The janissaries saw that they were lost, but they resolved to sell their lives dearly. They threw away their muskets and drew their sabres. A short but terrible carnage began, man to man, eye to eye. The Emperor’s troops in the majority, holding the advantage on every side, did terrible destruction. At last, with cries like wild animals, the janissaries turned for flight; all was not lost—the outlet over the bridge was still open. Horrible delusion! The general’s eye had not failed here. The road to the bridge had long since been cut off—no outlet in any direction, no help! In wild confusion the Turks swarmed the rocky banks of the Theiss, where they were pushed, crowded by their own numbers and driven into the water by the Austrians with loud cries of victory, and thus most of them perished in the river. Terrible conflicts such as these took place all over the battle-field. Drunk with victory, the soldiers seemed to crave blood. With cries of: “This for Vienna!” “This for Buda!” “This for Belgrade!” they gave no quarter, and scorned the highest ransoms offered in order to take vengeance on their ancient enemies.
It was only nightfall which ended this bloody battle. Twenty thousand Turks lay dead or wounded on the field, ten thousand had found death in the wild waters of the Theiss. Barely a thousand had fled to the opposite shore, whence the Sultan watched the destruction of the faithful; the tragic end of his hopes. In the fear that his retreat toward Temesvar might be cut off by the Austrian troops, he rode away in the night on a fleet steed, accompanied by only a small band.
Messengers of victory hurried to Vienna. In his report to the Emperor, Eugene picturesquely said: “Even the sun would not set, until it had seen the complete triumph of the imperial arms.” And the great general added: “Next to God’s help, the victory at Zenta is to be ascribed to the heroic spirit of the leaders and soldiers.” This modest soldier said not a word about himself and yet he had been the soul of it all. His military keenness, the boldness of his decisions, and not least of all, the energy with which he had carried out his plans on this day—which will always be a glorious one in Austrian annals—redound to his highest fame.
Eugene’s fame spread on the wings of the wind over the whole of Germany and of Europe. He was classed with the greatest generals and even his enemies said, “This has been a miracle.”
What must King Louis the Fourteenth and Louvois have thought of this? Perhaps they may have had a presentiment that some day France herself might be in his power.
The following day Eugene led the victorious army into the deserted camp of the Sultan. Here they discovered treasures beyond belief. Besides three million piastres in the war chest, they found an immense quantity of all kinds of weapons, all the ammunition and baggage, whole herds of camels, oxen, and sheep, and a great number of flags, horsetails, standards, and other trophies of war.
Such a victory as this at Zenta had never been won by Christians over unbelievers, and the heathen had never before suffered such a terrible defeat. It was now necessary to follow up the victory and to gather the fruits of it. The way in which Eugene contrived to do this in spite of many drawbacks and hindrances serves but to add another glorious leaf to his victor’s wreath. In short, in a single campaign he had reconquered Siebenbürgen, Hungary as far as Temesvar, also Banat and Slavonia as far as Belgrade for his Emperor.
At the end of November Eugene returned to Vienna. The Emperor received him with every mark of favor and gratitude, and presented him with a sword richly set with precious stones. The populace enthusiastically greeted the famous conqueror of the Turks. He who had already so often repulsed the infidels had now exceeded their wildest hopes. Eugene became the people’s hero and ever remained so.
On the twenty-sixth of January, 1699, peace was declared between the Emperor and the Porte, after seventy-two days of negotiations at Carlovitz, a little town near Peterwardein. This consummation, ardently desired by conquerors and conquered, had been brought about by Eugene.
The time of peace was taken advantage of by the Prince to found a home for himself in Vienna. This had long been his secret wish so that he could live quietly and devote himself to scientific study, for which he was more and more inclined. The house which he bought stood in the street called “Gate of Heaven,” in the same place where later he built his new palace Belvedere, at present the seat of the Ministry of Finance. The Emperor also presented him with important estates in Hungary, and the Prince bought others for a mere song. There were now great hopes for an extended period of peace. The sound of arms had died away in the West as well as in the East, and even the mischief-maker, King Louis the Fourteenth, was eager to bequeath to his people the memory of a peace-loving ruler. The world drew a long breath, but alas—all too soon, to be again plunged into fresh disorders and new alarms of war.