(This post is a continuation of Janissaries in Algiers – Parts 1, 2, 3. If you haven’t done so already, it’s best to read those posts before continuing on here.)
The force of 2,000 janissaries originally sent to Algiers were ordered there to support Hayreddin Barbarossa and secure his position as ruler of that city—which in turn secured Algiers as a part of the larger Ottoman Empire.
They were performing the traditional janissary mission: supporting the Sultan’s interests.
That all began to change when the janissary ranks were swelled by the 4,000 volunteers. Two thirds of the Algerine janissaries were now freemen. Not only did this alter the composition of the janissary force itself; it also altered the process by which the Algerine janissary ranks were maintained. Algerine janissaries were no longer simply slaves—albeit high status slaves—and new recruits were no longer gathered up in devşirme raids. This meant that the Sultan no longer had direct control of the recruitment process. Instead, the Algerine janissaries became as sort of all-volunteer military force.
Over the decades, their numbers swelled. Volunteers continued to appear from other part of the Ottoman Empire, but more and more the source of new recruits became local renegades—that is, Christians who had renounced their religion and become Muslims. Joining the janissary ranks became a sort of default career path for newly converted Muslims in Algiers. It provided them not only gainful employment but also a stable salary—since janissaries, remember, were full-time professional soldiers paid on a regular basis.
Here is one example of how this played out.
Here in this blog, back in November, 2018, I published a series of posts on a Barbary corsair captain—a Greek renegade—named Calafat Hassan Reis who was captured in a battle with European ships and held prisoner in Naples.
Here is an excerpt from the 2018 blog post:
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When Calafat Hassan Reis’s wife heard what had happened to her husband, she went straight to the Divan—the ruling council of Algiers—and demanded that they find a captive in Algiers of sufficient rank and importance so that he could be exchanged for her husband. Calafat Hassan Reis was one of the foremost corsair captains in Algiers at this time, and the Divan readily agreed.
The captive they settled on was Don Pedro de Carvajal, a Spanish gentleman of high rank who had been taken by Algerine corsairs while sailing from Spain to Oran. Naples was a Spanish possession at this time, so choosing a high-ranking Spanish captive made perfect sense.
Negotiations were begun to swap Don Pedro for Calafat Hassan Reis.
Things progressed slowly, though—very slowly—and after four years there was still no resolution. Calafat Hassan Reis remained chained up in a Naples dungeon; Don Pedro remained a slave in Algiers.
And then a report arrived in Algiers that Calafat Hassan Reis had been executed in Naples by being burned alive at the stake. The news spread quickly throughout Algiers, causing widespread fury. Calafat Hassan Reis’s wife, along with her parents, marched to the Divan at the head of an angry mob to demand justice. Since Calafat Hassan Reis had been burned at the stake, they said, Don Pedro must also suffer the same fate.
The members of the Divan agreed to their demand. Moreover, they offered up a second Spanish Gentleman—a man named Don Juan—as well. It was a way to send a message to their Spanish enemy: if the Spanish dared to roast an Algiers corsair captain alive, the Algiers authorities would roast two Spanish gentlemen in return. Don Pedro and Don Juan were immediately seized and imprisoned in preparation for their execution.
When the appointed day arrived, Don Pedro and Don Juan were taken from their prison and hauled through the streets in chains to the place of their execution. A great crowd followed, shouting angrily.
Don Pedro was to be burned first. He was shackled to an upright stake and a pyre of deadwood built up around him. As the wood was set ablaze, the crowd pressed forward, taunting him. Don Pedro held his head high and recited his prayers—until the flames and the smoke stifled his words.
Then it was Don Juan’s turn.
Don Juan, however, had seen enough. He cried out and raised his finger theatrically towards heaven—the recognized symbol that a person wished to become a Muslim. He was immediately freed of his chains and paraded back through the city streets to the Palace of the Pasha (the Ottoman Governor of Algiers). To general applause, the Pasha issued Don Juan new clothing and enrolled him among the janissaries, so that he would draw pay as they did.
And so Don Juan became a renegade and took up a new life in Algiers.
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This process of enrolling new renegades directly into the janissary ranks became more and more common. Occasionally, the process took on an almost surreal aspect. Look at the following, for example:
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A few years ago, among the several lions that had been tamed, and who wandered through the streets of Algiers, there was one who entered the courtyard where the Divan was in session. There, in front of the whole assembly, this lion threw himself at the feet of the Pasha and began to flatter him, roaring in a pitiful manner, as if he had seemed to be complaining. The Pasha immediately judged that this animal was hungry, and that having no particular owner (he was sleeping in the streets), no one had taken care to give him food.
For this reason, with the consent of the Divan, the Pasha ordered that in the future this lion would have the pay of a janissary, to be used for his food.
A month later, the lion died. His corpse was brought to the Divan, so that he could be buried with proper ceremony. He was carried by four janissaries in honor of his having been one of them and having drawn pay like them.
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The Algerine janissaries had come a long way from the original elite force of slaves devoted entirely to the Sultan.
For more on the janissaries of Algiers, see the next post in this series here in this blog.
For those who may be interested…
The story of the lion who became an honorary janissary comes from Pierre Dan’s Histoire de Barbarie, 1649 edition, p. 99.
The Travels of Reverend Ólafur Egilsson
The story of the Barbary corsair raid on Iceland in 1627
Amazon listing