288 pages, Publisher: I.B.Tauris &
Co., Ltd., ISBN-13: 978-1845117047
On
February 13th, 1472, a Sicilian terrorist called Antonello, acting
in the Venetian interest, landed at Gallipoli, then the site of the Turkish
arsenal, and managed to burn it to the ground. Arrested and brought before
Sultan Mehmet, Antonello denied the involvement of the Venetians, and said that
“the sultan was the plague of the world, that he had plundered all his neighbor
princes, that he had kept faith with no one, and that he was trying to
eradicate the name of Christ. And that was why he, Antonello, had taken it into
his head to do what he had done…[Sultan Mehmet] listened to him with great
patience and admiration: then he gave orders that he and his companions should
be beheaded.”
Those
reading John Freely's lively The Grand Turk: Sultan Mehmet II Conqueror of Constantinople, Master of an Empire may well end up concluding that
Antonello's summary of the man whom those in the West knew as the Grand Turk
was pretty accurate. When Mehmet became Sultan in February 1451 at the age of
18, one of the first things he did was to visit his father's harem where he
engaged the mother of his two-year-old half-brother in polite conversation
whilst his men strangled the latter in his bath, justifying this by precedent,
and thereafter enacting that “to whomsoever of my sons the sultanate shall
pass, it is fitting that, for the order of the world that he shall kill his
brothers. Most of the ulema allow it.
So let them act on this”.
Two years later, Mehmet took Constantinople, and
extinguished the dying embers of the Byzantine Empire: “The Sultan entered the
City and looked about to see its great size, its situation, its grandeur and
beauty, its teeming population, its loveliness, and the costliness of its
churches and public buildings; and when he saw what a large number of people
had been killed, and the wreckage of the buildings, and the wholesale ruin and
desolation of the City, he was filled with compassion and repented not a little
of the destruction and the plundering: tears fell from his eyes as he groaned
deeply and passionately: ‘What a city we have given over to plunder and
destruction’”.
The following 25 years was an almost unbroken history of warfare
in which Mehmet carried Muslim arms as far west as Vienna, the Friuli, and
Otranto, narrowly failing to capture Rhodes (a distinction that would fall to
his great grandson, Suleiman the Magnificent). Everywhere he went there was
fire, demolition, rape, murder, pillaging, beheadings, impalings, enslavement
and the transportation and resettlement elsewhere of the populations of whole
towns and districts. The divided western powers looked on, trembled, wrung
their hands, talked about crusades and stabbed one another in the back.
It
is remarkably difficult to form a personal impression of anyone who lived in
the ages that preceded general literacy, but Mehmet's ambition, energy and
cruelty shine through. Kritoboulos of Imbros, who knew Mehmet, and was in his
service, wrote “when he became heir to a great realm and master of many
soldiers and enlisted men, and had under his power already the largest and best
parts of both Asia and Europe, he did not believe that these were enough for
him nor was he content with what he had: instead he immediately overran the
whole world in his calculations and resolved to rule it in emulation of the
Alexanders and Pompeys and Caesars and kings and generals of that sort”.
A Venetian
emissary to Istanbul confirms this account: “Mehmet's appearance”, he wrote, “inspires
fear rather than respect…He aspires to equal the glory of Alexander the Great,
and every day has histories of Rome and other nations read to him…There is
nothing which he studies with greater pleasure and eagerness than the geography
of the world, and the art of warfare; he burns with the desire to rule, while
being prudent in his investigation of what he undertakes”. Mehmet's own son and
successor, Beyazit II, was heard to say that “his father was domineering and
did not believe in the Prophet Mohammed”.
This
is a well-researched and pretty readable biography; my qualification stems
from the short, repetitive, but nevertheless intricate summaries of
occasionally inconclusive campaigns and court politics. Freely has lived
and worked in Istanbul for at least 40 years and is the author of the best
guide to the City; indeed, the
opening and penultimate chapters contain potted accounts of the Ottoman dynasty
pre-and-post-Mehmet, and passages in the final chapter, which deals with the
monuments of Mehmet's period, are lifted almost verbatim from hisguide book.
Chapter 8, A Renaissance Court in
Istanbul, is quite, quite excellent. By contrast, the illustrations are
poorly reproduced, and the maps are muddily printed, insufficiently detailed,
and quite, quite useless for following the text; Sultan Mehmet would not, I
fear, have been impressed.
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