CHAPTER XII.

23rd August to 8th September.

On the 23rd of August, the enemy, after repeated assaults, had all

but gained possession of the Burg ravelin, and had set on fire the

palisades in face of the portion of that work still held by the

garrison. This the soldiers, carrying water to it in their steel caps,

succeeded in extinguishing, and the further advance of the Turks was

checked. An assault ensued, in which the combatants mingled hand to

hand. The Ottoman sabre, as on other similar occasions, failed in close

conflict with the ponderous weapons wielded by the German arm—the

halberd, the scythe,[12] the morning star, and the battle-axe, aided

by the pitch and water cauldron; and the Turks retired with a loss

of 200 men. In various of the adjacent open spaces of the city great

fires were kept up to supply the last-mentioned ingredients, which

were cooked in huge cauldrons, and transported in smaller vessels,

principally by women and children, to the walls. Many Turks were

greeted with the contents as they mounted the breach, and finished

by a second application as they lay scalded and blinded in the ditch

below. Six hundred and sixty-nine cwt. of pitch were used during the

siege; but a large part of this was doubtless applied for the purpose

of lighting up the ditch, and discovering the nightly operations of the

Turkish sappers immediately below the rampart. On this day the Turks

were seen from the walls to transport a considerable force of cavalry

to the left bank of the Danube, the men in boats, the horses swimming

beside them. This strong detachment was sent to reinforce the Pacha of

Peterwaradin, who had crossed the river near Presburg to attack the

Duke of Lorraine, who was keeping the field near the Bisamberg with

his cavalry. Few of this united Turkish force returned to tell the

tale of the thorough defeat they received at the hands of Lorraine,

who drove them into the Danube with a loss of twenty-five standards. A

Polish contingent, under Prince Lubomirski, assisted at this victory,

and much distinguished itself. Its services on this occasion were the

first fruits of the Polish alliance. Lubomirski’s junction with the

Imperialists was an independent movement, and in the first instance

excited some jealousy in the mind of Sobieski. Aug. 25, a gallant sally

took place for the purpose of checking the operations of the Turkish

miners against the Löbel bastion, and driving them from the ditch. The

young Duke of Wirtemberg, who was overlooking this operation from the

wall, seeing his troops hard pressed, in spite of all remonstrance,

descended at the head of a reinforcement in person to the fray, and

drove the Turks as far as their first battery. With equal courage

he conducted the retreat. The sally was brilliant and successful,

but cost the besieged 200 men and several officers. The Duke himself

was wounded in the calf of the leg by an arrow, and thereby disabled

for the rest of the siege. For several successive days the Burg

ravelin continued to be the scene of murderous assault and successful

resistance, of which it would be tedious to narrate particulars. Both

parties, meanwhile, began to feel sensibly the effects of the long

endurance of the siege. In the Mahometan ranks, and especially among

the Janissaries, a prejudice of the nature of a superstition assigned

forty days as the limit to which an operation of this nature could be

extended. They considered it, at least, as a prerogative of their body

to mutiny against an extension of that period. In the city, on the

other hand, the condition of affairs had assumed a gloomy complexion.

The casualties of war and disease had materially thinned the ranks of

the garrison, and the mine and the battery, especially the former, had

made gaps of ruin in the defences which no exertion of the besieged

could fully repair, and which it became daily more difficult to

maintain against the rush of numbers. Many of their guns had been

rendered unserviceable; but the want of skilled artillery officers and

men, with whom the city from the first had been ill provided, was still

more severely felt. The engineer, Rimpler, had fallen; the colonel

Werner, who commanded the ordnance, and who had effected his entrance

into the city on the 17th July, lay wounded and disabled; and before

the close of the siege, but two regular artillery officers remained fit

for service. The outworks from the Burg, almost to the Scottish gate,

were nothing but a mass of rubbish. The Löbel bastion in particular,

and the adjacent houses in the street of that name, had specially

suffered; but still more so the dwelling which still bears the name of

the Turks’ House. Scarcity also was making rapid strides; and if the

casualties of war diminished the number of consumers, falling as they

did principally on the fighting men they also made it impossible to

repeat the sallies which in the early part of the siege had sometimes

swept into the city the cattle of the Turkish commissariat. The Turks,

while their large force enabled them to close hermetically every

channel of supply to the city, guarded their own communications with

the utmost vigilance. Forage for the live cattle and sheep still in

the city had also failed, and the supplies of the public shambles at

the Lichtensteg and the Rothenthurm, were as lean and dry as they were

dear and scanty. The small store of dried provision which remained was

reserved for the soldiery, and the citizens at large were exposed to

severe privation. The streets leading to the shambles were crowded with

females, who often had to return home with empty baskets. The price of

a pound of beef had risen in the proportion of 1 to 9, and sometimes

12. Articles of daily subsistence to families of middle rank had now

become the luxuries of the rich. An egg cost half a dollar, pork eight

silver groschen the pound; veal and poultry no longer existed. Under

these circumstances, cats no longer enjoyed the immunity due, in times

of peace and plenty, to their domestic virtues, and the chase of this

animal in cellars and over roofs became not merely a pastime of the

young and mischievous, but the occupation of serious and hungry men.

The Viennese love for a jest is discernible in the appellation of

_dachshase_, or roof hare, bestowed on this new object of the chase.

The perilous condition of the city was announced to its yet distant

friends by discharges of rockets through the nights of the 24th,

28th, and 30th. They were answered by fire-signals from the crest

of the Bisamberg; but it was not from the left bank of the Danube

that succour was to be expected, and no cheering sign yet broke the

darkness in the direction of the Kahlenberg. The besieged looked

forward with deep anxiety to the 29th August, the anniversary of the

decapitation of St. John, one held peculiarly sacred and fortunate by

the Turks. In Soliman’s reign it was the day of the fall of Rhodes,

of Belgrade, of Pesth, and of that fight of Mohacs of which three

centuries have not effaced the recollection. A general assault was

reasonably to be expected on this awful anniversary; but it passed

over with no other occurrence than the ordinary explosion of some

mines, and a cannonade principally directed at St. Stephen’s. The

scanty portion of the Burg ravelin yet held by the besieged had now

become untenable. Its communication with the curtain behind was all but

cut off, and a reluctant order was at length, on the 3rd September,

issued to the officer in command to withdraw his men, which was as

reluctantly obeyed, the artillery having been previously removed, and

the palisades burnt. It had been actively assailed for twenty-nine

days, had withstood fifteen main assaults and the explosion of ten

powerful mines, and had been the grave of many thousands of the Turks.

Its defence, which was closed in the last moment of withdrawal by the

death of the officer in command of the day, a Captain Müller, has been

considered by military writers as one of the finest on record. The

Grand Vizier gave it a name which implied that the arts of hell and

magic had been applied to its defence. During the French occupation

of 1809, this outwork, worthy of being preserved as a monument, was

blown up, and altogether levelled by order of Napoleon. The Turks took

immediate advantage of their acquisition to plant on it two guns and

two mortars, from which they opened a heavy fire on the main defences.

The danger was now become most imminent, and called for the application

of every resource, and the exertion of every faculty, to meet it. Every

gate except the Stuben, still reserved as a sally-port, was barricaded

afresh with masonry and timber; the chains were drawn across the

streets, especially those which led to the Löbel; new batteries were

erected; and internal defences so accumulated one behind the other,

that, at every ten paces, there rose a breastwork thronged with men

and bristling with palisades. In the interior even of the city, at the

entrance of the Ballplatz, and near the hotel then occupied by the

Spanish ambassador (now the Chancery), were bulwarks, strengthened

with beams, and fenced by ditches; and orders were issued to break

away the iron gratings of the windows, in order, if necessary, to

apply these also to the defence of the streets. In every cellar of

the neighbouring houses were placed vessels of water, and drums with

pease strewn on their parchment, to give warning, by their vibratory

motion, of the approach of the Turkish miners. The subterranean warfare

was carried on with much effect by the Austrian counterminers, who

frequently succeeded in burying or suffocating the Turkish labourers,

and carried off many hundredweights of powder from their chambers. The

tenacity of the Turks in prosecuting this mode of attack is shown by

the loss they experienced: 16,000 of their miners perished during the

siege. On one occasion a fourier or quartermaster of the Beck regiment

having detected the end of a mine, sprung like Curtius into the abyss,

and encountering five Turks, killed three, and drove the other two to

flight. The neighbourhood of the Burg bastion was the scene of the

principal of these exploits, and under that fortification occurred

also the discovery, more interesting to antiquarians than soldiers,

of an ancient stair of sixty-six steps. As the excavations in this

quarter soon descended into water, the operations of the enemy were

the less to be dreaded, and the vigilance of the besieged was relaxed,

but the cellars near the Burg were nevertheless still garrisoned by

night, and it was thought necessary to extend this precaution shortly

to other parts of the city. The armed force of the city, both regular

and irregular, was now so reduced in numbers by repeated assaults

and sallies, that the remnant began to pine for the long promised

relief. The Burg ravelin being now in the hands of the enemy, the Burg

itself, as well as the Löbel bastion, were hourly threatened with

the same fate, the more so that the curtain which connected them was

so ruined as scarcely to afford a shelter to the troops which manned

it. Almost every house in the city was thronged with invalids; and

while the energies of the besieged sunk under such pressure, it was

to be expected that the courage and hopes of the assailants would

rise in proportion. This was not, however, the case. While through

the livelong night whole clusters of rockets were discharged together

at frequent intervals as signals of increasing distress and danger,

and as invocations for succour, there was trouble also in the camp.

On the 24th August a mutinous spirit had displayed itself among the

Janissaries. The term of 40 days, to which, for love of the Sultan and

the Vizier, they had added three, was expired, and they demanded to

be released from further duty in the trenches. The exhortations and

prophecies of the Vani Effendi, a popular preacher, had persuaded them

to await the famous anniversary of St. John, and the effect of the

extensive mines which had been pushed under the works of the citadel.

These mines, however, had failed; it became difficult to keep the

secret of that failure from the troops, and the day of St. John had

passed, as we have seen, without any signal occurrence. The troops,

too, under command of the Pacha of Aleppo had even left the trenches,

and it required the influence of the Grand Vizier in person to bring

them back to their duty by promises and fearful threats. He was driven

at this crisis to the temporary expedient of promulgating a report of

the sudden death of the Emperor Leopold. The Vizier went so far as to

order a general discharge of cannon and musketry throughout the camp,

a proceeding which puzzled for a while but did not succeed in alarming

the garrison, for the alleged cause of rejoicing did not obtain a

moment’s credence in the city. The adoption of such expedients by the

Vizier, and his general mode of conducting the military operations at

this period, are explained, in the opinion of many, on the theory of

his desire to obtain possession of the city by capitulation and not

by storm. At a period when the result of a simultaneous attack, from

the ruined state of the defences, could no longer have been doubtful,

he preferred, it is said, to send his troops against the breach in

isolated detachments, unequal to cope with the resistance which the

garrison, however weakened, was still able to oppose to them. Having

destined the valuables of the imperial residence for his own treasury,

he was unwilling to expose them to the indiscriminate plunder of

a final assault. He was anxious also to preserve from destruction

the city itself as the future seat of government for a dynasty of

the West, of which he intended to be himself the founder. Writers

contemporary and subsequent have concurred in assigning these motives

and this policy to Kara Mustapha, and in looking upon him as a Moslem

Wallenstein, prepared, in reliance on the devotion of the army, to

brave the displeasure of his sovereign, and possibly to throw off his

allegiance. It was only towards the end of the siege and under the

prospect of failure that these views underwent alteration, and that he

became disposed to force an entrance at any sacrifice. By this time,

however, the spirit of his troops was so depressed that, as we learn

from Demetrius Kantemir’s history of the Ottoman Empire, they often

exclaimed, as if addressing the armies of Lorraine and Sobieski, “O ye

unfaithful, if you will not come yourselves, let us see at least the

crests of your caps over the hills; for these once seen, the siege will

be over and we shall be released.” The demonstration of such a spirit

as this left the Vizier no longer a choice as to his measures. Though

he was still incredulous as to the junction of the Polish forces,

and still more so as to the appearance of their terrible commander

in the field, the gathering strength of the Imperialists and their

preparations for a forward movement could be no secret even to one

so negligent in procuring intelligence from that important quarter,

and he determined upon a conclusive effort. On the 4th September an

explosion took place towards the eastern end of the Burg bastion, the

more violent because of the solidity of that work’s construction: 4000

Turks, directed by the Vizier in person, rushed forward to the assault.

From every alarm-post the besieged hastened to the point of attack,

and among the foremost was Stahremberg, accompanied by his whole

staff, prepared and probably expecting to die in the breach, which to

a breadth of more than five fathoms had been opened by the explosion.

The rubbish had fallen outwards, filling the ditch and facilitating the

advance of the Turks, who, armed with sabre and target, and bearing

baskets of earth on their backs, were thronging up the ascent. The

shout of Allah was heard nearer and nearer, and some bold hands had

already planted the horse-tails on the crest of the rampart, when the

fire of the besieged filled the ditch with the bodies of the bravest.

The fight raged for two hours, and the Turks once more retired with a

loss of 500 men. The garrison, however, could ill spare a loss of 117

men and two captains. The fighting had no sooner ceased than every

available material was used to repair the breach. Besides the usual

appliances of timber, sand-bags, and ox-hides, mattresses and reed mats

were pressed into this service. The heavy wooden wine-presses were

broken up and the rafters taken from the roofs for the same purpose,

and ramparts of planks, in engineering phraseology mantelets, fitted

with wheels, were prepared and brought down to the scene of danger. The

other portions of the defences were intersected with fresh traverses,

and armed with additional guns. A corps 400 strong was raised from

parties who had been hitherto exempted from military duty, clerks

and artisans in the most indispensable departments of industry. The

nightly discharges of rockets from St. Stephen’s were thicker and more

frequent than before. The city was in its last agonies. On the 6th, an

explosion brought down a length of five fathoms of the wall, 24 feet

thick, of the Löbel bastion, making a breach less defensible than that

in the Burg bastion, because the parapets of the wall which remained

had been previously destroyed. The fury of the assault which followed,

and the tenacity of the resistance, may be measured by the Turkish loss

of 1500 men. Two standards were at one moment planted on the rampart.

A house in the Löbelstrasse opposite the spot where this took place

is still called the Turks’ house, and bears a date and a painting

of a Turk’s head commemorative of the occurrence. On the evening of

this day, five rockets were observed to rise from the Kahlenberg.[13]

That short-lived apparition was sufficient to scatter the clouds

of despondency which had so long been gathering over the city. The

lighthouse which identifies the promontory, or the star which marks

the Pole, never sparkled on the eye of the anxious mariner with more

of comfort and assurance than that fiery sign conveyed to the watchman

on the rampart, or the Jesuit on the spire. It indicated not only that

the Imperial army had crossed the river, but that its outposts had

crowned the heights and occupied the passes which commanded its only

access to the relief of the city, heights and passes which nothing

but judicial blindness could have prevented the Turks from occupying

in force. Still the salvation of the city hung on a thread. As the

imperial army approached, the incentive to attack rose in intensity in

the same proportion with the motive to resistance, and it was to be

expected that the struggle would be waged to the last with increased

energy. Every device of war was exhausted by Stahremberg to provide

that no inch of advance should be gained by the enemy unpurchased by

streams of his blood. All the ominous preparations for a street fight

were redoubled. The houses nearest the breach were converted into

batteries; every avenue to it from the interior thronged with soldiers.

The city force was mustered at its alarm-posts, waiting for the bell

of St. Stephen’s to proclaim the moment of the assault. It never came.

The Turks, though they continued to mine under the city, pushing one

of their galleries as far as the church of the Minorites, never again

showed themselves above ground beyond the mouths of their parallels. On

the 8th September there was strange movement in their camp. Camels were

loaded, horses were saddled. More rockets rose from the Kahlenberg.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Count Daun is said to have first suggested the use of the scythe

affixed to a long staff for the defence of the breaches at this siege.

Under the name of the Lochaber axe it had long been used by the Scots.

In the recent wars of liberty in Poland it has acquired much celebrity,

and many stories are told of its terrible effects in the hands of the

peasantry. Of the weapon called the morning star, a species of club

with spikes, 600 were furnished from the arsenal.—E.

[13] I give this incident as I find it in the work from which these

pages are borrowed, and in other accounts, but I am at a loss to

account for the alleged date of its occurrence. The army of the

Christian allies had not completed its passage of the river, and

was mustering in the camp of Tuln, and I can find no account of any

reconnaissance being pushed forward at this date. The statements,

however, of the fact are numerous and positive.—E.

The Sieges of Vienna by the Turks · 第 12 / 18 章