Such a combination was provided by Kara Mustafa’s multiform imbecility. Eager to secure the treasures of the Hapsburg capital for himself, he declined to stimulate the ardour of his soldiers with the promise of plunder and avoided a general assault which could have reduced the town before the arrival of relief, hoping to take it intact by capitulation. Being as arrogant as he was greedy, he disdained to keep himself informed of the movements of the enemy, took no measures to prevent their passage of the Danube, and allowed them to concentrate close behind his camp without the slightest opposition. At the very moment when Vienna seemed ready to succumb, John Sobieski joined the Imperial forces under the Duke of Lorraine on the neighbouring heights.
Next day (Sept. 11, N.S.) this army of only 77,000 men descended to the plain like an irresistible avalanche and beat Kara Mustafa’s host into confusion, defeat, destruction. Some ten thousand Turks remained dead on the field of battle. The rest, including the Grand Vizir, fled leaving behind them their guns, their tents, their archives, and all their colours except the sacred standard of the Prophet. Not the least notable item in the long list of loot was the Grand Vizir’s pavilion: a miniature palace surrounded by baths, gardens, and fountains: which that night afforded a luxurious resting-place to the happy King of Poland—the King whose ambassadors Kara Mustafa had treated as we have seen. And so in a few hours the cloud that had hung over Central Europe for months melted away.
This rout, aggravated by some other disasters which overtook shortly afterwards the demoralised Ottoman army, exhausted the Grand Signor’s favour for his Vizir. Kara Mustafa’s enemies at Court fanned the Imperial wrath to a white heat, and an Aga was sent to Belgrade, where the would-be conqueror had retired, with orders to relieve him of his head. The Aga arrived on December 25th (N.S.) after sunset; and before sunrise he had fulfilled his mission. Thus perished, in the height of his pride, one of the most wicked Ministers, and one of the weakest-minded, that ever tyrannised over a country. His death was lamented only by those few who had had no cause to regret his birth.
Kara Mustafa’s disappearance brought comparative peace and contentment to foreign residents in Turkey. Not long afterwards Lord Chandos had the Audience from which he had been debarred for three years, and after a prosperous career this shrewd and sturdy Englishman retired, in 1687, with a full purse.[304]
But for Kara Mustafa’s country there was neither peace nor contentment. The discomfiture before Vienna afforded a revelation of Turkey’s weakness which tempted Russia and Venice to join Austria and Poland in what they called a “Holy League.” As we have seen, they all had many scores to settle with the Porte. They settled them now with a vengeance. From 1684 on to 1699 this struggle for dominion and plunder raged under the name of religion. The religious fervour of the Moslems was not less holy than that of the Christians, but Allah fought on the side of the majority. Misfortune followed misfortune and loss came on the top of loss. In 1687 the Turks thought to change their luck by changing their Sultan. But to no purpose: the cycle of their misfortunes went on unbroken. Famine, fires, and insurrections at home heightened the dismay caused by defeats abroad, until at last the mighty Ottoman Empire, stripped of vast territories, distracted, and utterly spent, had to seek the mediation of the Maritime Powers—England and Holland. Lord Pagett and Jakob Collyer, the successors of the diplomats whom Kara Mustafa had outraged so grievously, tried in 1699 to rescue what was possible from the wreck Kara Mustafa had wrought. (Peace of Carlowitz, Jan. 26.)
Not long after this remarkable instance of historic retribution, one of Kara Mustafa’s victims reappeared upon the stage. Mrs. Pentlow had, on his fall, endeavoured to obtain reparation for the injury done to her, and the new Grand Vizir, our old friend Soliman, Ahmed Kuprili’s suave Kehayah, was very willing to see both that and our other claims settled out of his enemy’s estate. But the Grand Signor, who had confiscated that estate, demanded due proofs, which was demanding the impossible. Avanias were always so conducted that hardly any one besides the persons concerned knew the details: the Turks concerned were Kara Mustafa’s creatures who, on his death, were dispersed; the evidence of his Jew and of our Dragomans was inadmissible against True Believers; the only witness who could have helped us was the Chief Customer; but Hussein Aga would not, for prudential reasons, come forward.[305] So the matter dropped, and Mrs. Pentlow went away to England, where she married a member of the St. John family, apparently resigned to her loss. But she had not abandoned all hope, and in the autumn of 1700, when our Ambassador was basking in the sun of popularity, she arrived at Constantinople with her daughter, now grown into a fine young “Mrs. Susanna Pentlow,” and a letter from the Earl of Jersey, Secretary of State, to Lord Pagett, requesting him to use his influence for the recovery of the Smyrna estate.
Lord Pagett enjoyed among the English in the Levant the reputation of a diplomat who made “no great figure at Court, contenting himself with being feared by his own nation.”[306] And in this case he did precisely as the unfortunate Sir John Finch would have done. He indited a lengthy despatch in which he gave five different reasons why he could do nothing. The records of the Porte had been lost before Vienna, and without them no claim would be considered. The widow had no documents to prove her case. By the Turkish law all debts for which no demand had been made for fifteen years were invalid. The Vizir then in power was the son of Kara Mustafa’s sister who was still alive, and there was nobody in the whole of the Ottoman Empire who respected the memory of that “unfortunate great man” so much or who showed a stronger devotion to his family. Lastly, the Turkish Government had no money to pay off its soldiers and sailors, all of whom were clamouring for their long overdue stipends: “and while pressing, clear, just debts can’t be got in, there’s little hopes of recovering an old, doubtfull, litigious pretence, pursued upon a very cold scent.”[307] His Lordship therefore advised that the matter should be allowed to rest till some favourable opportunity turned up. Such an opportunity, to the best of the present writer’s knowledge, has not yet turned up. And so we may part for ever with Mrs. Pentlow, alias Mrs. St. John, and direct our attention to some of the other characters that have figured in our story—those three distinguished Englishmen who, it is hoped, did in Turkey enough to inspire the reader with a wish to know what became of them afterwards.
The subsequent career of Paul Rycaut need not detain us long. On missing the Constantinople appointment, our late Consul entreated the King to cast a gracious eye upon him, when any office which His Majesty’s wisdom should judge most agreeable to his talents and experience became vacant; and in 1685 he obtained the post of Secretary to the Earl of Clarendon who had recently been made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. At the same time he was knighted and sworn of the Privy Council and judge of the Admiralty in Ireland. In this employment the ex-Consul earned his Chief’s commendations for integrity and, among the Irish Catholics, the character of an extortionate official. Whichever of these two opinions was correct, Sir Paul did not hold that office long. At the beginning of 1688 he returned to England, and about the middle of the following year he was transferred at last to a sphere for which his linguistic attainments and his diplomatic and commercial experience really fitted him—that of English Resident in Hamburgh and the Hanse Towns. He filled that position almost till his death, which occurred in 1700, a few months after his recall. As in Turkey, so in Europe, Rycaut devoted much of his time to literary work, publishing The Present State of the Greek and Armenian Churches (1678); The History of the Turkish Empire from 1623 to 1677, including his Memoirs (1680); and some translations from the Spanish and the Latin. Of these productions the History was long considered one of the best works of its kind in the English language; and the Memoirs part of it, at least, can still be read with profit and not without pleasure.
To turn to the Rev. John Covel. Thanks to his trip to Adrianople, supplemented just before he left Turkey by some swift excursions to Nicomedia, Nicaea, and the islands of the Sea of Marmara, and by a passing view of such classic spots as the homeward bound ship touched at, our Chaplain returned home with his fame as “a great Oriental traveller” firmly established.[308] Soon afterwards he was made Doctor of Divinity by royal warrant, instituted to two sinecure rectories, and, in 1681, was appointed Chaplain to the Princess of Orange at the Hague. He was now forty-three. With his faculties unimpaired and patronage from high quarters flowing in, he seemed to have the ball fairly at his feet. For about four years he flowered in the sun of princely favour; and then, suddenly, the fair prospect became overcast. Dr. Covel would never speak of the cause which brought his residence at the Hague to an abrupt close—it was, perhaps, the one subject on which he ever succeeded in holding his tongue. But we know it. Among the various and, doubtless, useful functions a divine had to perform in the Orange household, that of gossip and newsagent was not included. Dr. Covel, however, unable to break himself of an old habit, continued his investigations into other people’s affairs with unabated ardour. To put it plainly, he became one of the spies and tale-bearers who were encouraged, if not actually employed, by King James to make mischief between his daughter and his son-in-law. A letter from the Chaplain giving the English Ambassador an account of the way in which William treated Mary was intercepted—and Dr. Covel had to pack at three hours’ notice.
King James tried to console the dismissed cleric with the Chancellorship of York during its vacancy (Nov. 9, 1687); and the Mastership of Christ’s College falling vacant, the Fellows, to avoid having a certain Smithson thrust upon them by the King, hastily chose (July 7, 1688) Dr. Covel: “a choice,” it has been guessed, “they probably would not have made, had they had more time.”[309] But the Rev. John was not to be consoled for the loss of his place in the princely sun. He denied the accusation, denounced his accusers, did everything possible to regain the Paradise Lost. But all in vain. That William neither believed nor forgave him became painfully obvious when, soon after the Revolution, he visited Cambridge. That year (1689) Dr. Covel was Vice-Chancellor of the University, and since he could not avoid coming into personal contact with the King he had offended as a Prince, he anxiously inquired how His Majesty would be pleased to receive him. The answer must have made him wince: His Majesty could distinguish between Dr. Covel and the Vice-Chancellor of the University. Curt, caustic Majesty!