He had experience with such situations: he was the one who, once upon a time, replaced the legendary Hayreddin Barbarossa in 1546 as the admiral of the Ottoman fleet. Primarily because the man had died, otherwise he never would have dared to even try to be his replacement. However, Sultan Suleiman the Legislator4 published a decree that was not to be contested. And once he had given in, then he emulated the deeds or pronouncements of his great predecessor in the reasonable rethinking of each of his own decisions. One of them was: never rush, not even into victory!”
“And experienced, who was experienced?” I enticed him further.
“Uluj Ali, the famous pirate, to whom the Sultan had entrusted command over parts of the navy on the basis of his slavish loyalty that had lasted for over fifty years. This brave man had destroyed European vessels for decades in the Mediterranean with exceptional success. But he had two bad sides. One was his strong language (which was sometimes forgiven in the light of his profound experience). This time he said the following (overly) poisonous sentences to Ali-pasha Muezzinzade, and that at the moment when he realised that the latter was not backing away from his ill-fated decision: ‘Istanbul Turks cannot even begin to imagine the strength of the Christian fleet. To such sheep (let there be no confusion, that’s what he called them – the Turks of the capital, not the Europeans! – Pamuk said aside) you have to embellish the news about the numbers and strength of our European enemy so that the truth will get into their heads at least that way!’
“Muezzinzade Ali-pasha, a proud and brave man, was offended by these words and he retorted in kind: ‘You want to save the Christians because you were one in your youth! You want to save your Italian homeland!’
“This insult in return had an effect: Uluj Ali fell silent, not wanting his loyalty and courage to fall in to doubt. (His Christian background, besides his sharp tongue, was his other bad side).”
I thought about how clever Ali-pasha was. With these words he insulted both the Grand Vizier and the second vizier at the same time, and in a situation like this one, it seems that this could go unchallenged. Neither Mehmed-pasha Sokolović nor Pertev Mehmed-pasha reacted to this comment, out of sheer precaution. Had they done so, Serbs by background, together with the already challenged Uluj Ali, they would have seemed like undeniable defenders of their former Christian faith. Ali-pasha was thus shrewd to the point of impudence, depending precisely on such a reaction. As Pamuk went on, this was only confirmed.
“With their silence Sultan Selim made his decision, removing the turban from his head and saying: ‘If this turban can cover three heads, then too shall the infidels join forces against me...’”
Pamuk’s quote from the Sultan himself made me think about how his charming but comfortable eloquence would cost the empire greatly. The fact that the decision was not made unanimously or easily is hardly any comfort. Although it does, after all, say something about the existence of quite reasonable, stable people at the top of government who preferred all-encompassing forethought.
Unfortunately, and to the detriment of the Ottoman Empire, ‘the infidels joined forces’. Going into battle at the Bay of Lepanto, where the Turkish armada had taken refuge to await the enemy, with an incidental plundering of Corfu, Ali-pasha got an additional moral wind under his wings, though just before the beginning of the clash of the two armies, the real wind turned in favour of the Christians.
Pamuk laid out the pre-battle troop-strengths for me:
“Ali-pasha Muezzinzade led a flotilla of 210 galleys, 66 galliots,5 with about 50,000 oarsmen and sailors, and some 25,000 troops on board. Don Juan de Austria entered the battle with a fleet of 236 galleys and 6 galleasses.6 On board there were 44,000 oarsmen and sailors, and about 28,000 soldiers. Although they had smaller numbers of vessels and combatants, the Christian army was twice as well armed, both with heavy cannons and with all other sorts of firearms. That’s what decided the battle.”
“Now tell me about the numbers after the battle.”
“All right. But I will skip the strategy of the battle. Mind you, it is studied in every detail even today in military schools as an example of the greatest naval battle in history up to that time. So, Ali-pasha’s armada lost over 200 ships, of which more than 80 were sunk and 117 were seized. About 25,000 Turkish soldiers and sailors were killed, and 3,500 were captured. From the captured ships, 12,000 Christian slaves were liberated who had been serving as galley slaves.7 In contrast, the fleet of the Holy League lost only some 15 galleys and had 8,000 dead and 2,500 wounded. Therefore, the Turkish defeat was terrible and complete.”
“I reckon that you’re quoting me all these numbers to make a point,” I beat him to it. “I suppose that the consequences of the defeat are the most important?”
“Oh, yes. The shock among the Ottomans was indescribable. Lulled and constantly primed in the self-loving delirium of power, they could not accept even the theoretical possibility of the existence of defeat, much less the fact that it had happened! The news reached the Grand Vizier Sokollu from Pertev-pasha who managed to save his own life by reaching shore. He reported that kaptan derya8 Ali-pasha Muezzinzade died in the battle and that both of his sons were captured. This letter caught up with Mehmed-pasha at Edirne, where he was accompanying the Sultan and the entire entourage in the autumn hunt. Witnesses say that he pulled out patches of his beard, and that he gave the news to Sultan Selim at the moment when the latter was talking with a dragoman9 from Dubrovnik. This man reported that, upon receiving the news, the Sultan was left shocked, and then began to show great fear that the victors might turn toward Constantinople. He thus ordered that the Dardanelles be closed off immediately in the best possible way, and that the capital be protected from all possible attack.”
“I read that this news caused great disturbance and fear all over Turkey,” I told Pamuk. “The people actually experienced – what we would call today – collective stress. Here, I’ll actually quote for you the witness in front of whom the Sultan was told the news, the emissary from Dubrovnik who you just mentioned. Because of his being present and having the advantage of speaking the same language as the Grand Vizier Mehmed-pasha, he was able to note down the reaction of the public and people in the greatest of detail: ‘The crying and wailing was incredible, as was the immeasurable cowardice that those people suddenly showed. At one moment ready to speak of the Christian forces with scorn and contempt, they cried like women as soon as their Turkish conceit and arrogance was deflated. They were only thinking of how to avoid the approaching danger and how to avoid saying the very word “war”.’
Pamuk picked up on the theme.
“And objectively seen, that fear was not unjustified. For example, one consequence of this defeat were the many uprisings that began among the momentarily encouraged Christians who were under Ottoman authority. In the western world the Christian victory resounded remarkably loud and encouraged Europe with the thought that, after two centuries of continuous defeats and constant fear, it was possible for something different to happen as well. After many years, the existing balance of power was being seriously shaken.”
“I also read,” I continued, “that the real problems came about when the Grand Vizier Mehmed-pasha Sokolović, who seems to be the only one who didn’t lose his head, or at least was the first to come to his senses, managed to convince the Sultan to shift to a kind of offensive action. Not warring, but through action to surpass the passivity that had completely disarmed the entire state. So, soon thereafter, fermans10 were issued on the renewed recruitment of soldiers and the renewal of the navy. But it seems that the real problems began then! The Sultan’s followers, as the records say, ‘would no longer even hear of war’, and it even happened that the entire population of ‘three hundred Anatolian villages fled to Persian soil out of fear that their men would again be forced onto the galleys.’”
Pamuk
