Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf

by George W. M. Reynolds

  For a few moments the young Italian was so dazzled by her beauty, so bewildered by the appearance of that lady, whose richness of attire seemed to denote the rank of sultana, that he remained rooted to the spot, uncertain whether to advance, to retire, or to fall upon his knees before her. But in an encouraging tone, and in a voice musical as a silver bell, the lady said: “Approach, Christian!” and she pointed to a low ottoman within a few paces of the sofa which she herself occupied. Alessandro now recovered his presence of mind; and no longer embarrassed and awkward, but with graceful ease and yet profound respect, he took the seat indicated.

  “Beauteous lady,” he said, “how can I ever demonstrate the gratitude—the illimitable, boundless gratitude which fills my heart, for the joy, the truly elysian delight afforded me by this meeting?”

  “You speak our language well, Christian,” observed the lady, smiling faintly at the compliment conveyed by the words of Alessandro, but evading a direct reply.

  “I have for some years past been in the service of the Florentine envoy, lady,” was the answer; “and the position which I occupy at the palace of the embassy has led me to study the beauteous language of this clime, and to master its difficulties. But never, never did that language sound so soft and musical upon my ears as now, flowing from those sweet lips of thine.”

  “The Moslem maiden dares not listen to the flattery of the infidel,” said the beauteous stranger in a serious but not severe tone. “Listen to me, Christian, with attention, for our meeting must not be prolonged many minutes. To say that I beheld thee with indifference when we first encountered each other in the bazaar, were to utter a falsehood which I scorn; to admit that I can love thee, and love thee well,” she added, her voice slightly trembling, “is an avowal which I do not blush to make. But never can the Moslem maiden bestow her hand on the infidel. If thou lovest me—if thou wouldst prove thyself worthy of that affection which my heart is inclined to bestow upon thee, thou wilt renounce the creed of thy forefathers, and embrace the Mussulman faith. Nor is this all that I require of thee, or that thou must achieve to win me. Become a true believer—acknowledge that Allah is God and Mohammed is his prophet—and a bright and glorious destiny will await thee. For although thou wilt depart hence without learning my name, or who I may be, or the place to which you have been brought to meet me,—though we shall behold each other no more until thou hast rendered thyself worthy of my hand, yet shall I ever be mindful of thee, my loved one! An unseen, an unknown influence shall attend thee: thy slightest wishes will be anticipated and fulfilled in a manner for which thou wilt vainly seek to account,—and, as thou provest thy talents or thy valor, so will promotion open its doors to thee with such rapidity that thou wilt strain every nerve to reach the highest offices in the state—for then only may’st thou hope to receive my hand, and behold the elucidation of the mystery which up to that date will envelop thy destinies.”

  While the lady was thus speaking, a fearful struggle took place in the breast of Alessandro—for the renunciation of his creed, a creed in which he must ever in his heart continue to believe, though ostensibly he might abjure it—was an appalling step to contemplate. Then to his mind also came the images of those whom he loved, and who were far away in Italy:—his aunt, who had been so kind to him, his sister whom he knew to be so proud of him, and Father Marco, who manifested such deep interest in his behalf. But on his ears continued to flow the honeyed words and the musical tones of the charming temptress; and, as she gradually developed to his imagination the destinies upon which he might enter, offering herself as the eventual prize to be gained by a career certain to be pushed on successfully through the medium of a powerful, though mysterious influence—Florence, relatives, and friends, became as secondary considerations in his mind; and by the time the lady brought her long address to a conclusion—that address which had grown more impassioned and tender as she proceeded—Alessandro threw himself at her feet, exclaiming, “Lovely houri that thou art—beauteous as the maidens that dwell in the paradise of thy prophet—I am thine. I am thine!”

  The lady extended her right hand, which he took and pressed in rapture to his lips. But the next moment she rose lightly to her feet, and assuming a demeanor befitting a royal sultana, said in a sweet, though impressive tone:

  “We must now part—thou to enter on thy career of fame, I to set in motion every spring within my reach to advance thee to the pinnacle of glory and power. Henceforth thy name is Ibrahim! Go, then, my Ibrahim, and throw thyself at the feet of the reis-effendi, and that great minister will forthwith present thee to Piri Pasha, the grand vizier. Toil diligently—labor arduously—and the rest concerns me. Go, then, my Ibrahim, I say, and enter on the path which will lead thee to the summit of fame and power!”

  She extended her arms toward him—he snatched her to his breast, and covered her cheeks with kisses. In that paradise of charms he could have reveled forever; but the tender caresses lasted not beyond a few moments, for the lady tore herself away from his embrace and hurried into an adjacent apartment. Alessandro—or rather, the renegade, Ibrahim—passed into the anteroom where his guide, the female slave, awaited his return. She conducted him back to the hall, and advanced toward the door of the voluptuous kiosk, where he had changed his raiment.

  “Goest thou forth a Christian still, or a true believer?” she asked turning suddenly round.

  “As a Mussulman,” answered the renegade, while his heart sank within him, and remorse already commenced its torture.

  “Then thou hast no further need of the Christian garb,” said the slave. “Await me here.”

  She entered the kiosk, and returned in a few moments with the cap, which, in obedience to her directions, he once more drew on his head and over his countenance. The slave then led him into the garden, which they treaded in profound silence. At length they reached the steps leading down to the water, and the slave accompanied him into the boat, which immediately shot away from the bank. Alessandro had now ample time for calm reflection. The excitement of the hurried incidents of the evening was nearly over, and, though his breast was still occupied with the image of his beautiful unknown, and with the brilliant prospects which she had opened to view, he nevertheless shrank from the foul deed of apostasy which he had vowed to perpetrate. But we have already said that he was essentially worldly-minded, and, as he felt convinced that the petty jealousy of the Florentine Envoy would prevent him from rising higher in the diplomatic hierarchy than the post of secretary, he by degrees managed to console himself for his renegadism on the score that it was necessary—the indispensable stepping-stone to the gratification of his ambition.

  Thus by the time the boat touched the landing-place where he had first entered it, he had succeeded to some extent in subduing the pangs of remorse. The female slave now bade him remove the cap from his face and resume his turban. A few moments sufficed to make this change; and he was about to step on shore, when the woman caught him by the sleeve of his caftan, and, thrusting a small case of sandal-wood into his hand, said: “She whom you saw ere now, commanded me to give thee this.”

  The slave pushed him toward the bank: he obeyed the impulse and landed, she remaining in the boat, which instantly darted away again, most probably to convey her back to the abode of her charming mistress. On the top of the bank the renegade was accosted by the spy whom he had left there when he embarked in the skiff.

  “Allah and the Prophet be praised!” exclaimed the man, surveying Alessandro attentively by the light of the lovely moon. “Thou art now numbered amongst the faithful!”

  The apostate bit his lips to keep down a sigh of remorse which rose to them; and his guide, without uttering another word, led the way to the palace of the reis-effendi. There Alessandro or Ibrahim, as we must henceforth call him—was lodged in a splendid apartment, and had two slaves appointed to wait upon him. He, however, hastily dismissed them, and when alone, opened the case that had been placed into his hands by the female slave. It contained a varied asso
rtment of jewelry and precious stones, constituting a treasure of immense value.

  CHAPTER XLVI.

  THE APOSTATE IBRAHIM.

  Constantinople, like haughty Rome, is built on seven hills—the houses being so disposed that they do not intercept the view commanded by each on the amphitheatrical acclivities. But the streets are narrow, crooked, and uneven; and the grand effects of the numerous stately mosques and noble edifices are subdued, and in many cases altogether lost, either by the very insignificant width of the thoroughfares in which they stand, or by the contiguity of mean and miserable wooden tenements.

  The mosque of St. Sophia, once a Christian church, with its magnificent portico, supported by marble columns, its nine vast folding doors, adorned with bas-reliefs, and its stupendous dome, a hundred and twenty feet in diameter; the mosque of the Sultan Solyman, forming an exact square with four noble towers at the angles, and with its huge cupola, in the midst; the mosque of the Sultan Ahmed, with its numerous domes, its tall minarets, and its colonnades supported by marble pillars; and the mosque of the Sultana Valida, or queen mother of Mohammed the Fourth, exceeding all other Mussulman churches in the delicacy of its architecture and the beauty of its columns of marble and jasper, supplied by the ruins of Troy—these are the most remarkable temples in the capital of the Ottoman empire.

  The Grand Bezestein, or exchange, is likewise a magnificent structure—consisting of a spacious hall of circular form, built of free-stone, and surrounded by shops displaying the richest commodities of Oriental commerce. In the Ladies’ Bazaar there is a marble column of extraordinary height, and on the sides of which, from the foot to the crown, are represented in admirable bas-reliefs the most remarkable events which characterized the reign of the Emperor Arcadius, ere the capital of Roman dominions of the East fell into the hands of the descendants of Osman.

  But of all the striking edifices at Constantinople, that of the Sultan’s Palace, or seraglio, is the most spacious and the most magnificent. Christian writers and readers are too apt to confound the seraglio with the harem, and to suppose that the former means the apartments belonging to the sultan’s ladies; whereas the word seraglio, or rather sernil, represents the entire palace of which the harem, or females’ dwelling, is but a comparatively small portion.

  The seraglio is a vast inclosure, occupying nearly the entire site of the ancient city of Byzantium, and embracing a circumference of five miles. It contains nine enormous courts of quadrangular form, and an immense number of buildings—constituting a complete town of itself. But within this inclosure dwell upward of ten thousand persons—the entire court of the sultan. There reside the great officers of state, the body guards, the numerous corps of bostandjis, or gardeners, and baltojis, or fire-wood purveyors—the corps of white and black eunuchs, the pages, the mutes, the dwarfs—the ladies of the harem, and all their numerous attendants.

  There are nine gates to the palace of the sultan. The principal one opens on the square of St. Sophia, and is very magnificent in its architecture. It is this gate which is called the Sublime Porte—a name figuratively given to the court of the sultan, in all histories, records, and diplomatic transactions. It was within the inclosure of the seraglio that Alessandro Francatelli, whom we shall henceforth call by his apostate name of Ibrahim—was lodged in the dwelling of the reis-effendi or minister of foreign affairs. But in the course of a few days the renegade was introduced into the presence of Piri Pasha, the grand vizier—that high functionary who exercised a power almost as extensive and as despotic as that wielded by the sultan himself.

  Ibrahim, the apostate, was received by his highness Piri Pasha at a private audience—and the young man exerted all his powers, and called to his aid all the accomplishments which he possessed, to render himself agreeable to that great minister. He discoursed in an intelligent manner upon the policy of Italy and Austria, and gave the grand vizier considerable information relative to the customs, resources, and condition of these countries. Then, when the vizier touched upon lighter matters, Ibrahim showed how well he was already acquainted with the works of the most eminent Turkish poets and historians; and the art of music being mentioned, he gave the minister a specimen of his proficiency on the violin. Piri Pasha was charmed with the young renegade, whom he immediately took into his service as one of his private secretaries.

  Not many weeks elapsed before the fame of Ibrahim’s accomplishments and rare talents reached the ears of the sultan, Solyman the Magnificent; and the young renegade was honored with an audience by the ruler of the East. On this occasion he exerted himself to please even more triumphantly than when he was introduced to the grand vizier; and the sultan commanded that henceforth Ibrahim should remain attached to his person in the capacity of keeper of the imperial archives.

  We should observe that the dispatches which the Florentine Envoy wrote to the government of the republic, contained but a brief and vague allusion to the apostasy of Alessandro Francatelli; merely mentioning that the youth had become a Mussulman, and entered the service of the grand vizier, but not stating either the name which he had adopted or the brilliant prospects which had so suddenly and marvelously opened before him. The Florentine Embassador treated the matter thus lightly, because he was afraid of incurring the blame of his government for not having kept a more stringent watch over his subordinate, were he to attach any importance to the fact of Alessandro’s apostasy. But he hoped that by merely glancing at the event as one scarcely worth special notice, the Council of Florence would be led to treat it with equal levity. Nor was the embassador deceived in his calculation; and thus the accounts which reached Florence relative to Alessandro’s renegadism—and which were not indeed communicated to the council until some months after the occurrence of the apostasy itself—were vague and indefinite to a degree.

  And had Ibrahim no remorse? Did he never think of his lovely sister Flora, and of his affectionate aunt who, in his boyhood, had made such great and generous sacrifices to rear them honorably? Oh! yes;—but a more powerful idea dominated the remembrance of kindred, and the attachment to home—and that idea was ambition! Moreover, the hope of speedily achieving that greatness which was to render him eligible and worthy to possess the charming being whose powerful influence seemed to surround him with a constant halo of protection, and to soothe down all the asperities which are usually found in the career of those who rise suddenly and rise highly—this ardent, longing hope not only encouraged him to put forth all his energies to make himself master of a glorious position, but also subdued to no small extent the feelings of compunction which would otherwise have been too bitter, too agonizing to endure.

  His mind was, moreover, constantly occupied. When not in attendance upon the sultan, he devoted all his time to render himself intimately acquainted with the laws, polity, diplomatic history, resources, condition, and finances of the Ottoman Empire; he also studied the Turkish literature, and practiced composition, both in prose and verse, in the language of that country which was now his own! But think not, reader, that in his heart he was a Mussulman, or that he had extinguished the light of Christianity within his soul. No—oh! no; the more he read on the subject of the Mohammedan system of theology, the more he became convinced not only of its utter falsity, but also of its incompatibility with the progress of civilization. Nevertheless, he dared not pray to the True God whom he had renounced with his lips; but there was a secret adoration, an interior worship of the Saviour, which he could not and sought not to subdue.

  Solyman the Magnificent, was an enlightened prince, and a generous patron of the arts and sciences. He did not persecute the Christians, because he knew, in his own heart, that they were further advanced in all human ideas and institutions than the Ottomans. He was, therefore, delighted whenever a talented Christian embraced the Moslem faith and entered his service; and his keen perception speedily led him to discern and appreciate all the merits and acquirements of his favorite Ibrahim.

  Such was the state of things at Constantinop
le, when those rapidly successive incidents, which we have already related, took place in Florence. At this time immense preparations were being made by the sultan for an expedition against the Island of Rhodes, then in the possession of the Knights of St. John, commanded by their grand master, Villiers of Isle Adam.

  This chieftain, aware of the danger which menaced him, dispatched envoys to the courts of Rome, Genoa, Venice, and Florence, imploring those powers to send him assistance against the expected invasion of the Turks. Each of these states hastened to comply with this request; and numerous bodies of auxiliaries sailed from various ports in Italy to fight beneath the glorious banner of Villiers of Isle Adam, one of the stanchest veteran champions of Christendom.