Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 133.djvu/82

 in Sobieski's eyes, and with a magnanimous disregard of all personal feelings he devoted himself to what he considered to be his duty

The last series of letters to his wife begins in August, 1683. Marie Casimire was a bad, ambitious, intriguing Frenchwoman, intent only on her own aggrandizement and her own pleasure, who used and abused her influence over her hero in the worst way and for the most selfish ends. In spite, however, of her continual provocations, he continued faithful to her until the end of his life. "Mon incomparable," he continually calls her in his letters, which all begin, "Seule joie de mon âme, charmante et bien aimée Marietta." They are often dated in the middle of the night; in spite of the fatigue and anxiety he was enduring, and of his sufferings from acute rheumatism, he never fails to sacrifice the rest so necessary to him, to sending off long and entertaining letters to his exacting and selfish wife, who complains of his not writing enough, and of what he writes, with singular cynicism. She forgets to give him important information which he asks her for, to convey his orders, even to date her letters, while she sends him all the injurious gossip she can pick up, intrigues with his enemies, and publishes letters he has desired to be kept secret.

You finish by telling me, dear heart, that you are very discontented with me. Yet I tell you everything in my letters. It is my fate. What consolation do I get in my troubles? I try and unravel something pleasant in your cyphers and to find some comfort from my heart, and get only the old and eternal complaints [he writes pitifully].

The difficulty we have had in crossing the Danube at three in the morning opposite the Turkish camp was immense; the bridges broke down under the weight of artillery and baggage wagons; we had to seek out fords, which we found luckily on the smaller branches of the river, but the current was too rapid in the main stream; there is no river which can compare with the Danube in violence. After this mportant passage we have had to cross a line of mountains, or, more strictly speaking, to climb them. A furious wind blew straight into our teeth; it seemed as if the "powers of the air" were unchained against us; the vizier is said to be a great magician! We had left our baggage behind us, and I have only with me two light carts; since Friday we have neither eaten nor slept — more than the horses. We can see from here the immense camp of the Turks and the town of Vienna in the distance, but we are separated from it by forests, precipices, and a very big mountain, of which no one had told us a word. The horses have nothing to eat but the leaves of the trees; we have neither food nor forage [which had been promised but never furnished by the emperor].

Humanly speaking, however, and putting all our trust in God, I must believe that the chief of an army who, like the grand vizier, has not thought of entrenching himself or collecting his scattered troops, but has encamped there as if he were a hundred miles off, is predestined to be beaten.

I have passed the night on the extreme right; we could see the whole Turkish camp, and the noise of the cannon prevented all sleep. This letter is my eighth; it has taken me till daylight.

At last the emperor discovered a remedy for the fearful state of his affairs: "it was forbidden, under pain of death to speak of 'present circumstances'! "as they were euphuistically called at Vienna. The march of Kara Mustapha had been a stroke of genius; in those days an army generally lost much time during a campaign by attempting to subdue the strong places, while he aimed straight at the heart of the country, threw his bridges of boats across the Danube, and appeared before Vienna in the shortest possible time. The fortifications of the town had been much neglected, and there were but few troops to man them. In twenty-four hours the emperor became aware of the approach of the Turks by harsher signs than words; he took flight immediately by night, with all his court and family, leaving his cousin, the Duke of Lorraine, to do his best in defending the kingdom — the same prince who had contested the throne of Poland with Sobieski, and now acted with great loyalty towards him. For four days the enormous crescent of the enemy was seen forming round the city, with an extraordinary noise of bells, trombones, and cymbals; tents, horsetails without number, troops of camels and mules, armies of bullocks and sheep going to drink at the Danube, the tent of executions, which, as usual, was placed in the most conspicuous position, could all be seen from the walls. At night the watch-fires and lanterns all over the camp lighted up the sky, the noise of artillery never ceased, and the cries of the muezzin summoning the Moslems to prayer made all sleep impossible.

But the vizier, instead of carrying the town, as he could have done, by a coup de main, was afraid of losing the valuable booty of Vienna by fire, and consumed the whole month of August striving to reduce the city by famine, and thus lost his prize. Surrounded by his harem, his one hundred and fifty valets, even his menagerie, he spent his time in his tents 