Of the Mesháiekh, or Priests
Sheikh Muhad ul hamíd wrote a commentary during the time he was preacher or lecturer in St. Sophia: he was a learned divine. Sheikh Khezer, the son of a distinguished officer, was a very learned man, and translated some excellent works. He fell a martyr in the battle of Agria. Sheikh Shems-ud-dín was a man of such uncommon abstemiousness, piety, sympathy, and fine feeling, as were not to be imitated. He exerted himself in the battle of Agria. He translated Imám A’zím’s system of ethics into Turkish. He is the author of several other works. Sheikh Mírmírán was very conspicuous for his great temperance and piety. He was one of those authors who embellished their writings with drawings. He fell a martyr at the battle of Agria in company with Beyabáshí Zádeh, and his pure body was not afterwards found. Sheikh Mahmúd Effendí is noticed in the register of the reign of Murád: he was a man of great eminence, and was much esteemed by the reigning monarch in consequence of his political abilities. Sheikh Hasan Effendí was sheikh in Ibrahím Páshá’s religious establishment: he went on a journey to Yemen, where he died. Sheikh Váa’z was a man of the first-rate talents: he was preacher in the mosque of Soleimán; on the days of assembly he expounded the doctrines of religion to the people, and immediately after answered and explained difficult questions. He was strongly opposed to every thing inconsistent with religion, and laid the severest prohibitions on those who were guilty of transgressing the precepts of the true faith. Some of the nobles, on account of this very great strictness, spoke reproachfully of him, and once or twice got him banished the city; but by the gracious assistance of God he overcame his enemies, and was again allowed to return to the metropolis. Sheikh Ismáíl employed himself in the chapel or monastery of Galata in translating poetry. He left behind him a beautiful paraphrase or commentary on the Mesnevi, or book of moral doctrines. His seven published volumes have not escaped the censure of some of the learned; but it must be acknowledged that he was a man of charming and excellent qualities. He died in 1012.
Sultán Ahmed Khán ascended the throne of the Ottomans on the 18th of Rajab, and began his regal authority by a written message to Kásim Páshá, the káímakám. This written message was folded in a napkin, and handed to a certain officer, who was desired to deliver it into Kásim’s own hand. The officer being informed that the message committed to his charge was a royal one, hastened with all speed, and delivered it to his excellency the deputy. The deputy, however, found himself unable to read the communication, and therefore applied to the officer for information as to the person who sent it. The officer replied that the ághá of the palace had delivered it to him, and had told him at the same time it was a royal message. Kásim appeared exceedingly surprised, and said, the writing wanted the points, and was, therefore, unlike his majesty’s manner of writing. The letters, continued he, cannot be deciphered, and of course the meaning cannot be discovered. He appeared as it were perplexed and confounded at this unaccountable circumstance, and called Hasan Beg Zádeh to read it to him. Hasan drew near to the páshá, and read and explained the mysterious document, which ran thus: “Thou art Kásim Páshá. My father, in the providence of God, is now no more, and I have ascended the throne of power. You shall maintain order and good government in the city. If any villany or wickedness should happen, I shall cut off your head. The conclusion of the sultán’s words.” Kásim had no sooner heard and understood the import of the khati sheríf, than he became absorbed in grief and astonishment: so much so, indeed, that many of his friends were led to think his health was affected; for none, except those in the palace, knew as yet any thing of the decease of Sultán Mohammed Khán, which had happened only a few hours before the message had been sent to Kásim. Kásim, however, thought of a contrivance by which he might know the utmost of a matter which he had reason to fear presaged no good to him. Accordingly, he wrote to the ághá of the palace, and stated, that he, a poor insignificant creature, had just received an imperial note, the meaning of which, however, he was incapable of discovering. “Perhaps,” continued the sly and cunning deputy, “it may have been intended to try us, or it is an intimation that our services are no longer necessary. In either case, we hope you will have the goodness to remove our doubts upon the subject.” This note was sent by the same person who had been the bearer of the imperial edict to himself; and it was not long before he was called into the chamber of audience, where he beheld Sultán Ahmed Khán sitting in great splendour on the chair of state, and who explained to him the meaning of the document which had alarmed him so much. Kásim Páshá kissed the ground and retired, and the sultán proceeded to the diván and took his seat on the royal chair. A messenger was immediately afterwards sent with a note to the mufti, informing him of what had happened at the palace, and orders were issued also to the ághá of the artificers to get a royal bier prepared; the nobles and grandees of the state were invited to assemble. The servants of the diván, when they saw the preparations that were going forward, supposed Sultán Mohammed Khán was coming forth, and that all the arrangements which had been made, and were making, were on his account. It was no such thing. A throne was erected, but it was not for him. Their eyes, however, were soon opened to the whole secret. The mufti, Mustafa Effendí, arrived, and proceeded along under the golden arch, accompanied by all the vezírs, until he and they reached the foot of a throne, which had purposely been erected for the occasion. The young prince, dressed in mourning, advanced towards them and saluted them; then approached the throne, and desired he might be inaugurated thereon. The Chávushes immediately raised their voices, and sounded his praises to the third heaven. Silence being again obtained, the reverend mufti, the vezírs, and all the other dignitaries, approached him and congratulated the new emperor. This ceremony ended, the emperor made his saláms and retired; the throne which had been erected was removed, and shortly afterwards all the vezírs, ulemá, and great men, were supplied with black crape for their turbans; but such as were not furnished with this emblem of sorrow and respect for the deceased monarch, put black bands on their arms. All now waited without at the gate of the mansion of felicity for the appearance of the remains of Sultán Mohammed Khán.
At this time, notwithstanding the delicacy, as well as solemnity, of the occasion, Kásim Páshá could not hide the ambition which filled his breast. His eye and heart were on the grand vezírship, and without incurring the risk of delay, he tried to persuade the reverend mufti to sound his majesty on this point. The project, however, did not succeed.
The royal remains, after having been put into a coffin, were brought forth, and the reverend mufti performed the funeral ceremonies, according to custom. Ahmed, the new emperor, retired within the palace; and the vezírs and great men accompanied the royal bier to St. Sophia, where the corpse was interred in the royal sepulchre. Provisions were distributed amongst the poor and orphans in the city, for the benefit of the soul of the deceased, and other acts of charity were performed with the same view.
The ambitious Kásim Páshá sought to ingratiate himself into the favour of the new emperor, and desired to be called into his presence. His efforts, however, not only failed, but terminated in a prohibition of his approaching his sacred majesty on any account whatever. Once more despair became his companion; he however found courage and confidence to try his fortune once more. Having neglected or forgotten on the day of inauguration to show respect to Mustafa Effendí, the emperor’s spiritual guide, and hearing that he was held in great estimation by his master, he sent a deputation to him with splendid gifts and presents, with the view of gaining his good offices in his behalf; but he was again thwarted. Alí Páshá, i. e. Yávuz Alí Páshá, the grand vezír, who was now in power, and possessed great influence in his majesty’s counsels, was the person who caused Kásim Páshá’s removal and banishment from court altogether.