On June 29 he received John Sigismund at Semlin, and intended to march on Erlau, but, hearing that Count Nicholas Zriny, the commander at Szigeth, had surprised and killed the Sanjak-bey of Tirhala, he resolved to make Szigeth the first object of attack. The siege commenced on August 5. Two furious assaults on the 26th and 29th were repulsed with great slaughter. On September 8, Zriny, finding he could hold out no longer, set the fortress on fire, sallied forth, sword in hand, at the head of the garrison, and met a soldier’s death. The Turks poured into the citadel, intent on murder and plunder; but the fire reached the powder-magazine, which blew up, burying in the ruins more than three thousand men. Solyman did not live to witness his triumph. His health had long been failing, and he died on the night of the 5th or 6th of September. His death was concealed by the Grand Vizier for three weeks, to give his successor, Selim, time to reach Constantinople from Kutaiah.
The death of Solyman seems to form a fitting termination to this sketch. With the exception of his successor, Selim, he is the last survivor of the personages who figure prominently in Busbecq’s pages. The Emperor Ferdinand, the Grand Viziers Achmet, Roostem, and Ali, and the unfortunate Bajazet, have passed away. The greater part of Hungary and Transylvania continued subject to the successors of Solyman, either immediately or as a vassal State, till near the close of the following century. In 1683 Vienna was once more besieged by the Turks, under the Grand Vizier Kara Mustapha, but was relieved by John Sobieski. The reaction from this supreme effort was fatal to the Turkish dominion in Hungary. In 1686 Buda was recaptured by Charles of Lorraine, and by the Peace of Carlowitz, concluded in 1698, the whole of Hungary and Transylvania was ceded to the Emperor Leopold.
II.
ITINERARIES.
In describing his first Turkish letter as an ‘iter,’ or itinerary, Busbecq places it under a class of composition of which there are several examples still extant. In Busbecq’s days it was a common practice for scholars to write an account in Latin verse of any journey they might happen to make. These itineraries are generally extremely amusing, the writers being men of keen observation, with a great sense of humour, and condescending to notice those trifles which are passed over by the historian.
As an example, Nathan Chytræus gives an account of his trip to England during the Long Vacation of the University of Paris. He lands at Rye, and, going to an inn, eats his first English dinner, which he hugely enjoys, noticing at the same time the handsome faces and dignified bearing of the waitresses. On his way to London he is struck with the comfortable appearance of the country seats, and specially with the belts of laurel with which they were surrounded. As he passes over London Bridge he is delighted with the handsome shops full of every kind of merchandise which lined its sides. He visits Westminster Abbey, and wonders at not finding the tomb of Dr. Linacre, the celebrated physician, who, though a canon of St. Peter’s, Westminster, was buried at St. Paul’s. He goes eastward, and visits the Tower of London, noticing the menagerie, and specially two lions at the entrance of the Tower. Of the collection of arms he says that a visitor would imagine it to be the greatest in the world if he had not seen the Arsenal at Venice. He has a word for Southwark across the river, telling us that it was covered with small houses, and the home of numerous dogs and bears, which were kept for baiting. He visits Hampton Court, Nonsuch Park,[295] and Windsor; at the last place Elizabeth was staying, with all her court. The Queen is duly complimented on her learning, but he can spare a couple of lines also for the rabbits which then, as now, were scampering fearlessly about the Park:
Quin et in effossis habitare cuniculus antris
Assuetus prodire solet camposque vagari.