The Life and Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, Volumes 1 and 2 — Text and Context

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Busbecq, Ogier Ghislain de, 1522-1592, Daniell, F. H. Blackburne (Francis Henry Blackburne), 1845-1921 [Editor], Forster, Charles Thornton, 1836-1891 [Editor] Project Gutenberg 2016 Not confirmed
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Words 255,034
Reading time 1109 min
Text sections 28

The catalog record for The Life and Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, Volumes 1 and 2 — Text and Context provides practical reading context through 255,034 words, 18 hr 29 min estimated reading time, and 28 detected text sections.

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This editorial note examines the language and narrative voice in Busbecq's 16th-century letters, focusing on shifts between diplomatic reportage and personal reflection, as seen in the preface and footnotes.
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ust have been _arrested_. On this he grounded the subject of his work, ‘Soliman fait arrêter Busbecq, diplomat Flamand, Constantinople, 1555.’ There is also a striking error in the persons represented in the picture. When Busbecq first arrived at Constantinople Roostem was in disgrace, and Achmet held the post of chief Vizier. The latter had only consented to accept the seal of office on condition that the Sultan undertook never to remove him. The Sultan kept his word. When it was convenient to reinstate Roostem, he did not deprive Achmet of the seal of office, but _of his life_. The execution of Achmet is one of the most striking scenes recorded by Busbecq. Unfortunately, Monsieur Huysmans had not studied his subject sufficiently, for in his picture Roostem is in office, and Achmet stands by as a subordinate.

As to errors of a less recent date, they are, for the most part, such as an intelligent reader of Busbecq’s letters may correct for himself. For instance, it is not hard to prove that the author of the life prefixed to the Elzevir edition is wrong in stating that Busbecq’s father died before the Ambassador went to England, when we find that he had an interview with him after his return from our island. Neither is there much danger of the veriest tiro being led astray by De Foy’s suggestion that, when Busbecq came to England for the marriage of Philip and Mary, he had long conversations with Henry VIII., who tried to induce him to enter his service. There is, however, danger in Howaert’s[9] statement that Busbecq accompanied the younger sons of Maximilian to Spain, and introduced them to Philip. The story is not impossible in itself, nor is it even improbable. But there is this suspicious circumstance about it; those who mention it do not seem to be aware that Busbecq did accompany the two elder sons of Maximilian, Rodolph and Ernest, to Spain in the capacity of ‘_Écuyer trenchant_.’ This latter fact is established on the best of authorities, namely, the Patent of knighthood issued by the Emperor Ferdinand to Busbecq, a copy[10] of which we have, through the kindness of a friend, been enabled to procure from the archives of Vienna.

That Busbecq accompanied the four younger Archdukes to Spain is perhaps doubtful, and still more doubtful is the story grafted on to it by later hands, namely, that Busbecq pleaded the cause of the Netherlands before Philip II., obtained the recall of Alva and the substitution of Requesens in his place. No facts could be more interesting if they should but prove to be true; unfortunately they are at present without authority.

_Bousbecque and its Seigneurs._

It is from the seigneury of Bousbecque that Ogier[11] Ghiselin takes the name by which he is best known, Busbecq (Latin, Busbequius).

Properly of course his name is identical with that of the seigneury, but, by common consent, the Ambassador is known as Busbecq, while the name of the place, after numerous variations—Bosbeke, Busbeke, Bousbeke, &c., has settled down into the form Bousbecque.[12]

It will be necessary therefore to speak of the man by one name and the place by another.

The geographical position of Bousbecque has an important bearing on the biography of the Ambassador; as the place is not marked in English maps, a plan of the district is given in this volume showing the relative positions of Bousbecque, Comines, Wervicq, Halluin, &c. It will be seen that Bousbecque lies on the river Lys, about two miles from Comines. In the times with which we shall have to deal, it formed part of the County of Flanders; it is now part of the French frontier, and is included in the Département du Nord.

The neighbourhood of Bousbecque has a history extending to early times, for close to it stands Wervicq, marking with its name the Roman station of Viroviacum; in Bousbecque itself Roman paving-stones have been dug out on the road now known as the ‘Chemin des Oblaers;’ whence it may be assumed that the road mentioned in the itinerary of Antoninus, as running from Tournay to Wervicq, passed through Bousbecque.

The depth of the river Lys, which is an affluent of the Scheldt, exposed the neighbouring country to the attacks of the Northmen; the hardy pirates sailed up the stream, and built their castles and forts on the banks of the river. Their descendants became the seigneurs, or lords, of the territories which their ancestors had won.

A distinction must here be drawn between the seigneury of Bousbecque and the parish (now commune) of Bousbecque. The parish of Bousbecque contained a great many other seigneuries besides that from which it takes its name; notably, for instance, the seigneuries of la Lys and Rhume. The first mention of Bousbecque occurs in a deed, without date, but necessarily between 1098 and 1113; in it Baudry, bishop of Tournay, conveys to the Collegiate Chapter of St. Peter, at Lille, the whole tithes of Roncq and half the tithes of Halluin and Bousbecque (Busbeka).[13]

In 1159, Wautier, Seigneur of Halluin, husband of Barbe daughter of the Count of Soissons, conveys to the Abbey of St. Aubert, with the consent of his wife and his children—Wautier, Roger, Guillaume, Alix, and Richilde—his share of the tithes of Iwuy. The Roger here mentioned, married Agnes de Bousbecque; hence we see the high position held at that early date by the family of Busbecq;[14] a daughter of their house was considered a proper partner for a nobleman of royal family, the grandson of a Comte de Soissons.

Adjoining the seigneury of Bousbecque lay the seigneury of la Lys, and in 1298 both these seigneuries are found in the possession of the same person, mention being made in the archives of Lille of ‘William de la Lys, sire de Bousbeke, fius Monseigneur William de la Lys, ki fu sire de Bousbeke.’

Thus for a time the title by which the family was known was not Bousbecque, but la Lys.

In December 1348, was signed the Treaty of Dunkirk, by the Earl of Lancaster, the Earl of Suffolk, and Sir Walter Manny on the part of England, and on the part of Flanders, by ten delegates of rank; among their names is found that of Jehan de la Lys.

About this time the seigneuries of la Lys and Bousbecque passed to the house of Pontenerie; William of that name marrying Marie de la Lys, heiress of the seigneuries, and assuming—no doubt as one of the conditions of the contract—the name of la Lys. His children were severally known as, Guillaume, Jeanne, and Marie de la Pontenerie, dit de la Lys.

Again there was a failure in the male line, and Marie, the youngest daughter, brought the seigneuries to Bauduin de Hingettes.

Their son, Jehan de Hingettes, married a Halluin, and dying in 1466, his daughter Adrienne de Hingettes, dit de la Lys, became representative and heiress of the family. She married Gilles Ghiselin I., and thus the seigneuries of la Lys and Bousbecque passed into the possession of the noble house of Ghiselin.[15]

On the marriage of Adrienne to Gilles Ghiselin I. the title of la Lys was dropped, and that of Bousbecque resumed.

Gilles Ghiselin I., Seigneur of Bousbecque, knight of Jerusalem and Cyprus, was a man of considerable importance, and from the following notice it would appear that he was a man of high character. In 1474 there was a dispute between the dean and chapter of Messines[16] on the one side, and the abbess, convent, and church on the other. It appears that the bailiffs of the abbess had arrested a man in a house belonging to the dean and chapter. The chapter resented this intrusion on their rights, and the case was submitted to two men for arbitration, Gilles Ghiselin I. and Guillaume Wyts.

_George Ghiselin I., great uncle of the Ambassador._

Gilles Ghiselin I., died in 1476, leaving six children by his wife Adrienne; two of whom, George and Gilles, were destined to occupy a prominent part in the history of their time.

George, the elder, succeeded to the seigneury of Bousbecque; his grandmother was a Halluin, and he also was married to a member of the same house.

It is not improbable that he owed his promotion to a high place in the Burgundian Court to the influence of Jeanne de la Clite, dame de Comines, the wife of Jean Halluin, Seigneur of Halluin, and the head of that important family.

At any rate this lady had an influence at the Court of Burgundy which it is impossible to overestimate, and we find her husband’s relations,[17] the Ghiselins of Bousbecque, occupying high positions in the ducal household.

In June 1478, Mary of Burgundy, daughter and heiress of Charles the Bold, was married to the Archduke Maximilian, afterwards Emperor; George Ghiselin was appointed one of his chamberlains, and a member of his council.

On August 7, 1479, there was a great battle at Guinegatte, between Maximilian and the French. The latter were at first successful, their men at-arms defeated Maximilian’s horse, and chased them off the field, while the free-archers began plundering the baggage, and murdering the non-combatants. But the battle had yet to be decided. Maximilian’s army did not consist solely of horse, for there were two divisions of Flemish pikemen on foot. To the surprise of Philippe de Comines, who gives an account of the battle, the Flemish infantry were not shaken by the defeat of the cavalry; the firm front which they showed was probably owing to a custom which the Burgundians had adopted from their English Allies. Their officers, who in this instance consisted of two hundred of their own nobles and gentlemen, _fought on foot_. These two divisions were severally commanded by the Count of Nassau and the Count of Romont. As soon as a French force could be collected, it was brought up to crush the Flemings; the Count of Nassau’s command was hard pressed, and in spite of a gallant resistance, Maximilian’s guns were taken, and turned on the Burgundians. At this critical moment, the Count of Romont charged with his division, retook the guns, and sweeping on, captured the whole of the French artillery, thirty-seven pieces, with their camp and commissariat stores. This battle is generally spoken of as an indecisive one, because Maximilian retired instead of following up his success. His strategy may have been bad, but, as to the great victory he gained, there can be no doubt. On the Burgundian side, we have the account of Molinet, who tells us that the French lost ten thousand men, thirty-seven guns, and their camp with all its stores. On the French side, we have the account of Philippe de Comines, who endeavours to represent it as a drawn battle; but he does not disguise the effect which the news of this defeat had on his master, Louis XI. He was with him when the tidings came, and _from that very hour_, he tells us, _the French king determined to make peace with Maximilian_. It was on the field of Guinegatte[18] that George Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque, in company with nine other gentlemen, received knighthood at the hand of Maximilian. It seems certain that he was fighting on foot, with his retainers, in the ranks of the Flemish pikemen.

The scene now changes from the battle-field to the scaffold. The Flemings, as represented by their four members—Ghent, Bruges, Ypres, and the belt of villages known as the Francq—were anxious for peace with France. They had also serious grievances against Maximilian (now King of the Romans) and his ministers. They declared that the latter had misappropriated the revenues, and the former been more grievous in his exactions than Philippe le Bon or Charles the Bold.

They also objected to having German troops quartered in the country.

Early in 1488 the smouldering fires of insurrection burst into a flame. Curiously enough, Maximilian’s treatment of a friend and relation of the Busbecqs was the proximate cause of the outbreak. Adrien de Vilain,[19] Seigneur of Rasenghien, had been one of the leaders of the Gantois after the outbreak in 1485. He had subsequently retired to Lille, with the approval of Maximilian, who had given him a pardon. Here no doubt he felt safe in the neighbourhood of the Ghiselins of Bousbecque and other friends; but one day he was seized by Charlot de Menneville and a party of the Count of Nassau’s archers, who carried him off, and imprisoned him in the castle of Villevorde. His relations were naturally incensed at this breach of faith, and one morning, when the warden of the castle had gone to Brussels, Vilain’s first cousin, Adrien de Lickerke, rode into Villevorde with thirteen of his friends; leaving the rest in the town, he proceeded to the castle with three of his companions, and knocked at the gate. The porter at first refused to admit them, but by dint of entreaties, backed by the offer of a handsome reward, his scruples were at last overcome. On entering, they asked for Adrien Vilain. The porter replied that he was no longer in the castle; but a glance into the court-yard disproved his words, for there was the prisoner drearily pacing up and down in his gown. De Lickerke went up to him. ‘You have been here long enough, fair cousin,’ quoth he, ‘come back with us.’ Vilain’s gown (the civilian dress), was quickly exchanged for a soldier’s doublet, and a hat placed on his head. The porter, seeing their intentions, attempted to raise an alarm, but they hustled him against the wall, and nearly killed him. Quitting the castle with the prisoner they joined their friends in the town, and taking horse rode for their lives. Avoiding Brussels, they made for Tournai, some seventy miles distant, not sparing the spur till they were in a place of safety.

Whether Maximilian had authorised the seizure of Vilain or not, at any rate he was deeply annoyed at his escape. De Lickerke was now a marked man; probably he thought that his safety lay in boldness, for he put himself at the head of 3,000 Gantois, and one wintry night (January 9, 1488) took Courtrai[20] by surprise, making the inhabitants swear allegiance to Philippe (Maximilian’s infant son) and the Gantois.

The King of the Romans was at this time at Bruges, where the States were assembled to conclude a peace with France. The Gantois had committed themselves; it was time for the Brugeois to rise. On the last day of January, 1488, the guild of carpenters made the first move by seizing two of the gates of Bruges,[21] those of St. Catherine and Ghent. Maximilian, with his officers, attendants, and body-guard lay at the Palace (Prinssenhof), not far from the centre of the town; with him were Pierre Lauchast, Carondelet the Chancellor, George Ghiselin, and other faithful followers.

It is difficult to say whether his best plan would have been to remain quiet, or to follow the example of Philippe le Bon,[22] put himself at the head of his guard, and fight his way out of the city. Unfortunately for himself and his friends, he took a middle course. On February 1, between five and six in the morning, he marched into the market-place with his household troops. Leaving the larger portion of them there, he proceeded with his personal attendants to the gates of Ghent and St. Catherine, where he met with scant courtesy from the guard of carpenters.

Meanwhile the troops in the market-place had been standing round a huge bonfire, and it occurred to their commanding officer that it would be a good opportunity to put them through their drill. He gave the order for them to execute a German[23] manœuvre, ‘Faison le limechon à la mode d’Allemagne,’ and marched them round the square in fours. Next he gave the order for them to bring their pikes to the charge; there was a crowd looking on, and, imagining they were about to be attacked, they fled in confusion and dismay. Maximilian, hearing the uproar, returned, and led his men back to their quarters. No blood had been shed, but the mischief had been done.

At twelve o’clock the same day the trades of Bruges met at their several halls, arms were served out, flags were unfurled, and columns of citizens streamed into the market-place. There they formed a regular encampment, planting their fifty-two banners, throwing up entrenchments, and arming them with cannon.

The Brugeois were now masters of the situation. On February 5, at the request of the Gantois, they compelled Maximilian to leave his palace, and lodged him in the famous grocer’s shop in the market-place, known as the Cranenburg. But the king of the Romans was not the chief object of their wrath; it was against his ministers that they vowed their direst vengeance. A reign of terror commenced; rewards were offered for the apprehension of Pierre Lauchast and others connected with the treasury. Maximilian’s friends and advisers were compelled to seek safety in concealment or in flight.

George Ghiselin had his head tonsured, and assumed the dress of a mendicant friar of the Augustin order. In this disguise he attempted to leave the city. Unfortunately he was recognised at the gate, and arrested.

Shortly afterwards he was called up for examination before the town judges, in company with Jehan Van Ninove, and a sergeant named Bontemps. The court had not sat for a full hour, when the dean of the carpenters brought a detachment of his men to the door, and threatened to break it open. The judges, seeing that resistance was useless, allowed them to seize the unfortunate prisoners, whom they straightway carried off to the market-place, and there examined after their own fashion.

The deans of the different trades had enclosed a space for the purpose of holding their consultations; in the middle of this enclosure stood a rack, specially constructed for torturing victims of different sizes. Hard by was a scaffold of unusual size, and there, waiting for his prey, stood Maistre Charles, the executioner of Bruges.

Jehan Van Ninove’s turn came first. He was frightfully tortured, his legs being actually dislocated. Whilst he was being racked, proclamation was made that he had agreed with Pierre Lauchast to bring the troops of the guard into the town for the purpose of intimidating the citizens of Bruges. Bontemps was then tortured, but George Ghiselin was respited. The unfortunate prisoners had now no doubt as to what their ultimate fate would be, and they all three asked to be executed, and forgave those who had compassed their death.

There was one listening on whose ears the words fell with no unwelcome sound; Maistre Charles[24] had an eye to his fees, and determined that there should be no delay on his part. In a trice he was on the scaffold, getting out his swords and preparing his bandages. Then, louder than thunder, swelled the shouting in the market-place, some demanding their immediate execution, and some its postponement. The latter prevailed. Maistre Charles was disappointed of his prey, and the unhappy men were sent back to prison.

On February 28, the leading spirits of the insurrection being absent from the town and engaged in an attack on Middelbourg, the town judges made a most meritorious effort to save the lives of these victims of mob law. They called them up for sentence.[25] Maistre Charles was again in high glee; his swords and bandages were all ready, and his palm itching for the fees. He must have been greatly cast down when the judges passed a merely nominal sentence on George Ghiselin and his companions; they were to beg pardon in their shirts of the deans, make some pilgrimages, and distribute certain sums in charity; the only object of the sentence being to satisfy the people. There was now a gleam of hope for the unhappy men; but, unfortunately, Middelbourg surrendered the same day, and the ringleaders, returning in triumph, were furious at this attempt to frustrate their vengeance. They seized the unfortunate prisoners, and racked them again in the market-place.

On the next day, February 29, 1488, Maistre Charles once more made his preparations, and this time he was not disappointed. Bontemps, whose turn came last, was pardoned by the mob, now glutted with blood, but the rest were all executed, and amongst them died that gallant knight, George Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque.

_Gilles Ghiselin II., Grandfather of the Ambassador._

George Ghiselin left no children, and on his death the seigneury of Bousbecque passed to his brother Gilles. The latter appears to have entered the public service at an earlier period than his elder brother. Gilles won his spurs from Charles the Bold, and George from Maximilian.

The preface to this edition introduces Busbecq as a 'kind and genial cicerone,' a phrase that immediately signals the editors' desire to frame his letters as both historical record and personal narrative. The voice that emerges from the excerpts is layered: Busbecq himself writes with the precision of a diplomat, yet the editors' footnotes—defending his views on slavery or noting Evelyn's admiration for Turkish horses—create a running commentary that shifts the pace from reportage to reflection. This interplay between original text and editorial gloss is central to the reading experience.

The Diplomat's Register

Busbecq's letters, as presented in the excerpts, maintain a formal, observant tone typical of 16th-century diplomatic correspondence. He describes the Turkish court, military practices, and geography with a detached eye, as when he notes the 'Axylos, a woodless tract in Asia Minor.' The prose is dense with classical allusions—Homer, Suetonius, Xenophon—which anchor his observations in a learned European framework. Yet the pace is deliberate, often slowed by parenthetical asides or citations that invite the reader to pause and consider parallels. This register dominates the Turkish Letters, where Busbecq acts as an eyewitness to Ottoman power.

Editorial Interjections and Tempo

The editors, Forster and Daniell, frequently break into Busbecq's narrative with footnotes that alter the reading tempo. For instance, they defend his suggestion of slavery as 'an anticipation of the more merciful system of modern times,' a claim that halts the historical flow to engage in moral argument. Similarly, they quote Evelyn's diary to corroborate Busbecq's description of Turkish horses, creating a dialogue across centuries. These interjections vary in length—from brief citations to multi-paragraph defenses—and introduce a secondary voice that oscillates between scholarly support and correction. Readers must navigate this dual-layered text, where the pace quickens with Busbecq's narrative and slows with editorial commentary.

Classical Anchors and Shifting Register

Busbecq frequently invokes classical authors to frame his experiences, but the excerpts show how these references shift the register from reportage to erudite reflection. A footnote on the 'Digest or Pandects of Justinian' explains a term, while a comparison to 'Milton, Paradise Lost' links Turkish warfare to epic poetry. This technique creates a layered pace: the reader moves from concrete description (e.g., 'shooting with the crossbow has been a custom at Bousbecque') to abstract commentary. The editors amplify this by adding their own classical citations, such as Vopiscus on Egyptian chicken-hatching. The result is a text that demands attention to both the immediate scene and its wider cultural echoes.

Readers should attend to the footnotes as much as the main text; they are not mere asides but integral to the work's rhythm. The editors' voice—sometimes defensive, sometimes admiring—shapes how Busbecq's observations are received. For those interested in narrative voice, this edition offers a case study in how historical documents are mediated by later scholars, altering pace and perspective at every turn.

I often think of Busbecq’s letters, how his diplomatic tone softens into private wonder between the lines. There is a similar pause in Yeats’s essays—that quiet turning inward when discussing Spenser’s world-weary verse. Both voices speak across centuries, not to us, but near us, like old friends muttering over the same warm embers. The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats, Vol. 8 (of 8) Discoveries. Edmund Spenser. Poetry and Tradition; and Other Essays. Bibliography — Reading Notes holds that same gentle, unhurried reflection.

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