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 added further to my citations.
“There was even more. A large number of dignitaries began to renounce their titles and incomes because, without them, they were not liable to answer to the tax and (pre)war duties of the Porte. In turn, the Sultan had many of the spahis impaled, so as to instil fear in the others. However, those were just moves of desperation.
“Disconsolate, Selim II returned to Constantinople and tried to uncover the reasons for the defeat. He held insufferably long sessions of the Dīvān, interrogating everyone around him, debating with the Grand Vizier until deep into the night about the causes and consequences of the loss, he talked to everyone who was considered to be wise and experienced, he questioned soothsayers, he confronted prophets, and everywhere and to everyone he repeated that ‘such a misfortune had never ever occurred to the Turkish empire before.’ He did not try to conceal his perturbation in the least.”
I continued to support this rare historical illustration of panic with facts from the chronicles of contemporaries.
“The Sultan in this frenzy of fear made several consistently irrational moves: of those people who directly participated in the battle at Lepanto, he punished some without reason, and he rewarded others undeservedly. The second vizier, old Pertev Mehmed-pasha, who had been against the conflict but still fought courageously in it – the Sultan removed his title as vizier and did not allow him to even try to justify the faults of others (because he had none himself). At the same time he rewarded the Algerian pirate, bey Uluj Ali (who had also been against going to battle!), because he regarded him to be a hero. In fact, when Uluj Ali realised that events were not unfolding favourably for the Turks, he retreated from the battle in good time, or even better said, too early. He snuck away from the Preveza harbour, gathering up the remains of the flotilla along the way. He managed to gather eighty-odd ships, some intact and others damaged, and flying a banner he had stolen from the Maltese knights, he sailed into the harbour at Constantinople, practically like a victor. In return for this bravery, he was awarded the position as the new admiral of the Ottoman fleet. (Or perhaps the Sultan, actually, was clever enough to fill the position of the killed kaptan derya Muezzinzade in the least troublesome way.)”
Of course, Pamuk knew more about this than I did. He added:
“About the Sultan’s psychological state, I gathered most from his behaviour toward his favourite and oldest friend Jelal Celebi, with whom for years he had been drinking and carousing, sharing all his secrets with him. He renounced him and ostracised him from the court, just because the Grand Mufti Ebusuud Efendi marked him as one of those guilty of the defeat (even though down to this very day it is difficult to connect any of his roles with the battle or the decisions made about it).
“It should be said that both the Sultan and the Grand Vizier, in terms of their relationship, kept their wits about them and they did not turn on each other. Most likely they both realised that it would just make things much worse, and that, in such a situation, it would be hard for either of them without the other.
“Both of them made gestures worthy of praise: Mehmed-pasha did not ever even refer to his timely opposition to starting the battle of Lepanto, nor did he ever repeat it again, and he did not use the opportunity to blame it all on someone else – which he easily could have. The Sultan did not show even the slightest signs of anger toward the Grand Vizier, and rage was out of the question. He let him know, in various ways, that he was aware that Mehmed-pasha Sokollu had been right. But he never said it out loud.”
I asked Pamuk, “What do you think: when the Sultan was deciding whether to go to battle with the European fleet or not, did he take into account the Christian background of his first and second vizier, and that of the pirate bey? Did he think about those things like the admiral of the fleet did?”
“I’m sure he did not. Whatever kind of person any of the Sultans in power were, each of them had hundreds of chances to test the loyalty of their subjects. Think about it. Why were there so many steps in front of each of them to advance in their careers? And why did every promotion take so long? Because, even the smallest step taken was a test of the marriage between ambition and loyalty! The Sultan did not need to lower himself to the level of insulting his subjects like Muezzinzade did. If the Sultan had any doubt, someone lost their head.”