How the Siege of Vienna Made Life Worth Living

The year is 1683. Well actually it isn't, that is just a rather pretentious way of announcing that the story about to begin is set in 1683. So, as I was saying; The year is 1683 (cue portentous music) and in the grim Ottoman fortress of Belgrade (yes that Belgrade, it was an unappealing fortress before it became an unappealing city) the massed forces of the Ottoman empire gathered for the greatest military undertaking in over a century. In the presence of Sultan Mehmed IV himself the bashi bazouks, the sipahi and deli horsemen, the engineers and janissaries assembled to watch as the Grand Vizier, Kara Mustafa was handed the sultan's seal, the banner of the prophet and the keys to the holy Kaaba in Mecca. From now on, within this army, he would have the authority of the sultan himself. At his command the army marched north. Mehmed waved his soldiers away to war then went hunting. He preferred fighting things that couldn't fight back.

The objective of this vast host was breathtaking, the city of Vienna itself. Vienna; capital (in so far as there was one) of the Holy Roman Empire (in so far as there was one). Once before, over a century ago Ottoman soldiers had stood before the gates of Vienna, then despite the leadership of one of the greatest sultans, Suleiman the Lawgiver (known as the Magnificent in the west) they had been forced to retreat. Kara Mustafa intended to go one better in the name of the deeply mediocre Mehmed IV. Through blasted wastelands, semi populated stretches of Hungary and Croatia the army marched forward gathering the unreliable troops of the deeply suspect local pashas to them and joined by the ferocious horse archers of the Crimean Tatars. The border was crossed and the army moved on driving the out numbered and (as usual) unpaid Habsburg forces before them.

In Vienna Leopold I, Holy Roman emperor, stopped writing music for horse ballets (I'm not kidding) and fled for his life. As he ran he shouted over his shoulder that Ernst Rudiger von Starhemberg should command the Vienna garrison. Possibly von Starhemberg was the only person around that the emperor had ever heard of or possibly it was an inspired choice. Leopold preferred us to assume the latter. Von Starhemberg was a hard bitten, deeply experienced soldier in his mid forties and his assumption of command in Vienna hadn't come a moment too soon. He would energise the defence and make them hold on when all appeared lost.

Lest anybody think that Leopold was idling, I can assure you that as the Ottoman forces surrounded his city he was screaming for help to anybody who would listen. Strangely people did. King John III Sobieski of Poland listened for one. As he saw it the Ottomans were just one captured city away from being able to ravage his lands at will. He came and he brought his nobles with him. The Polish nobility had taken a little time off from their usual occupations (fighting each other and making their country ungovernable) to follow their king into battle. When they could be persuaded to stop killing each other for long enough to kill somebody else they were a ferocious opponent. More surprisingly still the ramshackle mess that was the Holy Roman Empire rallied to its emperor. Or to be more specific those bits of it close enough to see the Ottomans on their doorstep rallied to the emperor, after a fair bit of haggling and political concessions. Still troops from Bavaria, Saxony, Swabia, Franconia and a token force from Hannover all gathered under the command of Duke Charles of Lorraine the imperial commander. Since this was a war against the infidel the pope obligingly picked up the bills.

Meanwhile Vienna was being blasted to Hell. The Ottoman army had the best siege engineers in Europe. Saps were swiftly dug, mines tunnelled, siege artillery placed and janissary assault troops readied. Kara Mustafa planned well, with one critical exception. His gaze focused solely on the city itself he neglected to make any defences for his siege camp. If an outside force were to attack it the Ottomans would be in a very big lump of pain. But Kara Mustafa wasn't thinking about this and while the defenders may have been praying for it the grim reality was enough to focus their minds on the here and now. The walls of Vienna weren't that impressive to begin with and the Ottoman siege engineers blasted chunks away with mines and artillery. Then the janissaries, a little past their prime perhaps but still the finest assault troops in the world, stormed the breaches.

Somehow the city held, von Starhemberg invigorated the defence as food ran out, the walls collapsed and bits of the city caught fire. Make shift defences were piled up before the breaches and were defended with ferocity. By September things were going badly, casualties were high, food was running out and the defenders were exhausted. Things weren't much better over in the siege camp where poor hygiene had led to outbreaks of sickness and the failure of the previous assaults had led to a lowering of morale. Still the battle appeared theirs to win. Then the relief army arrived, with the Imperials in the centre and left and the Poles in the position of honour on the right they launched a savage assault on the undefended camp. There was grim fighting but the Ottomans were in a hopeless position and the great army was destroyed. Kara Mustafa fought bravely but aware that the banner of the prophet couldn't fall into unbelievers hands eventually abandoned the field with a handful of cavalry.

Looters picked over the siege camp for anything of value and were surprised to find sacks of brown, nut like objects. These were taken back to Vienna whose inhabitants ground them down, infused them in hot water and drank the result and thus coffee was introduced to western Europe.

One way of looking at warfare is to regard it as a sort of highly violent cultural exchange programme. Yes the siege of Vienna was dreadful for all those who took part and the Ottomans would surely point out that the battle afterwards wasn't pleasant for them either. Nor was it good news for Kara Mustafa who was compulsorily retired after the campaign (they strangled him). However I defy anybody of European extraction who likes coffee to deny that it was worth it. Vienna became the cafe capital of Europe and coffee drinking percolated (sorry) down into Italy and eventually across the seas to Australia. So now when I sit in an armchair at my favourite cafe and accept a cup of coffee from the rather cute waitress with the tattoos and body piercings I give silent thanks to the ambition of Kara Mustafa and the courage of Charles of Lorraine, von Starhemberg and John Sobieski of Poland. Collectively they have made life worth living.