consequently the young Seigneur had to answer for the perdition[51] of his soul, as well as the destruction of his body! We are left to imagine the hurried council held in the market-place by the seigneurs; how the swiftest horse was saddled, and de Croix rode forth into the night to escape for his life. The French frontier was not far distant, and there probably he took refuge. When the time came for trial at Lille, de Croix did not appear, being afraid that the justice of the court would not be tempered with mercy. Application was made to Charles V. for a pardon; the petition was no doubt backed up by the influence of the Halluins, Ghiselins, and other noble houses connected with the family of de Croix. At any rate it was successful; and de Croix received a free pardon, on condition of his paying all legal expenses, and compensating the family of the man he had killed.

The scene preserved in this curious document furnishes a picture of a seigneur’s life in the country, and conveys some idea of the tone of the society from which Busbecq went forth to sketch the manners and customs of the East.

George Ghiselin II. died in 1561, leaving three legitimate children, (1) Jean Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque, whose name[52] is found amongst the signatures appended to a remonstrance addressed by the Estates of Lille to Margaret of Parma, against the decrees she had issued for enforcing the edicts of Charles V. for the suppression of heresy. He died childless, November 1578; (2), Marguerite Jacqueline Ghiselin, married November 28, 1565, to Jean Baptiste de Thiennes, Seigneur of Willersies; she died March 27, 1611. (3), Agnes Ghiselin, who succeeded her brother Jean in the seigneury of Bousbecque. She married Jacques Yedeghem, Seigneur of Wieze, captain, governor, and high bailiff of Termonde (Dendermonde).

These last had a son, Charles de Yedeghem, who became Seigneur of Bousbecque; from him, his uncle, the Ambassador, on December 18, 1587, bought a life-interest in the seigneury.[53]

Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq.

Besides the children born in lawful wedlock, George Ghiselin II. had, by Catherine Hespiel,[54] an illegitimate son, who is the subject of this memoir, Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq. The mother was an unmarried woman, in a humble position of life, and is supposed to have been a servant at the Bousbecque château. If this was the case, there is nothing surprising in the fact that she was at Comines when her son was born, in 1522; for it is hardly likely that her mistress would allow her to remain an inmate of the Seigneur’s house. In justice to George Ghiselin himself, it must be remembered that the standard of morality in Flanders, with regard to such connections, was not high, as is shown by Motley’s[55] description of a seigneur’s privileges in old times; and also by the fact that up to a late date they retained the right of legitimating their bastard children. At any rate, his conduct as a father was unimpeachable; he received the little fellow into his château, and gave him an excellent education.

From considerations already stated, it is impossible to doubt that Busbecq came under the influence of George Halluin. He must often have been found in the famous library[56] of the Seigneur of Comines, with his head buried in some weighty folio; thither, no doubt, he brought the botanical specimens he had discovered in the woods and fields of Bousbecque, and the Roman coins he had unearthed at Wervicq. From his kind patron he must have heard of the great Erasmus, of Melancthon, Thomas More, and other leaders of that age. One can picture to oneself how Ogier may have questioned him as to Luther, and asked how it was that he and Erasmus were so far apart, when they agreed so heartily in detesting the greed and superstition of the monks. ‘My boy,’[57] one can imagine George Halluin saying, ‘when your grandsire, Gilles Ghiselin, was about to restore the Bousbecque château, he took me to see the old place. The great hall was well-nigh perfect, and all the windows had been closed with boards. On entering, we found it had been made a home for the owl and the bat; the creatures flew up against me; and as I tried to escape, I stumbled over the rubbish, and fell on the floor, which was covered with filth. I was so disgusted that I would fain have persuaded your grandfather to leave the old place to its present occupants, and build a fair castle at some little distance; but he laughed at my boyish fancy, saying it were foul scorn that he should be ousted from the roof of his ancestors by a set of night-birds. He called in his men, the windows were unbarred, and broad streams of light poured into the hall. Then might you have seen owl and bat shrinking from the bright sunbeams; thenceforth the Bousbecque hall was no resting-place for them, for they love not to roost save where there is perpetual darkness and night.[58] Here is my parable, Ogier; Luther would quit our Church because of the many corruptions and abuses that have crept in; he would leave the monks to their darkness, and build himself a brand-new chapel after his own design. Erasmus would count it shame to allow such night-birds to deprive him of his inheritance in the Church. He would do what your grandsire did, open the windows and pour in the light; that is a power against which neither monks nor bats can stand.’ ‘But where is the light,’ says Ogier, ‘and where are the windows?’ ‘There,’ replies the Seigneur, pointing to his well-stored shelves, ‘there is the light of antiquity, which will chase the night-birds from our Church. Never think, Ogier, that the Bible is the only revelation of God; all knowledge comes from him. Seneca, who never read a word of the Bible, can help us to the truth; and if it be the truth, it is God’s truth, as much as if it had been uttered by inspired lips. I will tell you a secret, boy; you remember the old line, “Fas est et ab hoste doceri.” The drones in the monasteries have, like other animals, that intuitive knowledge which tells them what is fatal to their existence; so we may learn from them their vulnerable part. Erasmus has said many hard things of them, but that is not the chief reason of their hate. What is it then? It is because he has sent the world to school with Greece and Rome for its masters.[59] Just as the owls and bats in your grandsire’s hall might have held their own had we attacked them with sticks and stones, but shrank discomfited before the light of day, so the monks might battle against downright attacks, but they know that the light of antiquity must drive them from their roosts. My ancestors have left their mark on the history of Flanders; but I doubt whether they ever discharged a more glorious office than that which fell to me when I undertook the translation of the great satire which Erasmus[60] dedicated to Sir Thomas More. I once spoke of it to my friend. He shook his head. “You have brought me, my dearest George, into some trouble with your translation; it is too good; it seems incredible, but the lazy crew positively understand it. No, no, stick to your Virgil; they cannot attack me about it; and, between ourselves, you will frighten them much more.” As he said to me, so I say to you, my dear young friend, leave religious questions alone; they will right themselves, if we only let in the light.

‘And why should not you help in this work, Ogier? There are manuscripts yet to be discovered, there are inscriptions yet to be copied, there are coins of which no specimen has been garnered. Then there is the great field of Nature before you; plants with rare virtues for healing sicknesses, fruits that are good for food, flowers with sweet scents and various hues. Why, again, should you not utilise the taste you have for observing the habits of the animal world? Depend upon it, these studies are intended by God for the improvement and advancement of the human race. Let monk and sectary fight it out as they will; do you be content to let in the light, and leave the rest to God.’

Such was the influence that presided over Comines during Busbecq’s earlier years; for the ideas of George Halluin were the ideas of Erasmus. We may be quite certain also that, under the same guide, Busbecq was not allowed to damp his ardour and stupefy his brains with too copious doses of Latin grammar, before he was made free of his Livy and his Virgil. As much as possible of the works of the ancients, and as little as possible of the cut and dried rules of the moderns—such would be George Halluin’s advice. If any one be curious as to the result of such a system, they have but to look at Busbecq’s Latin for the answer.

At the age of thirteen Busbecq became a student at Louvain, the celebrated University of Brabant, where Erasmus once taught. Here he spent five years, at the end of which he received a reward, which must have been more precious to him than any of his University laurels. In consideration of his merits as a student, and other good qualities, Charles V. issued a Patent,[61] removing the stain from his birth, and admitting him into the noble family of Busbecq.

According to the fashion of the times, the young man’s education was not completed at Louvain. He went the round of the great Universities of Europe, studying at Paris, Bologna, and Padua; at the last he became the pupil of the famous Baptista Egnatius, the friend and fellow-worker of Erasmus.

The ideas which he imbibed in the course of his education appear to be a sort of continuation or development of those of Erasmus. There is a striking resemblance between the views of Busbecq and those of his contemporary, Pierre de la Ramée. These views and theories consisted in making the results achieved by the ancients a new point of departure for the learning of modern times.[62] In medicine, for instance, the works of Galen and Hippocrates were to be taken for the foundation, and all later writers ignored; on this substratum the medical science of the future was to be built. That these ideas rested on a sound basis there can be no doubt. Immense results, in almost every field of human knowledge, had been achieved during the palmy days of Greece and Rome; with the downfall of the latter a flood of barbarism had poured over the civilised world. The human race had been struggling again towards the light, but struggling with slow and feeble step. In Busbecq’s days they had not nearly reached the point where Greece and Rome left off.

Compare, for instance, the writings of Philippe de Comines, one of the ablest men of his time, with those of Busbecq sixty years later. The former are stamped with the ideas of the middle ages, the latter are bright with the freshness of a modern writer. The difference is simply enormous, and it is to be attributed to the fact that Philippe de Comines, who was fully conscious of his loss, was ignorant of Latin, while Busbecq had kept company, as it were, with the brightest wits and most learned men of ancient times.

But it must not be supposed that the men of Ramée’s school had any idea of contenting themselves with the knowledge of the ancients; on the contrary, they made it the starting-point for the prosecution of further discoveries. Busbecq’s letters furnish us with an excellent instance of the practice of these ideas. With Pliny, Galen, Vopiscus at his fingers’ ends, he is ever seeking to verify, correct, or enlarge the store he has received. For him all knowledge is gain, and he seeks it in every quarter; inscriptions, coins, manuscripts; birds, beasts, and flowers; the homes, customs, and languages of mankind; the secrets of earth, air, and water—all alike are subjects of interest to him. One trait marks the man. On his journeys he made it a rule, as soon as he reached his halting-place for the night, to sally forth in search of some discovery. Occasionally an inscription, or some of his favourite coins, was the result; at other times it would be a strange plant, or even a quaint story; but whatever it was, it was duly garnered.

It seems probable that Busbecq, after the completion of his studies, returned to Flanders, and for a few years led that quiet life with his books and a few friends, which afterwards, amid the blaze and glare of a court, seemed to him the perfection of human happiness. We have no record of his life during these years, but it is easy to picture it. Many a quiet morning spent in reading at Bousbecque, or in a corner of the Halluin library at Comines, a chat with a chance student friend as to the last news from the Universities, a stroll to inspect Roman coins or pottery lately discovered at Wervicq, a search for some rare plant, a series of observations on the habits of some animal. Nor would his life be spent only in the country. At Lille there was the family mansion, and his aunt Marie Ghiselin to welcome him; there he could find a larger circle of literary friends, and ransack their libraries for books, which might be absent from the collections at Bousbecque and Comines.

It may seem strange that he was so thoroughly accepted in the family, but the explanation is not difficult. His address was singularly winning, and at the same time he inspired every one with confidence in his honesty;[63] he was remarkable for his tact[64] in dealing with the prejudices of his fellow-creatures, and when it was necessary to be firm[65] he could be firm without blustering. The qualities which made him so successful as a diplomatist were the qualities most calculated to endear him to his friends. The man who could ingratiate himself with Roostem was not likely to be unpopular among his own kith and kin.

We now come to the event which first introduced Busbecq into public life. On July 25, 1554, in Winchester Cathedral, Mary of England gave her hand to Philip of Spain. Among those who witnessed the ceremony was Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq.

It was only natural that Ferdinand, the brother of Charles V., should send an ambassador to represent him at the marriage of his nephew to the daughter of his unfortunate aunt, Catherine of Aragon. For this purpose he selected a Spanish gentleman, Don Pedro Lasso de Castilla,[66] who had been the companion of his boyhood in Spain, and had since continued to be a member of his household. With him Busbecq went as attaché. In the life appended to the Elzevir edition of Busbecq’s letters, we are told that he joined the embassy on Don Pedro’s invitation; but in a document of infinitely higher authority, the Patent of knighthood given in the Appendix, it is distinctly stated that the summons came from Ferdinand himself, who thus adopted into his service the grandson of the écuyer trenchant who had served his brother, his father, and his great-grandfather.

In order to mark the importance of the occasion, Don Pedro Lasso was attended to England by a numerous train, many of whom were gentlemen. Altogether there were nearly seventy persons in his suite.[67]

The arrival of this embassy was peculiarly gratifying to Queen Mary, and she caused Don Pedro and his staff to be received with special honours. As they entered London, June 26, 1554, a salute was fired from the Tower, a compliment which excited the jealousy of Noailles, the French ambassador.[68]

Busbecq must have had no ordinary powers as a linguist, for we have it on the authority of his contemporary, L. Guicciardini, that there were six languages with which he was as familiar and ready as with his mother tongue (Flemish). These were Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, German, and Slav; unfortunately, a knowledge of English was not amongst the number of his accomplishments, and this may partially account for the absence in his letters of any allusion to the manners and customs of our country. It is much to be regretted that we have not got some record of his visit; if he acted as secretary, as is supposed, possibly his despatches from England may still be lying among the archives at Vienna to gladden the heart of some future discoverer.

Don Pedro Lasso with Busbecq and the rest of his suite, stayed in England till October 1554. They then took leave of the Queen, and travelled down to Dover with the intention of crossing over to the Continent. Here they found themselves stopped. Every day French vessels could be seen hovering off the harbour in search of a Prize. The Ambassador found it necessary to write[69] to Queen Mary, reminding her that he had only come to England by his master’s orders to do honour to her nuptials, and asking her to give such instructions as would ensure his safe departure. It is not likely that an ambassador who was received with such high distinction made so reasonable a request in vain, and there can therefore be little doubt, that Busbecq and his chief were escorted to Calais by a squadron of English ships manned with stout sailors from the Cinque Ports.

On reaching the Netherlands, the embassy was broken up, Don Pedro repaired to Brussels, and Busbecq went back to his friends and relatives. It is evident that the young diplomatist had impressed his chief with a very high idea of his ability and discretion, for a few days after his return from England, whilst staying with his aunt Marie Ghiselin, at Lille, he received a summons from Ferdinand to undertake the duties of ambassador at Constantinople. He was called to a most difficult and apparently hopeless task.

Ferdinand of Austria, King of the Romans, and afterwards Emperor, Sovereign of Hungary and Bohemia, was in a most critical position; it is no exaggeration to say that he and his kingdoms lay at the mercy of the Sultan, who might any day annihilate his forces, and take possession of his dominions. His only hope of rescuing his subjects from slavery lay in the skill of his ambassadors. In 1545 Gerard Veltwick[70] (Velduvic), had been sent to represent the two brothers, Charles V. and Ferdinand, at the Turkish court; on his return, John Maria Malvezzi, one of his companions, had succeeded to the post. Malvezzi was not fortunate; the Turks regarded an ambassador simply in the light of a hostage,[71] and when Ferdinand in the autumn of 1551 broke faith with them by taking possession of Transylvania, they threw Malvezzi into a horrible dungeon; there the unfortunate man remained till August 1553, when his release was procured by Francis Zay and Antony Wranczy (Verantius) afterwards Bishop of Erlau, who came to Constantinople as Ferdinand’s representatives.

Malvezzi returned to Vienna broken in health by his sufferings in the Turkish dungeon. It was not long, however, before Ferdinand ordered him to resume his duties at Constantinople; Malvezzi did his utmost to comply with his master’s wish; he struggled as far as Komorn and there broke down. Ferdinand suspected him of pretending to be worse than he really was, in order to avoid a post of the perils of which he had had such painful experience. As Busbecq forcibly remarks, Malvezzi’s death a few months later removed this doubt!

Ferdinand had need of some one to succeed Malvezzi. It was not an enviable post, and the courtiers of Vienna had no fancy for the risk of being slowly done to death in some noisome dungeon at Constantinople, or of returning, as the Pashas at one time intended Busbecq should return, noseless and earless! But Ferdinand felt that it was absolutely necessary to have a representative at the Turkish Court to assist him in staving off the evil day. Accordingly he sent a summons to Busbecq, and at the same time despatched a message to his late chief, Don Pedro Lasso, asking him to use his influence with the young diplomatist, and urge him to start at once for Vienna. It would seem as if the post were but little coveted, when such pressure had to be applied. Busbecq, however, needed no urging; he was a man capable of finding intense pleasure in new scenes, new work, new discoveries, and all were included in the prospect now opening to his eager eyes.

It was on November 3, 1554, that Ogier received Ferdinand’s message. He at once started for Bousbecque, and paid a last visit of love to his father, his friends, and the home that was so dear to him. Thence he hurried off to Brussels, where he had an interview with his old chief, and before many hours were past he was galloping along the road to Vienna. A comparison of dates will show how very prompt Busbecq must have been. He received the summons on November 3, and by the eighteenth he had reached Vienna, having paid at least two visits in the meantime, and made his preparations for his distant journey. It was probably at Bousbecque that he enlisted the followers who were to accompany him in his long and perilous expedition; it is evident that they were Flemings, sturdy fellows who knew no fear, fond of a bottle of wine, and not averse to a practical joke.[72] There were amongst them men of fair education,[73] who had perhaps been trained in the chapter-school of Comines, and there was one man of eminent ability, who came from the neighbouring town of Courtrai, William Quacquelben.[74] He acted as physician to the party, and at first seems to have occupied a position little differing from that of a servant; how Busbecq learnt to love and appreciate him will be told in his own words.

Even the journey to Vienna had dangers of its own. A system of posting had already been established between Brussels and Vienna, so that Busbecq could change his weary steeds at every stage; but it was November, the days were short and the nights long, and his business being urgent, he had to risk his neck by galloping over villainous roads long after it was dark.

At Vienna he was welcomed by an old friend and fellow-countryman, John Van der Aa, who was now acting as one of Ferdinand’s privy council; it was in a great measure owing to his strong recommendation that Ferdinand invited Busbecq into his service. John Van der Aa had now the pleasure of presenting the young Ambassador to Ferdinand, who received him in a manner betokening at once kindness and confidence.

It is not the object here to anticipate his account; how he visited his dying predecessor Malvezzi, and all the particulars of his journey to Constantinople, may be read in his own words. Busbecq tells his story in his own pleasant way; this memoir is only intended to fill up the blanks as far as possible; as to the rest, the writer will be left to speak for himself.[75]

Something perhaps ought to be said as to the style of his work. It was the fashion among the students of that day to compose short accounts of their journeys for the information and amusement of their friends. These were generally written in Latin verse, very much after the model of Horace’s journey to Brundisium. (Hor. Sat. i. 5.) Busbecq speaks of his first Turkish letter as containing two of these itineraries,[76] and it was originally published under the title of Itinera Constantinopolitanum et Amasianum; the other three letters, though not strictly itineraries, are written in the same style. Probably these letters would not have been half so amusing, or half so instructive, if Busbecq had intended them for publication; so far was he from thinking, when he wrote them, of committing them to print, that it was not till some twenty years later that any of them saw the light, and then only the first was published. Neither did the author ever sanction the publication. His countryman, L. Carrion, took on himself the responsibility of sending the work to the press. It is from him we learn that the letters were written to Nicolas Michault, seigneur of Indeveldt, Busbecq’s fellow-student in Italy, and for many years Ambassador[77] to the Court of Portugal; he also tells us that the writer never intended to give them to the public. That Busbecq had at any rate no hand whatever in the publication is abundantly proved by the mistakes of Carrion, some of which have been repeated in subsequent editions. For instance, the first letter ought to be dated September 1, 1555, whereas in all the Latin editions it is printed September 1, 1554, the internal evidence being conclusive as to the correctness of the former date.

Busbecq at the Court of Vienna.

The four Turkish letters supply us with a full account of the eight years which Busbecq spent at the Court of Solyman, and it will not be necessary to take up the thread of his story till his return to Germany in the autumn of 1562.

At first he was uncomfortable, and felt out of his element in the atmosphere of a court; he hoped for a peaceful paradise after George Halluin’s model, by the waters of the Lys, a quiet home furnished with plenty of books, a good garden, and a few friends.

But his services were far too highly valued by Ferdinand and his son Maximilian to allow of his retirement.

It was not long before a new post was found for him. Very soon after Busbecq’s return from Constantinople, an application was made to Maximilian, which, if it gratified his ambition, must also have filled him with the greatest anxiety. Philip of Spain proposed to bestow the hand of his daughter on one of Maximilian’s sons, and, distrusting no doubt the more liberal tone which prevailed at the Court of Vienna, coupled the proposal with the condition, that the young Archdukes, Rodolph and Ernest, should be entrusted to his charge. Though Maximilian acceded to his request, it was probably not without compunction that that wise and tolerant prince committed his two boys—the eldest of whom was only eleven years of age—into the keeping of the royal bigot.

The only precaution open to him lay in the appointment of the officers of the household which was to accompany them to Spain. To Busbecq was assigned the post of écuyer trenchant,[78] an appointment which met with the warm approval of Ferdinand.

The young Archdukes proceeded to Spain. They were handed over to the Jesuits to be educated, and Busbecq left their service. It is easy to understand that a man brought up in the school of Erasmus was not likely to prove acceptable to the staff of instructors appointed by Philip; but whatever the circumstances may have been through which he lost his post, it is certain that he in no way fell in the estimation of Ferdinand and Maximilian. The latter, on his coronation as King of Hungary (September 8, 1563), bestowed on Busbecq the honour of knighthood; the occasion was peculiarly appropriate, as the Ambassador had by his diplomatic skill greatly mitigated the lot of the inhabitants of that unfortunate kingdom. This distinction was confirmed by the Emperor, who issued the Patent, dated April 3, 1564, a copy of which will be found in the Appendix. A far greater proof, however, of Maximilian’s esteem and confidence was received by Busbecq about this time. Rodolph and Ernest, his two eldest sons, were being educated by Philip’s Jesuits; but the Archdukes Matthias, Maximilian, Albert, and Wenceslaus, were still under their father’s care, and by him Busbecq was appointed their governor and seneschal. For several years he was engaged in superintending the household and education of the young Archdukes, whom, according to Howaert,[79] he had the honour of escorting to Spain and introducing to Philip. His youthful charges had not yet arrived at manhood, when his services were required for their sister.

Busbecq in France.

Maximilian’s daughter, the Archduchess Elizabeth (Isabella), had to leave her family and her country to unite her fortunes with Charles IX. of France, the unhappy king whose memory will be for ever associated with the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The position she went to occupy was as perilous as it was brilliant. Queen of France, wife of Charles IX., daughter-in-law of Catherine de Medici, with Marguerite de Valois (afterwards Queen of Henry of Navarre), for a sister-in-law, she had need of the trustiest and wisest counsellor her father could supply; and it was therefore no idle compliment to Busbecq, when he was called from the care of her brothers to take his place at the head of her household. He had, like his grandfather Gilles Ghiselin II., held the post of écuyer trenchant in the imperial family. He had next been appointed governor and seneschal to the young Archdukes, and he was now sent as seneschal, or high steward, of the Archduchess’s household when she left parents and fatherland to share a foreign throne.

The marriage took place by proxy, October 23, 1570, and in the following month the Archduchess set out for France under the care of her faithful seneschal. A reader of the life of Busbecq prefixed to the Elzevir edition, would be led to suppose that he remained at the head of the Queen’s household in France from that time forth. Such, however, was not the case. Various notices by his friends Lipsius,[80] the celebrated scholar, and de l’Ecluse, the botanist, prove beyond doubt that he shortly afterwards returned to Vienna. At any rate he was there in the summer of 1572 and the winter of 1573, apparently the life and soul of the literary and scientific society of the Austrian capital. Here he was able to keep up to some degree his connection with Turkey, for we find that he received parcels of tulip bulbs and other rare plants from Constantinople, of which his countryman de l’Ecluse reaped the benefit.

Such a life must have been nearly as much after Busbecq’s own heart as the paradise of which he dreamed by the waters of the Lys; perhaps he thought his troubles were over, and he would be allowed to go peacefully to his grave after enriching the world with the fruits of a long course of scientific study. Such, however, was not to be the case. On May 30, 1574, Charles IX. of France ended his brief and unhappy life. The Archduchess Elizabeth was now a widow. What her position was may be gathered from the graphic touches in Busbecq’s letters; from the first it was difficult, and at last—to use her own words—it became intolerable.

The Emperor, on hearing of his son-in-law’s death, immediately despatched his old friend and faithful servant to comfort his daughter, and take charge of her affairs.

The instructions which Busbecq received were by no means simple. It was thought probable that the new king, Henry III., would make an offer of his hand to Elizabeth, and this alliance would, it appears, have been acceptable to Maximilian; the widowed Queen did not care for her brother-in-law, but was prepared to yield to her father’s wishes. There was a possibility also of a match with Sebastian, the chivalrous boy-king of Portugal, or, again, of her being asked to undertake the government of the Netherlands.

There was also the question whether if she remained a widow, she was to live in France or return home, and whether, if she came back, she would be allowed to bring with her her delicate little daughter. Important above all other matters though, in the eyes of Maximilian, was the question of her dower. The usual allowance for a widowed Queen of France was 60,000 francs per annum, and this sum had been settled on Elizabeth at her marriage. Busbecq was to see that this income was properly secured, and this was no easy matter. He found from the case of Mary Queen of Scots, that promises to pay were of little value unless the sums were charged on part of the crown lands, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to effect a tolerably satisfactory arrangement. Such was the general purport of Busbecq’s instructions. He had also a sort of roving commission to report on the general condition of France, and the character of her public men; he was to chronicle passing events, and give an estimate of what the future was likely to bring forth. Reports on these heads, with an occasional piece of gossip, form the contents of his letters to the Emperor Maximilian.[81] The first of this series is dated Speyer, August 22, 1574, and the last, Wasserburg, February 8, 1576.

After conducting his widowed mistress back to her parents, Busbecq returned to France to take charge of her affairs. He had to collect the revenues of her dower, which were charged on sundry lands in Berry, Marche, and Forez, and generally to protect her interests at the court. To this employment more important duties were afterwards united. On the death of Maximilian, his son Rodolph succeeded to the throne. The new Emperor was well acquainted with Busbecq, who, as has already been mentioned, had acted as his écuyer trenchant when he left his home for Spain; and though Rodolph’s mind was to a certain extent warped by the education he had received from the Jesuits, he nevertheless inherited his father’s and grandfather’s appreciation of Busbecq. Accordingly, we find him employing Busbecq as his representative at the Court of France, and receiving letters from him containing not only the news, but the gossip of the capital. It is generally stated that Busbecq’s position was that of ambassador; this is doubtful, though there is no question as to his having discharged the duties and exercised the influence of an ambassador. There is an obvious reason for his not having been accredited as a regular diplomatic representative. He was a Fleming, and therefore a subject of Philip of Spain. Even at the court of Constantinople this circumstance had proved an obstacle in the course of his negotiations, and it was still more likely to be a stumbling-block at the court of France. His services, however, being too valuable to be dispensed with by the Emperor, it would appear that the difficulty was surmounted by giving him the work without the title—in short, he was ambassador without the credentials of an ambassador.

The letters of Busbecq to Rodolph, as printed in the Elzevir edition, are fifty-three in number. The first is dated March 25, 1582; the last was written December 8, 1585. We have in them a description of France on the eve of a most important epoch, the wars of the League; and we have also a most valuable account of the progress of events in the Low Countries, in which Busbecq as a Fleming felt a strong personal interest.

It is not necessary to enter into the history of a period which has been made familiar to English readers by Motley’s Rise of the Dutch Republic, and United Netherlands; but, on the other hand, it must not be supposed that there is no additional information to be gleaned from Busbecq’s letters by those who are already acquainted with the works of the American historian. On the contrary, there are points omitted by Motley which are of considerable importance; as, for instance, Alençon’s plan for making Dunkirk the seat of his government. Again, there are questions like that of Salceda’s conspiracy, in which Busbecq’s evidence does not appear to have been sufficiently considered. To those who are content to take their history at second hand, it is useless to suggest the advisability of comparing Busbecq’s letters with the received modern histories; to real students the advantages are obvious. Here is a witness almost, one might say, under cross-examination. Busbecq had to send off his despatches to his master periodically. He could not alter or retouch them; he was obliged to content himself with giving the news of the day, and his estimate of its value at the time. A distinguished general has said that in his profession it was necessary to be near the troops who were actually engaged, in order to feel the pulse of the battle; and it is only by reading the works of contemporary writers that we can feel the pulse of history.

It is not impossible that Busbecq had his own hopes and ambitions with regard to the Netherlands. On September 15, 1578, the eldest of his Imperial pupils, the Archduke Matthias, was appointed Governor-General of the insurgent Provinces. It is vain now to inquire into what might have been, but in 1578 it could not have seemed altogether impossible that peace and happiness might be in store for the Netherlands under the government of the son of Maximilian and grandson of Ferdinand. It is a significant fact that Busbecq’s despatches to Rodolph prior to March 1582 have not been allowed to see the light. Matthias left the Netherlands in October 1581, so that Busbecq’s published correspondence commences just six months after the departure of the Archduke. If ever the earlier letters should be forthcoming, they will, no doubt, be found to contain much interesting information as to this episode in the history of the Netherlands, and this, in all probability, is the reason they have been suppressed.

In writing to Maximilian of William the Silent, Busbecq speaks of the great patriot of the Netherlands in terms of the highest respect. When writing to Rodolph some eight years later, his tone is completely altered. It is evident that he dislikes him. This change is not surprising if we remember the treatment which Busbecq’s pupil had in the interval experienced at his hands. It seems evident that in this instance Orange placed his faith in the strong battalions; he preferred a treacherous scoundrel to an honest and capable[82] man, because the one could bring French troops into the field, and the other had but his own sword to offer. It would be a curious problem to consider whether in this matter Orange was wise in his generation. What did the Netherlands gain by substituting Alençon for Matthias?

With regard to the religious aspect of the struggle, Busbecq’s evidence is peculiarly valuable. He was a Netherlander, who had left his native country before the struggle broke out. Circumstances had never compelled him to cast in his lot with the one party or the other.

A reference to his conversation at Prinkipo with Metrophanes[83] the Metropolitan, shows us what Busbecq’s wishes must have been. If he desired to see the Greek Church reunited to the Western, he must have been anxious to preserve the latter from schism. His views were those of Erasmus; he wished for union and he wished for reform. That Busbecq was a deeply religious man may be gathered from his description of the death of Quacquelben and other passages; that he was not in any way imbued with the superstitions of his time may be seen by the fact that he went to Constantinople accompanied not by his priest, but by his Bible. From the circumstances of the case it is almost necessary that the evidence with regard to a religious war should be the evidence of partisans; hence the great authority due to the testimony of a neutral.

The reader will be left to gather from Busbecq’s own letters an idea of his life at Paris, and it will only be necessary to resume the story at the point where his letters cease.

At the end of his fifty-first despatch we find that his couriers have difficulty in passing through the country, on account of the outbreak of hostilities between the Guises, the King, and Henry of Navarre.

At this point in the Elzevir edition, Busbecq’s letters come to an end, and we should have to part company with him at the close of 1585, if it were not for the edition by Howaert already referred to, which fortunately preserves five more letters to Rodolph, dated from November 13, 1589 to August 27, 1590. These despatches contain interesting and valuable information as to the state of France during the wars of the League; among the more striking passages is an account of the siege of Paris, and a comparison of the relative chances of Parma and Henry IV. in the struggle that was then imminent.

During these troublous times, Busbecq must have led an uncomfortable life in France, with no certain resting-place, but driven hither and thither, as the tide of battle ebbed and flowed. It is no wonder that he sighed for the day when he should bid farewell to his dangerous task, and enter the quiet haven he had prepared for his old age.

In spite of his long sojourn in foreign courts, his heart still yearned for the home of his forefathers. The château had suffered at the hands of the insurgents, and the vassals of the seigneury were well nigh ruined by the requisitions of the Spaniards; but its associations had a charm for Busbecq such as no other place on earth could have. His first step was to purchase[84] a life interest in the seigneury from his nephew, Charles de Yedeghem. He next proceeded to restore and repair the château, so as to make it fit for his residence. A tradition still lingers at Bousbecque of the beautiful garden[85] which he formed, and the lilacs, tulips, and other new plants with which he filled it. Nor was he forgetful of the interests of his vassals. In the Mairie of Bousbecque may still be seen the Sauvegarde which Parma granted to the inhabitants, in token of his respect for their Seigneur. A copy of it will be found in the Appendix. Its date will recall a famous event—the defeat of the Spanish Armada.

Busbecq’s Death.

In the autumn of 1592, when he was seventy years old, Busbecq obtained six months’ leave of absence from his post,[86] and set forth to revisit the home of his youth. It does not appear that he had seen it since the day he parted with his father, nearly forty years before; meanwhile, the generation he knew must have well nigh passed away, and it was, no doubt, with a melancholy pleasure that the old man set out to take possession of his château and his seigneury.

The country was in an unquiet state on account of the civil war which was then raging, and Busbecq took the precaution of furnishing himself with the passports both of the Leaguers and the Royalists. While passing through Normandy he stopped for the night at Cailly, a small village about nine miles from Rouen. This part of the country had in the preceding year been the scene of a long and desperate struggle between Parma and Navarre, and parties of armed men were prowling about, who combined the calling of the soldier with the exploits of the brigand. During the night one of these troops, who professed to be fighting for the League, swept down on the little hamlet where Busbecq was lodging, took possession of his portmanteaux, and carried him off, telling him that they were acting under the orders of the governor of Rouen. The old man, nothing daunted by their violence, gave them a lecture on the ambassadorial privileges to which he was entitled, and told them that he did not believe that any such order had been issued by the governor of Rouen. Perhaps he frightened them, more probably he persuaded them—at any rate, next morning they brought him back to Cailly, and restored his baggage.

The governor of Rouen, on hearing of the affair, apologised for the outrage, and offered to inflict severe punishment on the offenders. The good old man replied that he was too much occupied in making his peace with God to think of revenging injuries. He felt he was dying. The shock he had received in his encounter with the marauders proved fatal. He was never to see the home for which he had so often yearned in distant lands. He was removed from Cailly to the château of the Lady of Maillot, near St. Germain, not far from Rouen, and there he died, October 28, 1592.

Even when the hand of death was upon him, his thoughts were of the home he loved. He desired that his heart at least should be laid in Bousbecque Church by the side of his forefathers.

But his wish was not immediately fulfilled. All his attendants could then do was to consign his body with due honours to a tomb in the church of St. Germain. Six years later, when Busbecq’s former pupil, Archduke Albert, was Governor-General of the Netherlands, his dying wish was remembered. His heart was placed in a leaden casket and conveyed to Bousbecque, where it was consigned to its last resting-place amid all the pomp[87] and ceremony of a great military funeral.

In Bousbecque Church may still be seen the monument which the Ambassador erected to his grandfather, Gilles Ghiselin, écuyer trenchant to three generations of the house of Burgundy, and Agnes Gommer, his wife. Underneath that monument their remains are still resting to-day, and in the same grave still lies their grandson’s heart.

TURKISH LETTERS.

LETTER I.

Introduction—Return from England—Visit to Bousbecque—Posting to Vienna—Interview with Ferdinand—Malvezzi’s misfortunes—Preparations for the expedition—Impatience of Ferdinand—Komorn—Paul Palyna—His ideas of punctuality—Meeting the Turkish escort—Gran—A Sanjak-bey—Feats of Turkish horsemen—A Tartar whose hair served as hat and helmet—Buda—The Pasha of Buda—His sickness and its cause—William Quacquelben called in—Busbecq’s fears—Janissaries—Their duties as policemen—Their dress—Their visits to Busbecq—Turkish guests and hard drinkers—Determined on making a night of it—Why Turks never drink in moderation—The old gentleman at Constantinople who gave notice to his soul—Description of Buda-Pesth—Turkish ideas with regard to houses—The fish in the boiling spring—Interview with the Pasha of Buda—A dilemma—Turkish customs—Busbecq embarks on the Danube for Belgrade—Heydons—Turkish sailors—Belgrade—Roman coins—Defence and capture of Belgrade—Louis of Hungary—Importance of fortresses against Turkish inroads—Trajan’s bridge—A Servian funeral—Servian marriage customs—Description of a Turkish Khan—A Turkish hostel—Sleeping in a stable—How Busbecq made himself comfortable—How the party obtained supplies of wine—Turkish methods for measuring time—Busbecq’s escort acknowledge the advantages of a watch—Sophia—The Bulgarians—Dress and bonnets of the women—Baldwin, Count of Flanders—Trajan’s pass—Philippopolis—Adrianople—Turks fond of flowers—An open purse necessary in Turkey—Tchourlou—Selim’s defeat—Selimbria—Reverence of the Turks for paper—Reasons assigned by themselves for this superstition—The red-hot gridiron and the cock—Busbecq arrives at Constantinople—Visits Roostem—The story of Roostem’s fall from power—Solyman—Roxolana—Mustapha—Roostem once a pig-driver—His services as a financier—Makes a profit out of the vegetables and flowers from the Sultan’s gardens—Why a Sultan is obliged to murder his brothers—Mustapha summoned to his father’s camp—The death sentence—The case submitted to the Mufti—The mutes—A look from Solyman—Mustapha strangled—Mutiny in the camp—Roostem dismissed—Mustapha’s wife and son—Visit from Ibrahim Pasha—Trick played on the mother—Murder of the boy—Constantinople—St. Sophia—Superstitions as to unclean fish—The Greek and the snails—The cost of absolution in the Greek Church—Ancient columns—Ingenuity of a Greek architect—Wild beasts—A dancing elephant[76]—A camelopard—Sailing up the Bosphorus—Thoughts suggested by the beauty of the scene—Lazarus the Albanian—Busbecq summoned by Solyman to Amasia—Crosses into Asia—Nicomedia—Jackals—Nicæa—Angora goats—Fat-tailed sheep—The duck and the post-horn—Angora—Turkish tombs—The hyena—Its knowledge of language—How to catch it—Coins and plants—Town of Angora—Monumentum Ancyranum—Manufacture of mohair—Fishing in the Halys—Ignorance of the people—Sour milk—Turkish diet—Sherbet—Grapes preserved in mustard—Dervishes—Legend of Chederle the same as that of St. George—Amasia—Turkish incendiaries—Houses of Amasia—Visit to Achmet Pasha—Interview with Solyman—The Sultan’s court—Promotion among the Turks—A body of Janissaries—Their steadiness in the ranks—The Persian Ambassador and his presents—Ali Pasha—Dinner given to the Persian Ambassador and his suite—Audience with Solyman on leaving—Why the Sultan uses rouge—Departure from Amasia—Busbecq ill—Returns to Constantinople—Schiites and Sunnites—Busbecq leaves Constantinople—Meets a train of Hungarian captives—One of the party dies from the plague—Others are attacked—Providential discovery of a remedy—Belgrade—Fertility of Hungary—Essek—Busbecq down with the fever—Mohacz—Plots of the brigands—Busbecq nearly caught—Interview with the Pasha of Buda—Departure for Komorn—How one of Busbecq’s escort lost his nose and his horse—The Sanjak-bey improves the occasion—The value of a nose—The amount of compensation affected by the doctrine of predestination—Return to Vienna—Busbecq looks so ill that his friends think he is poisoned—Is regarded with envy—Apologises for his want of style.

I undertook, when we parted, to give you a full account of my journey to Constantinople, and this promise I now hope to discharge with interest; for I will give you also an account of an expedition[88] to Amasia, which is by far the rarer treat of the two.

To an old friend like yourself[89] I shall write very freely, and I am sure you will enjoy some pleasant passages which befell me on my way; and as to the disagreeables which are inseparable from a journey so long and so difficult, do not give them a thought, for I assure you that, though they annoyed me at the time, that very annoyance, now they are past and gone, only adds to my pleasure in recalling them.

You will remember that, after my return home from England, where I attended the marriage of King Philip and Queen Mary,[90] in the train of Don Pedro Lasso, whom my most gracious master, Ferdinand, King of the Romans, had deputed to represent him at the wedding, I received from the last-mentioned Sovereign a summons to undertake this journey.

The message reached me at Lille[91] on November 3, and without any delay, except such as was entailed by a detour to Bousbecque for the purpose of bidding adieu to my father and my friends, I hurried through Tournai, and thence to Brussels.

Here I met Don Pedro himself; and he, to use an old proverb, gave the spur to a right willing horse, by showing me a letter he had received from the King, in which he charged him to make me set out as soon as possible. Accordingly, I took post-horses, and came with all speed to Vienna. Even at this early stage my journey brought troubles of its own, for I was quite unaccustomed to riding, and the time of year was by no means favourable to such an expedition, involving as it did bad weather, muddy roads, and short days. I had, therefore, to pursue my journey long after nightfall, and to gallop over a track, which hardly deserved the name of a road, in complete darkness, to the great danger of my neck.

On my arrival at Vienna I was presented to King Ferdinand by John Van der Aa, a member of his privy council. He received me with the kindness which invariably marks his intercourse with those of whose loyalty and honesty he has formed a favourable opinion. He told me at great length his hopes with regard to me, and how important it was to his interests that I should accept the office of ambassador, and start forthwith. He informed me he had promised the Pasha of Buda that his ambassador should be there without fail by the beginning of December, and he was anxious there should be no want of punctuality on the part of his representative, lest it should furnish the Turks with a pretext for not fulfilling the engagements which they had undertaken in consideration of this promise.

We were within twelve days of the date. There was barely time to make preparations for a short journey, and I had a long one before me.

Even from this short space I had to deduct some days for a hurried visit to John Maria Malvezzi at Komorn, whither I went by the commands of the King, who considered it of great importance that I should have an interview with Malvezzi, and receive from his own lips such information and advice as he might be able to give me with regard to the character and disposition of the Turks, inasmuch as I myself had no knowledge or experience of them.

He had been for some years Ferdinand’s ambassador at the court of Solyman, to which post he was first appointed when the Emperor Charles, for divers weighty reasons, negotiated a truce with the Turks through Gerard Veltwick;[92] for on that occasion he had also made a truce with them for eight years on behalf of King Ferdinand.

Now Malvezzi had been one of Veltwick’s companions, and on his return he was sent back to Constantinople by Ferdinand to act as his ambassador, in the hope that his presence at the Sultan’s court would be of service in checking the raids of the Turks in the kingdom of Hungary, as there would be some one on the spot to remonstrate with Solyman with regard to the outrages committed by his officers, and demand satisfaction.

But it happened not long after, that an opportunity, which Ferdinand felt he could not afford to lose, occurred for re-uniting Transylvania to Hungary.[93] In this he was warmly supported by the Hungarians, who looked on Transylvania as an appanage of the kingdom. Accordingly, he came to an understanding with the widow and son of John the Voivode, who had formerly usurped the title of King of Hungary, and recovered Transylvania in exchange for other provinces.

When the Turks got wind of these transactions—and, indeed, they could not have been kept secret—Roostem, the son-in-law of Solyman and chief of the councillors who are called Vizierial Pashas, summoned Malvezzi to his presence, and asked him whether the news was true. He, without the slightest hesitation, contradicted the report, and offered, moreover, to stake his life on the result, and to submit to their worst tortures if his statement proved incorrect. But when, on Ferdinand’s taking possession of the whole of Transylvania, the truth became clear, and further concealment was impossible, the Sultan was furious with Roostem for having placed so much confidence in Malvezzi’s assurances, and Roostem was still more enraged with Malvezzi, and often declared that he had cheated him. Not to make too long a story, Malvezzi was thrown into prison, his goods confiscated, and his servants sold as slaves. In this prison he was kept in close custody for nearly two years. Sickness attacked him, and as he was not allowed to receive any medicines, he contracted a disease which, some time after, terminated his life. The Turks, in such matters, have no idea of moderation; they are excessively complaisant when they wish to show their friendship, and excessively bitter when their anger is roused. But when their troubles at home made them desirous of peace, and their attempt to recover Transylvania by force of arms was unsuccessful, they were easily induced to leave off fighting and to arrange the dispute by negotiation. The Turkish demand was that the whole of Transylvania should be restored; but inasmuch as his treaty with the Voivode was the result neither of force nor fraud, Ferdinand[94] maintained that it ought not to be set aside, and declined to evacuate Transylvania. With a view to satisfying the Turks on these matters, he despatched to the Sultan’s Court two ambassadors, in whose loyalty and zeal he had the greatest confidence—Antony Wranczy (or Verantius), Bishop of Erlau, and Francis Zay, the commander of the ships which the Hungarians call Nassades. On their arrival Malvezzi was released from his dungeon, and sent back to Ferdinand with despatches from Solyman. Shortly after this, the King desired him to return to Constantinople to act as his ambassador in ordinary when peace should have been concluded. Accordingly he set out, but a fresh attack of the disease he had contracted during his confinement compelled him to stop at Komorn, a fortress which lies at the point where the river Waag joins the Danube, and is our furthest outpost against the Turk.

He felt that his end was drawing near, and wrote to Ferdinand, asking him to appoint some one to take his place as ambassador. The King did not altogether believe what Malvezzi said, nor, on the other hand, was he disposed to think it quite without foundation. However, he was rather inclined to suspect that his reason for avoiding the office of ambassador was not so much the severity of his attack, as the recollection of what he had suffered before, and the dread of what might be in store for him in the future; at the same time, he felt that he could not in decency compel a man who had done good service to King and country to proceed on an errand for which he declared himself unfit. The death of Malvezzi a few months afterwards gave ample proof that his illness was neither an excuse nor a sham. The result of all this was that I became Malvezzi’s successor; but inasmuch as I had no experience in the tactics and character of the Turk, the King, as I told you before, thought that a visit to Malvezzi would be useful, since he could give me directions and suggestions as to the best method of dealing with Turkish chicanery. Accordingly, I spent two days with Malvezzi, and learnt as much as I could in so short a time of the policy to be followed and the things to be avoided in one’s daily transactions with the Turk Thence I returned to Vienna, and set to work, as hard as I could, to get together what I wanted for my journey. But there was so much business to be done, and the time was so short, that when the day came on which I had arranged to leave, I was not ready. The King kept pressing me to go, and I had been busy arranging and packing since three o’clock that morning; but it was with great difficulty that I managed to complete my preparations shortly after dusk. The gates of Vienna, which at that hour are locked, were unbolted, and I set out.