was not a foot of ground that had not been steeped in the blood of friend
or foe. However, by degrees the Turks gained a few paces; at the end of
August they were lodged in the ditches of the city; and on September 4th
they sprung a mine under the "Bourg" bastion; one-half of the city was
shaken thereby, and a breach was rent in the bastion wide enough for an
assault to be delivered, but the enemy was repulsed. Next day the Turks
attacked it with renewed courage, but the valor of the besieged baffled
the assailants. On September 10th another mine was sprung under the same
bastion, and the breach was so wide that a battalion might have entered
it abreast. The danger was extreme, for the garrison was exhausted
by fighting, sickness, and incessant labor. The Count de Starhemberg
despatched courier after courier to the Duke of Lorraine for succor: "There
is not a moment to be lost, Monseigneur," he wrote, "not a moment;" and
Vienna, exhausted, saw not yet her liberators arrive. At length, on the
14th, when the whole city was in a stupor in the immediate expectation of
an attack, a movement was observed in the enemy's camp which announced that
succor was at hand. At five o'clock in the afternoon the Christian army was
descried surmounting the Hill of Kahlen, and it made its presence known by
a salvo of artillery. John Sobieski had arrived at the head of a valiant
army. The Electors of Saxony and of Bavaria with many princes, dukes,
and margraves of Germany had brought with them fresh troops. Charles of
Lorraine might then dare to march against the Moslems, although he had yet
only forty-six thousand men.
The army of Sobieski reached Klosterenburg, Koenigstetten, St. André,
the Valley of Hagen and Kirling, where it effected its junction with the
Austrians and the Saxons who had arrived there in passing by Hoeflin. On
Sunday, September 15th, in the earliest rays of a fine autumnal day, the
holy priest Marco d'Aviano celebrated mass in the chapel of Kahlenberg, and
the King of Poland served him during the sacrifice. Afterward, Sobieski
made his son kneel down and dubbed him a knight in remembrance of the great
occasion on which he was going to be present; then, turning toward his
officers, he reminded them of the victory of Choczim, adding that the
triumph they were about to achieve under the walls of Vienna would not only
save a city, but Christendom. Next morning the Christian army descended the
Hill of Kahlen in order of battle. A salvo of five cannon-shot gave the
signal for the fight. Sobieski commanded the right wing, the Duke of
Lorraine the left, under whose orders served Prince Eugene of Savoy, then
aged nineteen. The Elector of Bavaria was in the centre. The village of
Naussdorf, situated upon the Danube, was attacked by the Saxon and
imperial troops which formed the left wing, and carried after an obstinate
resistance. Toward noon the King of Poland, having descended into the
plain with the right wing, at the head of his Polish cavalry, attacked the
innumerable squadrons of Turkish horse. Flinging himself upon the enemy's
centre with all the fury of a hurricane, he spread confusion in their
ranks; but his courage carried him too far; he was surrounded and was on
the point of being overwhelmed by numbers. Then, shouting for aid, the
German cavalry, which had followed him, charged the enemy at full gallop,
delivered the King, and soon put the Turks to flight on all sides. The
right wing had decided the victory; by seven o'clock in the evening the
deliverance of Vienna was achieved. The bodies of more than ten thousand
infidels strewed the field of battle.
But all those combats were mere preludes to the great battle which must
decide the fortune of the war. For the Turkish camp, with its thousands of
tents, could still be seen spreading around as far as the eye could
reach, and its artillery continued to play upon the city. The victorious
commander-in-chief was holding a council of war to decide whether to give
battle again on that same day, or wait till the morrow to give his troops
an interval of rest, when a messenger came with the announcement that the
enemy appeared to be in full flight; and it proved to be the fact. A panic
had seized the Turks, who fled in disorder, abandoning their camp and
baggage; and soon even those who were attacking the city were seen in full
flight with the rest of the army.
The booty found in the Turkish camp was immense: three hundred pieces of
heavy artillery, five thousand tents, that of the Grand Vizier with all the
military chests and the chancery. The treasures amounted to fifteen million
crowns; the tent of the Vizier alone yielded four hundred thousand crowns.
Two millions also were found in the military chest; arms studded with
precious stones, the equipments of Kara Mustapha, fell into the hands of
the victors. In their flight the Mussulmans threw away arms, baggage, and
banners, with the exception of the holy standard of the Prophet, which,
nevertheless, the imperials pretended to have seized. The King of Poland
received for his share four million florins; and in a letter to his
wife--the sole delight of his soul, his dear and well-beloved Mariette--he
speaks of that booty and of the happiness of having delivered Vienna. "All
the enemy's camp," he wrote, "with the whole of his artillery and all his
enormous riches, have fallen into our hands. We are driving before us a
host of camels, mules, and Turkish prisoners."
Count Starhemberg received the King of Poland in the magnificent tent
of the Grand Vizier and greeted him as a deliverer. Next day Sobieski,
accompanied by the Elector of Bavaria and the different commanders,
traversed the city on horseback, preceded by a great banner of cloth of
gold and two tall gilded staves bearing the horse-tails which had been
planted in front of the Grand Vizier's tent, as a symbol of supreme
command. In the Loretto chapel of the Augustins the hero threw himself upon
his face before the altar and chanted the _Te Deum_. Vienna was delivered;
the flood of Ottomans, that had beaten against its walls one hundred
fifty-four years previously, had returned more furiously, more menacing
still, against that dignified protectress of European civilization, but
this time it had been repelled never to return.
Thus vanished the insane hopes of the Grand Vizier. If Demetrius Cantemir
may be believed, Kara Mustapha had desired to capture Vienna to appropriate
it to himself and found in the West an empire of which he would have been
the sovereign. "That subject," says the historian, "who only held his power
from the Sultan, despised in his heart the Sultan himself; and as he found
himself at the head of all the disciplined troops of the empire, he looked
upon his master as a shadow denuded of strength and substance, who, being
very inferior in courage to him, could never oppose to him an army like
that which was under his command. For all that concerned the Emperor of
Germany, he appeared still less to be feared: being a prince bare and
despoiled so soon as he should have lost Vienna. It was thus that Kara
Mustapha reasoned within himself.
"Already he casts his eyes over the treasures which he has in his
possession; with the money of the Sultan he has also brought his own; all
that of the German princes is going to be his; for he believes that it is
amassed in the city he is besieging. If he needs support, he reckons upon
the different governors of Hungary as devoted to his interests; these are
his creatures, whom he has put into their posts during the seven years of
his vizierate; not one of those functionaries dare offer an obstacle to the
elevation of his benefactor. Ibrahim Pacha, Beylerbey of Buda, keeps him in
suspense by reason of the influence that his fame gives him over the army
and over Hungary; he must be won over before all else, as well as the chief
officers of the janizaries and the spahis. Ibrahim shall be made King of
Hungary. The different provinces comprised in that kingdom shall be divided
into _timars_ for appanage of the spahis, and all the rest of the soldiery
shall have establishments in the towns, as so many new colonies; to them
shall be assigned the lands of the old inhabitants, who will be driven out
or reduced to slavery. He reserves for himself the title of Sultan,
his share shall be all Germany as far as the frontiers of France, with
Transylvania and Poland, which he intends to render subject or at least
make tributary the year following." Such are the projects that Cantemir
attributes to Kara Mustapha; the intervention of Sobieski caused these
chimerical plans quickly to vanish.
The Emperor Leopold, who returned to Vienna on September 16th, instead of
expressing his thanks and gratitude to the commanders who had rescued his
capital, received them with the haughty and repulsive coldness prescribed
by the etiquette of the imperial court. Sobieski nevertheless continued
his services by pursuing the retreating Turks. Awakened from his dream of
self-exaltation, the Grand Vizier retook the road toward Turkey, directing
his steps to the Raab, where he rallied the remnants of his army. Thence he
marched toward Buda, and attacked by the way the Styrian town of Lilenfeld;
he was repulsed by the prelate Matthias Kalweis, and avenged himself for
that fresh check by devastating Lower Styria. He crossed the Danube by a
bridge of boats at Parkany; but the Poles vigorously disputed the passage
with him, and he again lost more than eight thousand men taken or slain by
the Christians. Shortly after, the fortress of Gran opened its gates to
Kara Mustapha. The Grand Vizier barbarously put to death the officers who
had signed the capitulation; he threw upon his generals the responsibility
of his reverses, and thought to stifle in blood the murmurs of his
accusers. The army marched in disorder as though struck with a panic
terror. Kara Mustapha wished that a Jew whom he despatched to Belgrad
should be escorted by a troop of horsemen. "I have no need of an escort,"
replied the Jew: "I have only to wear my cap in the German fashion, and not
a Turk will touch me."
The enemies of the Grand Vizier, however, conspired to effect his ruin at
Constantinople; and the results of the campaign justified the predictions
of the party of peace. Mahomet IV, enraged at these disasters, sent his
grand chamberlain to Belgrad with orders to bring back the head of the
Vizier (1683): it was, in fact, brought to the Sultan in a silver dish.
%MONMOUTH'S REBELLION%
A.D. 1685
GILBERT BURNET
James II was scarcely seated on the English throne in 1685 when serious
disturbances began in his realm. The King had inherited the peculiar traits
of the Stuarts. His first purpose was to overcome the Parliamentary power
and make himself absolute ruler. He was likewise a Roman Catholic, and one
of his objects was the suppression of English Protestantism.
During the first days of his reign the Protestant peasants in the west of
England rose in revolt. They supported the claims of James Fitzroy, Duke
of Monmouth, to the throne. Monmouth was the (reputed) illegitimate son of
Charles II and Lucy Walters. With other exiled malcontents, English and
Scotch, he had taken refuge in Holland. One of those exiled was the Earl of
Argyle, whose father had figured prominently on the side of the Scottish
Presbyterians against Charles I.
Owing to national jealousy, the English and Scotch in Holland could not act
in unison, but all were determined to strike against James. Two expeditions
were planned--one under Argyle, who expected to find forces awaiting him in
Scotland; the other under Monmouth, whose adherents were to join him in the
west of England.
Argyle's attempt miscarried through disagreement among the leaders, and the
Earl was taken and beheaded, June 30, 1685. What befell the enterprise of
Monmouth is told by Bishop Burnet, a contemporary historian. Monmouth was
executed July 15, 1685, and in the trials known as the "Bloody Assizes,"
presided over by the brutal George Jeffreys, some three hundred of the
Duke's followers were condemned to death, and more than a thousand
otherwise punished.
As soon as Lord Argyle sailed for Scotland, Monmouth set about his design
with as much haste as possible. Arms were brought and a ship was freighted
for Bilbao in Spain. He pawned all his jewels, but these could not raise
much, and no money was sent to him out of England. So he was hurried into
an ill-designed invasion. The whole company consisted but of eighty-two
persons. They were all faithful to one another. But some spies whom
Shelton, the new envoy, set on work, sent him the notice of a suspected
ship sailing out of Amsterdam with arms.
Shelton neither understood the laws of Holland nor advised with those who
did; otherwise he would have carried with him an order from the admiralty
of Holland, that sat at The Hague, to be made use of as the occasion should
require. When he came to Amsterdam, and applied himself to the magistrates
there, desiring them to stop and search the ship that he named, they found
the ship was already sailed out of their port and their jurisdiction went
no further. So he was forced to send to the admiralty at The Hague. But
those on board, hearing what he was come for, made all possible haste. And,
the wind favoring them, they got out of the Texel before the order desired
could be brought from The Hague. After a prosperous course, the Duke landed
at Lyme in Dorsetshire (June 11, 1685); and he with his small company came
ashore with some order, but with too much daylight, which discovered how
few they were.
The alarm was brought hot to London, where, upon the general report and
belief of the thing, an act of attainder passed both Houses in one day;
some small opposition being made by the Earl of Anglesey, because the
evidence did not seem clear enough for so severe a sentence, which was
grounded on the notoriety of the thing. The sum of five thousand pounds was
set on his head. And with that the session of Parliament ended; which was
no small happiness to the nation, such a body of men being dismissed
with doing so little hurt. The Duke of Monmouth's manifesto was long and
ill-penned--full of much black and dull malice.
It charged the King with the burning of London, the popish plot, Godfrey's
murder, and the Earl of Essex's death; and to crown all, it was pretended
that the late King was poisoned by his orders: it was set forth that the
King's religion made him incapable of the crown; that three subsequent
houses of commons had voted his exclusion: the taking away of the old
charters, and all the hard things done in the last reign, were laid to his
charge: the elections of the present parliament were also set forth very
odiously, with great indecency of style; the nation was also appealed to,
when met in a free parliament, to judge of the Duke's own pretensions;[1]
and all sort of liberty, both in temporals and spirituals, was promised to
persons of all persuasions.
[Footnote 1: He asserted that his mother had been the lawful wife of his
father.--ED.]
Upon the Duke of Monmouth's landing, many of the country people came in to
join him, but very few of the gentry. He had quickly men enough about
him to use all his arms. The Duke of Albemarle, as lord lieutenant of
Devonshire, was sent down to raise the militia, and with them to make head
against him. But their ill-affection appeared very evident; many deserted,
and all were cold in the service. The Duke of Monmouth had the whole
country open to him for almost a fortnight, during which time he was very
diligent in training and animating his men. His own behavior was so
gentle and obliging that he was master of all their hearts as much as
was possible. But he quickly found what it was to be at the head of
undisciplined men, that knew nothing of war, and that were not to be used
with rigor. Soon after their landing, Lord Grey was sent out with a small
party. He saw a few of the militia, and he ran for it; but his men stood,
and the militia ran from them. Lord Grey brought a false alarm, that was
soon found to be so, for the men whom their leader had abandoned came back
in good order. The Duke of Monmouth was struck with this when he found that
the person on whom he depended most, and for whom he designed the command
of the horse, had already made himself infamous by his cowardice. He
intended to join Fletcher with him in that command. But an unhappy accident
made it not convenient to keep him longer about him. He sent him out on
another party, and he, not being yet furnished with a horse, took the horse
of one who had brought in a great body of men from Taunton. He was not in
the way, so Fletcher not seeing him to ask his leave, thought that all
things were to be in common among them that could advance the service.
After Fletcher had ridden about as he was ordered, as he returned, the
owner of the horse he rode on--who was a rough and ill-bred man--reproached
him in very injurious terms for taking out his horse without his leave.
Fletcher bore this longer than could have been expected from one of his
impetuous temper. But the other persisted in giving him foul language, and
offered a switch or a cudgel, upon which he discharged his pistol at him
and shot him dead. He went and gave the Duke of Monmouth an account of
this, who saw it was impossible to keep him longer about him without
disgusting and losing the country people who were coming in a body to
demand justice. So he advised him to go aboard the ship and to sail on to
Spain whither she was bound. By this means he was preserved for that time.
Ferguson ran among the people with all the fury of an enraged man that
affected to pass for an enthusiast, though all his performances that way
were forced and dry. The Duke of Monmouth's great error was that he did not
in the first heat venture on some hardy action and then march either to
Exeter or Bristol; where as he would have found much wealth, so he would
have gained some reputation by it. But he lingered in exercising his men
and stayed too long in the neighborhood of Lyme.
By this means the King had time both to bring troops out of Scotland,
after Argyle was taken, and to send to Holland for the English and Scotch
regiments that were in the service of the states; which the Prince sent
over very readily and offered his own person, and a greater force, if
it were necessary. The King received this with great expressions of
acknowledgment and kindness. It was very visible that he was much
distracted in his thoughts, and that, what appearance of courage soever he
might put on, he was inwardly full of apprehensions and fears. He dare not
accept of the offer of assistance that the French made him; for by that he
would have lost the hearts of the English nation, and he had no mind to be
so much obliged to the Prince of Orange or to let him into his counsels or
affairs. Prince George committed a great error in not asking the command of
the army; for the command, how much soever he might have been bound to the
counsels of others, would have given him some lustre; whereas his staying
at home in such times of danger brought him under much neglect.
The King could not choose worse than he did when he gave the command to
the Earl of Feversham, who was a Frenchman by birth--and nephew to M. de
Turenne. Both his brothers changing religion--though he continued still
a Protestant--made that his religion was not much trusted to. He was an
honest, brave, and good-natured man, but weak to a degree not easy to be
conceived. And he conducted matters so ill that every step he made was like
to prove fatal to the King's service. He had no parties abroad. He got no
intelligence, and was almost surprised and like to be defeated, when he
seemed to be under no apprehension, but was abed without any care or order.
So that if the Duke of Monmouth had got but a very small number of good
soldiers about him, the King's affairs would have fallen into great
disorder.
The Duke of Monmouth had almost surprised Lord Feversham and all about him
while they were abed. He got in between two bodies, into which the army lay
divided. He now saw his error in lingering so long. He began to want bread,
and to be so straitened that there was a necessity of pushing for a speedy
decision. He was so misled in his march that he lost an hour's time, and
when he came near the army there was an inconsiderable ditch, in the
passing which he lost so much more time that the officers had leisure to
rise and be dressed, now they had the alarm. And they put themselves in
order. Yet the Duke of Monmouth's foot stood longer and fought better than
could have been expected; especially, when the small body of horse they
had, ran upon the first charge, the blame of which was cast on Lord Grey.
The foot being thus forsaken and galled by the cannon, did run at last.
About a thousand of them were killed on the spot, and fifteen hundred were
taken prisoners. Their numbers, when fullest, were between five and six
thousand.
The Duke of Monmouth left the field[1] too soon for a man of courage who
had such high pretensions; for a few days before he had suffered himself to
be called king, which did him no service, even among those that followed
him. He rode toward Dorsetshire; and when his horse could carry him no
further he changed clothes with a shepherd and went as far as his legs
could carry him, being accompanied only by a German whom he had brought
over with him. At last, when he could go no farther, they lay down in a
field where there was hay and straw, with which they covered themselves,
so that they hoped to lie there unseen till night. Parties went out on all
hands to take prisoners. The shepherd was found by Lord Lumley in the Duke
of Monmouth's clothes. So this put them on his track, and having some dogs
with them, they followed the scent, and came to the place where the German
was first discovered. And he immediately pointed to the place where the
Duke of Monmouth lay. So he was taken in a very indecent dress and posture.
[Footnote 1: This engagement took place at Ledgemoor, Somerset, July 6,
1685.--ED.]
His body was quite sunk with fatigue, and his mind was now so low that he
begged his life in a manner that agreed ill with the courage of the former
parts of it. He called for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote to the Earl of
Feversham, and both to the Queen and the Queen dowager, to intercede with
the King for his life. The King's temper, as well as his interest, made it
so impossible to hope for that, that it showed a great meanness in him
to ask it in such terms as he used in his letters. He was carried up to
Whitehall, where the King examined him in person, which was thought very
indecent, since he was resolved not to pardon him.[1] He made new and
unbecoming submissions, and insinuated a readiness to change his religion;
for, he said, the King knew what his first education was in religion. There
were no discoveries to be got from him; for the attempt was too rash to be
well concerted, or to be so deep laid that many were involved in the guilt
of it. He was examined on Monday, and orders were given for his execution
on Wednesday.
[Footnote 1: The Duke of Monmouth pressed extremely that the King would see
him, whence the King concluded he had something to say to him that he
would tell to nobody else; but when he found it ended in nothing but lower
submission than he either expected or desired, he told him plainly he had
put it out of his power to pardon him by having proclaimed himself king.
Thus may the most innocent actions of a man's life be sometimes turned to
his disadvantage.--ED.]
Turner and Ken, the Bishops of Ely and of Bath and Wells, were ordered
to wait on him. But he called for Dr. Tennison. The bishops studied to
convince him of the sin of rebellion. He answered, he was sorry for the
blood that was shed in it, but he did not seem to repent of the design. Yet
he confessed that his father had often told him that there was no truth in
the reports of his having married his mother. This he set under his hand,
probably for his children's sake, who were then prisoners in the Tower,
that so they might not be ill-used on his account. He showed a great
neglect of his duchess. And her resentments for his course of life with
Lady Wentworth wrought so much on her that she seemed not to have any of
that tenderness left that became her sex and his present circumstances, for
when he desired to speak privately with her she would have witnesses to
hear all that passed, to justify herself, and to preserve her family.
They parted very coldly. He only recommended to her the rearing of their
children in the Protestant religion.