Paul Rycaut Esq. late Consul of Smyrna; Fellow of the Royall Societie.
From the Engraving by R. White after the Portrait by Sir Peter Lely.
To face p. 53.
At Smyrna he had met our distinguished Consul, Mr. (afterwards Sir) Paul Rycaut, a graduate of Cambridge, a Fellow of the Royal Society, and an author of European reputation. As his name implies, Rycaut was of foreign extraction—the son of a wealthy banker of Brabant who, having settled in England under James I. and ruined himself for Charles I., died leaving a large family all but destitute. It fell to the lot of Paul to provide by his labours for most of these victims of Loyalty. After six arduous years at the Constantinople Embassy, as Secretary to Lord Winchilsea—who found him “so modest, discreet, able, temperate and faithfull” that he transferred him from the steward’s table to his own and treated him “more like a friend than a servant”[60]—he obtained from the Levant Company the Consulate of Smyrna. Important and lucrative as this post was, it was hardly one of those that give tranquillity to an ambitious heart or enjoyment to a cultivated mind. While performing its duties with exemplary energy and conscientiousness, Rycaut looked upon it as a stepping-stone to higher things. In 1666, during a long visit home on public business, he had brought himself to the notice of the Court by his work on The Present State of the Ottoman Empire—a book which, running into many editions and translated into French, Italian, German, and Polish, made the author famous,[61] without, however, making him what he wished to be. Lord Arlington testified to Rycaut’s “good parts” and other good qualities,[62] but did nothing for him. We may congratulate ourselves that his promotion was postponed so long; to that circumstance we are indebted for much valuable information. But Rycaut had small cause to feel pleased. The Smyrna Consulate cramped him like a prison cell. His discontent is written as plain as large print can make it in the Epistle Dedicatory prefixed to the History of the Turkish Empire which he published a few years later: “Ever since the time of Your Majesties happy Restauration,” he grumbles, “my Lot hath fallen to live and act within the Dominions of the Turk.” The same feeling is not less plain in the portrait (a fine engraving after Sir Peter Lely) which adorns the volume. It shows us a refined face that combines the irritability of a scholar with the keenness of a place-hunter; an emaciated face with eyes large, expressive and aggressive, thin lips tightly pressed, and a chin of remarkable pugnacity—the face of a man determined to get on and very angry at Fortune’s slow pace. It is said to resemble Molière’s. The resemblance certainly does not extend to a sense of humour. Perhaps it was this want (for assuredly it was not want of push) that condemned a person of Rycaut’s abilities and attainments to rust in the Consulate of Smyrna, when his intellectual inferiors became Secretaries of State in London. Charles II. had little use for men who could not laugh.
Many were the prickly problems that Sir John Finch and Mr. Paul Rycaut had to handle together during the next few years; and on all occasions the Ambassador found a most loyal and respectful lieutenant in this highly accomplished and polished Cavalier.
Of quite a different mould was the Rev. John Covel, Chaplain to the Embassy and afterwards Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge. Like Finch and Baines, Covel hailed from Christ’s College. Like them, too, he had studied Medicine in early life, but eventually discovering an easier vocation, he threw physic to the dogs, took holy orders, and got a Fellowship at his College. To him also, as to the others, the Restoration had come as a providential blessing: witness the Latin prose and English verse wherein he vented his feelings. The merits of his Latin performance were such as might have been expected from an erudite young don. Those of his English effusion may be judged by the following sample:
The horrible winter’s gone,
And we enjoy a cheerful spring;
The kind approach of the Sun
Gives a new birth to every thing.
Among other things, it gave a new birth to the songster’s prospects.